Page 4 of The Grandmaster's Pawn (Checkmate)

* * *

Despite how muchI’d like to, I don’t walk Gemma back to the museum. Best to stay away from the cameras. I’ve already traversed this route once today. Instead, I offer up an excuse and an apology before taking a shortcut back to my flat, cutting through St. George’s Gardens. Despite the chill in the air—almost permanent in London—a weak sun shines today, and I let my mind wander as I pass by the old gravestones and statues.

“Hastings.”

The single word makes my blood run cold, and I stiffen, turning slowly towards a set of three benches in the center of a small circular hedgerow. “Ulrich. You are an unpleasant surprise. What brings you to London?”

“You.” The stocky German pushes to his feet, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him lumbering towards me with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You have been here for eight weeks now, Daniel. And you never stay in one place that long unless you are about to take something that does not belong to you. What is it this time?”

“Whatever are you on about? I wasbornhere. A visit to London does not come with strings attached. Or an ulterior motive.You, on the other hand, hate London. Shall I report you for harassment?”

He smiles, exposing a mouthful of yellowing, crooked teeth. “Simply return thePortrait of a Lady, and you and I will go our separate ways.”

Though I’m a solid six-foot-two, I’m lean, and Ulrich looks like an overweight rugby player. Edging into my personal space, a low growl rumbles in his throat.

“Really, my good man, you should see someone about that. You sound a bit like a bear—with the breath of a dead whore.” I clap him on the shoulder, glancing around the park to ensure we’re alone before I squeeze my thumb and forefinger around a pressure point and meet his cloudy hazel gaze. “Stop following me. And give up this rubbish idea about recovering thePortrait of a Lady. She was never yours to begin with.”

With the color sufficiently drained from Ulrich’s face, I grab his elbow as he staggers and help him back to one of the benches. “Now be a good boy and toddle off somewhere. Perhaps…right over the side of the Jubilee Bridge and into the Thames? I hear the water’s lovely this time of year.”

Before I rush off, I give him one last squeeze, this time just above his elbow, and he whines in pain, his body going slack as his eyes roll back in his head. He’ll recover in a few minutes. Just enough time for me to be long gone. And to call Tatiana and have her investigate how the bloody hell he knew I was in London at all.

Three

Daniel

Once I unlock my flat door, I dial Tatiana. My oldest friend, a former member of the Russian Foreign Intelligence Service, knows everyone—and everything. Half a dozen phone calls and she could tell you if your shoe was untied.

The call connects seconds later. “Are you alone?” I ask.

“If I were not, we would not be speaking.” An edge of stress roughens her voice, and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. She is always in control, always calm, always collected and capable. “You have not been careful, Daniel.”

The accusation angers me, and I clench my free hand hard enough to crack the knuckles. “We’ve worked together for ten years. I am always careful.”

“Then tell me, please, why I am looking at your face on a traffic camera a block from the British Museum. Facial recognition was a ninety percent match.”

Staring out the window at the twinkling lights of London, I sigh. “Fuck me.”

“I am not interested in you that way, Daniel. But if you do not watch yourself, someone else will certainly seize the opportunity. This image was taken three days ago.”

Bloody hell. Gemma hadn’t been online the night before, and I’d watched to ensure she’d arrived at work safely.

“Ulrich is here, Tatiana. In London. He and I exchanged…wordstoday.”

Her sharp intake of breath is the only sign the call is still connected, and I wait for her to scold me like a petulant child, but she says nothing.

“Find out where Ulrich is staying and ring me as soon as you know,” I say, hoping my stupidity hasn’t buggered the job already.

“Sloppy, Daniel. Very sloppy. I will do this because I do not wish to see you dead. But if you do not take more care, nothing will save you.”

My phone beeps as she hangs up, and I lean my head against the windowpane. I have to focus. Gemma is a distraction, and while I need to keep her in my grasp, I cannot let myself think of her as anything other than a mark.

If only my dick would get the message.

* * *

Gemma snorts,then coughs. “Oh God. Coffee’s not supposed to come out your nose. You’re terrible, Daniel.”

“I take that as a compliment.” I lean forward and hand her a napkin. Despite my concerns about Ulrich and the lack of response from Tatiana, spending time with Gemma refreshes me in a way I did not expect. “I have worked quite diligently to be a proper arse.”

---