Last Chance to Die, Noah Boyd [most read book in the world TXT] 📗

“I’m Steve Vail, and this is Kate Bannon,” Vail said. “Actually, she’s my boss.” The man stared at him for a moment and then said, “Alex Zogas.” He seemed to be speaking to Vail only, as though still trying not to acknowledge Kate’s presence.

Although he knew the answer, Vail asked, “What exactly is this place?”

“This is a social club, but our main interest is chess. Everyone who belongs is a master.”

“And Lithuanian?”

“Some of us are, but members come and go. You know how it is.”

“And that’s all you do here, play chess?”

“We have dinner a few times a week. We come here to get away.”

“From?”

“In American homes there are pressures that men from our backgrounds are not accustomed to.” Zogas smiled and glanced at Kate. “We come here to commiserate.”

“Any chance I can get an application?”

Zogas laughed. “I don’t know. If you are Lithuanian, it would help.”

“Unfortunately, I have no idea what my heritage is. My father was always wanted by the law, so we were continuously changing names. The only thing I know for sure is that I’m a citizen of the United States.”

“As are all of us, if that’s what you are trying to find out with your little ‘antibiography,’ shall we say.”

Vail grinned. “That was one of my curiosities.”

“And the others are . . . ?” Zogas asked.

“I was wondering if there was any business purpose to your group.”

“Other than members networking, no, none. This is strictly social.”

“Are you the only one here now?”

“No, there are others in the back if you’d like to talk to them,” Zogas offered. “Mind if I ask why you’re here?”

Vail held out a photo of Sundra Boston. “She’s why. Ever seen her?”

Zogas looked at it and said, “Around here? We discourage having members bring women in. Who is she?”

“Her name is Sundra Boston, and she works for the FBI. She’s missing.”

“Why would you look for her here?”

“Apparently she was looking into your club’s activities.”

“Chess?”

“She’s a financial analyst,” Vail lied.

“We collect dues from which our monthly expenses are paid. That’s the only thing financial about our club. You’re welcome to look at our accounts. It’s all on the computer in the office, if it’ll help clear this up.”

“It would be nice if things were that simple. But we’ll have a look.”

Zogas gave Vail an inadvertent smirk. “Back this way.” He led them through a large room that had a half-dozen tables with chessboards embedded in their tops, two of which were being used. None of the four men looked up at the agents as they walked through.

In the very back of the club were two smaller rooms, one a bathroom, the other an office, which Zogas led them into. Then he turned on the computer. Vail noticed a chessboard on a small table next to the desk. A game appeared to be in progress, but there was no room for a chair on the opposite side. “A game by mail?” Vail asked.

“Yes. Do you play?”

“I played for a couple of months in college. Very intently, but I just didn’t have the patience for it.”

“That’s too bad. For someone in your line of work, it could be an asset.” After opening up a file marked “Club Expenses,” Zogas got up and offered Vail the chair. Kate moved behind him.

He scrolled through the last two years’ entries, which showed a balance that was usually in the black, occasionally crossing into the red at the end of the month. He looked up at Zogas. “Pretty boring stuff.”

“We are men who find chess fascinating. Did you expect our lives to be secretly interesting?”

“I must have missed something when I tried it. What is it about chess that you find so intriguing?”

“Are you familiar with the term ‘zero sum’? It is from game theory. It means that someone has to win and someone has to lose. We find it a welcome relief from the constant compromising of present-day America and its obsession with equality.”

“That has been this country’s downfall,” Vail said. “As far as you know, none of your members have had any contact with the FBI, for any reason?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Zogas said. “How would our name come up in one of your investigations?”

“I guess that’s the real question, isn’t it?” Vail wasn’t going to tell Zogas that it was Longmeadow’s phone records, in case someone knew him and might warn him. It was a long shot, but he didn’t like the Lithuanian’s calculated responses to his questions, so he decided that a couple of lies would give Zogas something to think about. “The woman I showed you a picture of did all kinds of investigations. Sometimes institutional irregularities came to her attention, sometimes people called in tips, and sometimes something was a spin-off of another investigation. The notes she left behind indicated that she was just getting started on the LCS—sorry, that was her shorthand for your club, or society if you prefer—so there wasn’t much detailed information. Do you have any enemies who might have called the FBI about your club?”

“No.”

“How about any bad business deals away from the club? What kind of businesses are your members involved in?”

“Nothing very exotic. We are all successful, with varying interests. It’s kind of an unwritten requirement for membership here, to be financially established. I, for example, own eight coin-operated car washes in the D.C. area. They’re all self-serve, so my time to run them is minimal. Others have dry-cleaning stores, car rentals, and hair-cutting shops. One of our members even does some translating for the government in immigration cases. Certainly nothing that would be cause for retribution against a group of men whose passion is chess.”

“Well, this just may be one of those times that a mystery has to remain a mystery. Do you mind if I show the others the woman’s photo?”

“Please do.”

They walked back into the game room. Zogas spoke with the vague authority of a leader. “These people are from the FBI. They have a photograph of a missing woman