Callsign: Bishop - Book 1 (An Erik Somers - Chess Team Novella) Read Free Page B

team at the time.”
    “I have to go,” Duncan turned and walked briskly out of the lab, not wanting to waste any time. He needed to get to a secure line as soon as possible, and he didn’t trust any of the phones in Manifold Alpha . Some of them could be tainted still, or monitored. The entire facility was in the process of being retrofitted for Chess Team’s use, but until the job was complete, he couldn’t take that chance. Too many lives were at stake.
     

 
     
     
    2.
     
    Erik Somers—Callsign: Bishop, sat in front of his computer, waiting for a file from a contact. In his hand was a cup of green tea sweetened with stevia. The contact, who Bishop knew as CJ—an undercover operative who had supplied valuable intel in the past—had e-mailed him the day before, claiming to have some news for him. Bishop knew CJ was currently in Iran investigating suspected terrorist cells, but he couldn’t figure out what it might have to do with him. Contacting him directly was a breach of protocol, especially now that Bishop was no longer officially part of Delta. For all intents and purposes, Chess Team no longer existed. The team hadn’t just been disbanded, they had ceased to exist. Records of the team’s actions were deleted, and the team members’ military records ended just before they joined Chess Team, listing each as KIA. Killed in action . There were plenty of people who had personal experience with the team, like CJ, who knew, or could guess better, but any official inquiry into the team would come up blank.
    It was all smoke and mirrors. Chess Team still existed, only now they were off the government radar. They had gone from an elite Delta team to strictly Black Ops, which gave them a heck of a lot more freedom to do their jobs. Not having the government sniffing around their every move freed them up to be more creative in dealing with threats to the country. Of course, the same lack of support also made the job more dangerous, because whenever they went out they had only themselves to rely on. Still, Bishop preferred it that way. At least now, they could act without the risk of public exposure.
    The computer beeped, and Bishop looked up. The message he’d been waiting for popped up on the screen:
     
    INCOMING FILE FROM CALLSIGN JOKER. ACCEPT? Y/N
     
    “Joker” was CJ’s official callsign. It probably had something to do with his group name, but Bishop didn’t know. He’d never even met the man face to face. Sometimes Black Ops were like that. He typed Y on the keyboard.
    The fiber-optic connection downloaded the 2 MB file in less than a second, and it opened on a picture of a Middle Eastern couple sitting at the table. They looked to be in their late fifties or early sixties, and appeared to be sitting down to dinner. The woman’s face was clearly visible, indicating the pair were either moderate Muslims or in their own home. Judging by the setting—which seemed to be a large, private dining area—Bishop assumed the latter.
    But what could these two middle aged Muslims have to do with him?
    He read the caption attached to the photo.
     
    DAWOUD AND FAIZA ABBASI, 23052011 18:27 IRST. SvPh #1138-7A
     
    He checked the tag at the back of the caption. 23052011 was a date: April 23, 2011, and IRST stood for Iran Standard Time. SvPh stood for Surveillance Photo. That meant whoever had snapped the picture had taken it in secret at 6:27 pm in Iran over four months ago. Judging by the number attached, it was one of many such photos of the couple.
    But who were they?
    Bishop typed a message into the computer. What does this have to do with me? Then he hit SEND.
    While he waited, he examined the couple again. They looked like any ordinary Muslim couple sitting down to eat. The man was large and broad, with a curved, hawk-like nose that gave his face an overall predatory appearance. The hair at his temples had gone to gray, but the rest of it remained jet black. His eyes were a deep brown, wrinkled at the