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With one small chess piece, the game begins…
For archaeologist and TV host Annja Creed, a late-night phone call from the NYPD means one thing: there’s been a murder and the police need her expertise. The only link between a dead body and the killer is a small elephant of white jade. An artifact that’s gone missing.
Once belonging to Catherine the Great of Russia, the elephant was key in a risky political gambit all those years ago. But there is another story attached to the artifact—a rumor of an ancient hidden treasure. And for a cruelly ambitious media mogul with a penchant for tomb-raiding, the elephant is nothing short of priceless.
Annja must make her move quickly, traveling across several continents with only the assistance of her extraordinary sword—purportedly the same sword wielded by Joan of Arc—and a mysterious temple monk. It’s a deadly battle of wits, and one wrong move could mean game over.
“Reminds you of old days in Russia, nyet?” Serov smiled at Klykov.
“Reminds me more of East Germany when we were thwarting the Stasi.” Klykov grinned, animated and excited. Their English had regressed during the chaos. “Look at you with your grandfather’s gun. Already having to reload. You should have one of these.” He shook his Beretta proudly. “Would be better to have two.”
“Is better to only have six rounds. Counting so many as in your guns, I sometimes forget.” Serov snapped the cylinder closed with a flick of his wrist. “Is not good to forget count and run out of bullets at wrong time.”
“They say math keeps the mind sharp.”
“Until it is blown out of your head.”
Annja started to move, but Klykov restrained her. In the next moment, another wave of gunfire tore through the apartment wall.
“I wish I had grenade.” Serov said in a low voice. “Grenade would make this thing so much simpler.”
“Grenade would mean Annja could not question Onoprienko about the elephant,” Klykov countered.
Serov nodded. “We must not let that happen. Others may get the wrong impression because we look weak.”
Look weak? Annja didn’t even have a response to that. The old Russian gangsters had already killed a handful of men and somehow dodged hundreds of bullets. She stayed low with both hands locked on her pistol.
It was a massacre, and Annja was in the middle of it.
The Pretender’s Gambit
Rogue Angel
Alex Archer
Contents
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
