He smiled and tossed the rook into the air. She didn't flinch. She let it fall, roll across the floor, and stop at her feet. Then she kicked it back.
She left money on the table and slipped into the back alley. The rain muffled her footsteps. When the first man rounded the corner, she was gone. When the second looked up, he found her hanging from a fire escape ladder, upside down, her silenced pistol pressed to his temple.
"You're giving it to me," she said. It wasn't a question. tajni agent izzy
"Where's the rook?" she whispered. Not the chess piece—the meeting point.
"Why would I do that?"
Her mission, should she choose to accept it (she already had), was to retrieve a stolen memory chip hidden inside a cursed, antique chess piece. The piece was about to change hands between a corrupt Interpol liaison and a Balkan arms dealer known as "The Collector."
"The… the old library," he stammered.
Izzy stepped from the shadows. "Loud gets you killed. Quiet gets you the chip."