King could hear the man had more to say, but was having a hard time spitting it out. He’d noted Rook hadn’t been included in the last sentence and followed the lead. “What happened to Rook?”

Duncan sighed. “The foreign countries we deployed to were tipped off. They knew we were coming.”

King winced. Rook had gone to Russia.

“Queen’s and Bishop’s teams made it out intact. Knight took three casualties. And Rook … his team is down and he is MIA, possibly KIA.”

Killed. In. Action. They were words King dreaded hearing, especially about members of the Chess Team. His chaotic emotions began to swirl again, threatening to overpower his soldier’s mask.

Then he realized a connection. “He was able to follow me, too. He took Fiona and killed the others. Controls the golems.”

“You know who’s doing this?” Duncan asked.

“Richard Ridley.”

“Son of a bitch…” Duncan was silent for a moment. “I’ll have every law enforcement agency in the country on the lookout for him in case he returns to the U.S., and I’ll have Boucher coordinate with any foreign agencies still willing to talk to us.”

King was about to ask what had happened, but came to his own conclusions. If several countries had been tipped off that U.S. soldiers were kidnapping their citizens, provable or not, an international drama would be unfolding. That, combined with the post-attack-on-U.S.-soil madness that must be consuming the country, Duncan had his presidential hands full. He decided not to press the issue. “If I find anything in Haifa, I’ll let you know.”

“Ditto on Ridley,” Duncan said. The statement was followed by a click and a dial tone. The man was busy.

King hung up the phone and dialed a second number. Aleman answered it almost immediately. “Aleman here.”

“Lew, it’s King. I just wanted to check in on my parents.”

“Dropped them off at the hotel. Your father seemed pretty excited about the continental breakfast. They asked a lot of questions about you. Lots of questions. If they weren’t your parents I’d think they were digging for intel.”

For a moment, King worried that it could be true, and then decided it was. His parents now knew his job was a lot more interesting than they had previously believed. They probably wanted to know everything about him. “So what did you tell them?”

“The truth. That you’re on the Special Ops Galley Team—and let’s face it, that’s about as threatening sounding as ‘the Chess Team’—and your current mission has you scouring the globe for truffles.”

King grinned. The humor felt good. “Uh huh.”

“But once we got to the hotel they wanted nothing to do with me. Asked me not to come back. Said they’d be fine.”

“That’s odd,” King said.