The Smugglers Game

The fog rolled through the streets of Manhattan that morning like a secret, obscuring more than it revealed. In his office, Alex Mercer sat in a worn armchair, his tall, angular frame folded into a posture of lazy precision. His sharp eyes, gleaming with untamed energy, flicked over the chessboard on the small table in front of him.

It was his opponent's turn, but his opponent was absent.

The door opened briskly, and Special Agent Dusky Grange stepped in, bringing with her the air of purpose and authority that always seemed to fill the room when she arrived. Dusky, tall and strong, with dark eyes that missed nothing, was not the kind of woman who walked into a room unnoticed. She shut the door behind her and tossed a manila folder onto the table, scattering a few of the chess pieces.

"Good morning, Agent Grange," Alex said without looking up. "You've ruined my game. Do you plan to ruin my day as well?"