Chapter XIII: The Chase [Checkmate!]

Moscow Oblast, Russia, 1955

"I hate to say this, but Alexander has damaged the frontal cortex of his brain."

"No sir, please!"

"Wait, stop. There is a problem-"

"Doctor, Alexander is our only child! What will the People think about us?"

"I said, stop. He will be very aggressive. He is in Rehab. You understand?"

Two Months Later, AGG Rehab Centre, Moscow, Russia

"Doctor?"

"Yes, nurse."

"I think someone is climbing a window."

"Oh, it must be a monkey or something. You know the spring."

"It is heading to the, what the-"

"What happened?"

"Andrei Chikatilo! He is here! Send help to the Room!"

Andrei reached where the boy was.

"Hey Alexander, want to go on a trip with me?"

The doctor entered the room with four SWAT Agents.

No one.

John's walkie-talkie blared, 

"Sir, we found the bomb, but-"
"Is it big?" John asked.
"Negative. It is a nuclear bomb, Radius up to 2 kilometres. Grave threat. What are our orders?"

"Goddamn, call the bomb experts! Must I do all the thinking for you?"

A hollow and a raspy voice replied from channel 3.

"Actually, I believe it is a good day, monsieur."

It continued,

"The bomb experts will not come. You might want to check the news. BBC news, to be precise."

John opened BBC News on the Capitol TV.

"-Shocking news that the Washington Bomb Squad was blasted in a minor blast. Witnesses say it was a tyre burst which caused the dominoes of the bomb blasts. 27 people were on duty, among them 2 died and are still counting. Signing off, I'm Katie Brown, BBC News.

John turned to his cellphone.

The Chessboard Killer was still on the line.
"Where shall we meet?" John asked, feeling to kill him immediately.

"Okay, I'll give the address."

John smiled at the killer's ignorance.

"1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington D.C. Ring a bell?"
John frowned.
"The White House!"

And picking up his talkie, 

"Team Delta, Redirect to the White House! NOW!"

John kept on running on the long hallway.

The Black King, when he saw the figure charging towards him, muttered,

"You can run, but you have chosen to chase."

Meanwhile, Team Delta reached the White house.

The President's door was wide open.

The President was on his chair, dead.

Fred was driving his Mercedes Benz, his favourite car on the highway,

A speedy car skidded right past him, knocking his door off in the way.
"Hey! What do you think you're doin-"

A bullet flew from the car and killed him. 

The last thing he saw was a police car, way above the speed limit, and was after that car.