What a Knight (Part Three)

(Whatever you do, read Parts One & Two first, and don't lose the plot)

11.30am. City Hall Car Pool.


We pulled into a reserved parking space close to the first floor exit, and I unbuckled my seat belt and sat back, stretching my legs. I started to tell Louey about my plan to get close to Karparov. Looking at him directly was too much for me for a lot of reasons, and besides, the peacock hues of his plaid tux were making me nauseous; so I gazed out of the window and pretended I was checking out the other cars in the lot.

'Louey,' I began, as casually as I could muster, 'today you and I need to work as a team, buddy.' It was a lame attempt to sound matter-of-fact about the whole thing, and I knew as soon as I opened my trap that I'd missed the mark. 'You know,' I faltered, 'only from kind of a distance........so to speak.'

'You mean, we have to keep outa the actual fracas with the Ruskies and the SWAT team, Boss?' He intercepted eagerly. 'The both of us watchin' the takedown through binoculars, sorta?'

'Not quite, Lou." I replied awkwardly. 'The thing is, I'd like you to stay in the car and wait for me.......with the engine running, of course.'

Louey stiffened visibly in his seat. 'No.' He said bluntly. His manner curt. Angry. It took me off guard.

'Louey..........................'

'No.' He repeated firmly. 'You ain't pullin' that one on me, Boss. I'm either with you or close behind you, but I ain't hidin' in any car during the take down. No deal. No way.' He spat back, and looked me straight in the eye. I knew he meant it, and suddenly I knew there was nowhere I could go with this. What's more, that handful of loose change was wreaking havoc in my trouser pocket and making me sound like Julie Andrews. I just had to get out of the car.

Such a brave little sidekick, I thought as I jumped up and down on the concrete, legs akimbo and groaning with relief. Louey -  everyone's favorite clown, but nobody's fool. He'd seen right through me.

Louey looked at me with raised eyebrows. 'Have you got the cramp, Boss?'

'Somethin' like that, Buddy.' I smiled back at him, slapping him on the shoulder.'Check your gun and come with me.

   We walked for 30 seconds in complete silence. I chuckled to myself. Here was Tonto giving the Lone Ranger orders. Now that was a turn up for the books. Today was going to be tough. Deep down I hoped that me and Tonto here could hang on to our friendship for a little while longer.

'Hey, Boss.' Louey quipped as we strode across the tarmac to the main building.'Do you reckon KRISPYSTUFF could beat Bobby Fischer?'

'KARPAROV, Louey. It's KARPAROV!'' I sighed, like helium gas escaping from a birthday balloon.'

'Yeah. Right. I goddit.' He nodded.

'But to answer your question,' I added, straightening my tie and adjusting the silk handkerchief in my jacket pocket, 'I believe so.Yes.'

'Louey leaned in a little closer and whispered in my ear, the lapels on his chequered jacket flapping like the wings on a twin-axle biplane. 'I mean,' he went on, 'if this KRIPPENSTOVE defects and everything turns out okay, do ya think he'll end up playing for Uncle Sam someday?'

My eyes took a somersault down the back of my neck and bounced off my shoulder blades.

' Louey, for crying out loud, it's KARP.......Oh, never mind. Jeez. Right now, melon head, I don't care if he ends up playing for Uncle Remus, Zippedydoodah and the seven dwarves,  I just want to get out of here without a perforated rib cage and my ass in a sling.'

   I grabbed Louey's arm and pushed him up the stone steps to the main door of the building. There were more security guys buzzing around the entrance than blowflies on a three-day-old cheeseburger. I walked to the front of the queue, and flashed my Press Badge at the Head Honcho, and Louey followed my lead. We glided into the foyer like honey over a warm muffin. Deep down, I felt like I had a target painted on my back the size of a trashcan lid, and my jockey shorts had already shimmied their way up to the back of my neck. We took a few steps further in, and slowly merged into the cacophanous throng of expectant chess groupies. Today I knew the game they were going to see would be significantly different. Checkmate? - I hoped not. On this occasion, even in the midst of the battle ahead of us, we were going to avoid killing the King at all costs.


Everyone took their seats in the auditorium around 12.30pm. The lights dimmed and silence fell. A classical trio began playing something whimsical stage left, and after a couple of minutes there was an introduction by the President of the Chess Federation, and the Lady Mayor was presented with flowers. The usual local authority agenda which, to my advantage, gave me time to scan the room and make mental notes. Teddy Hemingway, the US Chess champion, appeared first flanked by two of his minions and three Tournament officials. He bowed briefly to the assembled crowd and took his seat center stage to the left of the table. Above him, there was a huge plasma screen that would broadcast every move of the match to the back of the stalls and the gallery. I looked about me. There were at least sixteen security staff on the floor paced along the rows. I couldn't see Hutchinson anywhere, but perhaps I was being a little premature. Then as the last cough from the audience died into the darkness, Karparov walked on to the stage alone amid rapturous applause.

   He was less than I'd hoped for. Small - about 5'5" with average looks and a nervous shrug that lifted his shoulders to his earlobes every five seconds. He looked surly. Dour even, like a short-order cook from some anonymous diner in rural Pennsylvania; and there was no courtesy or sense of protocol about him from what I could see. It was obvious he had the type of personality that would make an Amish accountant seem interesting. Still, what did I know?  He sat right down opposite Hemingway without preamble. The tension between the two champions immediately becoming claustrophobic. The game was definitely afoot. I glanced briefly stage right and then left. I caught sight of Hutchinson sans his usual shades and chewing gum seated in the second row just as the officials took their positions. I hoped Captain Fantastic had an umbrella in his shorts, because I could see him sweating from across the room.

I settled back into my seat to watch the start of the match, leaning over slightly to my right to whisper some last minute instructions in Louey's ear. I froze. Louey's seat was empty. I glanced frantically further along the row and he was nowhere to be seen. Then it happened. I felt the familiar jab of a gun barrel between my shoulder blades, and the unnerving click of a safety catch being released. It appeared that the game was over all of a sudden. At least for me, that is.

TO BE CONTINUED.... What a Knight (The Finale) - Coming Soon!