What a Knight (Part One)

(The Saga begins.....)

It was 11.45pm on a Saturday night. The Boston Red Sox had played a bummer of a match, I'd lost $20 to Joe Mozza, the smarmy bartender at Benny's Place, and I was feeling low to say the least. I got up from the sofa in my Bart Simpson pajamas just as the phone rang out like a dentist's drill piercing my brain, stopping me in my tracks on the way to the refrigerator for my third slice of bedtime pepperoni pizza. I almost didn't answer it: but, to my immediate chagrin, I did.

Tentatively, I picked up the receiver thinking it can't be Newton's Naturals calling at this time of night to check on my Vitamin C count.

'Hey, big guy! It's me, Louey'. The dulcit tones of my little shitzu informant from Detroit on the other end of the line made my heart sink like a tractor tire in a swamp.

I rolled my one open eye and sighed audibly.

'Do you know what time it is, bullet brain?' I groaned back down the receiver: the one I was squeezing tightly in my tiny mitt wishing it was Louey's throat.

'Hey Boss, take it easy fella. I got something for ya.' Louey wheezed. He sounded anxious and on edge I thought, like he was nineteenth in the queue for the bathroom at the Ball park on Labor day after too many chili dogs and too much root beer.

'No more betting tips Louey, please,' I replied, shaking my little furry cap stand from experience. 'I ended up eating soup crackers for a month after the last nod and a wink on the gee gees you gave me.'

'No. No. Boss. It ain't nuthin' like that,' he chuckled. 'Actually, I've been spending a bit of time looking at some er, movies.' His reply was muffled, although I thought I'd caught most of what he was mumbling at me just as a Fire Truck hurtled past in the street below and the line crackled noisily.

'Some what? What did you say? You've been watching Quorn Movies? Did I hear right? Aren't you taking this vegetarian thing a little too far, Louey?' I asked incredulously. 'I mean, getting your five a day is okay if that's what you want, but taking in veggie videos about it ain't healthy, my friend.' I lashed back at him. 'Is that what you called at this time of night to tell me? Who do you think I am, STING? Jeez.'

'No, Boss. Not QUORN movies. PORN movies.' He yelled back in his defense.

Porn Movies. Screen freeze. Oh, my. His reply sank in with immediate effect. I was rendered speechless. Louey had never struck me as that kind of a guy.

'WHAT? You've been watching dirty movies, Louey? What's gotten into you? Think of your poor Mother - that little old Pekinese lady pooch back in Detroit, standing in galoshes and a threadbare apron, taking in washing and makin' cookies to send you to Little League........... why, she'd be outraged.' I roared at him.

'BOSS, will you pull-eese stop for a minute and listen to me?' He raised his voice a hike and interrupted me mid-rebuke. 'Not Porn movies! as in Porn movies. Jeez. I've been watching PAWN movies. Pawn with a wubbleyoo.'

'Oh, right. I seeeeeeeeee. PAWN movies,' I breathed back softly with a huge sigh of relief. Nothing to worry about there, I thought - pawn with a double U  - that's alright then. The seconds passed by like blows on a dinner gong. One........ Two....... Three.
'Wwwwwwwwwwwwait a minute!' I said as a penny dropped, ' I don't know if that's better or worse. Pawn movies - You mean you're getting your kicks watching a bunch of Rednecks from Idaho selling their banjos and moonshine equipment because they're desperate for cash? How can you do that Louey? Watch poor people lugging Great Aunt Ada's piano across town 'cos they need a few bucks? Shame on you.....................'

'Boss, have you been drinking?' Louey, blurted out at me.

'Me? Drinking? Well, I .....er...had a few Whiskey sours and a couple of bottles of BUD around 9 O'clock.......'

'Boss, please.' Louey groaned: desperation thick in his throat, ' I ain't into nothing like that! You know me. C'mon now. Listen! I've been watching Teach-Yourself-Chess videos. The one that got me started was PAWN MOVES  - A Beginner's World of Chess. I'm really into it right now.'

I was immediately washed over with the golden glow of realization, and all of a sudden I felt as thick as a whale sandwich. He was talking about Pawn moves not Porn Movies. Doh.

'Louey, thank heavens for that! Chess videos? Now that's more like it. But I gotta say your new hobby doesn't warrant a call at Midnight on a Saturday, Buddy. I mean, I'm pleased for you and all, but you gotta get out a little more, fella.' I retorted calmly. 'No offence intended, my friend.' Although I wasn't quite sure if that was completely true.

Louey lowered his voice a few notes, and cupped the receiver with his large fluffy paws. It was at this moment I sensed there was something very wrong, and he'd been trying to tell me just what that was for the past five minutes; and my thick, sleepy head hadn't cottoned on to it.

'Boss,' he whispered, 'I overheard a serious conversation in the bookstore downtown this afternoon.' Louey's voice disappeared into an indiscernable rasp, 'Some famous chess player is gonna get bumped orf at the Chess Tournament next weekend at City Hall.'

What Louey said rang a metaphorical bell inside my head. They'd been advertizing this International Tournament all over the papers for the last month.

Louey continued. 'Some Russian guy named FEELMORE KRAPENUFF or somebody, is gonna be the target - he's the Russian Chess Champion.' He added enthusiastically. 'They reckon he's gonna defect when he's here, and give the CIA some Top Secret information about the Russians, and they're out to stop him.'

'I think you mean VLADIMIR KARPAROV, Louey.' I said, although the semantics were right enough. 'He's the Russian Grand Master. An unbeaten Champion. Are you sure you heard right?' I said to him, hoping to hear he may have made some major mistake.

'I heard right, Boss.' He replied. 'The bookstore I go to is owned by an old Russian guy by the name of Alex Korchev; I know him quite well. He was talking to these two tall, grumpy-looking guys in dark overcoats while I was browsing in an aisle a few feet away from the counter and hidden from view. He looked uneasy and a little scared to be honest; but nodded his head at the information he was being given.They never even knew I was there. I left after they did, when Alex went into the back office and made a telephone call. I heard him say the hit will take place in the first interval around 1.00pm next Saturday. They plan to take out two guards with silencers near the dressing rooms, and pose as part of the security team on duty in that area. They'll smoke KRAPPYLOVE when he hits the rest room.'

'You mean KARPAROV.' I said.

'Yeah. Him too.' Came the reply.

I said a hasty goodnight to Louey, and asked him to ring me at eight the following morning on my cell phone and rang off.  I had some thinking to do. Should I intervene? No question. These Rusky Special Agents and their bully-boy assassins had no place in small town America.

Besides, if anyone was about to upskittle a major Chess Tournament, cause a stir, and hit the headlines in the Nationals, it was gonna be me.

TO BE CONTINUED..........................................