FIFTEEN

Dr Yakov led John down another long corridor, stopped and knocked on the door of the room at the very end. A deep, husky voice boomed from inside. Yakov opened the door and motioned for John to go in.

The room was nicely furnished, one in a suite, with a view looking out over the vast flower garden. There were original oil paintings on the wall, with the name Petroff scribbled in the lower right hand corners. There were three vases filled with cut flowers.

Petroff sat in a chair at the opposite end of the room, like a great hulking toad in the midst of a flower bed. He was not at all what John had expected. He gave the appearance more of a prize fighter than a chess champion. He was short and bulky, with huge arms and shoulders. His full, leonine head of hair and granite features set off a pair of eyes that were large, and the blackest John had ever seen, bright with intelligence and love of living. The eyes burned in Yevgeny Petroff’s head like twin lasers.

The craggy face broke into a grin that encompassed all his features. ‘Butler!’ Petroff exclaimed. Then he added something in Russian.

Yakov translated. ‘Yevgeny bids you welcome.’

Petroff rose and extended a large hand. John took it and found the grip to be firm, yet delicate, like that of a surgeon. He searched for something to say but couldn’t find it.

Still grinning, Petroff went to a cabinet to the right that turned out to be a hidden bar with a single bottle of vodka and glasses. Petroff glanced at Yakov who shook his head. Petroff poured two glasses, brought one to John. John, still speechless, took the glass from the outstretched hand.

Petroff raised his glass. ‘Cheers,’ he said in fragmented English.

‘Yeah,’ John said. ‘Cheers.’

Both men downed their drinks.

John felt Anna’s presence before he saw her. He turned and found her standing in the door. To John, she was even more beautiful than he remembered, with the same dark eyes as her brother. He did not have to be told that she was glad to see him; the look on her face in that single, unguarded moment told him all he needed to know. Regardless of what happened, John thought, that single glance had made his journey worthwhile.

Anna smiled warmly. ‘Hello, John. You’ve been expected. Why don’t you sit down?’

The warmth in her voice could not entirely smother the apprehension.

‘Thanks, but I’ll stand,’ John said. ‘At least until somebody tells me what this is all about.’

Anna spoke to her brother in Russian Petroff rose and poured her a drink Anna took the drink and sat down in a chair. She sipped slowly at the vodka, looking at John over the rim of the glass She cast a quick glance at her brother.

‘What’s your brother doing here? Is he really cr … mentally ill?’

‘Yevgeny will speak for himself,’ Anna said.

She turned to Petroff and translated John’s question. Petroff laughed, then replied. Anna turned back to John.

‘My brother wishes to reassure you that he is quite sane; it is the leaders of our country who are mad. He adds that you, as an American, should fully understand that situation.’

John shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t understand anything.’

Anna spoke to her brother again. He hesitated for a few moments, then nodded his head. As Anna spoke, John could feel Petroff’s eyes on him, gauging him. John could feel the power of that gaze. Petroff might be a poet, painter, journalist and chess champion, John thought, but he was also a hunter.

‘As you probably know,’ Anna said, ‘Yevgeny is not very popular with the leaders of our government.’

‘To say the least,’ Yakov interjected, looking up at the ceiling.

‘He has been protected up to now because of his chess skill. However, a few months ago some of Yevgeny’s friends were arrested They were writers for the literary journal he edits. They were tried and sentenced to long prison terms. Yevgeny was told that his friends would be released if he agreed to stop distributing his writings.’ She paused and looked at her brother. Her face glowed with pride and affection. ‘Yevgeny’s reply was that he would not play for the championship unless they released his friends. That is why he’s here. It’s a common form of … punishment.’

John drew his breath in sharply. ‘Putting a man in a mental hospital?’

Petroff suddenly broke in, obviously asking questions about what John had said. He and his sister spoke animatedly for a few minutes, then Petroff laughed.

The laugh impressed John. It was hearty, booming, a rite of exorcism. That was Petroff’s great strength, John thought; not his tremendous brawn, but his laugh, a sense of humour that had, so far, enabled him to survive a situation that John knew would tear most men—including himself, or especially himself—into pieces.

‘Yevgeny wants me to explain to you that the leaders of our country consider anyone who would try to blackmail the State insane.’ Petroff said something and Anna giggled like a schoolgirl. ‘Now he says they’re probably right.’

Anna’s mood quickly grew serious. ‘Imprisonment in a mental hospital is a common form of “treatment” for what our leaders consider political dissidents. I am very proud of my country and its accomplishments; of this thing I am terribly ashamed.’ Anna paused and lit a cigarette with a trembling hand. Petroff, noticing her discomfort, started to rise and go to her. Anna shook her head and Petroff sat down. ‘They felt they would be able to change Yevgeny’s mind, but not in time for the match in Venice. That’s why they asked for a postponement.’

‘The King’s Gambit,’ John said quietly, making no effort to mask his admiration for the other man’s courage. ‘Except that it’s the king himself offering to be sacrificed.’

Petroff, curious again, interrupted. Anna translated. Once again Petroff laughed.

Anna turned to John and smiled. ‘Yevgeny likes what you said about the king’s gambit. He appreciates your sense of humour.’

John slowly shook his head. Images of his mother danced on the screen of his mind, like flash frames in a bad movie. ‘I wasn’t trying to be funny. My God, to be locked up in a mental hospital just because …’ He decided to change the subject. ‘Why did you bring me those papers?’

‘My brother is a proud man, John. The papers were his way of communicating with you. Since he wasn’t able to come to you, I was to try to get you to come to him. That was before it became apparent how dangerous such an act would be.’

‘Why? Why did he want me to come here?’

Anna spoke to her brother. This time Petroff set his glass aside and spoke directly to John. There was no change in his expression, unless it was a slight thinning of his smile, a gathering edge to his voice.

John waited until Petroff had finished, then turned to Anna. ‘What did he say?’

‘Yevgeny says that he was willing to give up the championship for something he felt was more important,’ Anna said uneasily. ‘But he still wanted to play you because you are such a fine chess player.’

John looked directly at Petroff. ‘I don’t think that’s all he said.’

Anna sighed, then continued evenly. ‘He said that he wants to play you because he doesn’t like you He says you are a spoiled child who thinks more of a game than of people. He says that you may be world champion, but you are still second-rate. He says that he is a better chess player.’

John flushed angrily He stared hard at Petroff who calmly returned his gaze. Then, without knowing why, John found himself laughing. The whole situation had suddenly struck him as outrageously funny. In a few moments Petroff started to laugh. Anna and Yakov exchanged perplexed glances.

John wiped his eyes as Petroff rose and threw a brawny arm around his shoulder.

John said to Anna: ‘You tell your brother that I appreciate his sense of humour. Tell him that I think he may be in the right place after all. To prove it, I’ll play him a full twenty-four-game-match Starting right now.’

Anna translated to Petroff who suddenly grew gravely serious. He shook his head, then turned away.

‘Yevgeny says no,’ Anna said to John ‘As I said, it is too dangerous now. Neither of us had realised the lengths our government would go to trying to keep the title in this country. When I did realise what was happening, I had to try to keep you away. I wasn’t successful, but that doesn’t change the situation.’

‘No, it doesn’t. But I am here now.’

‘You can’t stay. By now they’ll know Gligoric is dead. Eventually they’ll discover that you’re here—if they don’t know already. You will be in a great deal of trouble if they find you.’

John gave it some thought, then nodded towards Petroff. ‘What about the rumour that he wanted to defect?’

Anna drew herself up. ‘If you knew my brother, you would know how absurd that rumour was. It was planted by our diplomats as a means of putting pressure on you.’

Petroff suddenly spoke sharply to his sister. Anna nodded. ‘You should go now.’

John shook his head impatiently. ‘How would we have played the match here?’

Anna translated the question to Petroff who smiled. He said something to Yakov. Petroff, Anna and the director of the hospital laughed.

‘Yevgeny says that all the doctors here are great chess fans,’ Anna said. ‘They have a true perspective of values as they should be.’

Petroff broke in and spoke for a few moments seriously. Yakov turned away, obviously embarrassed.

‘Yevegeny also wants you to know that Dr Yakov is first and foremost a doctor, not a politician. He is a fine doctor, and a fine man. Dr Yakov and Yevgeny are friends, and Dr Yakov considers it his duty to protect Yevgeny’s mental health while he is confined here. Dr Yakov felt the match would be good for Yevgeny, and he was willing to arrange it. It was the act of a true friend.’

John looked into the eyes of the girl. ‘And you?’ he said slowly, ‘that night in the apartment; was that the act of a friend?’

Anna blushed, then quickly regained control of herself. ‘I’d helped to involve you in this business,’ she said, avoiding his gaze. ‘I couldn’t just leave you there.’

‘And that was the only reason?’

Anna’s eyes suddenly flashed. ‘I won’t answer that, John. That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.’

Petroff broke in impatiently. Anna spoke to him and he glanced at John sharply.

John was about to ask Anna what she had told her brother when the sound of angry voices drifted in from outside the door. There were approaching footsteps, and the voices, speaking in Russian, grew louder. John shook his head in disbelief. He recognised one of the voices.

Arnett, dressed in a white doctor’s smock and carrying a set of papers similar to the ones he had given John, suddenly appeared in the doorway. The attendant was still remonstrating with him. Arnett suddenly drew an ugly, snub-nosed revolver and pushed the attendant into the room, slamming him up against the wall. A second later he was standing next to the director, the revolver tight against Yakov’s stomach. Yakov paled and closed his eyes.

It had all happened in the space of a few moments. Finally John found his voice.

‘Arnett! What the hell—?’

‘You just sit tight, Butler,’ Arnett growled. His face was flushed from his exertion, but his eyes were cold, taking in everything and everyone in the room, calculating their reactions.

Anna, her eyes wide with shock, backed into a corner of the room. Petroff cursed and rose up out of his chair. Arnett quickly swung the gun in his direction, pointing it directly between Petroff’s eyes. Petroff, his eyes ablaze with rage and hatred, pale with the effort to control himself, slowly sank back into his chair. But he remained tense, his muscles knotted, as though an electric current was passing through his body.

Arnett began to speak rapidly to Petroff. John listened, unable to understand anything, but amazed at Arnett’s fluency in Russian.

He had no trouble interpreting Petroff’s reply. When Arnett had finished Petroff spat on the floor. The gob of spittle sailed through the air and landed at Arnett’s feet. The blood drained from Arnett’s face. The air in the room suddenly smelled of hate and impending violence.

John quickly took a step forward. ‘What the hell’s going on, Arnett?’

The muscles in Arnett’s jaw knotted like worms. But the colour slowly came back to his face.

‘We have a problem here,’ Arnett said after a long pause. ‘Your friend doesn’t want to be rescued. I’m offering him a way out of this nut house and he doesn’t want to take it.’

‘But the report was a phony!’

‘Sure it was a phony. But the more we thought about the idea, the better it seemed. If Petroff didn’t think of it, he should have. We decided to stoke up his imagination.’

‘His defection would be a big feather in your cap,’ John said quietly. ‘Especially if you brought him out yourself. That’s it, isn’t it?’

Arnett grunted. The violence was still in the air, foul-smelling and electric. John had just begun to realise the enormity of the risk Arnett was taking, and the knowledge made John’s stomach churn. High risk for high stakes, a combination that made Arnett a very dangerous man.

‘My brother’s no traitor,’ Anna said coldly.

John spoke quickly, as though his words could somehow ease the pressure of Arnett’s finger on the gun’s trigger. ‘You knew where he was all the time, didn’t you?’

‘Not in the beginning. But it wasn’t hard to find out.’

‘He doesn’t want to go. You can see that.’

‘Well, I think he should give it some more thought’ Arnett’s tone had taken on the texture of silk, but the threat was still unmistakable. ‘Now that you’re champion, I’d say his goose was just about cooked.’

Anna stepped forward, placing herself between Arnett and her brother. Arnett had removed the gun from Yakov’s stomach and Yakov had opened his eyes. But he remained rigid against the wall, intelligent enough to know that there was no way he could successfully attack the man who was only a few inches away from him. The attendant had sat down on the floor and drawn his knees up to his chest.

‘My brother’s done what he has because he loves his country,’ Anna said evenly to Arnett. ‘Is that so difficult for you to understand? One day all this will change, and that change will come about because of the courage of men like my brother. Yevgeny fights for our country, and he would never do anything to embarrass Russia or bring her shame. You must understand that! Killing him will do no one any good, and that is what you would have to do if you tried to take him with you.’

Arnett said nothing His eyes were like two opaque marbles. John thought of what might be going on in the brain behind those eyes and it frightened him.

‘You sent me here as bait,’ John said quietly.

‘If you like,’ Arnett said without looking at him He was still thinking of his next move, and he spoke absently. ‘But I didn’t send you; coming here was your idea, remember?’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted Petroff to get a good look at the competition. I wanted him to think about chess, to give some thought to the things he’s going to be throwing away if he tries to keep up his role as martyr. I think he’s lost his audience.’

John glanced at Petroff. Anna was standing next to him, quietly translating the exchange between John and Arnett. Petroff’s face revealed nothing but scorn and anger. There was no fear.

John turned back to Arnett. ‘And I think you struck out.’

Once again the muscles in Arnett’s jaw had begun to knot ‘Well, we don’t have a lot of time to argue. It’s only a matter of time before the Russians find out that one or both of us is here. When that happens, they’re going to be swarming all over this place.’ He nodded in Petroff’s direction. ‘You talk to him.’

‘Me? Why should I do anything for you?’

‘Don’t do it for me; do it for Petroff. He’s obviously a fanatic and an egomaniac. That gives the two of you something in common. What he doesn’t seem to realise is that he’s shot his wad over here. Now it’s all over. He was world champion; now he’s nothing. They’ll summarily ship him off to Siberia if he tries to stay here. If he wants to keep fighting, his only chance is to let me take him to the United States.’

‘Where they’ll use him for propaganda.’

‘Sure. And he’ll use us as a base of operations for his own activities. That seems like a fair bargain to me.’

John hesitated. What Arnett had said seemed to make sense. He turned to Petroff who looked at him coldly.

‘Look,’ John began, ‘I know you don’t understand—’

‘He already knows what you’ve said so far,’ Anna broke in. ‘Say what you have to say and I’ll translate. Just remember that this man is right about your not having much time.’

‘Look, Petroff,’ John said tightly, glancing back and forth between the man and his sister. ‘It seems to me that Arnett makes sense—’

Petroff cut him off with a scornful wave of his hand. Then he turned and spoke to his sister.

‘Yevgeny feels it is better to be imprisoned in Russia than free in your country.’

John flushed angrily. ‘That’s nonsense! It’s stupid! Look what they’ve done to him! And Arnett’s right; they’ll probably never let him play chess again.’

Anna whispered in her brother’s ear, then translated his reply ‘Yevgeny say that if all he wanted was to stay out of prison, he would not have taken the course of action he has. He would have kept his mouth shut. He says that chess is not the most important thing in the world to him.’

‘In America you’d be free to speak out, to continue—!’

Anna suddenly cut in, and it took John a moment to realise that she was simultaneously translating Petroff’s words as he spoke.

‘Your country is dying; you have no soul. America is falling apart. You offer me freedom, and I laugh at you. Freedom is what I am fighting for here, in my own country. My leaders are midgets, your leaders are midgets; what is the difference? The difference is that yours are murderous midgets, and what good is freedom in a land of murderous midgets? One day our people will have the same political freedom that you have had—and squandered. We will know what to do with our freedom. We will not become a nation of butchers!’

‘Jesus!’ Arnett said softly. ‘Talk about a dyed-in-the-wool communist!’

John made no effort to hide his anger. ‘Who the hell is a Russian to talk about butchers?’

Again, Anna translated back and forth.

‘Yes, the Russians are murderers, too. That is why I fight. But there is one big difference between the Russians and the Americans—’

Anna stopped and looked at her brother who had suddenly stopped speaking. He gestured for her to come closer, then whispered something in her ear. Anna nodded, then whispered back. She repeated her words twice, then Petroff nodded and looked directly at John.

‘We,’ Petroff said, struggling with the strange words, ‘do not bomb mothers and their babies.’

John shook his head, then turned to Arnett. ‘He’s not going to go. You can see that.’

Something cold, dark and dangerous moved behind Arnett’s eyes. John involuntarily found himself taking a step backwards.

‘You’re wrong,’ Arnett said in clipped tones. ‘A number of people have gone to a lot of trouble to save this stupid bastard’s skin. I’m not leaving without him.’

Arnett suddenly crossed the room in three quick strides and grabbed Anna. He pressed the barrel of the revolver to her temple. Anna stiffened, fully expecting at any moment to feel a steel-jacketed bullet tearing through her brain. Petroff leaped out of his chair with a bellow, then froze when Arnett seemed ready to pull the trigger.

‘Arnett!’ John screamed.

‘He’ll come with me,’ Arnett said easily, ‘or I’ll spatter his sister’s brains all over the rug.’

Both Yakov and the attendant were ashen-faced, hardly breathing as Arnett repeated the threat in Russian.

‘Please,’ Petroff said, slowly raising his hand ‘Please no.’

Anna spoke to her brother. Petroff stiffened.

‘It won’t work,’ Anna said tightly to John. ‘He’ll have to kill me, because otherwise I’ll start screaming the minute I can. He’ll have to kill everybody in this room, except for you, John, and my brother. It’s the only way he can make it work. Because I won’t let him take my brother.’

Beads of sweat broke on Arnett’s forehead. He cursed softly, and the tendons in the hand holding the gun suddenly stood out like steel cords.

He was going to shoot, John thought. Arnett had gone out of his head and was going to shoot.

‘Arnett!’ John yelled. ‘It’s a game! Remember that it’s all just a game!’

John sucked in his breath and imagined that he could hear the echo of his words in the closed space. A nerve twitched in Arnett’s cheek. He looked at Petroff and Anna, then turned his gaze on John. Shadows moved rapidly in the depths of his eyes, whirling like colours in a child’s kaleidoscope.

Suddenly Arnett laughed It was a harsh, dry sound. Then abruptly he put the gun away The attendant began to weep with hysteria Yakov was talking to himself. John could taste vomit in his mouth.

‘Butler, you son-of-a-bitch,’ Arnett said after a long pause, ‘you’re absolutely right.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘Let’s you and I check out of here.’

‘I’m not going,’ John heard himself saying.

‘John, don’t talk like a fool.’ He paused. ‘You want to go over?’

‘I want to play chess.’

Anna let out a cry. ‘John, you can’t—’

‘Don’t say anything,’ John said sharply to Anna ‘I happen to agree with Arnett that your brother’s a fool. They’re just going to send him away.’

Anna stiffened. ‘Perhaps,’ she said proudly. ‘But he will have set an example for others to follow. Others will step forward to take his place.’

“That’s fairy-tale talk,’ John said ‘Don’t count on it.’

Anna’s eyes were suddenly very moist. ‘Then why do you want to stay?’

There was no answer, John thought, none that made any sense. He picked the best substitute he could find.

‘I told you: I want to play chess. To tell you the truth, I don’t understand, or really care about, any of the things we’ve been talking about. I only know about myself; I play chess. I believe I’m the greatest player who’s ever lived. The most I can do here is to prove that I’m the greatest living player. I’ll settle for that.’

‘No, John. That’s not all. Not anymore.’

‘All right. There are other reasons why I want to stay. Anna, I love you.’

Anna did not answer, but she did not look away.

Arnett grunted contemptuously. ‘Butler, that’s the craziest statement I’ve ever heard.’

‘Shut up,’ John said evenly, without looking in Arnett’s direction ‘This has nothing to do with you. Not now.’ He turned towards Petroff and spoke slowly. ‘I want to play you.’

Arnett grabbed John’s arm John pulled away.

‘Butler, you’re talking like a madman! You stay here and you’re on your own!’

John slowly smiled. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Look what good care you’ve taken of me up to this point. Except for a slight lapse in Venice, there’s not a scratch on me. Of course, there was Gligoric, but I can’t really blame that on you.’

Arnett shook his head His voice was serious. ‘This isn’t a game, John. I can’t protect you.’

‘Yes it is, and you can, and you know it. This is your game. You’ll find some way of using me even here. Now I’m world champion, you’ll have a propaganda field day if the Russians lay a finger on me. The Russians know that too, so they’ll make a lot of noise, but they won’t do anything Also, since I know the truth about Petroff, I suspect they won’t do much to him either That is, assuming you can manage to play your game as well as I play mine.’

Arnett shook his head again, but this time there was the trace of a smile on his face. ‘All right, Butler. I hope you beat the bastard’s ass.’

Arnett abruptly turned and walked quickly out of the room. The tension went with him, leaving John weak-kneed and breathing hard Petroff let out a deep sigh, cursed, and sank back into his chair. Anna covered her face with her hands.

The attendant rose to his feet and said something to Dr Yakov. Yakov shook his head.

John turned to Petroff and grinned. ‘So?’ he said, holding his palms open in front of him. ‘Let’s play.’

Anna translated. Petroff smiled and gave a quick nod of his head.

‘There may not be time to—’

John took Anna’s hand. ‘We’ll play as much as we can. Then we’ll simply adjourn and wait for more suitable playing conditions.’

Anna giggled and translated to Petroff. Once again Petroff’s booming laugh filled the room.

Yakov spoke to the attendant who hurried out of the room. Then Yakov took John’s arm. ‘Shall we go to the playing room?’

The four of them went out of the room, down the corridor a few steps and into a large day room where a number of patients were eagerly setting up folding chairs around a card table that had been set up in the middle of the room. On the table was a chess set with small, plastic pieces and a battered chess clock. The patients stopped what they were doing when the four people entered the room and applauded. The attendant beamed.

‘Do you mind an audience?’ Yakov asked.

‘The more the merrier,’ John said evenly.

Petroff motioned for John to sit on the right hand side of the table where the white pieces had been set up. John nodded and sat down. The room immediately fell silent. Anna sat down next to John. He did not look at her, but John could feel her eyes on his face.

He was happy, John thought. For the first time in his life he was truly happy.

Petroff sat down. Already his face was immobile as he stared at the board, concentrating on his opening moves.

Yakov cleared his throat. ‘If there is no objection, Mr Butler, I will act as referee.’

‘I have no objection.’

‘Very well.’ Yakov reached forward and started John’s clock. ‘Mr Butler, you will move first.’

John made his opening move, noted it on the pad beside him. Petroff grunted and leaned forward, cupping his chin on his hands.

John punched the clock, sat back and waited.