Ход королевы
Chapter 8
Whensheleftforbreakfast,Mrs.Wheatleywasstillasleep.
HermorninggamewaswithaMexicaninhisearlytwenties.Bethhadtheblackpieces,playedtheSicilianandcaughthimoff-guardonthenineteenthmove.Thenshebeganwearinghimdown.Herheadwasveryclear,andshewasabletokeephimsobusytryingtoanswerherthreatsthatshewasableeventuallytopickoffabishopinexchangefortwopawnsanddrivehiskingintoanexposedpositionwithaknightcheck.Whenshebroughtherqueenout,theMexicanstoodup,smiledathercoldlyandsaid,“Enough.Enough.”Heshookhisheadangrily.“Iresignthegame.”
Foramomentshewasfurious,wantingtofinish,todrivehiskingacrosstheboardandcheckmateit.“Youplayagamethatis…awesome,”theMexicansaid.“Youmakeamanfeelhelpless.”Hebowedslightly,turnedandleftthetable.
***
PlayingouttheGirevgamethatafternoon,shefoundherselfmovingwithastonishingspeedandforce.Girevwaswearingalight-blueshirtthistime,anditstuckoutfromhiselbowsliketheedgesofachild’skite.Shesatattheboardimpatientlywhilethetournamentdirectoropenedtheenvelopeandmadethepawnmoveshehadsealedthedaybefore.Shegotupandpacedacrossthenearlyemptyballroomwheretwootheradjournmentswerebeingplayedout,waitingforGirevtomove.Shelookedbackacrosstheroomtowardhimseveraltimesandsawhimhunchedovertheboard,hislittlefistsjammedintohispalecheeks,theblueshirtseemingtoglowunderthelights.Shehatedhim—hatedhisseriousnessandhatedhisyouth.Shewantedtocrushhim.
