Ход королевы
Chapter 9
Sheplayedondoggedlyintothenight,usinghermindandthebookonly,sittinginMrs.Wheatley’soldtelevision-watchingarmchairinT-shirtandbluejeans.Everynowandthenshewouldblinkandlookaroundher,halfexpectingtoseeMrs.Wheatleysittingnearbywithherstockingsrolleddownandherblackpumpsonthefloorbesideherchair.
Beltikwasbackatninethenextmorning,withhalfadozenmorebooks.Theyhadcoffeeandplayedafewfive-minutegamesonthekitchentable.Bethwonallofthem,decisively,andwhentheyhadfinishedthefifthgameBeltiklookedatherandshookhishead.“Harmon,”hesaid,“youhavereallygotit.Butit’simprovisation.”
Shestaredathim.“Whatthehell,”shesaid.“Iwipedyououtfivetimes.”
Helookedbackacrossthetableathercoollyandtookasipfromhiscoffeecup.“I’mamaster,”hesaid,“andI’veneverplayedbetterinmylife.ButI’mnotwhatyou’regoingtobeupagainstifyougotoParis.”
“IcanbeatBorgovwithalittlemorework.”
“YoucanbeatBorgovwithalotmorework.Yearsmorework.Whatinhelldoyouthinkheis?AnotherKentuckyex-championlikeme?”
“He’sWorldChampion.But—”
“Oh,shutup!”Beltiksaid.“Borgovcouldhavebeatenbothofuswhenhewasten.Doyouknowhiscareer?”
Bethlookedathim.“No,Idon’t.”
Beltikgotupfromthetableandwalkedpurposivelyintothelivingroom.Hepulledagreen-jacketedbookfromthestacknexttoBeth’schessboardandbroughtittothekitchen,tossingitonthetableinfrontofher.VasilyBorgov:MyLifeinChess.
