Ход королевы
Chapter 11
“Well,kid,”hesaid,“Ithinkyou’vegotit.”Andeverybodylaughed.BethlookedatJenny,whowassittingonthefloornexttoWexler.Jenny,whowasbeautifulandintelligent,waslookingatherwithadmiration.
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BethandBennyspentthenextfewdaysstudyingShakhmatniByulletens,goingbacktothenineteen-fifties.Everynowandthentheywouldplayagame,andBethalwayswonit.ShecouldfeelherselfmovingpastBennyinawaythatwasalmostphysical.Itwasastoundingtothemboth.Inonegamesheuncoveredanattackonhisqueenonthethirteenthmoveandhadhimlayingdownhiskingonthesixteenth.“Well,”hesaidsoftly,“nobody’sdonethattomeinfifteenyears.”
“NotevenBorgov?”
“NotevenBorgov.”
Sometimeschesswouldkeepherawakeatnightforhours.ItwaslikeMethuen,exceptthatshewasmorerelaxedandnotafraidofsleeplessness.Shewouldlieonhermattressontheliving-roomflooraftermidnightwithNewYorkstreetnoisescominginthroughtheopenbaywindowandstudypositionsinhermind.Theywereasclearastheyhadeverbeen.Shedidnottaketranquilizers,andthathelpedtheclarity.Itwasnotwholegamesnowbutparticularsituations—positionscalled“theoreticallyimportant”and“warrantingclosestudy.”Shelaytherehearingtheshoutsofdrunksinthestreetoutsideandmasteredtheintricaciesofchesspositionsthatwereclassicintheirdifficulty.Onceduringalovers’quarrelwherethewomankeptshouting,“I’matmyfuckingwit’send.
