PAWNS (fiction)

[Jeffrey J. Boats]

Here's a story I wrote involving chess, which a lot of people have
been asking me to send them. I'm posting it here to make it easier for
myself to distribute it. I hope you all enjoy it.
No offensive material, science-fiction, no resemblance to real
persons present or past, lots of chess, all the other standard
disclaimers blah blah blah ... oh, and it's copyrighted. :)

-------------------------

PAWNS


John Kane awoke to a blur of bright light. Before him there were
dark shapes, which turned into a table and two chairs as his eyes
refocused. He slowly sat up and his back groaned. A table and two
chairs, with nothing else to occupy a plain, white room.
There was something different though, and John couldn't quite put
his finger on it. Not that waking up in the middle of a foreign room
with a slight headache was run-of-the-mill, but there was something else
-- a presence. A light noise startled him, and he turned to find his
business partner, Allan Bourke, struggling to a sitting position.
"Allan, where are we?" John asked, hoping for enlightenment.
Allan's response was an unintelligible approximation to whalesong. It
was only then that John noticed the peculiar bands on each of their
right wrists. He examined the metallic band closely; it resembled a
manacle, but more snug to his arm and wider. The locks looked more than
formidable.
John put this concern aside and turned back to see Allan, who was
holding his manacled wrist and looking around. It was only an hour ago
that they were on a red-eye flight to Washington for a business meeting.
Only an hour before they had been making small talk about family
vacations. At least it seemed like an hour ago. Time has little
meaning when the universe is a blank room with no clocks.
"There's no door," John observed. The bare white walls were broken
by an occasional hairline seam running from ceiling to floor. Some of
the seams had to be portals, John concluded. They got in somehow.
Correction -- they were put there, and presumably for a reason. "I
don't see a way out."
"Something's on the table," Allan interrupted, dragging himself to
his feet. John rose with him, and they found their way to an oak table
with elaborate carvings. Upon the table was an equally ornate onyx
chess set, with pieces already aligned for the start of the game.
"Chess," John commented blankly.
"Chess," confirmed Allan, tossing a sarcastic look toward John.
"Well, now it all makes sense. I'm getting the hell out of here."
Allan moved to the nearest wall and started pushing hard against an area
between two seams. John joined in, and when their combined effort
failed to produce, they headed in separate directions. Pushing against
the wall always accomplished nothing, as did prying at the seams with
chess pieces, trying to lift the panels from the floor, and calling the
room rude names. Frustrated, they both returned to the table, and
each took a chair.
"Now what?" asked Allan. John could only shrug.
"Now you play chess," came the answer in an unseen voice. A small
panel had slid open in the ceiling to reveal a speaker.
"Who are you?" John demanded to the ceiling.
"The manacles you wear each contain a blade which I can trigger by
remote control. It will completely sever your hand from your forearm.
Do not attempt to remove the manacles."
John and Allan exchanged stunned looks.
The voice continued. "You have precisely one hour to complete a
game of chess. The loser's right hand will be amputated for him. If
you draw, do not finish, or do not play, you will both lose a hand.
Good luck, gentlemen. The clock starts ... now."
Allan leapt up abruptly. "Wait, just a ... who do you think you
are?!" He pounded his fists on the oak table, becoming even more aware
of the heavy band on his wrist.
An idea leapt into John's mind, and he looked toward the speaker
wearing his best poker face. "Sir, I ... don't know how to play." He
paused dramatically, swallowing some saliva. "This isn't fair, I don't
know how to play. I've never played before." Allan flashed a surprised
look before catching on. John's plea received no response. A minute or
so passed, before John turned back to Allan, hoping that he had a better
idea.
"What do we do, John?"
John looked dolefully at his enslaved wrist. "I don't see any
alternative," he responded. John took a pawn of each color, shuffled
the pieces behind his back, and extended his hands, each concealing a
pawn. Allan chose a hand, and ended up with the black pawn, meaning
that he would play black in the game. The two friends shook hands,
feeling the extra weight introduced by the manacles, and took their
places on opposite sides of the board.
"I can't believe this is happening," awed John.
"I'm gonna murder whoever's behind this," Allan vowed.

1 P-K4,P-K4; 2 Kt-KB3,Kt-QB3; 3 B-B4,P-KR3; 4 P-Q4,P-Q3;

The first moves of the game were shrouded in guilt. The last thing
John wanted was to hurt Allan. But the alternative was to lose his
right hand, and there was no way out of his predicament. He knew that
Allan felt he same way, but that didn't make his chore any easier.
John started with a textbook opening, and Allan responded
appropriately. This disturbed John, as he remembered that a draw would
be no better than defeat. He couldn't afford to be predictable; the
more standard his moves, the more likely it would be for Allan to force
a draw. John decided he needed to take some calculated risks, to try to
force an error from Allan. He pushed aside the lingering realization
that he was doing his best to cause his friend to lose a hand, and began
a series of moves geared toward bringing about Legal's mate, a quick
checkmate.

5 Kt-B3,B-Kt5; 6 PxP,PxP;

John cursed audibly. Allan had avoided Legal's mate, and at the
same time exposed his queen. John had to trade queens now, and the loss
of material would make it harder for him to win outright later. John
didn't enjoy having his moves forced, but then the voice behind the
speaker had been forcing their moves from the start. It made him feel
as though he was a chess piece himself.

7 QxQ+,RxQ; 8 B-QKt5,BxKt; 9 BxKt+,PxB;

In the exchange, Allan managed to ruin John's kingside pawn
structure. John would have to castle queenside to protect his king.
John decided to retaliate by destroying Allan's queenside pawn structure
on his ninth move.
"You're coming at me pretty hard, pal," noted Allan, angrily.
"What choice do I have?" John demanded, adding, "You're playing
pretty rough yourself."
"Sorry, friend," Allan pressed, "but I'm not losing a hand. You are."
John's conscience scolded him for beginning to loathe his former
friend. He set his jaw and concentrated on the board. He needed to
castle queenside as soon as possible to set up a good defense, and only
then would he try to mount an attack on Allan's army of black pieces.

10 PxB,B-B4; 11 R-KB1,P-KKt3; 12 B-Q2,Kt-K2;
13 0-0-0,B-Q5; 14 B-K3,P-KR4; 15 BxB,PxB;

That did it. John had protected his king, but in the meantime
Allan had advanced a pawn into the heart of his defenses. There was no
reason to panic though, as John was confident he could remove the pawn
harmlessly. In fact, he calculated, he may have just received the break
he needed to gain a positional advantage.

16 Kt-K2,P-QB4; 17 P-QB3,P-Q6; 18 Kt-B4,P-QB5;
19 Kt-Kt2,0-0; 20 Kt-K3,R-Q2; 21 KtxP,(B)R-Q1;

John smiled confidently. He now had taken a pawn lead, and would
soon increase his material advantage despite black's doubled rooks. He
allowed himself a haughty smirk at Allan, who only leaned intensely over
the board.
As Allan took his time thinking about his next move, John examined
his manacle. He was amazed by how distracting it was. The manacle
wasn't uncomfortable, only weighty, but the threat it posed kept part of
his mind preoccupied at all times. He looked up as Allan made his next
move, and the players exchanged icy glares.

22 P-KR3,Kt-B3; 23 Kt-K3,Kt-K4; 24 P-KB4,Kt-B6?;
25 Kt-Q5,K-B2; 26 RxP,Kt-R4 and P-Kt4;

White's advantage had increased, and John was more than pleased.
He decided he'd be happy to exchange evenly now, confident that he would
prevail in the endgame. He was so engrossed in thinking several moves
ahead that he didn't notice Allan had cheated and moved twice in a row.

27 PxP,PxP; 28 P-KB4,K-Kt3; 29 PxP,KxP;
30 R-Kt3+,K-R3; 31 R-B6+,K-R2; 32 R-Kt5,R-R1;

"Damn!" John blurted, surmising his position. He was well ahead of
Allan in terms of both material and position, but Allan had deduced
32...R-R1, the one move that would give him a desperate chance to hold
his position, and now John's task would be all the more difficult. His
growing frustration made his manacle seem much heavier.
John ignored Allan's mocking smirk. "I can't kill Allan quickly,"
he thought, "so I'll take him a piece at a time." In brief hindsight,
John questioned his use of the word "kill." He just wasn't himself
anymore. There was no time to think of such matters, however, as John
suddenly noticed a combination which would win him an even greater
material advantage, and set Allan up for "the kill."

33 R-B4!,Kt-Kt3; 34 Kt-B6+,K-R3;
35 RxKt,KxR; 36 KtxR,R-K1;

John looked toward Allan, almost expecting his resignation. Allan
only poured over his pieces, lost in thought and anger.
"Surely you realize you can't win now," stated John. Allan tensed
further. "There's no point in continuing."
"Is that you're resignation?" Allan sneered.
"Allan, you can't win. End this."
"Well maybe I can draw."
John was taken aback. "There's no sense in both of us losing a hand."
"Yes there is," Allan responded coldly. "You're coming with me."
"We were friends an hour ago," John pleaded.
"Thanks a lot, friend."

37 Kt-B8+,K-Kt2; 38 P-Kt3,RxKt; 39 RxR,KxR;

No sense beating around the bush, John reasoned. He had enough
advantage to assure a win, so he forced the endgame by eliminating every
major piece on the board in one quick flurry. It was a game of patience
for John now, with smart play assuring him of victory. Allan began to
smell of fear; he felt the inevitable loss coming, but still would not
give in. Play continued.

40 K-Q2,K-K2; 41 K-K3,K-K3; 42 P-R3,K-K4;
43 P-Kt4,P-R5; 44 P-B4,P-R3; 45 P-R4,K-B6;

"Take that," John thought to himself. "I've got him backing off."
He was distantly aware of how callous and calculating he had become,
but pushed that awareness aside with his sympathy.
"Time to queen the passed pawn," thought John, glancing briefly at
his manacle. "Such a simple-sounding solution -- just queen the pawn to
save yourself and doom your friend. But then he's not your friend
anymore, is he? Some sadistic sonuvabitch brought us here somehow and
turned us into archenemies. What a merry puppet I am." John thought
for another minute, formulating his winning strategy.

46 K-Q4,K-Kt4; 47 K-K5,K-Kt3; 48 K-K6,K-Kt4;
49 P-K5,K-B5; 50 K-B6,K-Kt6; 51 P-K6,KxP;
52 P-K7, K-Kt7; 53 P-K8(Q)...

John hungrily surmised the board. He checked all variations,
analyzed every position, and then quickly double-checked. Satisfied, he
announced upon making his fifty-third move, "sorry, Allan. This cinches
it. It's over."
Allan erupted in rage, flipping the table and its contents onto
John, who recoiled in surprise. "You bastard!" he screamed, lunging at
John with fire in his eyes.
One solid roundhouse punch exploded on John's face, and then
another. John realized that they were playing quite another game now,
and that the stakes had increased. Now John was the one who knew fear,
as Allan was a giant in comparison.
As John fell backwards, Allan jumped on top of him and closed his
hands about John's throat. Fighting for air, John looked up into his
assailant's eyes, and saw a man possessed. He couldn't pull Allan's
hands from his throat, and could feel the small blood vessels in his
eyes popping one-by-one. He thought of his wife as his vision blurred.
A sound cascaded around them, and a strange smell filled the room.
The hands around John's throat loosened, and his lungs gasped and filled
with tainted air. More ceiling panels had opened, and jets of gas were
filling the room. Allan staggered backward, stunned, and collapsed near
the table. John watched in amazement of the situation, before losing
consciousness also.

The closed-circuit monitor showed that both John and Allan were
asleep. Mr. Newfield made a few more notes on his clipboard, and turned
to his fellow observer Mr. Goode, who was also finishing his analysis.
"Well?" inquired Newfield. "What did you think of our candidates?"
"Offhand," Goode commented, "I'd say Allan Bourke showed little promise."
"I concur," agreed Newfield. "But John Kane impressed me."
"Yes," Goode analyzed, "he did show good intelligence, a
willingness to take calculated risks, and the ability to make them work.
Not to mention that he was able to adapt and become callous and
analytical against his best friend, even though it was contrary to his
nature." Newfield nodded agreement.
"However," continued Goode, "I was disappointed in the way he
sacrificed some of his material in the endgame when he didn't really
need to. Good operatives are efficient and take every advantage
available to them."
Newfield chuckled. "Nonsense! He needed to win quickly, so he
eliminated the pieces to simplify the game, but still kept enough of his
advantage to make sure he still won. I think his analysis was
exemplary." Newfield paused, lighting a cigarette. "And even if it
hadn't been, grace under fire can be taught." Newfield lectured Goode
as though he were addressing a student.
"I say we didn't waste man-hours checking out John Kane. His
background investigation uncovered nothing alluding to disloyalty to the
United States. His articles in economics journals show him to be an
expert in international trade. Today we saw his intelligence and
character tested, and I'd say he passed with flying colors."
Newfield puffed on his cigarette for emphasis, and delivered his orders.
"Send a fax to Covert Operations and tell them to prepare the usual
welcome for Mr. Kane." As Goode made for the door, Newfield added, "and
see that Deprogramming takes care of Mr. Bourke. He must believe that
his business trip was uneventful and ordinary." Goode agreed and left.
Newfield glanced once more at the image on the monitor, and smiled
knowingly. He looked forward to working with John Kane in the future.


--Jeffery J. Boats
Published in July/August 1994 edition of CREATOPIA
(Copyright 1994)