Tatiana

Chapter 17

Chapter 17 

Ben wore a smart black suit. His hair was classically styled a la the 40’s. Mike smiled at the fragrance his friend wore, Davidoff, which reminded him of Paris, when Ben had first introduced him to drugs, had first encouraged his drinking, and had first introduced him to the girls who wanted paying the next day. Mike was only frustrated that he hadn’t seen it sooner.

But he saw it know, and his lips formed the curvature of a smile because he saw that his friend, who was often unassailable at a chessboard, wasn’t playing with his customary verve. He doubted his calculations, and Mike saw the nerves suffuse Ben’s wayward eyes.

Mike wasn’t afraid of losing, not since he’d already lost Tatiana. That’s why he’d played a risky opening. But the razor sharp Benko had Ben worried. He was down on the clock, and Mike’s queenside pawnstorm was far advanced. Ben’s kingside, and central play meanwhile had barely started.

Ben thrust his hands through his hair.

Mike watched him unravel, not pitying him. But then something happened: Ben had been a pawn down, his queenside overrun, but like the formidable player that he was, he went in search of counterplay. He committed everything to developing a kingside attack. Mike’s spirits sank because he knew that his play would be too slow on the queenside. This was nothing new in the Benko of course, but Mike had relied upon circumstances leading Ben into error. Just as Ben had led him, too many times.

Mike looked across at Ben, who now bore a confidant mien. Ben said, “Poor opening choice.”

Mike felt the full weight of the Russian’s eyes fall upon him.

The game developed, and Mike managed to liquidate material, avoiding mate. The players entered an endgame where, a pawn up, with an advanced queenside majority, Mike was winning.

The pawns rushed forward, a death march. Ben knew that one of them would queen. He said, “Come on Mike, this isn’t the 1800’s.”

Karpov got up: he knew his chess, he knew Ben was finished.

“Please--”

“It’s too late. You shouldn’t have taken her away from me. You went too far.” Mike queened his a-pawn. Ben played on as long as he could. In a tournament game he would have resigned long ago, but here resignation meant death. He started weeping as he moved his pieces. He could hear the man behind breathing down his neck, and could see the cord from the corner of his eye.

“Fucking hell, Mike, please!”

Mike looked over at him with a dispassionate glance, “Checkmate,” he said.

Karpov nodded to his man, who took the string and strangled Ben. Mike turned his eyes away. The chessboard crashed against the floor. Ben had kicked it over while he thrashed about, but now he was still; strangled, and dead.

Mike turned back to the fallen table, the limp body in the chair opposite. He said, “It’s alright, I deserve it.”

When the strangler moved close to Mike, when Karpov nodded to give him the kill order, Mike’s phone rang, “Hello.”

“Now you answer my calls,” Tatiana’s voice crackled through the handset.

Mike smiled, “Did you get my letter?”

“I did.” She was silent on the other end. “You should have told me, rather than ignoring me, and letting me find out from Ben.”

Mike glanced at the corpse.

“I know - I’m sorry.”

“I’m worried about you. The tone of your letter, your voice ….Where are you?”

Karpov gestured to Mike to hurry it up.

“I’ve got to go, I’m going to be alright.”

“Mike, where are you?”

Mike didn’t answer.

“Where are you?”

“I need to go, I love you.”

“I love you too, where a--”

Mike cut her off. He glanced at Karpov; the look in his eyes said it all.

The assassin took a position behind Mike, who heard the torsion in the cable. He was afraid, but it would soon be over. He shut his eyes, before hearing another jingle.

Karpov said something in Russian while Mike opened his eyes. Karpov showed Mike the phone. There was a message in Russian, “I don’t know what it says,” he said.

“It says, ‘father, please don’t kill him.’”

The father’s wrath abated. Mike had thought that he wanted to die, but when it came to the crunch, when the fucking guy was stood over him with a cord ready to strangle him, he was terrified of death.

“Tatiana seems strong upon saving you,” Karpov said before he leaned in close to Mike, “You are on tightrope. One more slip,” he pointed to Ben, “and I will do this to you.” There was a pause. “You have second chance Mike Smith. Don’t waste it.”

With the threat fresh from his lips, the Russian departed, leaving Mike and Ben alone where chess pieces lay scattered on the floor.

Mike got up, he went to the elevator, and headed outside. The cold air was refreshing. He hailed a cab, went to the penthouse suite. He was told that Tatiana was in, and when he knocked on the door, she answered. He didn’t know what to say at the threshold. Luckily, she left the door open, and told him to come in.

Mike strode into the carpeted parlor, and said at last, “I can’t even forgive myself, how can you?”

Tatiana smiled, and turned back to him. Her hair was tied up, her silk dressing gown hung from her shoulders.

“We all make mistakes from time to time. Imagine what the world would be if people didn’t know how to forgive.”

Mike stared at her pale blue eyes.

“I love you, I think,” she continued, “and you’ve hurt me deeper than I thought anyone could. But the thought of you not being in my life anymore hurts me most.” Mike was just a man for heaven’s sake; he didn’t know what to do in the face of such a woman. “But I can’t take being hurt like this. I’m not sure how many blows I can withstand.”

Mike walked over to her, took her hand in his, and pressed it to his lips. He said, “I’ll never be unfaithful to you again. I’m going to show to you that you did the right thing today.”

They kissed.

Tatiana pulled her lips away, “Oh!” She said suddenly remembering something, “What about our prophecy?”

“I told you that this wasn’t Macbeth.” Mike laughed.

“Maybe our story is only just beginning.”

Mike kissed her hard on the lips. “I’m not going to hurt you ever again.”

THE END

Copyright © 2014 by Curtis Couch

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