Ruy Lopez Blues

It was a chilly day, the wind coming off the ocean had some real bite. I left Gloria's Atomik Cafe and headed down Gagarin Street. Overhead Aeolus stared down at the city and myself like the eye of a scientist staring through a microscope. You get used to it, but every now and then you glance up and see it there, staring, watching. As I reached the corner of Gagarin and Korolev I noticed two others coming in the opposite direction on my side of the street. Like me they were bundled up in overcoats, scarves and hats. We were the only ones walking outside. A few cars passed us by and one solitary scooter, its rider hunched over the handlebars as if the wind would blow them off their seat and into the sky.

The two strangers stepped aside to allow me to pass, I nodded my thanks. I could hear them still talking as I continued.

"You think Sparta has any chance against the Dynamos?" one said.

"A good chance given that the Dynamos keeper Kwarteng has pulled a hamstring, Sparta might be able to put one in the nets," the other said.

"Harsh."

"But true though."

Their voices faded as I continued down Korolev and could see my destination approaching. The New World department store loomed over nearby buildings like one of the ancient monoliths in the Vale of Tears. It was built more like a military bunker than a store offering all manner of goods and services. Still it was not really my destination per se, even though the place I wanted to go was located within its structure. I made a turn onto Kerensky Street, after weaving my way through various shoppers.

On Kerensky there is a side entrance and a flight of stairs descending to a simple yet sturdy door. On the glass pane in cyrillic letters is the word Mezhdunarodnyy and underneath the English translation; International. This was my destination, this was the place where I would meet my destiny. I grabbed the handle and pushed the door open letting myself enter this bastion of chess.

It was early for the club, though I could see over half a dozen patrons already here. Two were engaged in a game of chess, the rest were reading copies of the Daily Worker or the Lazarus Times. It was a good bet that they were looking at the chess problems, few people really bothered with the news. They came to the International to get away from the hurly burly, it was a retreat. Apart from one other person I was probably the youngest here, not counting the staff.

That other person was seated at a table, a chess board in front of him. He had a shock of bright red hair and wore the typical outfit you'd expect a virtual drama mobster to wear. White jacket, white pants, gaudy floral shirt and rose tinted glasses. If he was two yeas older it would have looked convincing, yet Kenji Gerasimov was sixteen and he looked ridiculous. But then again he was a brilliant chess player and I suspect his look had more to do with his chess than his fashion sense.

"So Zane you decided to show your sorry face eh?" he said.

"What is this, the final fight scene of SEVEN? Someone bet me twenty roubles I'd be too busy to make it. Well here I am," I said and glanced over at the bar where Simeon was pouring two cups of tea. He laughed ruefully.

"Well ready to suffer another catastrophic loss?" Kenji said running a hand through his mop of red hair.

"Sure why not, if you think you can take me," I said and sat down next to him.

We tossed a coin, he lost so that gave the choice of white or black. I chose white. That done we settled in for some serious chess. it was around about my third move that something started buzzing. I patted my jacket pocket thinking it was me then Kenji realised it was actually him that had been buzzing. He pulled out a flip phone from his jacket, flipped it and listened. He made a few rapid fire comments In Japanese then signed off and flipped the phone shut. He looked at me with sadness on his face, real heartbroken sadness.

"I have to go I'm needed at the shop, two of the staff called in sick," he said.

It was a tragedy. He had to go.

"OK then, not a problem. Take a photo of the board with your phone," I said. He did. Then I pulled out mine and snapped a shot of the board. Simeon came over and took a confirming shot with the club's phone. Kenji apologised, bowed, the grabbed his jacket and hurried off out into the cold winds. And off into some serious hurly burly, his family ran a bakery, an extremely popular one. It was lucky for him that it was not to far from the club. Simeon stared at the board then at the club's phone.

"Ruy Lopez? Again? Why do you keep playing the same opening Zane?"

"Well I'm a detective, and on the start of a case I'm usually fumbling around in the dark looking for clues."

"And that mean's what precisely?" Simeon said, one eyebrow raised as he stared at me like I was crazy man.

"It means that for me, chess is like a case, I start out with little, often bumbling around and then in the middle and end games things come to light. The mystery is solved."

"He's going to beat you," Simeon replied and turned away.

"Ah but this is the second time," I said. "And this too is just an opening, given time I can work out his style and beat it, after all like I said the real fight begins with the middle and end."

Simeon snorted.