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- Уолтер Тевис
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- Ход королевы
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- Стр. 152/270
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With
no
hesitation
whatever
Borgov
brought
his
bishop
to
king
three
,
protecting
his
king
.
Why
hadn
’
t
she
seen
that
?
She
had
looked
long
enough
.
Now
if
she
pushed
the
pawn
she
had
planned
to
push
,
she
would
lose
her
queen
.
How
could
she
have
missed
it
?
She
had
planned
the
threat
of
discovered
check
with
the
new
position
of
her
queen
,
and
he
had
parried
it
instantly
with
a
move
that
was
chillingly
obvious
.
She
glanced
at
him
,
at
his
well
-
shaven
,
imperturbable
Russian
face
with
the
tie
so
finely
knotted
beneath
his
heavy
chin
,
and
the
fear
she
felt
almost
froze
her
muscles
.
She
studied
the
board
with
all
the
intensity
she
could
muster
,
sitting
rigidly
for
twenty
minutes
staring
at
the
position
.
Her
stomach
sank
even
farther
as
she
tried
and
rejected
a
dozen
continuations
.
She
could
not
save
the
knight
Finally
she
played
her
bishop
to
king
two
,
and
Borgov
predictably
put
his
queen
on
knight
four
,
threatening
again
to
win
the
knight
by
pushing
up
his
king
bishop
pawn
.
Now
she
had
the
choice
of
king
to
queen
two
or
of
castling
.
Either
way
the
knight
was
lost
.
She
castled
.
Borgov
immediately
moved
the
bishop
pawn
to
attack
her
knight
.
She
could
have
screamed
.
Everything
he
was
doing
was
obvious
,
unimaginative
,
bureaucratic
.
She
felt
stifled
and
played
pawn
to
queen
five
,
attacking
his
bishop
,
and
then
watched
his
inevitable
moving
of
the
bishop
to
rook
six
,
threatening
to
mate
.
She
would
have
to
bring
her
rook
up
to
protect
.
He
would
take
the
knight
with
his
queen
,
and
if
she
took
the
bishop
,
the
queen
would
pick
off
the
rook
in
the
corner
with
a
check
,
and
the
whole
thing
would
blow
apart
.
She
would
have
to
bring
the
rook
over
to
protect
it
.
And
meanwhile
she
was
down
a
knight
.
Against
a
world
’
s
champion
,
whose
shirt
was
impeccably
white
,
whose
tie
was
beautifully
tied
,
whose
dark
-
jowled
Russian
face
admitted
no
doubt
or
weakness
.
She
saw
her
hand
reach
out
,
and
taking
the
black
king
by
its
head
,
topple
it
onto
the
board
.
She
sat
there
for
a
moment
and
heard
the
applause
.
Then
,
looking
at
no
one
,
she
left
the
room
.
“
Give
me
a
tequila
sunrise
,
”
she
said
.
The
clock
over
the
bar
pointed
to
twelve
-
thirty
,
and
there
was
a
group
of
four
American
women
at
one
of
the
tables
at
the
far
end
of
the
room
eating
lunch
.
Beth
had
not
eaten
breakfast
,
but
she
did
not
want
lunch
.
“
Con
mucho
gusto
,
”
the
bartender
said
.
The
awards
ceremony
was
at
two
-
thirty
.
She
drank
through
it
in
the
bar
.
She
would
be
fourth
place
,
or
maybe
fifth
.
The
two
who
had
done
a
grandmaster
draw
together
would
be
ahead
of
her
with
five
and
a
half
points
each
.
Borgov
had
six
.
Her
score
was
five
.
She
had
three
tequila
sunrises
,
ate
two
hard
-
boiled
eggs
and
shifted
to
beer
.
Dos
Equis
.
It
took
four
of
them
to
make
the
pain
in
her
stomach
go
away
,
to
blur
the
fury
and
shame
.
Even
when
it
began
to
ease
,
she
could
still
see
Borgov
’
s
dark
,
heavy
face
and
could
feel
the
frustration
she
had
felt
during
their
match
.
She
had
played
like
a
novice
,
like
a
passive
,
embarrassed
fool
.
She
drank
a
lot
,
but
she
did
not
get
dizzy
,
and
her
speech
did
not
slur
when
she
ordered
.
There
seemed
to
be
a
kind
of
insulation
around
her
that
kept
everything
at
a
distance
.
She
sat
at
a
table
at
one
end
of
the
cocktail
lounge
with
her
glass
of
beer
,
and
she
did
not
get
drunk
.
