The late and as yet un-named: - Chapter 5.

Jackson Dent sat opposite an old man. This was the second game he had played so far. The old man had used a novel defence against his queen’s gambit opening and the board was solid with lack of movement. It was a version of Queen’s Gambit (decline) that he had never seen before.

Jackson was sure he could break the line of defence and could see the old guys playing style gradually failing.

He moved the bishop up in preparation of closing the pawn line. The old man moved his queen towards Jackson’s knight; like the woman without the knickers…

Damn it.

Jackson made a few instinctive moves. His mind was awash with thoughts about a woman whose name he did not even know.

What was the old codger doing? A new avenue of attack was opening up. He had created a weakness in his own defence.

Jackson pushed the pawn forward.

The man’s hand waved near the queen. Her legs had been amazing…

Stop it Jackson, he told himself, focus and crush him.

He screwed his face up and forced himself to recite the “rules” of the gambit. The school hall disappeared from his mind and the chessboard was the whole world. The aim was to separate the king and queen and make her his.

Outside, the nameless man was passing by watched by the hypnotic man. Jackson was blind to all but the play of the game.

The nameless man walked onwards. The road would turn and then the long road up to the lab. He would wait until dark then he would take the golden egg.

Jackson’s concentration had become total. He immersed himself ever deeper into his game until the line between reality and game blurred.

A vast army under his command stood on the brink of defeat or victory locked in a sluggish and subtle battle. The queen of his affections under the control of the black and evil enemy. His battle now focused on capturing her and making her his.

The Black king was amassing his forces in the north while his white knights were tangled in the home front politics.

The queen herself was being used in an attack that was building up. Then he saw it - every move mapped out in his mind and he would crush the oppanant and checkmate would be his. But he would fail to capture his queen.

The dance continued and the Black King continued to rally his forces another opening and the armies flew at each other. Corpses littered the battlefield and nights and clergy fell under the sword.

When the dust cleared, the black king had the larger army but Jackson’s own forces had a positional advantage. Much of the army of the black king was taken up protecting the black king himself.

Jackson pressed his advantage sacrificing his last knight to do so and gradually the army of the black king fell back and the queen was his.

He had won.

He had not won.

The King was still loose and any single pawn that made it into the territory of Jackson’s White King would reclaim the queen.

Jackson looked over the playing board. The situation was grim. In a few moves the advantage would slip to black as the pieces gradually freed themselves from being pinned and skewered onto the king. The pawn structure favoured black slightly and there was no clear advantage.

No clear route to victory.

None at all.

Bar the queen. His queen was still standing. The most powerful piece on the board and he cared nothing for it.

He examined the board closely and made his move. He smashed open the case of pieces around the black king and announced check.

The old man went to make an instinctive move and stopped. That piece was already preventing checkmate… and that one too.

He pulled back struggling to build a defence.

Jackson threw what little he had left at him to keep him wrong footed.

Suddenly he realised that he was setting up to attack too. Jackson responded from instinct and attacked again lining up to counter the counter attack.

Like a rocket, the rook had plummeted into the scene and with a subtle move the bishop made use of the space it had been given. Too late the old man had seen the change Jackson had made.

He pulled back. Pulled back again but it was too late - checkmate! Jackson had won.

Outside the school doors Jackson inhaled deeply from his hand rolled cigarette. His mind was full of the game and only the game. A bus pulled up and then quickly pulled away.

Somehow, this seemed significant to Jackson’s chess-filled mind.

The man sat looking at a paper and smoking on the bus shelter bench. A piece moved up ready.

Jackson dropped his cigarette and looked down at it for a moment; then he turned sideways to look at the man on the bench. He had about him an absent look in his eyes a totally blank-eyed expression. Jackson looked again at the burning cigarette end, stepped on it and went back inside.

Angelina sat on the bus in a world of dreams and ideas. Her self-contented ponderings had been disturbed, however, she was sure that she had seen the guy that she had literally bumped into. It seemed he worked in a school.

She shook her head as if trying to dislodge all thought of him.

Business. What to do?

She really liked the idea of investigative journalism but somehow she could see no way for it to fit in with the image of the self-employed person.

She needed to get out more. A journalist gets out more.

Then, as if from heaven itself an idea came – buy a computer and learn to become a journalist.

Why not? She could afford it after all.

The day swam past Jackson: a draw and then a win, a break and then total humiliation as a game lost is a victory lost. Somehow, it did not matter so much this time. The girl was what mattered and in his mind, he had captured her already.

Adrian sat with his notes. He had played these tournaments for as long as he could remember. He loved the gathering of worthy opponents that would face him. He loved the challenge of the new faces and the unknown element. The unknown element had met him in strength today. The young man who’s playing style so confused him that he had now been over the game some twenty times between matches.

The young man played with a form of aggressive genius and yet both his glaring mistake and a well laid trap total failed to catch his attention. The more Adrian analysed the game the more it seemed this boy was playing a different game to everyone else. Adrian could not even be sure that he was playing to win.

Of all the games he had ever played against armatures and grand masters non had this flavour of inspired madness about it. With that style of desperate insight only the most sturdy players, the Casperoffs and Shorts of this world could stand a chance. This Young player defied belief and flew in the face of everything they taught the new players.

Adrian felt he just had to know what was driving this opponent. Perhaps if he captured an insight into his mind he could capture a completely new style of play.

He went over the game again. His notes so carefully taken. Each time he planned and plotted and worked out possible attacks and defences the player cut across all of it and simple made nonsense of it all.

Adrian gritted his teeth and re-set the board. It bugged him.

Jackson watched the old man slowly resetting his playing board. And then replay an earlier match. It was a classic queens gambit opening, black declines the pawn and then a game of utter madness takes place.

Jackson shook his head. He could not follow the game. Whoever had played that one was missing a few of his marbles.

The last game was coming up and Jackson knew that he was now fighting for second or third overall. It was as if he was watching someone else play. He sometimes cared and sometimes it was as if he could not even dare to open his eyes.

The eyes of the one they called Anabellus opened. He had chosen to hide in a school and the school had chosen to play host to hundreds of people milling and thinking and spoiling the hell out of his peace and stillness.

Anabellus cursed his luck silently. He could feel the thought around him and by shear will sank into his dreams once more.

Jackson looked only at the playing board. His opponent was without hope. Jackson only had to move any piece into attack the king to create checkmate. The king was locked place and yet he held back.

The player should have resigned, but for some reason he did not. In his soul, Jackson knew that this person was a teacher and he would force this man from the table or destroy every last playing piece before the game was over.

The game edged painfully on one by one the pieces fell to the careful onslaught of Jackson army. Three pawns still stood when with a horrific realisation Jackson said: “checkmate”. It was an error, the man had tricked him, he had been defeated in his game plan he had not destroyed the teacher who might one day come back to play again.

Jackson was devastated but his mouth simply said: “Thank-you, good game.” In response to whatever inane thing, the man had said.

Jackson left the table and the score sheet leaving it up to the looser to file the report. He stepped out side and rolled himself a cigarette. Jackson stood so that he could look a little side ways and observe the bus shelter but so that he would not be see to be staring.

The man was still sat there. A bishop developed early and placed ready for the master game plan. Jackson smoked and all the time he did not take his eyes off the man. The man was smoking long thin black cigarettes that Jackson knew to be menthol. The green box they came in peeped from the man’s top-pocket and three such empty ones lay crumpled on the floor.

The roll-up shrinking rapidly Jackson flicked it away and stepped back inside. The giving of prizes and certificates and the endless mindless babble was still to come. Jackson would endure it if only to show good form to the rest of his chess club. Secretly Jackson wanted to be out there somewhere. Out whereever adventure and beautiful women with no underwear roamed. Out there being manly.

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