Free Tactics of Conquest by Barry N. Malzberg

was the technique which Spassky the dreamer used against Fischer the eccentric in that immortal eleventh game of their series.) I find the concept of peremptory check somewhat dull. It would work, of course; it is book chess, precisely what the standard texts and practitioners would recommend ...
    But I have dedicated my life to playing with originality, to finding the unconventional solution to the conventional mysteries. I would not wish to do anything so unimaginative as to merely Queen-check. Better to begin an attack of my own, a slow, proficient gathering of the forces, terminating some eight or nine moves hence in a slashing,definitive attack deep into the corridors left unguarded by the Queen.
    There is plenty of time. My clock moves on but the longer that I may extend Louis’ agony the better I will like it. There must be some sadism in my personality which I will not attempt to deny. I like to smash them. I like to torment them. I like to see them suffer.
    Louis returns to the board, unaccompanied by his seconds. His gait is weaving and ponderous, his feet seem to meet the highly polished surfaces of the floor unevenly and there is a rather paretic gallop to this walk, an unsightly and unholy gleam to the eyes which I have not previously noted. Undoubtedly he has been drinking back there, although how he has managed to get hold of alcohol during a match is beyond me. There are resources to Louis, however, which I would not deny. The man is a bit of an alcoholic. He has a reputation on the circuit for secret drinking in quantity behind locked doors late at night. For years he has managed to control this habit, to be so secretive about it that it is known only to a few sophisticates like myself who have been with him for many years. But perhaps at this stage of our encounter he does not care any more.
    As he settles himself into his seat once again he does so with a little bit of a hop, an unsightly scuffle that masks the trembling of his knees as he eases himself into the huge, stuffed chair. He squints at the board checking to see whether I have made my own move and then, amazingly, leans forward, places a shaking forefinger on my knee and says hoarsely, “David, we’ve got to talk.”
    I yank my knee away, huddle over the board, shake my head desperately.
    “I mean it, David,” he says. “I really mean it. We have things to discuss.”
    Still I say nothing. I maintain my rigid posture, cross my arms in front of my face. I find it hardly credible that this is going on.
    “I’m quite serious, David,” he says in an even more determined tone. “We have a number of things to discuss. It can’t be put off any longer.”
    Finally I say something. “You fool,” I say, “we can’t talk. We’re playing chess.”
    “I know we’re playing chess. That’s what I want to talk about.”
    “There’s nothing to say.”
    “We have a great deal to say, David. We’ve got to go backstage and discuss things.”
    “You idiot,” I say, “don’t you know that there’s coverage of this match unprecedented in all history? There are cameras and microphones all over the stage. They’re listening to every word you’re saying.”
    “No, they’re not, David. Remember, it was you who insisted that there be no microphones. They can’t pick up a word.”
    “So they’re lip-reading.”
    “There are no lip-readers here, David,” Louis says with an uncomfortable laugh. “There may be lip-readers on television but what difference does that make? They can’t do anything to either of us for talking, chatting it up, and that’s what I’m doing. Besides, I said we should go backstage, didn’t I? We can have privacy there.”
    “You’re got to be crazy,” I say. “We have absolutely nothing to discuss.”
    “Oh, yes, we do,” he says with a nervous little giggle. “You’d be amazed at what we have to discuss. Important new information has reached me which is of the highest importance.”
    “I don’t care