Zugzwang

Zugzwang Read Online Free PDF

Book: Zugzwang Read Online Free PDF
Author: Ronan Bennett
echoed.
    â€˜Who’s there?’ I called out.
    The only reply was the continued scuff of unhurried steps. Two figures appeared at the top of the stairs. One, a tall young man, grinned unpleasantly. His companion had a dour look and was holding a revolver.
    He said, ‘Hello, Jew.’

Five
    Two weeks before Gulko’s murder, Kopelzon had invited me to a private recital he was giving at the house of the shipping magnate S. I. Raetsky. Afterwards we dined together at A l’Ours. Usually after a recital Kopelzon would be expansive and excited, quite full of himself, but that night he was preoccupied and agitated.
    â€˜You are either dissatisfied with your playing or you are having trouble with a woman,’ I said, trying to animate him.
    â€˜Is it true you are treating Anna Petrovna?’
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, somewhat guardedly.
    â€˜Are you sleeping with her?’
    â€˜No,’ I said, pretending to be more taken aback than I really was.
    â€˜Have you fallen in love with her?’
    â€˜Is this why you are so morose tonight? Because you failed to seduce her?’
    â€˜Who says I failed?’ He summoned a grin, though it took some effort. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I failed. For once.’
    â€˜Why don’t you let me treat you?’ I said.
    â€˜Treat me?’ he exclaimed with some aggression. There were times when I thought Kopelzon might despise me. ‘What for?’
    â€˜Your very alarming priapism.’
    The hostility in his expression faded. ‘Your own lack ofinterest in these matters is of much greater concern,’ he said with a smile.
    We had finished the meal and the wine. He ordered champagne and brandy.
    â€˜I have a new patient for you – Avrom Rozental,’ he said. ‘I’m serious – he’s quite mad.’
    â€˜I hadn’t realised you knew Rozental.’
    â€˜We’re actually quite friendly,’ he said, though rather vaguely. ‘Anyway, he’s going to need your help if he’s to play in the tournament.’
    â€˜Does he want my help?’
    â€˜I’ve talked to him about you.’ Again, there was a vagueness, a hint of evasiveness. ‘When will you see him? Tomorrow?’
    â€˜What are his symptoms? Why do you say he’s mad?’
    â€˜You’ll see for yourself. By the way, Rozental has no money to speak of. I can pay something towards the cost of his treatment –’
    â€˜There may be no treatment,’ I interrupted him. ‘But if there is, you owe me dinner, nothing else.’
    Kopelzon took my hand and squeezed it. ‘Thank you, Otto,’ he said. ‘You don’t know how important this is.’
    The following day Minna showed Kopelzon and the famous Avrom Chilowicz Rozental into my office. I had never before seen Rozental in the flesh, though like thousands of others I had followed in the newspapers his triumphal sweep across Europe. His game against Rotlewi at Lodz in 1907 was his masterpiece; I had studied it as closely as I had the case histories of Anna O., Dora and Little Hans. On examination, everything was revealed to be perfectly logical. Yet such were the dizzying depths of imagination it seemed the work of a conjuror.
    Kopelzon and I exchanged some commonplaces andattentions. Indicating the chessboard, he asked if I had a move ready for him. I apologised yet again and begged his indulgence.
    â€˜Are you saying you want a draw?’ he said.
    â€˜Would you mind if I took another day or two to think about it?’
    â€˜By all means,’ he said expansively, glancing at Rozental. ‘But I think you’ll find it’s a draw.’
    Kopelzon’s performance was intended for Rozental’s benefit, a way to put the great master at his ease. Rozental’s taciturn gaze wandered over to the Jaques pieces and rested there. His features remained impassive. I felt embarrassed by his scrutiny of our feeble
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