Chapter 3: How To Cheat At Chess

Charley and Linda were comfortable in each other's company and it showed. Of course, there was never any doubt at all whether Brian was their son or not. He was a composite of both his parents. Although he wouldn't admit it in public, Brian knew they made a great family. He couldn't imagine another set of parents who even came close to equaling the ones he already had. When kids get love and respect, they return it in full measure.

Dog looked out the window as they drove toward down town Las Vegas, he spied a sign, "JUNIOR CHESS CHAMPIONSHIP. REGISTER HERE $25.00."

"Brian, look there." he directed.

Brian understood the reason why Dog had called his attention to that sign. "Yeah!" he mentally yelled at Dog.

He called aloud to his parents, "Hey, Mom. Dad. Look there, a chess tournament. Since you guys want to gamble a little, can I enter the chess tournament?" He thought of his brand new chess skills. It would be fun to play against other kids and maybe ... Well, he could dream he might beat someone there, couldn't he?

His dad turned his head just a little for a moment and asked, "Brian, what is it with you? Ever since you found that dog, you have been acting real strange, and I mean real strange, even for a young dude who is barely fifteen. You find a dog in the desert and he can meow like a cat. You find gold and know where to sell it. You know what the market will bring and you bargain like that Swede second hand storeowner who used to have a story in St. Cloud before he was arrested for theft. You want a sword as part of the deal because you like it, you say. I bet it's valuable, isn't it?

"Uh yeah," Brian mumbled.

"Speak up, I couldn't hear you. It's worth a lot of money, isn't it?" His dad began to get a little testy.

"Yes Sir," Brian answered, "It's worth some bucks."

"About four thousand dollars on today's market if the sword maker's mark is not legible," Dog prompted, "And much more if it is."

"About four thousand dollars on today's market even if the sword maker's mark is not legible." Brian parroted what Dog put in his mind. "It's worth a lot more if you can see the maker's mark."

Brian's dad gave him what the Swedes called a "fish eye" and shook his head. "Yah. The crook we sold the coins to has an old sword on his wall that he doesn't know the value of, yet you, a young kid just waltz in off the street and take one fast look and talk him out of it." Come on, Brian, what gives?"

"Aw shucks, Dad, all I'm asking is if it would be okay for me to enter a chess match. We can afford twenty-five bucks, can't we?" Brian was trying desperately to figure a way to divert attention away from what was happening.

"Brian, stop evading the issue and answer your Dad." His mom was very firm.

Brian took a deep breath. He let it out slowly. He paused and then said, "If you let me enter the chess tournament, everything will become real clear, I promise. You guys go gamble and just let me play a game or two of chess. I got to find out something."

Brian's mom slipped out of her chair next to his dad and came back to the breakfast nook where Brian was sitting.

"You feel all right, Honey?" There was deep concern in her voice as she felt his forehead for fever.

Brian wondered to himself, why moms always want to know if you feel all right and check for a fever when they don't understand something? Of course there was no fever, just Brian feverishly thinking of a way to "explain" everything. Boy, he decided, I'm going to have to come up with a real good one this time.

"Okay, you get to play your chess game. I still think twenty-five bucks is a lot of money to spend just to play a game of chess." His Dad had relented. "Now, instead of gambling I think your mom and I want to see you play this game. There's something going on here and I want to find out just what it is.

"Okay, Dad." Man, his dad was like a bulldog, worse than Mom sometimes. When he got hold of anything he didn't want to let go.

They found a manned parking lot where it was safe to leave their motor home. They got their bikes off the bike rack over the rear bumper and pedaled to where the tournament was held. All they had to do was chain their bikes to the nearest light post and be done with it. Charley made certain their cables and locks secured the bikes before they left them. "As usual, he said, "There, now we won't have to buy new bikes." Brian was glad his dad said to bring the bikes.

They entered and looked around. The tournament was set up in a big, drafty meeting hall. These were elimination matches. Everybody could pay the entrance fee and compete within the proper age group. The winners from this and other, similar meets around the country would compete in another series of matches. In this contest first prize was five thousand dollars and second prize was two thousand.

They went up to the table where a woman accepted their money and handed out nametags. Brian's dad was reluctant to pay out the required twenty-five dollars. He wasn't cheap. It was more like he told people, "I just didn't see any reason to waste money. We might need it later on." Brian received his "Contestant" tag and his mom and dad were handed guest tags. Brian drew a number out of a basket.

The lady who took his money said, "Table thirteen. You go there, your opponent is already waiting."

Then her eyes opened wide when she saw Dog, "Ohmigod. You can't let that ugly beast in here."

"He's here for our son. Brian's dad said.

"He's a work dog. I get weak sometimes," Brian told her

"He doesn't bite, does he?" The woman became less disturbed at the mention of "work dog."

"Only elephants, ma'am," Brian answered her with a smile.

"Only elephants. How corny can you get?" Dog snorted and shook his head.

"I don't know how corny I can get, I never really tried to hit my corny limit yet," Brian answered with his own brand of sarcasm. He could be a smart Alec, too when he wanted.

"Well, go ahead," the lady said and gave Dog one last doubtful look. "Just be careful he doesn't bite anybody.

"Oh no ma'am. He is real well behaved. I trained him myself." Brian gave Dog a smug grin.

"Trained him myself. What a crock." Dog was more amused than offended.

"Gotcha." Brian grinned mentally at Dog.

"I'll get you back for that." Dog promised.

Brian and Dog made their way to table thirteen. As Brian started to sit down, his opponent, already sitting, glared at him. "Get your smelly animal out of here."

"He's a working animal," Brian replied, "He's allowed."

"Not at my table, he isn't."

"Hey. This is your table?" Brian asked as he tried to sound impressed.

"Yes, and don't you forget it. I run this table."

"Oh wowsy, I am totally impressed. If this is your table, I hope you didn't pay much for it," Brian told him. "You got gypped if you paid more than a buck for it. It's pretty cheap made."

Brian's opponent appeared to be a year or so older than he. He was a tall, skinny, watery eyed young man who looked to be anywhere from fifteen to eighteen. He wasn't any older because eighteen was the break off for the next older players. "You got a smart mouth on you. I have half a mind to smack some manners into you."

"Yup," Brian answered him, "Half a mind is just about all you can handle. You start anything with me and I'll kick your butt so high up in the air you're gonna have to get a stepladder to reach it. Now shut your stupid mouth and wait for the match to start. Then I'll show you who kicks butt."

"He's trying to get you mad enough to hit him, then you'll be disqualified. That means he'll win by default." Dog warned Brian, although no warning was necessary. Sometimes in sports guys would try insulting members of the opposing team so someone would lose his temper and get kicked out of the game. Brian was well aware of such tactics.

Brian told his opponent, "Look, your mind games won't work with me. If you're not good enough to play me straight up, admit it. It's no shame if you let a fourteen-year-old like me beat you. I'm just better than you."

"Very good, Brian. You really got to him," Dog laughed mentally, enjoying his new friend's sharp wit.

Just then the buzzer sounded and the timers were started. One minute was allowed for each move, or else lose it. Brian drew white and moved first. He hit the timer. His opponent moved and hit the timer. Back and forth the game moved. Suddenly five moves from mate his opponent jumped up and yelled, "You cheated. No little kid can beat me."

"Well, this little kid just did, it's mate in five and you know it, or you ought to if you're not too stupid." His first opponent ran off fuming.

Their judge smiled and said, "Well done, young man. Did you say mate in five?"

"Yes sir, you see, he has to protect his queen's rook or lose it. Then I place his king in jeopardy and he counters with his queen and..." Brian demonstrated.

"Amazing. How long have you been playing?" The judge was truly "amazed."

"Oh, I learned to play last year and just got serious today. I practiced on the way here."

"Uh, yes," the judge, a friendly young man of college age said. "And you just figured out how to beat him at his own head game today." He was very skeptical and showed it.

"Well, I do play foot ball and soccer and anything else where I won't lose all my teeth like in ice hockey. A skinny rube like him wouldn't last ten seconds against the Anoka team. Their coach gives lessons in how to get a guy's goat. Football is a game of strategy too, you know. I'm a kicker."

The judge grinned, "Well, let's see how you do against your next opponent." Brian looked up and saw a girl.

"Hey wait. It's no fair putting a girl against me." Brian started to stand up and leave.

"What's the matter, Short Stuff, afraid to get beat by a girl?" She was a nice looking girl, about sixteen, friendly appearing and had a pleasant voice. She stood close to six feet tall. Brian's five feet six didn't compare too well against this long, lean girl. She was built like one of the ballerinas in the Nut Cracker Ballet he watched with his parents every Christmas.

"No." Brian answered quickly, "It's just I don't want to hurt your feelings by beating you. My mom says I always have to be polite to girls. So I hate to beat you. You just aren't as smart as a guy because you're a girl." Brian was serious when he said it; she saw he truly meant what he said.

She laughed and sat down. "Look, shrimp, I have two brothers back in International Falls. I'm smarter than both of them put together." She smiled in an amused way at him.

"Yeah, but Northern Minnesota guys aren't too bright," Brian answered. "Their brains get froze in the winter and never have a chance to thaw out."

She grinned and looked down at Dog sitting next to Brian. "What a beautiful dog. And he looks so intelligent too."

"We won't beat this young lady quite so bad. She has good taste." Dog was at his smug worst. Someone had praised him.

"Oh go sniff a fireplug or something." Brian thought back at him. The girl reached over and stroked Dog's head.

The buzzer sounded and the game took many more moves for Brian to be declared the winner. "You're quite good. The girl said as she stood up from her chair in a single graceful movement. I'll see you in the final rounds. Bye." With a wave she was gone.

Brian felt bad about beating her until he heard Dog tell him, "Hey, none of that." Dog wasn't about to let Brian wimp out on him. "We have a tournament to win."

The next challenger was a very superior acting sort and Brian didn't mind when he beat the jerk. All through the afternoon it went. Only once did Brian not get declared the winner. It was when he had played a young boy in a wheel chair. They played to a stalemate. Brian didn't feel bad that he didn't win this one, not at all. The guy was a nice kid, eighteen years old. He looked forward to playing with the "older guys" next year.

Later the young judge came over with another older person and they watched Brian polish off yet another opponent.

Just as soon as the other player would move Brian would counter move. All the time he did this he talked to the people around him and seemed to be paying little or no attention to the board. "Amazing." The older judge said and walked off.

As the last round of the day was over, only Brian had survived undefeated. All the judges stood in a half circle facing Brian as they talked to him. Finally, a big fat man with a curly dark beard sat down across from him and asked, "You are tired, young man?"

"Not really, sir, why?" Brian responded.

"I would like to play, perhaps, one game. You would care to?" His heavily accented voice was friendly.

"Look out. This is Serge Kriminov," Dog cautioned. "He almost became world champion. He is a very tricky opponent."

"Yes sir," Brian answered. "You know they have better players than me in northern Russia where you come from. Why do you want to play a kid like me?"