The Flanders Panel

“Not so grotesque perhaps,” said Munoz, and they both looked at him. Sitting on a stool, with the small chessboard laid out on a low table, he was in his shirtsleeves, which had been shortened with a tuck just above the elbow. He’d spoken without raising his head from the chess pieces. And Julia, who was by his side, saw at one corner of his mouth that indefinable expression she’d come to know well, halfway between silent reflection and the suggestion of a smile, and she knew he’d managed to decipher the latest move.

He reached out a finger to the pawn on square a7, without touching it.

“The black pawn that was on square a7 takes the white rook on b6,” he said, showing them the situation on the board. “That’s what our opponent says on the card.”

“And what does that mean?” asked Julia.

“It means that he’s declined to make another move which, in a way, we were afraid he might. I mean, taking the white queen on e1 with the black rook on c1. That move would inevitably have involved an exchange of queens.” He glanced up from the pieces and gave Julia a worried look. “With all that that would imply”

Julia opened her eyes wide.

“Do you mean he’s declined to take me?”

Munoz’s face remained ambivalent.

“You could interpret it like that.” He studied the piece representing

the white queen. “And, if that’s the case, what he’s saying to us is: ‘I’m quite capable of killing, but I’ll only do it when I want to.” “

“Like a cat playing with a mouse,” murmured Cesar, striking the arm of his chair. “The man’s an utter villain!”

“The man or woman,” Julia said.

Cesar clicked his tongue.

“No one’s saying that the woman in the raincoat, if she was the one in the alley, acted on her own. She might be someone’s accomplice.”

“Yes, but whose?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, my dear.”

“Anyway,” said Munoz, “if you forget the woman in the raincoat and concentrate on the card, you might reach a different conclusion about the personality of our opponent.” He looked at each of them in turn before pointing to the board, as if he considered it a waste of time to seek answers anywhere but there. “We know he has a twisted mind, but it turns out that he’s also extremely smug. He, or she, is also arrogant. He’s playing with us.” He indicated the board again, urging them to study the position of the pieces. “Look, in practical terms, in pure chess terms, taking the white queen would have been a bad move. White would have had no option but to accept the exchange of queens, taking the black queen with the white rook on b2, and that would leave Black in a very bad position. Black’s only way out then would have been to move the black rook from e1 to e4, threatening the white king. But the latter would have protected himself simply by moving the white pawn from d2 to d4. Then, seeing the black king surrounded by enemy pieces with no possible help, checkmate would have been inevitable. Black would lose the game.”

“Do you mean,” asked Julia, “that all that business with the can left on the car and the threat to the white queen is just a bluff?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me in the least.”

“But why?”

“Because our enemy has chosen the move I would have made in his place: taking the white rook on b6 with the pawn that was on a7. That eases White’s pressure on the black king, who was in an extremely difficult position.” He shook his head admiringly. “I told you he was a good player.”

“And now?” asked Cesar.

Munoz passed a hand across his forehead and looked at the board thoughtfully.

“Now we have two options. Perhaps we should take the black queen, but that would force our opponent to carry out an exchange of queens,” he said, looking at Julia, “and I don’t like that. We don’t want to force him to do something he’s already decided against.” He shook his head again as if the black and white pieces confirmed his thoughts. “The odd thing is that he knows that’s how we’ll think, which has its advantages, because I see the moves he makes and sends to us, whereas he can only imagine mine. Yet he can still influence them. Up until now, we’ve been doing what he wants us to do.”

“Have we any choice?” asked Julia.

“Not so far. But later we might.”

“So what’s our next move?”

“We move our bishop from f1 to d3, threatening his queen.”

“And what will he or she do?”

Munoz paused before answering. He sat unmoving before the board, as if he hadn’t heard the question.