The Stronger Sex by Hans Werner Kettenbach Page B

have to tell you not to open the door to strangers in your apron?”
    â€œOK, OK,” said the woman. She stood back to let me go past her into the room. “Want me bring up sandwiches now?” She spoke with a distinct accent. I thought she might be Russian.
    â€œNo, not yet! I said I’d tell you when we wanted them!”
    â€œOK, OK!” As I appeared in the doorway beside her, Klofft waved me in. “Come on in, please!”
    The woman closed the door behind me. Klofft laughed. “That’s Olga! Wonderful woman. As I expect you saw for yourself. And a good soul too. Lacks a little refinement, that’s all.”
    â€œBut you’re making up for that.”
    He raised his eyebrows, but abandoned the pose again at once and laughed. “Ah, well, one does what one can!”

    He had put out a board on the table at the balcony door where he worked and set up the chessmen. The black pieces on his side of the board were drawn up neatly in their ranks, the heads of the two knights facing forward. Beside the board stood a digital tournament clock, an elegant item in a black-and-white design. He had also prepared two boards to support the forms on which to record our moves, with pencils lying on them. And finally there were two bottles of mineral water with glasses, and behind them a bottle in a wine cooler with two wineglasses. All the glasses were crystal, as I had noticed on my first visit.
    He had cleared away his employer’s reference library, including the Civil Code and the Personnel Book , and put them on the table beyond the balcony door, along with the stack of papers. A packet of today’s weekend newspapers lay there too. He had obviously looked through them already; a few pages were out of line here and there. If his wife hadn’t helped him tidy the room, he had been very industrious this morning. Or maybe Olga the wonderful woman had lent a hand.
    I pulled out a chair and sat down. “A glass of white wine?” he asked, pointing to the wine cooler. “I have a very fine Garganega there, from Lake Garda.”
    â€œNo, thank you. Normally I’d have liked to, but I came by car.”
    â€œYes, I didn’t think you’d come on foot.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, of course the guardian of the law isn’t going to drink and drive.”
    â€œThat’s right.” I put out my hand to the wine cooler. “But can I pour you a glass?”
    â€œAre you out of your mind? You think you can stay sober and get me drunk! No, no, my dear fellow, no dirty tricks! Not with me! By the way, what class did you play in? I never got around to asking last time you were here, you were so obsessed with the brochure of that… that quacks’ hotel.”

    I looked at him in silence. He knew the answer to this barefaced provocation that was on the tip of my tongue. He was even brazen enough to grin at me. I said, “In my club I usually played in the provincial league. But in my university team I sometimes came up against stronger opponents.” I pointed to the board. “We ought to draw lots for colours. Or do you prefer to play with black?”
    â€œMakes no difference at all to me. Just trying to be polite.” He took a white pawn off the board, put his hands behind his back, brought them out in front of him again clenched into fists and held them out for me to choose. I tapped his right fist; when he opened it, it was empty. He immediately opened his left fist, as if to prove that there was nothing fishy going on, and showed me the white pawn he was holding in it.
    â€œI wouldn’t have suspected you of tricking me anyway.”
    â€œOh, don’t try that on! You think me capable of any kind of underhand dealing!”
    Once again I looked at him in silence. And once again he grinned back.
    I took the board by two of its sides and slowly turned it until the white pieces were in front of him and the black