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Meed turned to face him. She straightened her back and took a deep breath. She nodded once.
Kamenev puffed out his chest, clearly relishing the moment. He rubbed his chin, considering his options. Meed clenched and unclenched her fists as the seconds ticked by. Kamenev cleared his throat, then spoke out, his diction crisp and precise.
“Tantum est fortis superesse!”
The phrase was Latin. That much was obvious. But Latin was a dead language, rarely spoken outside the walls of Roman churches. The pronunciation could be studied only by listening to recordings of Papal letters. Not many students went to that length. But not many students were as thorough as Meed.
“Tantum est fortis superesse!”she repeated forcefully. Kamenev turned to his language faculty. Heads nodded. Meed’s pronunciation would impress a Vatican cardinal.
“Translation!” Kamenev called out.
Meed knew the phrase was a message to the class—and to her especially. She stared straight at the headmaster and delivered the answer in a calm, clear voice.
“Only the strong survive.”
CHAPTER 38
Chicago
“PROTECT YOUR DAMNED queen!”
Meed was right. I was getting careless. Maybe because we had been playing for five hours. Until I became a kidnapping victim, I had thought three-dimensional chess existed only in oldStar Trekepisodes, but it turned out it was a real thing. And Meed was a master.
Night after night, she brought out the chess set. It looked expensive—three teak playing boards mounted one above the other on a wrought-iron stand, with hand-carved playing pieces. Keeping track of three levels simultaneously took some getting used to.
“Focus,” Meed told me. “You can do it.”
And it turned out I could. Even though I’d never played chess before. I still didn’t know if Meed was sneaking brain-altering chemicals into my protein shakes and injections, but I was starting to notice that my logic skills were sharper—sometimes almost magical. I could now solve a Rubik’s Cube in four seconds. I could memorize playing cards so easily that I’d be banned from a casino. But all that added brain power couldn’t help me figure out what was really going on, or what I was being trained for. In a lot of ways, I was still totally in the dark.
Chess was Meed’s obsession. She loved the planning, the strategy, the practice of thinking two or three moves ahead. She was a fierce player and a demanding teacher. She made me more aggressive. Made me concentrate harder. She said it was good for my fluid reasoning and processing speed. Also, it was the only time when she actually answered anything I asked. As long as the topic was chess.
“Best player?” I asked.
“Carlsen.”
“Better to give up a bishop or a knight?”
“Knight.”
“Who taught you the game?”
“I learned at school.”
“Where was that?”
Meed didn’t even look up. Nice try.
“Your move, Doctor.”
I’d started that game with the French Defense. It was a beginner’s ploy, and Meed saw right through it. She’d anticipated every move and had embarrassed me up and down the boards.
But now that I’d managed to shield my queen on the top level, I could actually see an opening. In two more moves, I could make it happen. But only if Meed blinked. I shifted my knight and held my breath. Meed stared at the board for a full minute, then countered with her bishop. My heart started racing. I slid my rook forward two squares and looked up. “Check,” I said.
I could hardly believe the word was coming out of my mouth. Meed tilted her head and looked across all three boards, as if she couldn’t believe it either. Then she tipped her king onto its side and reached across the table to shake my hand.
“Nicely done, Doctor,” she said. I could see that she was annoyed—but also impressed. Part of her liked that I beat her. I could tell. So I decided to push my luck.
As our hands met, I slid two fingers under the cuff of her right sleeve. When she pulled back, I slid out the throwing knife she had hidden there. Before she could react, I held the knife up and whipped it at the man-shaped target across the room. It stuck hard in the left upper chest. Kill shot. My first.
