The Glove thought for a moment, then moved a piece, “Pawn to King-Four”, he announced, leaning back in his chair, “Check”
“How is that check?”, Vigan Artisorium asked.
“You are perhaps unfamiliaristic with the Gabe Kaplen opening?”
“Well”, the Armenian mob boss stated, looking back at the board, “Last week, the Gabe Kaplen opening was a knight which you moved to Bishop-Six…before that, it was when you replaced a rook with a Rolaid and shot it like a hockey puck across the board”
“Your move”, the Glove said, smiling.
Vigan moved his King-Pawn to King Four. “Ah”, remarked the Glove, “The last time I saw that gambit was Plessy v. Ferguson” He thought for a moment, then he moved a bishop.
“You moved your bishop OVER a pawn and to a spot not even on the board; in fact”, Artisorium stated, holding up his mug, “It’s floating in my coffee”
The Glove smiled, “Oh, it will be back…Hey! Leave that in there. That was a legal move”
Vigan took the dripping piece out of his cup and put it onto a napkin, “Why do we have to play this game every time I come over here?”
“Chess helps me think”
“YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW THE RULES OF THE GAME”
The Glove hesitated, then said, “I know how a rook moves”
“I doubt that”, said Vigan Artisorium, “Can’t you just tell me what you need from my organization?”
“Okay, okay”, the Glove conceded, then he looked at the board one more time, took the queen, broke it in half and used the two pieces to capture Vigan’s queen and knight. Artisorium rolled his eyes. “Check mate”, the Glove started, “I’m sure that you have familiarness with Resnick Tucker Resnick—“
“The surly assassin and sworn enemy of Mike Wistersheshenham?”
The Glove smiled, “The very same” He glance over at the office liquor cabinet, “Vigan, get me a drink of whatever I’m having and you’ll have the same” Vigan started to protest, then simply shrugged and walked over to the bar.
“Mr. Resnick is performing a ‘task’ for me…delivering a ‘package’ so to speak…an ‘important’ package…if you know what I mean”
Vigan was measuring out some gin into a shaker, “You see, the problem is that I NEVER know what you mean. You always speak in euphemisms. Why not just tell me what you want?”
“I want Resnick murderated”
The Armenian turned his attention back to the drink that he was mixing, “If Resnick is working for you, why do you want him killed?”
“I have my quirks”, replied the Glove, “Every assignment that I give out ends with at least one double-cross”
Vigan raised an eyebrow, “At LEAST one? So, I might get double-crossed as well?”
“Of course not”
Vigan poured the contents of the shaker into two highball glasses and handed one to the Glove. “Why, of course not?”
The Glove took the drink and sipped it, then he stirred the ice with his opponent’s king. “Who would I hire to do it? Aside from Resnick and your organization, I’ve betrayed everyone that has ever worked for me”
Artisorium mulled over the Glove’s words. It was true that the Glove was not trusted. Even Vigan had come to that day’s meeting strapped with dynamite, covered in poison and with a deadly cobra in his front pants pocket. But, he reasoned, eventually a man has his back to the wall and can no longer—
“What the HELL are you doing?”, Vigan demanded. The Glove was standing behind him with a large dagger raised above his head, grinning sheepishly. He hurriedly put the knife back onto his desk and picked up his drink.
“You had a loose thread in your jacket. I was simply trying to stab it off”
Artisorium motioned to a chair and the Glove sat down. Vigan pulled up a chair and sat across from him. “Look”, he started, “You’re a crime boss and I’m a crime boss. As a crime boss, you are expected to have a certain level of competence. You seem, even to the most cursory observer, to have absolutely no ability to commit crimes on a proficient or even acceptable level”
The Glove nodded. Vigan continued, “Crime bosses plan things in a logical and methodical fashion…it’s how we manage to stay one step ahead of the good guys; however, your actions are barely discernible from pure chance. You cannot count. You speak your native language like a recent immigrant. You’ve even got your shirt on backwards as you sit here”
The Armenian stood up and took the Glove by the shoulders, “And YET, I give you chance after chance. My men are at your disposal and perform the most inane tasks at your whim. I could be using these men in a threatening way to enhance my business…and YET, I give them to you to WASTE. Why do I do this?”
The Glove thought for a moment, then replied, “I really don’t have an answer for you, Uncle Vig”…