Joker Game Vol 1 Chapter 2.1

At this time of year, the vast sea that stretches before the eyes is strikingly blue.

Early on since j.a.pan had opened its ports in the Meiji era, elegant western-style houses have been constructed in areas of Yamate, around the Port of Yokohama as far as the eye can see.  A building surrounded by white walls stood out amongst the others—the estate of the British Consul constructed by the British.

It was exactly a week ago when Gamou Jirou had been to the estate.

He was an employee at “Tailor Tersas.h.i.+ma”, an old shop at Bashamichi. When he had gone to the estate to deliver a suit last Sunday, the Consul General, Ernest Graham, had been present and had nothing to do, and invited him to a game of chess. Now at the age of sixty-five, Graham, who was confident in his skills in chess, considered it a miracle that the young people of j.a.pan were able to play chess at all, and had not expected his opponent to be evenly matched with himself.

Gamou had won the first round with ease.

Graham had been surprised, and thus had gotten serious.

At the end of the day, with three wins, two losses and two ties, Graham had won by a thin margin. From then on, every day, after Graham had finished his duties at the emba.s.sy and returned to his residence, he would call Gamou over to play chess with him.

Today is Sunday, and Gamou had been summoned early in the morning.

A checkered chess board with the pieces arranged on top was set between the two men sitting by the second floor window of the estate

“Check.” Gamou announced as he moved his knight.

Graham frowned.  

“Hmm…so that’s a way to play it…”

He removed the cigar hanging from his mouth, caring less about the ashes that fell to the carpet, and gazed at the chessboard for a while, only to finally throw the pieces in his hand onto the board.

“This way, I’ve won fifteen, and lost seventeen, with six stalemates.” Gamou smiled. “You must have duties to attend to, let’s call it a day…”

“Hold on, now. It’s Sunday anyways, so let’s have another round.”

Graham had already begun arranging the chess pieces as he spoke. Just then, the wife of the Consul, Lady Jane Graham came in.

“Dear, a word if you’ll please?” the Lady said as she walked towards Graham.

She was about forty-five, almost twenty years younger than Graham himself. In contrast to the Consul’s plump body, she had a slim figure and amber eyes, giving her a distinctive aura of her own. For some reason, her pale brown pupils were filled with unease, her thin eyebrows twisted into a frown.

“I can’t leave right now as you can see. Let’s talk about later…” Graham seemed to have noticed his wife’s distress, pausing halfway and stopped placing the chess pieces.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

The Lady silently pointed outside the window.

Looking out, a man in workers’ clothing can be seen behind the trees of the front yard, seeming to be deliberately hiding behind them, constantly peering into the residence.

“That man came into the backyard yesterday too,” the Lady whispered. “When the maid had asked about him, he said ‘I’m from Yokohama Waterworks, I’m here to check for any leakages’, but I heard he never did inspect the water supply, and keeps trying to look into the house. It unnerves me…”

“Let me see.” Graham stood up from his chair and gazed out of the window. The Lady also took a glance from behind her husband, then turned around and said in a low voice, “Ah, that disgusting look in his eyes, just like that of a spy…”

Graham turned to Gamou. “What do you think?”

“He’s probably a member of the j.a.panese military police.” Gamou replied as he placed the chess pieces on the board.

“A military policeman? How do know?”

“This is very simple reasoning,” Gamou said, lifting his head to look out of the window. “His complexion is really tan, except for his pale forehead. Additionally, from my point of view, I can see that he doesn’t have much hair. From these points I can deduce that his job must have him walking around outside all day while wearing a hat. Then why isn’t he wearing it now? It must be because it would be a dead giveaway of his job. Think about it, with an easily identifiable hat and a career he wishes to be kept secret, there’s only the military police.”

After a while, Graham let out a chuckle, jiggling his pot belly.

“I guess that must be it.” Graham winked at the Lady, “Surprising isn’t it? For a kid his age, and even j.a.panese, he speaks fluent English and is exceptionally sharp. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have lost to him at chess at all.”

He patted his wife on the shoulder, and returned to his seat, facing Gamou.

“Well, now that we know about the truth, let’s have another round.” Graham arranged the pieces, shaking his head as he muttered. “How troublesome, for someone like that to also be considered as a spy.”

He suddenly lifted his head, as though he had just thought of something.

“Ah yes, we have a saying back in the British Empire, ‘Spying is a despicable job that only gentlemen can do.’ Take Baron Baden-Powell as an example, back in the days of the Boer Wars, he had disguised himself as an entomologist, slipping into enemy territory to be a spy of course. To successfully fulfill his duties as a spy, the Baron had not only learned how to use an insect net, he had also prepared a sketchbook with drawings of b.u.t.terflies. In other words, if he wrote down the situation in enemy territory into the patterns of the b.u.t.terflies’ wings, he won’t draw suspicion to himself should the enemy investigate him. Furthermore, to avoid being arrested, Baron Baden-Powell had even shockingly soaked his s.h.i.+rt in brandy. Thanks to this, when he was arrested behind enemy lines, they had thought he was a mere drunkard—this man who reeked of alcohol cannot possibly be a spy, and so they released him immediately. Also, the Baron…”

Graham had stopped in the abrupt realization of having fallen once again into his old habit of speaking too much.

“Basically,” he shrugged. “Being a spy is ‘gentlemen’s work’. That man standing in the front yard with the stupid look on his face doesn’t even stand the chance of being a spy. We don’t have to worry about him.”

“But dearest…”the Lady stared hard at Graham. “Even so, back in the days of the Great War, the famous German spy ‘Mata Hari’[1] was not a gentleman.”

“Eh? Mata Hari? Well, you’re correct…but it’s because she was a woman…” Graham stuttered.

The Lady then turned to Gamou.

“Mr. Gamou, it is because of you, I dare say this: j.a.pan is going down the wrong path. The actions the j.a.panese army had recently taken in mainland China are absurd. If it goes on, j.a.pan will be isolated by the whole world. Or does j.a.pan wish to become enemies with the rest of the world? Now they’re even sending spies to the estate to protest against us, it’s very shameful…”

“No, Jane! No! Stop it.” Graham said unusually sharply to his wife. “Mr. Gamou is an employee at Tailor Teras.h.i.+ma, he’s not affiliated with the j.a.panese government and military. He’s here as my opponent in chess, do not lash out at him.”

“Ah…I suppose you’re right. My deepest apologies, Mr. Gamou, I have no idea what’s gotten into me.”

“It’s alright, don’t think on it too much.”

“You’re a little tense, it must be because you’re not used to the j.a.panese climate. Go get some rest.” Graham stood up and wrapped an arm around the Lady, and said, “As for the man who’s in our front yard, just tell the servants to ask him to leave. If they don’t let go and carry on with their actions, I’ll protest against the j.a.panese government…”

After Graham had escorted the Lady out of the door, he returned to his chair and shook his head.

“My wife can be such a bother. My apologies…let’s continue then. I suppose I’ll make the first move this round?”

Graham extended his hand towards the chessboard, and moved his p.a.w.n to the front of his king. Gamou, on the other hand, had used the p.a.w.n to reinforce his lines. Graham had not changed one bit, still opening the game using the Double King’s p.a.w.n Opening, an opening he was skilled with. It was quite possible that he would use the Scotch Opening next.

“Humph, a spy? Imbecile, spying is a job for gentlemen. A spy’s job always comes with adventure and romance…a lowlife like him can never be a spy.” Graham muttered to himself as he played.

Gamou glanced at the board, acting as though he was thinking about his next move, while smirking without his opponent’s notice.

—If Graham were to know that the talented man before his eyes was a real spy, what sort of expression would he make?

Gamou suppressed his urge to find out the answer, and killed Graham’s bishop with his rook.