Silence in the Hall

The Fifth Round

Babak Kelima

For thirty years Davit Kapanadze had been running chess tournaments, and in thirty years he had learned that you do not recognise a cheat by his moves, but by his hands. Someone with something to hide touches his face, his ear, his pocket; he gets up too often, and he comes back too quickly. Davit had fetched players out of toilets with telephones in the cisterns, he had confiscated a shoe with a vibration motor in its sole, and once, in Tbilisi, he had sent a grandfather out of the hall who was giving his grandson signals from the audience with a handkerchief. He was not proud of it. He was only thorough.

Selama tiga puluh tahun Davit Kapanadze memimpin turnamen catur, dan selama tiga puluh tahun itu pula ia belajar bahwa seseorang mengenali pencurang bukan dari langkah caturnya, melainkan dari tangannya. Orang yang menyembunyikan sesuatu menyentuh wajahnya, telinganya, sakunya; ia terlalu sering bangkit, dan ia kembali terlalu cepat. Davit pernah menyeret pemain keluar dari toilet yang tangki bilasnya berisi ponsel, ia pernah menyita sepatu yang solnya ditanami motor getar, dan suatu kali, di Tbilisi, mengeluarkan seorang kakek dari aula karena memberi isyarat saputangan kepada cucunya dari barisan penonton. Ia sama sekali tidak bangga akan hal itu. Ia hanya bekerja dengan saksama.

The Batumi Open was to be his last tournament. He had informed the federation in the spring, in a short letter without giving a reason, because he did not know himself exactly which one he should have given. He was sixty-three, his knees no longer liked the long days, and every Sunday his daughter called from Berlin to ask whether he did not finally want to do something else. What that was supposed to be, however, she could not tell him either.

Batumi Terbuka sedianya menjadi turnamen terakhirnya. Ia telah memberitahukannya kepada federasi pada musim semi, lewat surat singkat tanpa alasan, karena ia sendiri tidak tahu pasti alasan apa yang semestinya ia kemukakan. Usianya enam puluh tiga tahun, lututnya tak lagi menyukai hari-hari yang panjang, dan putrinya menelepon setiap hari Minggu dari Berlin untuk menanyakan apakah ia tidak ingin beralih melakukan hal lain. Kendati demikian, apa hal lain itu pun putrinya tak mampu mengatakannya.