A year after the collapse of the USSR, I crossed the Belarusian-Polish border by train. There were no problems in Brest, and on the Polish side, in Teresopol, I was almost ruined by the joyful mood.

- Passport, - entering my coupe, a border guard ordered. He had small gray eyes and a big broken nose.

Here please.

Purpose of the trip to Poland? He rattled on a broken Russian.

Chess tournament in Chengdu.

The border guard looked at me suspiciously.

The chess player?

and yes.

He pushed his head into the corridor of the car and shouted something. A few minutes later, a long-lined soldier with chess appeared.

“Let’s play,” said the border guard, placing the figures.

He was obviously pleased with himself and anticipated the immediate exposure of the self-calling. Having found the desired field at the intersection of the vertical "e" and the fourth horizontal, he played e2 - e4 and solemnly looked at me. I answered d7 - d5. The border guard thought. And I for some reason remembered Ilf and Petrov: "He felt alive and knew firmly that the first move e2 - e4 did not threaten him with any complications. The rest of the moves, however, were drawn in the already perfect fog, but this did not bother the great combinator at all. He had a completely unexpected exit.”

If Ostap had a completely unexpected exit, then my border guard had a completely unexpected move. He brought the king to the E2. I took a foot. The king went forward again. I brought a ferris horse. He took my foot for the king. I gave Ferzym chess, and after two moves - mat. On the E4 field.

A good chess player. “He praised me by returning my passport with a stamp-entry permit.

The border guard came out. And I sat down and thought about his broken nose. I suddenly thought that this border guard had once arranged a similar check for a boxer.

And that guess brought me a joyful mood.