But now came a Soviet bombshell. Spassky’s second, Efim Geller, issued a statement to the press in which he accused the Americans of using “non-chess means of influence” to weaken the champion. Here it is reproduced as written:
The World Chess Championship Match now taking place in Reykjavik arouses a great interest in all parts of the world including the United States. Mr B. Spassky, the other members of our delegation and I have been receiving many letters from various countries. A great number of the letters is devoted to an unknown in the chess history theme, i.e. a possibility to use non-chess means of influence on one of the participants.
It is said that Mr. R. Fischer’s numerous “whims”, his claims to the organizers, his constant late arrivals for the games, his demands to play in the closed-door room, ungrounded protests, etc have been deliberately aimed at exercising pressure on the opponent, unbalancing Mr. B. Spassky and making him lose his fighting spirit.
I consider that Mr. R. Fischer’s behaviour runs counter to the Amsterdam Agreement which provides for gentleman behaviour of the participants. I believe that the arbiters have had enough facts to demand that Mr. R. Fischer should observe the provisions of the match in this respect. Furthermore, it must be done immediately now that the fight is approaching its decisive stage.
We have received letters saying that some electronic devices and chemical substance which can be in the playing hall are being used to influence Mr. B. Spassky. The letters mention, in particular, Mr. R. Fischer’s chair and the influence of the special lighting over the stage installed on the demand of the US side.
All this may seem fantastic, but objective factors in this connection make us think of such seemingly fantastic suppositions.
Why, for instance, does Mr R. Fischer strongly protest against filmshooting even though he suffers financial losses. One of the reasons might be that he is anxious to get rid of the constant objective control over the behaviour and physical state of the participants. The same could be supposed if we take into consideration his repeated demands to conduct the game behind closed doors and to remove the spectators from the first seven rows.
It is surprising that the Americans can be found in the playing hall when the games are not taking place even at night. Mr. F. Cramer’s demand that Mr. R. Fischer should be given “his” particular chair, though both the chairs look identical and are made by the same American firm.
I would also like to note that having known Mr. B. Spassky for many years, it is the first time that I observe such unusual slackening of concentration and display of impulsiveness in his playing which I cannot account for by Mr. R. Fischer’s exclusively impressive playing. On the contrary, in some games the Challenger made technical mistakes and in a number of games he did not grasp the position.
In connection with the above said our delegation has handed over the statement to this effect to the Chief Arbiter and the Organizers of the Match which contains the urgent request that the playinghall and the things in it should be examined with the assistance of competent experts and that the possibility of the presence of any outsiders in the place allocated to the participants should be excluded.
On 3 August 1972, the next actor to play James Bond had been announced; henceforth Roger Moore would star as the British secret service agent 007, licensed to kill. Iceland might have been his first assignment. There was a gentle wave of sniggering through the audience when the Soviet allegations were publicized. “We will get 007 to investigate the hall,” quipped a member of the Icelandic Chess Federation.
In an explanation of why Reykjavik so ignited the public imagination, the rich stream of chess influence, allusion, and archetype in literature and film must play a part. Democrat against totalitarian, individual against machine, plot and counterplot, the images of chess player as alone and without feeling, insane but brilliant, scheming and utterly devoid of morality—some or all of these shaped (particularly Western) perceptions of the match. No doubt some of the Reykjavik jesters remembered the 1963 James Bond film, From Russia with Love, based on the earlier novel. From Russia with Love takes the plotting theme straight into the cold war. It reinforces our apprehension that the skills needed to control events on the chessboard are transferable—in this case, to a diabolical Soviet plot against the British secret service and its star agent, 007: Bond, James Bond.
The film opens with the final game of an international grandmaster tournament. Kronsteen, all high forehead, heavy eyelids, and intense, unblinking eyes, is competing against a Canadian called MacAdams.
“Kronsteen” is close in sound to “Bronstein,” and the game in the movie is in fact a variation of a brilliant match from Leningrad in 1960 between two Soviet grandmasters, the then world title challenger David Bronstein and Boris Spassky. In the movie, Kronsteen is victorious, having risked defying an order to break off the match and report to the clandestine international criminal organization SPECTRE (Special Executive for Crime Terror Revenge and Extortion), where he is Director of Planning. In real life, Bronstein lost when Spassky made a dazzling rook sacrifice, setting up a spectacular twenty-three-move victory. The other difference is that in the film, two of the pawns have been removed—the speculation is that the director, Terence Young, felt that aesthetically they ruined the shot. Without these pawns, Spassky’s combination would have failed; in cinemas worldwide, chess players shook their heads.
In Reykjavik, chess players shook their heads at Geller’s statement. But if, when the laughter stopped, audience and officiais had read the statement in detail, they would have had an unprecedented glimpse into the tensions within the Soviet camp. Although on the surface the statement was aimed at Fischer, it was also born of a deep frustration with Spassky and what Geller describes as his “impulsiveness,” his “slackening of concentration,” his not taking advantage of the challenger’s “technical mistakes” and failure “to grasp the position.” Then there is Geller’s view that the fight, now at game seventeen, was approaching its decisive stage. Ivo Nei later wrote that game seventeen was for Spassky practically the last chance to change the course of the match. In Moscow, they were saying, “The train has left the station.”
The timing is also curious. The reference in Geller’s statement to Fischer’s “repeated demands” suggests that the real trigger for the letter was Fischer’s latest ultimatum, coupled with the aggrieved feeling that the organizers always surrendered to him.
The chief arbiter said Geller’s allegations would have to be examined. “From the American side, we have had fantastic things, so why not from this side also?” Guards were positioned at the hall around the clock to prevent any nocturnal espionage. The American delegation offered a sophisticated explanation for their insistence that each player retain his own chair; Fischer was four inches taller than Spassky, and his chair had been adjusted accordingly. Cramer called the allegations “garbage. What experts do they want to examine the hall? The KGB?” He was nearer the truth than he knew.
As for the seventeenth game itself, once again Fischer unpacked a shock opening: a Pirc Defense (named after Slovenian grandmaster Vasja Pirc)—Fischer had never used it before in tournament play. In the Pirc, which has always been considered mildly eccentric, black concedes the center in the expectation of eventual counterplay. The main talking point, however, was the manner of the end. A player can claim a draw if the same position is repeated three times. On move forty-five, Fischer summoned Lothar Schmid and they conferred for a short period while examining the score sheet. Then Schmid nodded and the clocks were stopped. If Fischer moved his rook to el, the same position would indeed have occurred three times. Spassky afterward remained in his seat; the draw by repetition appears to have taken him by surprise. He was rook for knight up and was expected to battle on, though whether he could have achieved a breakthrough is unclear.