Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) (17 page)

“I have an idea,” I tell him. “With all due respect, all those beautiful designs are a camouflage.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean the city’s main attraction is this,” I point at the incredibly large chessboard, like the one in Marostica.

“I agree,” The Pillar says. “But I also don’t see how it could lead us to Carroll’s Knight.”

“Why?”

“Look, Alice. True, it’s the largest chessboard I’ve ever seen, but it’s empty, just like the city.”

The Pillar is right. The chessboard is void of any chess pieces.

In silence, feeling mesmerized and intimidated at the same time, we reach the chessboard. The sun behind us is shimmering with a patch of orange flaring behind the cloudy skies. Surprisingly, there is no snow in Chess City, making me think the March Hare may have been right about it being a portal to Wonderland.

The chessboards are huge tiles of black and white, like the one in the Vatican. The tiles are incredibly huge, they could host four to five people, shoulder to shoulder.

“I think you owe me an explanation.” I tell The Pillar, influenced by the images before me.

“What would that be?”

“How come I walked the white tiles in the Vatican’s chessboard?”

“What do you mean? You’re Alice, the only one who can save the world from Wonderland Monsters.”

“That’s the Alice you want me to be.”

“This is the Alice you are. We’re not going through this again.”

“But we have to, because at some point I was the Bad Alice and I’ve worked for Black Chess. It doesn’t make sense that if I have walked the white chess tiles inside a most important place like in the Vatican? Did Fabiola manipulate it?”

“Of course, she didn’t,” The Pillar says. “Fabiola helped you because she thought you were a nice girl who could save lives while being brainwashed by me. If she’d known it was really you, she’d have killed you.”

“Then why did she show me the vision of the Circus?”

“Either to make you realize Black Chess’s madness, or she was testing you so she could, like I said, kill you if you were the Bad Alice.”

“Some things you say about her make me wonder why you love her.”

The Pillar shrugs. “I know. But hey, I’m as bad myself.”

Sometimes I can’t help it when I listen to him. I suppress a laugh and stay focused on what I need to know. “You still haven’t told me how the Bad Alice was able to walk the white tiles in the Vatican.”

“Because of your intentions.”

“Excuse me?”

“We all have good and evil inside us. It comes and goes. Some of us dip our heads too far in the dark, and some only have snippets of bad thoughts clouding our heads from time to time. For instance, it may cross your mind to pull down the window and verbally abuse the reckless driver next to you in a rare episode of road rage. But it just subsides and you don’t give into it, once you remind yourself that being good is a choice, not a gene.”

“Stop the metaphors. I need firm answers now.”

“Because your intentions were good, Alice, that’s why you walked the white tiles.” The Pillar’s voice is flat like a truth of bare bones without flesh to conceal its hardness.

“If so, then I can walk the white tiles now as well,” I say, taking a deep breath.

“You’re assuming this is one of those holy chessboards?”

“It makes sense, since it’s in a place that is supposedly a portal to Wonderland.”

“A bit far-fetched,” he comments. “But if you truly believe so, then you should start with the black tiles. I mean if you’re right, my bet is you can’t walk them.”

“I can’t,” I say firmly. “I feel it.”

The Pillar’s eyes glimmer, not in the most pleasant way.

“I will walk the white tiles now,” I say, and step inside.

The Pillar’s first reaction is taking a couple of steps back. I believe he just read my mind and realized what I was aiming for.

“Now it’s your turn,” I dare him. “I want you to try to walk the white tiles, Pillar.”

“Ah, there is no need to.” He waves his hand, trying to act playfully, but the concern in his eyes is exposing enough.

“I need you to,” I insist. “I need to know about your intentions.”

His eyes weaken. The shine in them withers a little. I’ve cornered him in a place he doesn’t prefer to be. But I need to know. I need to know, once and for all, what his intentions are.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “I will never kill you, not even if you can only walk the black tiles. All I want is to know you’re on my side.”

“I am on your side.” The Pillar says.

“Actually, this is what I feel. I know what you’ve done to me. You believing in me is beyond remarkable. But there is this feeling about you, I can’t shake.

“What feeling?”

“That I don’t know who you really are.”

“I can’t walk the tiles, Alice,” The Pillar’s voice scares me, because he is almost begging me, something I’ve never experienced with him. “I just can’t.”

“Are you saying you can only walk the black tiles?”

“I’m saying I can’t.”

I pull out a gun from my back pocket and point it at him. I had confiscated it from the Chessmaster’s men in Marostica and held onto it. I’m not even sure it’s loaded, but I have to do this.

The Pillar says nothing. Somehow he is not surprised.

“I’m much more worried now,” I say. “Why aren’t you surprised I am pointing a gun at you? Is it that you don’t believe I will pull the trigger?”

“Actually, I have no doubts you will, if you need to,” he says. “And at some point you will pull the trigger and kill me. It’s my fate, but I’m not sure why you will do it.”

I grimace, realizing that maybe it’s the Bad Alice in me aiming the gun at him. “I’m sorry.” I lower the gun.

“No,” The Pillar says. “Don’t lower the gun. Don’t let repress that dark part inside you, Alice.”

“What? Why would you ask something like that?”

“Because this is why I helped you become who you are now,” he says. “The world is full of good guys trying to fix it, always faltering when it’s time to pull the trigger, because they have no bad side in them. You’re not like them, Alice. You’re perfect. A good person who was once bad. If you could only find the balance inside, you will save this world.”

Like always, his words seep through, and I devour every syllable and meaning.

He is right. If I end up facing Death itself, I will have to pull the trigger. I can only defeat Death with the darker side of me. I grip my gun tighter and point it at The Pillar again.

“Then walk the tiles, Pillar,” I demand. “Show me what your intentions are.”

The Pillar nods, still reluctant, but he approaches the chessboard. And there he stands before a white tile, about to step in, but can he really do it?

Chapter 52

World Chess Championship, Moscow, Russia

The Chessmaster listened to his informer telling him the latest news.

“The Queen is dying, too.” The man told him.

The Chessmaster nodded, thinking. “And Alice? The Pillar?”

“They’ve found three pieces so far. In a few minutes I will be able to locate their final destination.”

“I want to know as soon as they arrive,” the Chessmaster said. “I hope it’s not a far place from here.”

“It can’t be,” the man said. “The sequence of how they found the pieces makes perfect sense. The last piece was in Tibet, pretty close to us.”

“Are you suggesting they’re close?”

“They must be.”

“Be sure, and soon,” the Chessmaster said. “I’m counting on the accuracy of your information.”

“But of course,” the man said. “I wouldn’t risk you killing me.” He smiled feebly.

The Chessmaster didn’t quite like being perceived as that scary Death figure. He hadn’t been always that scary. He had a story of his own, a story that justified his actions — at least from his point of view.

But none of this meant it wasn’t fun infusing much more chaos into the world. After all, the powers he possessed weren’t only killing people. Making entire cities fall asleep was another good one.

He stood up, walked toward two other presidents, and with a couple of moves killed them, then simply announced more cities going to sleep. A slow boring death, he liked to call it.
We all went to sleep — died every night — and woke up, never being appreciative of the gift of life.
Funny how this came from Death himself.

The Chessmaster announced the new sleeping cities on the news, warning of London being the next one on the list. Then he sat back, daydreaming about all the hell he will soon bestow on Alice. Oh, how long he’d waited for this to happen.

Chapter 53

Director’s Office, Radcliffe Asylum, Oxford

“The twelve men were called Carter Pillar?” Tom Truckle said.

“See?” Inspector Dormouse said. “I told you I know something.”

“But what does it mean? Why would people named Carter Pillar change their name in the same year?”

“I have an idea, not much, but I am curious to know your theories.”

“I don’t know,” Tom Truckle said. “Maybe they knew about him being a crazy madman and didn’t want to have anything to do with him.”

“Sounds too far-fetched to me.”

“Then maybe he made them change their names. I wouldn’t dismiss the idea. The Pillar is a lunatic. I imagine his ego drove him to want only one man called by his name.”

“It still makes no sense. He is a madman, and he fooled me by pretending to be some animal activist called Petmaster, but it’s not it,” Dormouse said. “Want to hear what I know?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“The twelve men are foreigners. They haven’t been born in Britain, and none of them come from the same country.”

“It’s getting more interesting now. What else?”

“They come from all over the world, even from countries where you normally wouldn’t find a name like Carter or Pillar.”

“But you said their names were a translation to Carter Pillar in their own language.”

“Indeed, but even some of those translations are never used as names in their countries.”

“I see. So they arrived here a few years ago? Why?”

“For all kinds of reason. None of them suspicious or unusual.”

“That’s a dead end,” Tom Truckle said. “Did they know each other?”

“Now you’re on the right track. They all met annually. Once every year.”

“You don’t say.”

“A secret meeting, and guess where?”

“That’s hard to guess.”

“In Oxford University.”

“Does that mean they knew the real Pillar?”

“In fact, yes,” Inspector Dormouse said. “I had to dig into the university’s archive to figure it was our Carter Pillar who arranged the secret meetings.”

“What were they about?”

“Some kind of ritual.”

“You lost me. Ritual?”

“About Wonderland.”

“This can’t be.”

“Oh, it can,” Inspector Dormouse said. “I’ve bribed a cook who worked in the kitchen below in Oxford to tell me all he knew about the meetings.”

“And?”

“He heard them talk about Wonderland all the time. But the boy thought they were nuts. He was fooled by Carter Pillar pretending to be a nerdy professor at the time, so he dismissed the nonsensical talks, and hardly overheard a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Like what they called their meetings.”

“They had a name for a meeting?” Tom Truckle said. “I’m curious. What did they call it?”

“Are you ready for it?” Inspector Dormouse seemed too awake and alert now.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I think it may tie a few things you already know together — in a vague way, though.”

“I know you’re a detective who likes suspense, but I’m not into that,” Tom Truckle said. “So tell me what they called their meetings.”

“I suggest you suck down a few pills first,” Inspector Dormouse said. “You will need them.”

“Damn it. Just spill it out. What did they call their meetings?”

“The Fourteen.” Inspector Dormouse said, watching Tom Truckle pop down a few pills right away.

Chapter 54

Chess City, Kalmykia, Russia

The Pillar still hesitates at stepping onto the white tiles.

“Please,” I tell him. “You owe me this.”

His right foot is slightly higher, presumably ready to step onto the white tiles. I’m not sure if he is tricking me into playing one of his games, but he looks a bit thin skinned at the moment. Something is showing through, but I can’t quite see it.

“Like I said, I will not kill you, no matter what,” I say. “I will not even hate you. It seems impossible to do so now, not after all we’ve been through, not after you’ve believed in me so much. But I need to know who you are.”

“Beware of what you wish for,” he says, almost mumbling it.

What’s going on with him? Who is he, really? Having him cloth-battered, blood having dried on his bare skin in most places, makes him most vulnerable-looking now. This looks like a moment I can take advantage of. How many times do you get to have an upper hand over the infamous Carter Pillar?

“I am ready for anything,” I say. “If you don’t step onto the chessboard, I will assume you’ve been denied walking upon white tiles, just like you wouldn’t do it in the Vatican. Fabiola may have been right. You’re a devil in disguise,” I raise a hand. “But even so, I will never blame you for it, because whatever makes you see something good in me, whatever makes you want me to save people, there must be a redeeming quality about you.”

The Pillar says nothing. It’s evident to me that he is sucking in whatever truth he is about to spill, right into the belly of his soul.

“There is nothing to be ashamed about,” I continue. “I am like you. An evil girl. But I made a choice to be good and pay for my sins.”

“Did you?”

I shrug. “I’m trying. Believe me I am. I may not have remembered everything I’ve done in the past, but the basic principle is to try to be a better person in the now.”

“I like the sound of that,” he says, and steps further.

My heart races, watching his foot near the white tile. Is he really going to step on it? Knowing him, I’m sure he could come up with a last minute trick.