Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) (20 page)

“Then why don’t you cross over, Margaret?” I ask.

“I’m so deep in the mud of corruption, there is no out for me,” she says. “And though I urge you not to cross over, it doesn’t mean I won’t kill you if you cross over.”

“That’s just amazing.” I wave my hands up high, astonished by their logic. “Everyone seems to want to kill me today.”

“Including me,” the Chessmaster laughs in the speakers. “Now let’s skip this clichéd pool of drama and have a good battle on the chessboard.”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

“I will stop the electrical field now, and the white army will have to fight the black.”

“That is crazy,” I retort. “I might die. Fabiola might die, and then you will never get your knight.”

“You will not die Alice, not by the black army, neither will Fabiola, and do you know why?” the Chessmaster asks. “Because you two come from the dark side. You know how to kill and win. You Alice, are like the bravest of soldiers, a perfect pawn and killing machine. It will all come down to you. And once you win, the chessboard will reveal the whereabouts of Carroll’s Knight.”

“I know
I
come from the dark side,” I tell him, “but Fabiola?”

The Chessmaster’s laugh echoes louder. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“Can’t you see the tattoos on her arms?” he says, and I find myself glancing back at Fabiola. “You think those were from the days of her being a fierce warrior and White Queen in Wonderland?”

I turn to Fabiola with quizzical eyes.

“I’m like you,” she tells me, sounding ashamed. “I was Black Chess once.”

All hell freezes over in my head. It’s impossible to even grasp what she’s just said.

“Why do you think I want to kill you?” she says. “Not just because of what you did back in Wonderland, or what you’re still capable of doing, but because I fight the temptation every day. The temptation to return to Black Chess.”

“That’s so touching,” the Chessmaster says. “This scene is better than any Hollywood movie I’ve watched, but hey, it’s time for more blood spilling upon the chessboard.”

And just like that, the electrical field is disabled. Fabiola runs toward me and we stand back-to-back, ready for the arriving army of black, led by the Queen of Hearts.

Chapter 61

Underground Kitchen, Oxford University

“Here!” Chopin the Chopper handed Tom a kitchen knife. “Slice those carrots for me.”

“Seriously?” Tom said, taking the knife.

“If you want valuable information then you have to help me,” Chopin said. “Finish the carrots, then onto the onion. I will tell you what I know as we cook.”

“I hate onions. They make me cry,” Tom argued.

“Wahhhh?” Chopin made a mocking baby face. “Do they make you cry, honey?”

Tom clenched his fists. “Why isn’t Inspector Dormouse helping then?”

“You sound like a child now,” Chopin said. “The Inspector falls asleep every couple of minutes. He could hurt himself. I did it once, see?” he shows his hand, which is missing a finger. “Chopped it off while working late at night one day because I was getting sleepy.”

“Ouch.” Tom steps back from the missing finger. “What did you do with the finger?”

“Shoved it into the carrot soup. Looked like a paler carrot, but did the job,” Chopin says. “Now, where do you want me to start with the Fourteen’s story?”

“Why are they called the Fourteen?” Inspector Dormouse was alert enough to ask.

“Because there are Fourteen members in their little circle of trust,” Chopin said.

“I thought only The Pillar and twelve men attended,” Tom argued.

“First of all, The Pillar wasn’t part of the fourteen members,” Chopin said. “He was like the head of the community; taking care of their needs and organizing the meetings.”

“Okay,” Tom said. “Then according to you, there are still two members missing of the Fourteen.”

“Of course,” Chopin chopped up some cucumbers fiercely, enjoying it too much; like a serial killer chopping off his victim’s body parts. “Two members never showed up.”

“How do you know about them then?” Inspector Dormouse asked.

“They talked about them. The Pillar mostly. He had a great interest in finding the other two,” Chopin said.

“Are you saying the twelve who were there weren’t interested in finding the other two?”

“The twelve’s main job in the meeting was to track the other two. Pillar’s orders.”

“So those meetings were organized to look for the missing two?” Tom asked.

“Part of it,” Chopin said. “The twelve had some kind of deal previously arranged with The Pillar. Some kind of a grand plan that I will get into in a minute, because it’s really bonkers. For now, let me tell you about who the other two were.”

“I’m listening,” Tom said. Inspector Dormouse was already snoring and Tom wondered if the three of them were the worst bunch of men acting like detectives ever.

“One of the two was most important to The Pillar,” Chopin said. “From what I heard, The Pillar wasn’t sure how to find the other.”

“So tell me about the one he was sure of,” Tom said.

“It’s a well-known man. When I first heard his name, I accidentally peed in my soup — but shoved it down some minister’s throat the other day,” Chopin said. “Point is this man, number thirteen, was a man The Pillar couldn’t bring to the meetings.”

“Why?”

“Because he is such an evil man, protected by a tribe of criminals in a far-away country, and The Pillar seemed to fear him the most.”

“The Pillar feared a man so much?” Tom wondered.

“The thirteenth man was part of The Pillar deal,” Chopin explained. “A bonkers deal I never understood. It had to do with something the fourteen men, plus The Pillar, did way back in a place called Wonderland.”

“Wonderland?” Tom mopped his head in frustration, wondering about the many things that happened back then that he wasn’t aware of. Maybe he was such a trivial being back then, no one but Lewis Carroll bothered talking to him.

“Wonderland is real?” Dormouse jumped awake.

“Just go back to sleep,” Tom said, focusing on Chopin. “Do you happen to know what kind of deal that was?”

“All I understood is that fourteen men were involved with The Pillar, and that the deal wasn’t complete. To complete it, the last two needed to be found.”

“And killed,” Tom assumed. “The Pillar was only playing those poor fourteen men. Whatever deal they had he figured he had to kill them at some point,” he paused for a moment and then said, “And that’s why he hadn’t killed the twelve for all those years since Wonderland. The twelve were his only way to find the missing two.”

“Are you saying The Pillar didn’t just kill twelve men, but fourteen?” Inspector Dormouse yawned, and Chopin seized the opportunity and shoved a tomato into his mouth.

Tom pried the tomato out, rolling his eyes at the silliness of his companions. “This is the only explanation. The Pillar only killed the twelve men when he was sure of the identities of the other two and how to get to them.”

“You sound like Sherlock Holmes,” Chopin said. “Though it should be Inspector Sherlock Dormouse who sounds like Holmes.”

“Don’t bother with Inspector Dormouse,” Tom said. “We’re getting closer to what happened to The Pillar. Now, tell me of the one person The Pillar identified of the missing two.”

“You mean the thirteenth man The Pillar needed to kill, but was afraid of?” Chopin grinned, showing a silver tooth.

“Yes, him,” Tom said, wondering if Chopin had managed to chop off his own tooth at some point.

“I hope you’re ready for the surprise,” Chopin said.

“Trust me, I’ve seen wonders,” Tom said. “I’m hardly surprised these days.”

“But you will,” Chopin said. “Because the thirteenth member’s name is the Executioner.”

Tom was wrong. This did surprise him a great deal. “You mean the Columbian drug lord? The one The Pillar raided his crops and killed his army?”

“The Pillar had to kill everyone in Mushroomland to make sure the Executioner, the thirteenth member, was dead,” Chopin said. “Didn’t I tell you I would surprise you?”

Then Chopin accidentally chopped off another finger.

Chapter 62

Chess City, Kalmykia

The shame of war was splattering on my face. With every head I chopped off or man I killed, blood covered me and Fabiola.

“I’ve got your back,” Fabiola shouted, slicing left and right, her back sticking to mine. She’d told me this was the technique she used with her best warriors to kill their enemies in Wonderland.

“Am I supposed to feel safe with my back to the woman who promised to kill me?” I shout back, ready for my next attacker.

“Shut up and do what you do best, Alice,” Fabiola said. “Kill.”

Why does everyone think it’s an honor to be talented at killing?
If I turn out to have been the greatest gunslinger in Wonderland, I don’t think I will feel proud about it. The idea of killing people you have never met before because they’re wearing a different uniform baffles me.

But I have to defend myself.

“Why a pawn?” I shout back at Fabiola. We’re still advancing, though most of the rest of our white army is dead now. However, Fabiola’s strategy has worked so far. I have to admit; she is one fierce warrior. She even stabs her victims one more time after killing them, just to make sure.

“What pawn?” she says.

“Why did Lewis make me a pawn?” I slice another head off. “Why the weakest of the kingdom?”

“Pawns aren’t the weakest,” Fabiola says. “They’re only underestimated.”

“How so? I feel like a brainless killing machine you shoved onto the battlefield and, with my skills, I am only trained to do what you tell me.”

“There is a wisdom behind that.”

“What kind of wisdom, Fabiola? Please stop lying to me.”

“Even though I don’t want you to find Carroll’s Knight, I was hoping you’d figure out the wisdom of being a pawn on your own.”

“That’s lame, White Queen. I might as well die before I have enough time to figure out anything.”

“Behind you,” Fabiola, in an amazing and unbelievable maneuver, moves to my side and stabs a black pawn who was about to kill me.

“Thanks,” I say, frozen in place.

“Don’t ever thank your soldier friends in war,” she grunts.

“Why?”

She chops off the head of a black bishop who was about to finish me. “That’s why, Alice.”

I get the message and advance with fierce anger toward an approaching black pawn, slashing left and right, using my None Fu skills and jumping in midair. Their heads roll off the chessboard, which is nothing but a red bloodbath now.

“Where is Margaret and the Queen?” I ask Fabiola.

“Don’t bother looking for them. High governmental people are cowards. They’re hiding somewhere,” Fabiola says.

“Then how are we going to win?” I ask. “Aren’t we supposed to kill them all, or are you still worried the Chessmaster will find Carroll’s Knight if we win?”

“I’m worried, but we have no choice or both of us will die,” Fabiola stands against my back again. “But winning doesn’t mean having to kill them all.”

“Then how are we going to win?”

“By you being a pawn?”

“What are you saying?”

“Search inside you, Alice. You must know the answer.”

Instantly, I remember The Pillar being fed up with Hollywood movies. When Fabiola tells me this, I wonder the same. Why wouldn’t she just tell me what to do to win? Why does she have to say things like ‘search inside me’? So clichéd.

But then, in the middle of my fried brain and torn muscles, killing left and right, an idea presents itself.

It’s something I had heard earlier. I believe it was The Pillar who had pointed at it.

“I know what I have to do,” I shout, advancing forward. “I’m a pawn. And if a pawn reaches the other side of the chessboard, they can exchange their piece for a king or queen or a stronger warrior.”

“That’s the Alice I’ve been looking for,” Fabiola chirps.

“You mean the Alice The Pillar believes in,” I say.

She pouts, but then let’s it go. “Look, I designed this board to hide what’s left of Carroll’s chess pieces. You don’t need to exchange pieces. All you have to do, as a pawn, is to make it to the other side and we win.”

Even though I’m ready, I realize how much harder it is to advance then to fight in the same place. How am I going to kill all of them and reach the other side?

“Don’t worry,” Fabiola says. “I will help you reach the other side.”

“How so?”

Immediately, she shouts from the top of her lungs, insulting the Queen of Hearts.

“Don’t provoke me, Fabiola,” I hear the Queen’s voice shout back. I can’t see her, probably because of how short she is. “I will not die in this war, because I’m too short, no chopping sword will find my head,” she mocks Fabiola. “But I won’t stand for you making fun of me! You know who I am, and what I could have done to you in all these years. You’re only alive because I let you.”

“Then show me you can kill me,” Fabiola shouts.

“What are you doing?” I yell back at her. “She’ll send the whole army to kill you.”

“That’s the point exactly.” Fabiola smiles feebly, her eyes exposing her plan to me.

I get it. She is gathering the black army all around her so I can reach the other side of the chessboard.

“I’m risking the world for you, Alice,” Fabiola says. “So make it count.”

I am about to object, but the black army is already on her. Fabiola’s head disappears under several umbrellas of black warriors. And before it happens, her last look seems to have a meaning I can’t comprehend. What is she telling me, other than that I have to reach the end of the chessboard and make it count?

Chapter 63

The Pillar’s Plane

Xian, Tibetan Monk sat back in the fancy leather chair of The Pillar’s plane. He was sipping a pina colada and looking at a playboy magazine with eyes so open he might have fainted.

“This isn’t what America is all about,” The Pillar snatched the magazine from the monk’s clenching hands. “I’m not getting you the visa to become a burden to the country. I want you as an asset. Most immigrants are.”