Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) (9 page)

“Really?”

I watch The Pillar give it a couple of tries, then it works. The white Queen is split into two pieces, and he pulls out a scrape of paper from inside. “Like a fortune cookie, baby.” He looks amused.

“What does it say?”

“It’s a note…” He shrugs.

I know why, because it’s made of the same yellow note he’d written his Wonder upon — it reminds me that I kept my Tiger Lily safe in a safe box in Marostica and should pick it up soon.

“How come it’s the same paper you used for the note you gave me, your Wonder?” I tell The Pillar.

“I don’t know. Could be coincidence.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, and then tell him about the Red who’d saved me earlier today, using the same kind of notes.

“Why not read what’s on the note instead of investigating who manufactured it,” The Pillar offers. “It has writing on both sides actually.”

“What does the front say?”

“White Stones.”

“Does that mean anything to you?”

“Neither does Black Stones.”

“How about the back of the note?”

“Deep Blue.”

“This looks like it’s going to be a complicated puzzle.”

“Deep Blue isn’t actually,” The Pillar says. “Assuming, all puzzles are chess-related, I think I know what it is.”

“The suspense is killing me,” I mock him. “What is it?”

“Deep Blue is the name of the first IBM computer ever designed to play chess.”

“You totally lost me. IBM?” I am not sure how this fits into a puzzle.

“In 1997, IBM designed the first chess computer, claiming it can beat man,” The Pillar says. “It was a big scene. Actually, the story I am going to tell you changed mankind’s perception of machine.”

“I hope it will lead to solving some kind of puzzle.”

“IBM challenged the best chess player in the world, at the time of course, to beat the machine, and he accepted.”

“Interesting.”

“His name is Garry Kasparov, a fellow Russian chess player, not the Chessmaster of course, and he accepted the challenge.”

“And?”

“It’s a long story, but let me put it this way: Kasparov lost to the machine after six games and two weeks of an exhausting emotional breakdown.”

“Breakdown?”

“IBM played all kinds of psychological tricks on the man to get him to fear the machine.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Why do you think, Alice?” The Pillar has one of those smiles on his face again, when he is about to tell me one of the world’s biggest secrets. It reminds me of the time when he told me about food companies making the world fat when we were chasing the Muffin Man.

“Let me guess,” I say. “IBM sought for propaganda, making their name bigger and getting extreme exposure.”

“That’s part of it. It was a crucial moment in history, like I said. IBM managed to insinuate into the global conscious brain that the ‘machine’
will
beat ‘man.’”

“You don’t really believe machines will beat us someday?”

“If we create the machine, then it’s us who still can dysfunction it, Alice. Don’t let anyone make you underestimate the fabulousness of being human.”

“Enough with the clichés, will ya? So why did IBM force Kasparov to lose, really?”

“Before the game, IBM wasn’t as big as they are now. They were merely suppliers for Microsoft and such.” The Pillar knocks his cane on the ground. “The most important part was: this was just a marketing scheme.”

“Marketing for what?”

“For selling millions of chess games,” The Pillar says. “Now, everyone wanted to play the IBM model after the game. They wanted to buy it and challenge the game that beat the best chess player in the world.”

“Oh. All about money again.”

“All about Black Chess, you mean.”

“What’s Black Chess got to do with this?”

“Black Chess owns IBM, among many other companies all around the world.”

“You realize you sound like those lame conspiracy theorists out there?” I tell him. Though I can see Black Chess interfering with everything in the world, some part of me wants to believe the world isn’t that manipulated.

“You know what the problem with conspiracy theories is?” The Pillar says.

“Enlighten me.” I fold my arms before me.

“They’re rarely theories.”

I swallow hard, realizing I was only wishfully thinking the world isn’t mostly manipulated by Black Chess. Was that the Dark Alice in me talking again?

“IBM will sue you for such blunt accusations.” I tell him.

“They might,” Pillar shakes his shoulders. “But they will never win.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I am like you Alice, officially declared mad. I could just apply for a certificate of madness like you. And that’s the beauty of it. I’m invincible.”

I laugh. “You’re right. What’s the worst they can do? Send you back to the asylum?”

“Shock therapy until my hair spikes up like an Irish rooster?” He winks.

“I’ve never realized how blessed we are, being mad.” I high-five him.

“Besides, I’m supposed to be a character in a book. They can’t sue me. Pillar? Who’s The Pillar? The caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland? He is real? Get outta here! Now enough play, and back to saving the world,” The Pillar says. “We’ll start with the Deep Blue clue.”

“How so?”

“We’ll pay the infamous machine a visit.” The Pillar rides his horse again. “I know where they keep it, and I have a feeling we can beat the machine this time.”

Chapter 26

Margaret Kent’s Office, Westminster Palace

Inspector Dormouse had been sleeping on the couch in the Duchess’ office for some time. It hadn’t been his plan to fall asleep again. He’d come to discuss an important matter about Professor Pillar. But he couldn’t resist the comfort of Margaret Kent’s couch in the lobby.

In his sleep he was wondering where he could get a smoother couch at home — or better, at his office of the Department of Insanity. Why weren’t such couches available on the market? Even if they were, how could he afford one?

But seriously, the cushions on that couch were so smooth, like marshmallows, like a steady tide of a calm river, swooping left and right. Now that was what he called sleeping. Real sleep, not flashy naps interrupted by his wife or children calling for him so he could wake up and buy the groceries.

What was a man’s life without proper sleep? Really? In Inspector Dormouse’s head, he sometimes envied sleeping dogs, snoring like they had a stack of million bones for the rest of their lives in the back of house’s yard. What a feeling!

“You!” A voice woke him up from the sweetest of dreams.

Inspector Dormouse rubbed his eyes, the image of Carolus Lodivicus slowly zooming in. He was so upset to be awake, he grabbed the edges of the couch, in case he had means to sleep again.

“Margaret Kent can’t see you,” Carolus said. “In fact, no one will. We’re all concerned about that Chessmaster in Russia.”

“Ah, I see.” the Inspector stood up and adjusted his clothes. “But I think the identity of Carter Pillar is as important.”

“Why? What did you discover?”

“It has to do with the twelve people he’s killed. They weren’t random.”

“You already told me on the phone. Elaborate.”

“I prefer to talk to Margaret Kent,” Inspector Dormouse said.

“Then you’ll have to wait, Inspector. A long time, so excuse me because I am supposed to find a way to save our Prime Minister.”

“Mr. Paperwhite?”

“Yes, him. The one the Queen recommended for the position.” He said and walked away.

“Wait,” the Inspector said. “May I ask why he is called Mr. Paperwhite?” He had considered it weird the Prime Minister had such a name, especially when it was the name of a character in Alice Through the Looking Glass, a man who only wore white papers for clothes.

“Really? You don’t get why the Queen calls the Prime Minister, Mr. Paperwhite?”

“Trust me. I gave it a thought, but didn’t get it.”

“Because he is like a piece of white sheet paper to her, she can write anything she wants on his clothes, and then he’d babble it out on TV, as if they were his own thoughts.”

The Inspector realized he was grinning, watching Carolus walk away. It was devious, what the Queen did, but the irony and cleverness of it amused him.

He sat back on the couch, preparing himself for another nap. After all, he couldn’t leave without telling them who The Pillar really was. It would turn everything that had been happening in the world for the last weeks on its head.

Chapter 27

The Pillar’s private plane

It only takes us a couple of hours to get to The Pillar’s plane, which he has previously parked in a private hangar nearby. It wasn’t the mousy Chauffeur who was helping this time — The Pillar said he’s let him go home to his family — but another nerdy young man who believed in the evilness of Black Chess.

“Get on the plane,” The Pillar tells me. “Before they catch us.”

I climb up the stairs, watching the young man throwing me one of those sympathizing looks again. “I pray for you,” he says, and I roll my tired eyes for one more time.

I am about to scream and pull hair when he hands me my pot of Tiger Lily, telling me they’ve picked it up from the safe box.

Up on the plane, I strap in next to The Pillar, who is flying this time. He puts on his oversized goggles and wears a helmet with England’s flag on it, as if he’s riding a motorcycle not a plane. “I am doing this for my country. You know that, Alice, right?” He sounds like a child with a toy plane, ready to play James Bond.

“All in her Majesty’s service.” I play along.

“You mean the real Majesty, right?” he adjusts some levers. “Not the Queen of Hearts. I wonder what happened to real Queen of England.”

The plane speeds up on the runway, and we’re ready to go wherever the Deep Blue machine is.

“Hang on, Alice.” The Pillar cheers.

“I am.” I find my back glued to the seat. “You know how to fly this one, right?”

“I do, but a simple side fact: most plane crashes happen while they take off, so technically getting closer to heaven is the scariest part of the flight.”

I close my eyes, and wish I could shut my ears, so I’d stop hearing him hail like a lunatic. As my heart sinks into my feet, the plane wriggles midair for a moment, then my whole inner compass is messed up. I am so confused at what’s going on I am forced to open my eyes again, only to realize the plane is upside down and I am dangling from my seatbelt.

“Had to do it, Alice,” The Pillar’s upside down face talks to me, his mouth looks really weird that way. “Been dreaming of doing this since…”

“You were a child?”

“No, just a couple of minutes ago.”

Finally, he flies the plane back in its normal position.

A few minutes later, I am ready for more questions. “So where do IBM keep the Deep Blue machine now? Where are we going?”

“Let’s keep it a surprise,” he says. “But know this, Deep Blue has only been used once, in that championship game. Never again. Rumors had it they kept the genius machine in one of the IBM buildings, but later it reappeared in the Computer History Museum in Mountain View, California. They claimed it was a similar one, but it was the real one. For some reason they didn’t want to get rid of it, neither did they want it shown to the public.”

“So where is it now?”

“In the last place you could ever think of. You’ll see.”

I let out a sigh, but I am used to The Pillar’s vagueness. What’s confusing me is… “What are we actually doing, Pillar?”

“Following the clue.”

“To get us where?”

“So we can find Carroll’s Knight.”

“Which is presumably another chess piece in the shape of a knight?”

“Exactly, part of Lewis Carroll’s special chessboard, the one Fabiola only knew about.”

“And you think the clue in the White Queen chess piece will lead us to it?”

“I hope so, or the Chessmaster will kill more world leaders. Who knows what he has in store for us if we don’t find it. And don’t ask me why he wants it. I have no idea.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t try calling Fabiola?”

“She won’t talk. I know her.”

“You mean you love her,” I am being blunt now. “I’ve read the note you sent to her while she was still in the Vatican.”

The Pillar’s face dims. No more happy, playful attitude. Even the plane winces a little in his apt hands. “How did the letter end up in your hands?”

“The March Hare,” I say. “He took it on her behalf, because when you sent it, she’d just left the Vatican. Her assistant collected the letter and sent it to the Inklings where the March read it.”

“And the key?”

“It’s safe with the March Hare, and Fabiola doesn’t know about it. Don’t avoid my question. How is it you’re in love with Fabiola?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice is shattered and weak. He stares ahead, avoids my eyes, and I feel guilty bringing it up.

In that same instant, I receive a message from the March Hare. It’s saddening news. The kind of news I shouldn’t be telling The Pillar, not now.

“Who’s the message from?” The Pillar asks. “Your Red admirer?”

“It’s from the March Hare. Something happened to Fabiola.”

The Pillar grips the stick harder, still not facing me. He doesn’t even ask what happened to her, pretending to be that tough guy who never breaks down.

“She is dying, Pillar,” I say as slow and soft as I can. “Someone poisoned her.”

The Pillar says nothing, his knuckles whitening around the flying stick.

“Do you wish to turn back? Maybe you want to see her before she dies.”

“No,” The Pillar says in a flat voice. “Saving the world from the Chessmaster is more important.”

I say nothing. Silence chokes both of us in the cockpit.

“In fact, I feel like doing this again,” The Pillar says, and flies the plane upside down again, like a child in pain with too many toys.

Chapter 28

Buckingham Palace, London

The Queen of Hearts had been following the event on TV, as well as awaiting updates from Margaret. The news host announced the latest unfolding events, telling about Alice and The Pillar not finding Carroll’s Knight, but a chess piece of a White Queen instead. One of the Chessmaster’s men had seen them opening the coffin in Marostica, and reported it to the news.