Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) (4 page)

He says nothing. Doesn’t even move or make a sound.

“Listen,” I say. “You will have to talk to me and explain who you are, or I will hurt you. You know who I am, right?” I am well aware of the nonsense I am speaking. I can’t hurt him. He is too strong and I actually owe him for saving me from the rest of the Reds. Only I need to know what he wants with me.

The answer comes in the shape of a yellow note. A sticky one, which he writes on with a red pencil then hands to me. I take it, noticing it’s of the same material of the note with The Pillar’s Wonder. The one that is buried at the bottom of the Tiger Lily I am holding.

I read the note:
You’re a horrible Bad Alice. I thought you’d be able to fight me back.

“What the heck?” I chortle.

He passes me another note. I take it and read it:
Heck is too American for a British girl that inspired Lewis Carroll. But you’re forgiven, since you have no idea who you really are, yet.

 I am not sure if this is supposed to be a joke, but I can sense the Red isn’t here to harm me. “Why did you save me?”

Another note:
Consider me your guardian angel.

“I don’t need a guardian,” I say. “And I am not sure Angels are on my side at this time.”

Note says:
 You talk too much.

I say, “As if you talk at all.”

Note says:
 I made a choice not to. You, on the other hand, do talk so use your mind and focus or blabbing will kill you.
Then he writes something that makes me chuckle.
Too much yappening, not enough happening.

“And you make fun of me speaking in American terms?” I retort. “What you just said isn’t even English.”

A note:
It’s better than English. It’s nonsense.

I don’t reply, watching him churn another note. This one says:
We may have started on the wrong note. Let’s start all over again.

“That sounds better,” I say. “Where do you want to start?”

A note:
Let’s begin with introductions. You can call me Dude.

“Nice to meet you, Dude – I guess.” I struggle and stand up on my feet, and stretch out a hand.

He doesn’t shake it, but tucks another note in it:
Time is running out. You have to get ready for your next mission.

“You’re giving me orders now?” I ask.

A note:
Yes. The world is counting on you to save them from the Chessmaster.

Chapter 7

The Dude tells me all about the Chessmaster, the best chess player in history, who’s just gone mad and killed the Pope’s messenger while entrapping the world leaders in an auditorium in Russia.

Then he makes me watch the news covering the catastrophe.

“But they don’t mention why he is doing this,” I say.

No one knows, yet. He didn’t say.

“Does the Chessmaster have a name?”

No one’s sure. He has been concealing his identity for years, even when winning chess championships each year. Some say his real name is Vozchik Stolb.

“Doesn’t strike me like a Russian name.”

Who cares? You just need to stop him.

“So he is not a Wonderland Monster, I think,” I say. “You understand I only catch Wonderland Monsters, right?”

That’s exactly why I am here, giving you orders, and not The Pillar.

“You know about The Pillar? Who are you?”

I’m the Dude. I told you that. I am here to teach you that you don’t only save lives by beating Wonderlander Monsters. You’re obliged to save anyone harming humans in this world.

“And why would I do that?”

Because you have a responsibility to repent for the things you’ve done in the past.

“Seriously,” I glare at his hollow face under the hood. “Who are you?”

I’ll answer you when you know who you are
.

“I know who I am, smartass.”

Really? Bad Alice? Good Alice? Insane? Sane? Alice? Mary Ann? Orphan? Family? You don’t have the slightest idea.

I shrug. It’s hard to argue with the only person bothering to save my life, other than The Pillar.

We may not have time, since the Chessmaster is playing the game with the world’s leaders right now, and they are very bad at chess. Soon, another world leader will die — it’s already a mess at the Vatican. People are angry and worried for the pope’s life.

“I thought it was the Pope’s messenger who died.”

The Pope was forced to play the game after his messenger died. He is present in Russia, endorsing the charity event. He happens to have no idea how to play chess. Now the Chessmaster is forcing him to play. Either win or die.

“This is getting serious,” I rub my chin. “Do you happen to know where The Pillar is?”

I thought you’d never ask.
Then he writes down an address.
I will drive you there, but then you’ll not see me again. My role ends here.

I don’t know why I feel a bit lost, realizing I want to see this mysterious Red again. But it seems weird to vocalize my interest in him. I am not even sure I can fully trust him, so I take the note and we descend the stairs of the abandoned building we’re in. Out to the streets, I immediately recognize the city of London.

The Red shows me to a Corvette in a vacant back street and opens the door for me.

“Must be rich,” I mumble, sitting.

I borrowed it from a rich guy.

“You mean you stole it from a rich guy.” I pull on the seatbelt.

He doesn’t write a note and starts the engine.

“I’m really worried about the Pope,” I comment, thinking about who this Chessmaster may be, and if he will end up being a Wonderland Monster. “You said the Chessmaster forced him to play and he has no clue how to play chess. What’s the Pope doing now?”

He writes a note with one hand while driving with the other.
“The Pope made his first move. It’s a very common move in the Vatican when facing crisis.”

“Which is?”

A note with a smiley face:
“Praying.”

Chapter 8

Buckingham Palace, Queen’s garden.

The Queen watched her doctors trying to put Humpty Dumpty’s head back on. The doctors struggled with it. The boy’s head was much heavier and bigger than most children his age. It was also a horrendous operation, knitting it back.

“So he’s going to live?” The Queen asked, chin up, hands behind her back, wearing rabbit flip flops for a change.

“It’s too soon to tell,” the doctor said. “We’re knitting the head back on. The rest needs Divine Intervention.”

“What’s Divine Intervention?”

“It’s when you need God to intervene and save someone.”

“Never heard of that,” The Queen said, rubbing her chin.

“It’s like when God let’s people live while he decides others will die.”

“Ah,” she clicked thumb and forefinger. “You mean like when I chop off heads or don’t chop off heads. I decide who lives and who dies.”

The doctor shrugged, not sure if he should object or explain things further. He certainly could get his head chopped off if he spoke.

“Anyhoo,” She said, smiling.

“Anyhoo?” The doctor wondered.

“It’s a hip word, I heard the kids say,” she said. “I like it. Nonsensical, and I like how you have to ball up your lips in the end like you’re going to kiss someone. Any-
hoooo
.”

“Whatever you say, my Queen.”

“So like I said: Anyhoo, I think my Humpty will live. It happened to him before in Wonderland. He’d fallen of a wall and splashed open like an Easter egg. Lewis wrote a rhyme about it.”

“And he still lived?”

“Yes. Became a little dumber though. He is like an egg. You can certainly glue its shell, but you can’t squeeze the yolk back in.”

“I don’t think we can afford him becoming any dumber,” the doctor sympathized, staring at Humpty balled up on the table.

“What’s wrong with dumb?” she demanded. “I love dumb people. Now get your
dumb
ass out of my chamber before I chop it off,” she stopped in her tracks, a forefinger pressed to her lips. “Did I just say I love your ass in the last sentence?”

The doctor suppresses a laugh, and hurried toward the door.

“Wait,” she said. “Margaret will want to see me because of this Chessmaster situation. I don’t want her to see her kid like this or she will give me a hard time, so tell her I am busy.”

“Busy?” the Doctor said. “Doing what?”

“I am the Queen, dammit! I can be busy playing with my big toe if I want to. Get out!”

Then she patted the poor kid while staring at the massacre in the garden. It was mesmerizingly ironic staring at the dead guards who’d just killed each other over a woof, woof.

But she had no time for lamenting. She picked up the phone and dialed a fourteen-digit number.

“Mr. Jay,” she said. “I assume you heard about the Chessmaster.”

“I did, and I don’t like it.” The answer came in low tone on the phone.

“Let me guess. You don’t like it because we don’t know who he really is?”

“That’s exactly it. I’ve never heard of a Chessmaster in Wonderland. True, Lewis had been obsessed with chess after visiting Russia, where he invented the famous
zashchishchaiushchikhsya
None Fu move, but he never revealed the Chessmaster’s identity.”

“Not even in Alice Through the Looking Glass?”

“I’m sure not.”

“So, all we know is that the Chessmaster knows what the Six Keys are for?”

“That’s all Lewis mentioned in his diaries, but I’m starting to doubt that. I’m not sure.”

“If I may ask, Sir,” the Queen said. “Aren’t you supposed to know what the keys are for?”

“Of course I do - so do you and most of those interested in the Wonderland Wars.”

“So why is the Chessmaster important. We can nuke him like we did Hiroshima when you advised the Americans to do so, and get rid of him. I know we’d lose the world leaders, but I’ve already planted their substitutes of my mad men all over the world. We could rule the world tomorrow afternoon.”

“It’s not about knowing what the keys’ ultimate purpose is – we both know what that is. The problem is what do they open to get to our ultimate purpose.”

“Ah.” The Queen scratched her head. “So even knowing their location now isn’t enough, because we don’t know where to stick them.”

“Stick them, yes,” Mr. Jay sounded irritated with her. “Call me when you know something. I have other concerns at the moment.”

“Really?”

“Someone kidnapped Alice on her way to my castle, and I need to know who he is, then get her back.”

Chapter 9

Lifespan Hospice, London.

After the Dude drives me to The Pillar’s location, he guns the Corvette into the streets and disappears, leaving me with my mouth agape, staring at the hospice where I am supposed to find The Pillar.

I enter, not sure what The Pillar is doing here, so I ask the receptionist about him.

“Oh, Mr. Pillar,” she cheers. “Such a charming man. He is in Ward Six.”

“Charming indeed,” I mumble, a little envious of everyone finding him so, not pointing out that he is utterly bonkers – and a serial killer.

Inside, I try to smile at everyone I pass by in the rooms. I mean what consolation can you give to a dying person, though I totally respect the work done here.

Then, there I find him, in Ward Six. He is standing on top of a patient’s bed, dancing with his cane up in the air and the hookah in his other hand. I can’t hear what he’s saying, since I am behind a looking glass. But I can surely see what the other patients are doing.

They are simply dancing as well, half of them smoking hookahs — and coughing ferociously afterwards.

I rap on the glass but no one’s paying attention. The Pillar’s dance moves are imitated by each person in the room, all of them standing on their beds.

Pushing the glass door open, the first sound that attacks my ears is a well-known song, booming out of an 80’s cassette player that most youngsters of my generation only see in old movies. The player is crackling with the badly equalized version of
Don’t Fear the Reaper
.

I call out for The Pillar, but still no one pays attention. Everyone is dancing and smoking as if they’re reckless teenagers with no respect for what time does to us in this world. None of them look like they’re dying soon actually.

“Listen. Listen!” The Pillar waves at them. “We’ve danced enough.

“No!” They pout.

“Seriously,” he coughs with beady eyes. “I need to tell you something.”

“That you’re handsome?” An old woman, who’d ripped off her IV from her arm, giggles.

“Thank you, darling, but I already know that,” he says. “What I want to tell you is a phrase, which I want you to repeat whenever you feel your time has come and that you’re about to die.”

The room falls silent, even the song ends on its own.

“Don’t worry,” The Pillar tells them. “When death comes creeping up to your bed, under the sheets, telling you it’s time, all you have to say is the following…”

The patient’s eyes are all on him.

“You say ‘I will die when I say so’,” The Pillar says, and I feel embarrassed. The man must have smoked too much and now is only talking nonsense.

But the patients surprise me by loving it. They all start saying, ‘I’ll die when I say so!’

Rolling my eyes, I pull at The Pillar’s trousers while he is standing on the bed. He kicks me off, grunting, “What do you want? Get out of here.”

“Seriously?” I say. “This Chessmaster is threatening to kill the leaders of the world and you’re playing games with those poor people?”

“He isn’t fooling us,” the old woman glares at me. “Carter is one of us. He knows how we feel.”

I shrug, speechless, unable to comment. What does she mean? Is The Pillar dying?

“Wait outside, Alice,” The Pillar intervenes before I get a chance to ask. “You have no idea what’s going on.”