Checkmate (Insanity Book 6) (7 page)

The man’s name is Father Williams, which is a name The Pillar squints at, and I don’t know why.

I am surprised the man isn’t Italian. In fact, he comes from a family of English noblemen who have been instructed to live in Marostica all those years, as keepers of the secret of Carroll’s Knight.

“What secret?” I ask him.

“I will show you,” says Father Williams, gripping a torch and guiding us into the hallways of the high castle, Castello Superiore. “Follow me.”

The Chessmaster isn’t watching us at this point. He orders his man with the sword and a few snipers to follow us, until we get him Carroll’s Knight and bring it back to him. I am most curious about what’s really going on here.

“So your family was instructed to keep a secret in this town?” I ask Father Williams. “Why? Who instructed you?”

“Lewis Carroll,” Father Williams says reluctantly. “It’s his
Knight
you’re looking for.”

“You mean what the Chessmaster is looking for,” The Pillar says. “And by ‘Knight’ you mean what exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Father Williams says. “I only know of the place and have been denied looking upon the tomb where it is by my father.”

“Tomb?” I shrug, the shadows from the torch reflecting on the wall and worrying me.

“It’s where the Knight is kept,” Father Williams says.

“So it’s a person,” The Pillar says.

“Like I said, I don’t know.”

“Do you at least know why Lewis hid it here?” I ask.

Father Williams stops and stares into my eyes. “I am told it holds great evil.”

“Oh, please,” The Pillar rolls his eyes. “Great evil in a tomb. Is that some Hollywood movie again?”

“I can tell you’re scared,” Father Williams tells The Pillar.

“I’m not scared,” The Pillar says, though I think he is. Maybe he is claustrophobic. The Castle’s hallways are a bit too narrow and slightly suffocating. “I just hate this whole thing about an item that holds evil and will unleash it onto the world if you reopen it. I mean, if Lewis knew it was so evil, why not destroy it?”

“Plausible.” I nod at Father Williams.

“Funny, coming from people interested in a book where a girl gets taller when she eats a cake and shorter when she drinks a drink,” Father Williams logic starts to amuse me. “Do you want the Knight or not? I’d prefer to go spend time with my wife than with you.”

“Please forgive us,” The Pillar apologizes, then whispers something in his ears.

Father Williams looks sympathetically at me and says. “I pray for you.”

I pinch The Pillar immediately, but then the door to the tomb opens before us. The words ‘Carroll’s Knight’ are carved on the wall behind it.

Chapter 18

The tombs are not like anything I have expected. Its walls and floors are covered in black and white tiles, and there is a coffin in the middle. One side surprises me with two dead men, now skeletons, leaning onto a chessboard.

“Thieves,” Father Williams explains. “Some claim they’re Tweedledum and Tweedledee but I doubt it.”

“Then who are they?” The Pillar asks.

“They tried to steal Carroll’s Knight.” Says Father Williams.

“Why are they dead on the chessboard then?” I wonder.

“The tomb has a locking system. They were locked in and, by a Wonderlastic spell, they were forced to play chess, not until one wins, but until both died.”

“You people have really misunderstood that chess thing,” The Pillar says. “Anyone told you it’s just a game?”

“It’s not a game,” Father Williams insists. “Chess is life. Move one piece, take a step in life. Move another, yet another step. Make a bad move, spend a couple of moves correcting it and paying the price. And by move, I mean a year of your life.”

“I dropped out of elementary school, so don’t go poetic on me.” The Pillar chews on the words.

“I take it you can’t play chess,” Father Williams says.

“If you mean pulling hair for hours to make one move in a game so slow it’d make a turtle bored out of its mind, then the answer is no, I can’t play chess.”

“You have a lot to learn, Mr. Pillar,” Father Williams says. “And you, Alice?”

“Me?” I shrug. “I’m fresh out of an asylum. Doctors advised me I stay away from too much thinking.”

The Pillar looks like he wants to crack a laugh, but he goes inspecting the coffin instead.

“Now that you’re here, I’ll leave you to open it,” Father Williams says.

“Wait,” I wave a hand. “Open it? I thought you knew how to open it.”

“I don’t. I am just the keeper of the secret.”

The Pillar and I sigh. Not again.

“It’s shut and locked, so don’t try to push anything, it won’t work. I’ve tried,” Father Williams says. “The key to unlock it is in the groove in the middle of the coffin’s lid.”

I locate what he is talking about. The coffin is made of stone, and it’s fixed to the floor. It doesn’t seem to have a ledge or the slightest of openings. In the upper middle, probably upon the corpse’s chest, is a small groove. It’s neither circular nor diagonal. In fact, it’s shapeless. It looks like three curving strokes that remind me of a palm tree with three branches, waving sideways in the wind.

“It’s too small for someone’s palm,” The Pillar says. “Or we could have tried fitting one’s fingers in the groove.”

“We tried that too, even water, but it didn’t work,” Father Williams says.

“So there is not even a clue?” I ask.

“My parents left me a clue, but I believe it’s as useless.”

“Tell me about it,” I say.

“Two words that hardly mean anything.” Father Williams says.

“Hi Ho?” The Pillar pursed his lips. “Or hocus pocus?”

“None,” Father Williams says. “It’s ‘
Her lock
’.”

“Her Lock?” The Pillar tilts his head. “What kind of clue is that? It’s not even proper English.”

I give it a thought, but it’s getting harder to concentrate with the noise that suddenly erupts outside.

“What’s going on?” Father Williams asks the men escorting us.

“Someone burst through the door,” one of his assistants says. “It’s the Reds.”

“If I had a smoke each time I bump into them.” The Pillar says.

“Don’t worry,” Father Williams says. “I’m sure the Chessmaster will stop them from harming us.”

“No, he won’t,” I say. “He can’t.”

“Why so sure, Alice?” The Pillar says.

“Because the Reds don’t work for the Chessmaster at the moment, but Mr. Jay. He had sent a limo to drive me to his castle earlier and I escaped. They’re here to finish what they started.”

“So we’re looking for a bloodbath in here,” The Pillar says. “You have another way out of here, Father Williams?”

“None. We’ll have to fight them.”

“I’m not leaving this place,” I tell The Pillar. “Not before I open the coffin.”

A loud thud sounds outside. The Reds have already broken into the castle.

Chapter 19

The Inklings, Oxford

“Her Lock?” The March Hare said, staring at the message Alice managed to send to him by phone from Italy. He had stopped cleaning the bar’s floor and no matter how his ears erected, he couldn’t solve it. Sometimes the March didn’t want to think too hard in case those who control the light bulb in his head read into his thoughts.

“So Alice is alive,” Fabiola said from behind the bar, serving a couple of customers. “The Pillar only made us think she died.”

The March didn’t comment. Fabiola’s quest to kill Alice had become redundant. He wondered if it was the whiskey she drank in the Inklings that messed with her head. Mental note, he thought: there is a reason nuns shouldn’t drink whiskey or wear tattoos.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Jittery.” Fabiola said.

“I am not pretending,” he answered. “You should have known she was alive all along, if you’d opened the TV and watched the news.”

“I have,” she said. “I just didn’t want to think about it. My biggest priority now is to persuade the Mushroomers to be part of my army.”

“Any luck, White Queen?” The March noticed a few customer’s heads cocking when he called Fabiola by her Wonderland name. But hey, who believed in Wonderland anyways?

“Tom Truckle is working on a serum that should bring sanity to the Mushroomers.”

“Good luck with that.” The March continued cleaning. “I doubt the pill-popping doctor can help anyone with their sanity.”

“I hate it when I hear you talk like that.” Fabiola said.

The March said nothing. To him, the War didn’t mean anything. All he cared about was to go back to Wonderland and never grow up again. He’d been reading Peter Pan lately, and the idea of never really growing up resonated with him even more. Adulthood sucked marshmallows.

“So tell me about the clue?” Fabiola said. “Is Alice in trouble?”

“She is,” the March said. “Reds again.”

“Maybe they’ll succeed in killing her this time.”

In his mind, and though he respected Fabiola dearly, he wanted his broom to transform into a two sided axe that he’d roll in the air and chop off her head immediately. The March loved Alice too much, and Fabiola was being unreasonable.

“It’s a clue that should help her open a coffin with a groove in it,” the March said. “It says ‘Her Lock.’ Do you happen to know about that?”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” she said. “But I’d assume it’s a clue Lewis designed.”

“Why so?”

“Because it’s a Carrollian phrase. Her refers to Alice. Lock refers to…” Then she suddenly stopped.

“Lock refers to what?” the March was curious. “The lock on the coffin? A metaphor for the coffin being locked?”

Fabiola suddenly smiled. It was a devious smile. Very much unlike her. Sometimes the March wondered if she’d been possessed by the Cheshire. It would explain her sudden change. But the Cheshire couldn’t possess Wonderlanders. Certainly not Fabiola.

“I think you know what the clue is.” The March confronted her.

“In fact, I do.” Fabiola poured herself a drink, and then two free drinks for the customers at the bars. “But I am not telling. She won’t be able to solve it anyways.” She made a toast and gulped happily, leaving the March in pain, wondering what the world ‘Lock’ really meant.

Chapter 20

Castle Superiore, Marostica, Italy

Fighting the Reds in such a claustrophobic corridor proved to be overly bloody. Father Williams’ men, and even the Chessmaster’s snipers were dropping like flies outside the tomb. Alice could barely see them. She and The Pillar preferred to stay inside the room and try to unlock the coffin.

“I don’t know how long before the Reds get into the tomb,” Father Williams said. “The Chessmaster sent his men to attack them from behind, but it’s only turning into a massacre, and I’m not sure who is going to win.”

“We have very little time.” I say.

“You mean before we die or solve the puzzle?” Father Williams chuckled worriedly.

“I am assuming the word ‘her’ means you Alice.” The Pillar is kneeling down to inspect the groove on the coffin again. “Lewis always referred to you as ‘her,’ let alone the fact that he always talked about you.”

“So what does it mean?” I ask.

“It means the coffin is locked with your
lock
.” The Pillar is only speculating. “I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“Or maybe it means that only I can unlock it.” I offer.

“It’s a probability, but how?” The Pillar grimaces at the sound of men dying outside.

“Hurry!” Father Williams says.

I stare at the coffin with no clue of how to unlock it.

“Who told you about this clue?” The Pillar asks Father Williams.

“My father.”

“How so? Did he write it down to you or just say it?”

“Never wrote it down. The keepers of the secret always keep the clues in their minds.”

“And I assume your father heard it from his father and so on.”

“I assume so,” Father Williams says. “Why?”

“I am only trying to see if the clue is wrong, misinterpreted, or even misheard.”

“I am sure it says ‘her lock’.” Father Williams insisted.

“What do you have in mind, Pillar?” I ask.

“I am not sure, but I have a feeling the word is alluding to something else, if not intentionally misheard. Lewis loved those kinds of misinterpretations.”

“How so?”

“Like a game of phone when you whisper a word in someone’s ears and it comes out something similar, but very different in meaning from the original.”

“Like the word ‘her’ being ‘hair’, maybe?” I am just going along, shoving the killing sounds outside behind me.

The Pillar’s eyes widen, as if I’ve just discovered a way out of here.

“What is it?”

“‘Hair’ seems to be the solution,” he stared at the groove in the coffin again. “The groove doesn’t resemble bending palm trees, but a few hairies in the wind.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Father Williams says.

“Even so, what does that mean?” I kneel beside The Pillar.

“It means that lock doesn’t mean ‘lock’ as in ‘lock and key,’” He says.

“I’m not following.” But then I realize I actually do. My mouth hangs open wide for a moment. “Lock as in a lock of hair.”

“It’s also a double entendre,” he says. “A phrase or word open to two interpretations. ‘Her Lock’ could mean her lock of hair. Or Hair Lock, which also means a lock of hair.” The Pillar looks a bit dizzy, phrasing this and thinking about it. “Damn you, Lewis, for messing with my head. In all cases, the groove opens with a lock of your hair, Alice.”

“My hair?” I ask. “How would you have come to this conclusion?”

“Because, my dear Alice,” The Pillar says. “Lewis, as weird as he sometimes was, kept a lock of your hair as a bookmark in one of his diaries. A strange action, but a fact, which scholars can’t explain until today.”

I am not sure about Lewis keeping a lock of my hair, but I don’t sweat it. The Pillar, as resourceful as he always is, hands me a knife, and I cut a lock of my hair and set into the groove.

Instantly, we hear a click, and the coffin is ready to be opened.