Checkmate (Insanity Book 6)
Cameron Jace
Prologue Part One
World Chess Championship, Moscow, Russia
The presidents and prime ministers of the world were gathered in the auditorium. They’d come for a global event. They were raising money for citizens who’d recently lost their homes, unable to pay the mortgage and piling bills, and eventually went mad.
The audience clapped with enthusiasm and proudly waved their country’s flags in the air, hailing and praising world leaders for caring, then they showered them with roses and lilies and prayed for them.
The presidents stood proud and blew kisses in the air, pretending to be modest and humble, while they secretly laughed at their citizens. Because, in reality, it was the presidents and prime ministers themselves who’d caused those bills and pushed citizens to the verge of insanity. They were both the killer and judge, which was madly beautiful.
And what better way to raise money but a chess event, where they played games on TV, the same way they played their own people in real life?
The world leaders sat, each on their own small table with a single chessboard upon it. Silence swooped over the auditorium as they began to organize their chess pieces. Of course, all the leaders chose the color white for the game.
Over one hundred and thirty presidents and prime ministers were ready to play. The idea was to accept donations with every move they made in the game. But the trickiest part was that they weren’t going to play against each other. They were going to play against one man.
Yes, you read that right. All the world leaders were playing against one man. They called him the Chessmaster, a genius Russian chess player who’d never lost a game of chess.
“Did he really never lose a game?” the American president hissed to the British Prime Minister next to him.
“Shhh,” the British Prime Minister said. They called him Mr. Paperwhite because he only dressed in white paper instead of clothes. “Be silent. This isn’t an American football game.”
The American president rolled his eyes. The British were a bit too conservative at times. He turned to his left, facing another world leader by the name of King Dick, a flamboyant dictator who ruled a poor third world country with wealthy leaders, each of them richer than Bill Gates and Ali Baba combined.
“Hey,” the American president hissed. “Is it true the Chessmaster never lost a game?”
“What do you care?” King Dick breathed onto his recently manicured fingernails. “Americans can’t play chess anyways. You’ll lose no matter what.”
Mr. Paperwhite snickered at that comment.
“Neither are the Brits,” King Dick mocked him, and the British Prime Minister’s face flushed red. “Only the Russians are good at chess. And the best of the Russians is the Chessmaster.”
“But how can he never lose a game?” The American president gritted his teeth. “We Americans are big on winning. We’re always number one. But even so, we have to lose a game once in a while.”
“That’s because you’re not as good as the Chessmaster,” King Dick said. “Didn’t you ever hear about him winning the maddest game in the world?”
“Maddest game?” The American president leaned forward. “With whom?”
King Dick looked sideways then also leaned closer, his eyes bulging. “The Chessmaster is so good that it’s said that he won a game he played with…” he shrugged.
“With whom?” The American president’s eyes widened.
King Dick pointing upward. “With God himself.”
“God plays chess?” Mr. Paperwhite questioned from behind.
“Of course he plays chess. He is God. He can play everything.” The American president elbowed the Prime Minister back and said to King Dick, “Did God really lose a game of Chess to the Russian Chessmaster? How?”
“He cheated,” King Dick said, cupping his mouth with a hand.
“Of course. That’s it,” Mr. Paperwhite said. “You only beat God if you cheat.”
“You don’t get it,” King Dick said. “It was God who cheated first.”
“Get outta here!” the American president almost gasped.
“It’s what the myth says,” King Dick nodded. “The Chessmaster is too good, God had to cheat.”
“But how did the Chessmaster win that game?” Mr. Paperwhite asked.
“The Chessmaster cheated back, of course,” The American president said, gritting his teeth again. “Tell me, King Dick, does this mean that the Chessmaster knows God personally?”
“They don’t play golf together on Sundays, but of course he does,” King Dick said. “Why are you asking?”
“I am wondering if the Chessmaster could introduce me to him. We could have brunch in the White House. God and I.”
“Why would the American president want to meet with God?” Mr. Paperwhite mocked him. “He will send you straight to hell.”