“Where are you going?”
The Pillar doesn’t answer but stops at a café a little later. I stop next to him, watching the café’s TV broadcasting the latest news about the incident in Russia. The host comments on the Pope’s bad moves in the game and that he may be the next to die. The screen shows the world leaders sweating at their chessboards, most of them having played two moves out of the seven. Most of them have also sipped that poison that might eventually kill them.
“How can he possibly play with hundred and thirty people at once?” I wonder.
“It should be easy for a man who played chess with God and won.” The Pillar drags on his pipe.
“You don’t really believe that.”
“It’s a great marketing scheme, instilling fear in everyone. It works. I don’t have to believe it,” The Pillar nears the TV. “Nice handlebar mustache, and look at that armor he is wearing.”
“He is a madman who needs a psychiatrist.” I comment.
“Or a fashion designer,” The Pillar says. “I find it humiliating that the world is threatened by a man so out of fashion that he’s still wearing armor.”
“Do you know him? Is he a Wonderlander?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve certainly never met him before.”
“He looks very much like Wonderlanders,” I explain. “Eccentric, mad, and evil.”
“You’ve just described every politician on TV.”
“This chess game strikes me as a Wonderland theme,” I stare The Pillar in the eyes. “Like the chessboard of life in the Vatican.”
“Are you implying something?”
“I think you know who he is and aren’t telling me.”
“Usually I am, but not this time.”
I try to believe him but can’t. “So why is the Chessmaster doing this?”
It’s exactly this instant when the Chessmaster approaches the camera and begins to talk.
“I will be brief,” he says. “Before I reveal my intentions and demands, I need to make sure only those who are qualified to meet my needs, apply.”
We all watch him pull each side of his handlebar mustache after every couple of words.
“Listen carefully,” the Chessmaster continues. “Because you have no idea who I am. I mean, I am so scary that I sometimes prefer not to remind myself who I am.”
“You think he could be the mad barber on Cherry Lane Road, who’s responsible for half of the male Brits being bald?” The Pillar comments, but everyone in the café shushes him.
“In order to let your world leaders live, I need you to bring me something,” the Chessmaster says in his Russian accent. It makes him sound both funny and intimidating, which puzzles me. “I want you to find something called ‘Carroll’s Knight’.”
Everyone in the café starts to murmur and speculate. I look at The Pillar for answers.
“Carroll’s Knight.” He drags from his pipe. “Sound’s interesting.”
“Don’t bother trying to figure out what it is,” the Chessmaster says. “Only those who already know will understand.”
“I guess my work is done.” The Pillar is on his way out of the cafe. “Because I don’t know what Carroll’s Knight is.”
“Wait,” I say. “The Chessmaster must be a Wonderland Monster. Carroll’s Knight sounds Wonderland related.”
“To get what I want, I will ask you to solve the following puzzle,” the Chessmaster says. The Pillar stops at the door. I guess he can’t resist puzzles. “If you are the few who are capable of getting what I want, you should be able to answer the following question. It’s a puzzle of which its answer leads to a place.”
Everyone is listening.
“The puzzle is: where is Miss Croatia 1454?”
Chapter 11
The Streets of London.
The Cheshire was now possessing a politician’s body. A middle aged minister in an ironed suit and tie. After ordering people left and right, he sat back in his comfortable chair and glanced at the rainy London from his office’s window.
It’s not like the Cheshire hadn’t possessed politicians before. Only this time he made sure not to let his persona overcome that of the politician. Instead, he let the man’s mind seep through, so the Cheshire could read it all.
It wasn’t surprising how the politician didn’t give a damn about the world’s turmoil at the moment. The man rocked in his chair, lit a cigar, and started thinking about how he could benefit from the crisis of the Chessmaster holding the world leaders hostages.
His thoughts were like this: Would the American dollar rise or decline in such times? Never mind the British pound. It may be as strong as a rock, but it means nothing in the world’s economy. Should I be investing in certain things now? Should I start planning to take the prime minister’s place?