The Chessmaster’s assistant said nothing, afraid to upset him.
“Why do you need this Carroll’s Knight so much?” Uttered one of the world leaders. His name was Samson, declared dictator and sultan of Madderstan, a neighboring country to Looneystan.
“What did you just ask me?” The Chessmaster rose and rubbed his right mustache.
“You heard me.” Samson seemed full of himself, unlike most world leaders.
“You think you can just ask me questions because your country is a terrorism-spreading little land?” The Chessmaster knew Samson pretty well. The dictator ruled a small, but oil rich, country in Africa, and his small tribe of soldiers endorsed terrorism everywhere, just for the fun of it.
“Guilty as charged.” Samson raised his hands in the air. “I am such a bully. I love hurting other people and enforcing my ideologies on them by the sound of the gun. But how different are you?”
The Chessmaster rubbed his left side of the mustache and approached Samson. He could see the man had already made six moves, one move away from a checkmate, one move away from drinking the seventh cup and getting poisoned.
“You think I am just a low-life like you?” The Chessmaster said.
Samson laughed. “What else are you? Just another madman, thinking the world is not enough of a price for his ego.”
The Chessmaster reached for the knight on the chessboard and made the move. It was an easy one in his book, though not expected by any of his spectators.
Samson didn’t bother. He reached for his poisoned drink. “My men will slice you to pieces after I die, Chessmaster.”
Before he gulped, the Chessmaster gripped his wrist. “You have no idea who I am. You have no idea why I am doing this. All you are is a cockroach of a human being; a parasite, spreading chaos in the world and making it a terrible place.”
“And again, how different can you be?” Samson asked.
“I am the world’s salvation.” The Chessmaster said and forced the drink down the dictator’s throat.
The dictator dropped next to his table in an instant. The world broadcasted the scene, showing him wriggling and writhing before his death.
The Chessmaster turned and faced the camera. “I just killed another world leader. Don’t think I won’t go killing more. And let me tell you this: every one of you is responsible for finding Alice and The Pillar now. Find them, and bring them back to me, or your world leaders will not be saved.”
The words echoed the right way in the Chessmaster’s head. He demonstrated people’s worst fears and knew they would cooperate immediately. His message should have insinuated the desired effect, but then his assistant pointed at the news on TV talking about what just happened.
To the Chessmaster’s surprise, people, families, and children were leaving their houses in search for Alice and The Pillar. But not because they feared him. On the contrary, they have just declared their respect for the Chessmaster killing one of the world’s cruelest dictators.
It all left the Chessmaster bewildered. He sensed that warmth in his heart, the kind of warmth which had left him years ago. People suddenly believed he was their savior. He killed the world leader, which most of them wanted dead already. Not all of them of course, but enough people to help him catch Alice and The Pillar.
But the Chessmaster, being the dark being he was, also wasn’t fond of people’s love. He didn’t like to feel empathy or being admired. He’d transcended such weak emotions long ago. He needed to breathe anger and talk in vengeful syllables, or he’d weaken before completing his mission. The one he’d been planning since the 14th of January 1898.
Chapter 35
Tibet’s Autonomous Region
“It’s a rook.” I grip it and show it to The Pillar.
“Second piece of the puzzle,” The Pillar says. “I bet you can unscrew it open.”
“I can.” I am still looking at the mysterious piece. “Is this also made of Lewis’ bones?”
“Without a doubt.”
“You think it will lead us to Carroll’s Knight?”
“Eventually.”
“What do you mean?”
“Remember when I told you I think I know what’s going on with the Chessmaster, back in the tomb in Marostica?” The Pillar says.
But before we have a chance to discuss his theory, I realize the monks are surrounding us from all directions.
“What’s going on, Xian?” I ask the old man.
“I believe Cao Pao Wong knows.” Xian hides behind the Deep Blue machine.
The monks look angry now, balling fists against fists, making creepy faces, and murmuring angry words I can’t understand.
“Pillar?” I say worriedly.
“Do you still know None Fu, Alice?” The Pillar asks, taking a strange marital arts position, reminding of Kermit the frog.
“Why are you asking?” I say.