“Sounds too far-fetched to me.”
“Then maybe he made them change their names. I wouldn’t dismiss the idea. The Pillar is a lunatic. I imagine his ego drove him to want only one man called by his name.”
“It still makes no sense. He is a madman, and he fooled me by pretending to be some animal activist called Petmaster, but it’s not it,” Dormouse said. “Want to hear what I know?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“The twelve men are foreigners. They haven’t been born in Britain, and none of them come from the same country.”
“It’s getting more interesting now. What else?”
“They come from all over the world, even from countries where you normally wouldn’t find a name like Carter or Pillar.”
“But you said their names were a translation to Carter Pillar in their own language.”
“Indeed, but even some of those translations are never used as names in their countries.”
“I see. So they arrived here a few years ago? Why?”
“For all kinds of reason. None of them suspicious or unusual.”
“That’s a dead end,” Tom Truckle said. “Did they know each other?”
“Now you’re on the right track. They all met annually. Once every year.”
“You don’t say.”
“A secret meeting, and guess where?”
“That’s hard to guess.”
“In Oxford University.”
“Does that mean they knew the real Pillar?”
“In fact, yes,” Inspector Dormouse said. “I had to dig into the university’s archive to figure it was our Carter Pillar who arranged the secret meetings.”
“What were they about?”
“Some kind of ritual.”
“You lost me. Ritual?”
“About Wonderland.”
“This can’t be.”
“Oh, it can,” Inspector Dormouse said. “I’ve bribed a cook who worked in the kitchen below in Oxford to tell me all he knew about the meetings.”
“And?”
“He heard them talk about Wonderland all the time. But the boy thought they were nuts. He was fooled by Carter Pillar pretending to be a nerdy professor at the time, so he dismissed the nonsensical talks, and hardly overheard a few things.”
“Like what?”
“Like what they called their meetings.”
“They had a name for a meeting?” Tom Truckle said. “I’m curious. What did they call it?”
“Are you ready for it?” Inspector Dormouse seemed too awake and alert now.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because I think it may tie a few things you already know together — in a vague way, though.”
“I know you’re a detective who likes suspense, but I’m not into that,” Tom Truckle said. “So tell me what they called their meetings.”
“I suggest you suck down a few pills first,” Inspector Dormouse said. “You will need them.”
“Damn it. Just spill it out. What did they call their meetings?”
“The Fourteen.” Inspector Dormouse said, watching Tom Truckle pop down a few pills right away.
Chapter 54
Chess City, Kalmykia, Russia
The Pillar still hesitates at stepping onto the white tiles.
“Please,” I tell him. “You owe me this.”
His right foot is slightly higher, presumably ready to step onto the white tiles. I’m not sure if he is tricking me into playing one of his games, but he looks a bit thin skinned at the moment. Something is showing through, but I can’t quite see it.
“Like I said, I will not kill you, no matter what,” I say. “I will not even hate you. It seems impossible to do so now, not after all we’ve been through, not after you’ve believed in me so much. But I need to know who you are.”
“Beware of what you wish for,” he says, almost mumbling it.
What’s going on with him? Who is he, really? Having him cloth-battered, blood having dried on his bare skin in most places, makes him most vulnerable-looking now. This looks like a moment I can take advantage of. How many times do you get to have an upper hand over the infamous Carter Pillar?
“I am ready for anything,” I say. “If you don’t step onto the chessboard, I will assume you’ve been denied walking upon white tiles, just like you wouldn’t do it in the Vatican. Fabiola may have been right. You’re a devil in disguise,” I raise a hand. “But even so, I will never blame you for it, because whatever makes you see something good in me, whatever makes you want me to save people, there must be a redeeming quality about you.”
The Pillar says nothing. It’s evident to me that he is sucking in whatever truth he is about to spill, right into the belly of his soul.
“There is nothing to be ashamed about,” I continue. “I am like you. An evil girl. But I made a choice to be good and pay for my sins.”
“Did you?”
I shrug. “I’m trying. Believe me I am. I may not have remembered everything I’ve done in the past, but the basic principle is to try to be a better person in the now.”
“I like the sound of that,” he says, and steps further.
My heart races, watching his foot near the white tile. Is he really going to step on it? Knowing him, I’m sure he could come up with a last minute trick.
In slow motion, holding my breath, I watch The Pillar step onto the white tile.
I can’t believe it.
Even slower, he pulls his other leg up and now steps with both feet upon the tile.
I wait for something to happen. I wait for a trick. I wait for him to shiver and shudder in pain because he isn’t supposed to be stepping on white tiles.
But all my assumptions are futile. The Pillar does have the power to step on white tiles. His intentions are clear, unless I don’t truly believe in the chessboard’s verdict. But I do believe in it. My heart tells me so.
“How is that for good intentions?” The Pillar says.
“Then why didn’t you just do it?” I chortle, so happy. “Why did you play games with me? I get it. Fabiola wasn’t right. You can walk the white tiles. You just want to come across as mysterious, like you always do.”
“Maybe I have another reason.”
I raise my eyes to meet his — they’ve been fixed on his legs all this time. “What do you mean?”
“Are you ready for this, Alice?”
“Ready for what? Please stop doing that? You’re scaring me.”
“You wanted to know my intentions, whether I can step on the white tiles or not. You wanted to know why I haven’t stepped on the tiles in the Vatican, even when I can now step on white tiles. Scary or not, you asked for the truth.”
It puzzles me what he is about to show me. What could possibly shatter this beautiful moment, knowing his intentions are ‘white’?
“This is why, Alice,” he says, strolling over the corner of the white tile.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Showing you who I am,” He says, and lifts up his right leg, leaning more to the right, then he stretches over to the adjoining black tile.
And there he shows me. It’s confusing. Too confusing, in fact. But it’s the truth.
The Pillar’s right leg steps over the black tile. He simply can step on both.
I cup my shriek with both my hands, more bewildered than shocked, because I’m not quite sure what this implies, having both white and black intentions.
Suddenly, when I’m about to press him for an explanation, the whole life-sized chessboard hums in a low drone that I can feel in my feet.
The drone escalates to a rattle, which escalates to an earth shattering sound, as if an earthquake is about to take place.
Chapter 55
“What’s going on?”
“I have no idea,” The Pillar says, stretching out his arms for balance, the same as me. “Hang on tight, Alice.”
“This is ridiculous,” I say. “We’ve ended up here because of the clue in the Black Queen chess piece. Are we going to die?”