“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?
In short, the politician was a scumbag, and the Cheshire was far from surprised. It’s what he’d always expected from humans, though he’d began mildly sympathizing with humanity, especially since when he time traveled to the future and possessed Jack’s soul.
Of course, it baffled him how he partially remembered that journey when he shouldn’t know anything about it. He couldn’t explain it, and he didn’t remember much anyways.
All he remembered was that fuzzy feeling in his chest toward Alice, which were Jack’s feelings, of course.
But the Cheshire felt a bit changed since then. Not that he had converted to loving humans — the politician he was possessing made sure of that — but he was confused.
Part of the Cheshire’s confusion was that he still didn’t belong to a body or identity. It seemed like it was time he stuck to one person and lived their lives. But who?
He picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
There was a show about cats, where a woman loved them and fed them and took care of them. All cats looked really neat, too cute, too loving.
“Disgusting.” the Cheshire said and turned the channel, wondering how much they paid those cats to act like they enjoyed the company of humans.
As he flipped through channels, he suddenly remembered that at some point he’d possessed the knowledge of the whereabouts of the Six Impossible Keys, but then had forgotten them when he returned to the present again.
“Dang!” he said in the politician’s voice.
He stopped at the channel that broadcasted the Chessmaster in Russia and laid the remote on the table.
The Cheshire knew a few secrets about the Chessmaster. He even had an idea why he maybe be killing the world leaders. A few secrets the Cheshire preferred to keep to himself.
The one thing he didn’t know, and puzzled the purrs and furs out of him was what, or where, Miss Croatia 1454 was?
Chapter 12
On the Train, somewhere in Europe
I’m fidgeting in the seat next to The Pillar and slightly rocking to the train’s movement. He doesn’t pay attention to any of my questions, but stares at a paper he’s discreetly pinned into the back of the woman sitting in front of him. She has bushy hair and probably hasn’t washed it for some time, so she doesn’t feel it.
“Aren’t you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask him, disappointed that I’ve failed solving the puzzle.
“We booked two tickets for Croatia, didn’t we?” He says, still staring at the paper, which reads ‘Miss Croatia 1454.’
“I know, but this couldn’t be so easy.”
“The puzzle says Croatia, so it must be,” he says. “All we need is to figure out what 1454 means. Could be an address.”
“You mean a street or house number? Come on, he said only few people will be able to solve it. This doesn’t sound like a puzzle designed for few people to get.”
“I agree, but I can’t solve it. Let’s stick with the Croatia idea. What do you think the numbers are?”
“Coordinates?”
“I checked. It’s not.”
I let out a sigh. Today seems to be the day of disappointments. Earlier, I couldn’t defend myself against the Reds and now I am clueless to this puzzle. “Are you sure this isn’t a Wonderland puzzle? Something Lewis Carroll wrote in his book?”
“I am. Lewis only left England to travel to Russia. I doubt it if he’d ever known anything about Croatia?”