ST PETER’S, THE VATICAN
F abiola doesn’t tell me why the Pillar took the key. She doesn’t tell me what’s so special about those children. And it drives me crazy.
I can’t force her to tell me. The White Queen has this kind of aura that makes you trust her, no matter what. If she decided not to tell me, she must have a good reason for it.
I watch Fabiola spend most of her time taking special care of the Columbian children – I realize not all of them are Columbian, but from all over the world -- while the March Hare tries to remember more about the plague.
“What boggles my mind is how I could cook such a plague.” He trotted across the church, left and right.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, no matter what Carolus promised me, or forced me to do, I could never have designed something that could hurt anyone in the world. It’s just not me.”
I believe him.
“You think he drugged me, so I had no control of myself?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my shoulders. “Maybe you’re like him and have a split persona.”
“That would be horrible.” He brushes his long beard. “I don’t think I’m horrible. Do you think I’m horrible?”
“Calm down.”
“I think I have to.” His eyes shot up again. “I think my light bulb flickered.”
I don’t know what to say.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t think much or someone will see my thoughts. Fabiola, do you think I can hide in your confession booth?”
“If it’ll make you feel better.” She approached me. “So, still no idea how you will kill Carolus?”
“I went through all my meetings with Lewis, and I still have no idea.” I look at my watch. “Shouldn’t you know something?”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don’t mean to interfere, but you looked like you were intimate in the vision I had about the Six Inklings.”
Fabiola looks like she’s suppressing a smile. “Well, he always talked about your umbrella. He liked that gadget, the same way he liked the Vorpal sword he gave me.”
“I remember that.” I chuckle. “I’d love to see you chop off bad guys’ heads with it again.”
“Don’t count on it. I’ve devoted my life to peace. That was the Pillar’s effect that day. He makes people dip into their dark sides. He’s good at it.”
“So, what about the umbrella?”
“Maybe it’s the Bandersnatch teeth bullets or the way it glowed when you shot the Cheshire with it in the cat throwing festival.”
“You think so?”
“It’s our last chance.”
“All right.” I sigh. “I’ll have the chauffeur fly me to London.”
“Wait!” The chauffeur strolls over and shows us video footage from his phone.
“What is it?”
“It’s Senor Pillardo—I mean the Pillar.”