ST PETER’S, THE VATICAN
“I think you were a bit harsh on the Pillar ,” I tell Fabiola.
She dismisses my comment and checks on the March Hare in the confession booth. “Did you remember anything of importance yet?”
“Nothing, White Queen,” he replied. “But I feel the drug wearing off. I should remember all that happened soon enough.”
“Then you have no choice but to go to Geneva,” Fabiola tells me. “Take your umbrella. I have a feeling it’s the way to kill Carolus.”
“It makes sense. If Lewis gave it to me, then maybe it’s the weapon to kill his darker half with.” I stare at the laughable umbrella that has saved my life repeatedly.
Fabiola’s phone rings. “Go check if the plane is ready. I need to answer this.”
I don’t go out but call the chauffeur who’s outside somewhere. He landed the chopper on top of a locked building so that he wouldn’t bump into citizens looking for a fight.
“All set,” the chauffeur says. “Come over. We’ll be in Geneva soon enough.”
I hang up and tell the White Queen, but she shocks me with the latest news.
“I know what the Queen is up to.”
“I’m so curious about your sources inside the Queen’s castle,” I say. “What is it?”
“You know the Geneva meeting will have the world’s most prestigious presidents, right?”
“Sure.”
“It will have the president of the United States meet the Queen of England. The Israeli presidents meet the most prestigious Arab president. The Russian president will meet the Ukrainian president and so forth, to name a few.”
“Those presidents’ nations are in continuous conflict with each other,” Fabiola says. “Usually, in every world meeting of this kind, they settle for courtesy and etiquette, choose not to clash against one another or say what’s really on their minds.”
“I’m not following.”
“Most of the world’s leaders hate each other, Alice. Their countries hate the others’ countries too.” Fabiola holds me by the arms. “Everyone in the world knows that. But we always find a way to make peace in the world. You know how?”
“I get it now,” I say. “By not telling the truth.”
“That’s why the Queen took Carolus with her. He has some of the plague’s scent left. She is going to pour it into their tea at the meeting. And you know what will happen then?”
“Every president will tell the truth,” I say absently.
“The bad truth none of us can handle.”
“And then the world will be in continuous wars, nations against nations. It’s what the Queen loves most.”
“How is this different from a plague?”
“Alice. What happened to you?” Fabiola says. “In a plague, everyone dies. Poor, rich, powerful, weak, buyer, seller. In a war, a lot of people get rich. You sell weapons, give the illusion of safety to those you protect. It’s a different ball game.”
I am not quite sure I really understand the difference, but I know the Queen needs to be stopped first, even before killing Carolus. Maybe the two things have to be done at once.
“This is a bit too much for me.” I shrug.
“I know,” Fabiola says. “That’s why I’m coming with you to Geneva.”