PILLAR’S CHOPPER ON ITS WAY TO GENEVA
F abiola changes into modern clothes inside the plane.
She comes to show her formal, businesswoman dress. And she looks rather shy or confused.
“You look good,” I say. And she does. I don’t think she realizes she has an athletic feminine-looking body. Or maybe it’s me who just doesn’t know who she was before she became a nun.
“I haven’t changed my nun’s dress in years.” She’s almost blushing. “It’s a bit uncomfortable for me.”
“You’re always beautiful, White Queen,” the March says, although he should be trying to remember the exact incident with Carolus.
“You are,” I say.
“I don’t want to look beautiful,” she says. “I want to look convincing enough that we can get through the UN’s building gates.”
“Don’t worry,” the chauffeur says. “I’ve taken care of that. The Pillar sent me fake invitations for the three of you.”
This doesn’t warm Fabiola toward him, though.
“I think, as much of a mystery as he is, he still tries to help,” I say.
“You don’t know him, Alice,” she says. “He shouldn’t have killed more people. You think he solved the world’s drug problem? Tomorrow, another Executioner will be born.”
“I understand.”
“This is exactly what I was talking about when I told about you staring darkness in the eyes, and not getting stained with it.”
“I think I get it. I felt so much hate and anger in Columbia, I was about to go on a rampage, too.”
“The Pillar never got it. That’s why he isn’t a good man. He wants to fight fire with fire, not admitting that he likes it.”
“I have to say he does like it.” I stretch my arms. “But forget about him. You know what I like about this moment?”
“What?”
“The three of us are on a mission together. Three more and the Inklings will be complete.”
“I’m an Inklings’ member?” The March giggles. “So frabjous.”
“You know what would be frabjous?” I tell him. “If you remembered any useful details about the plague. Maybe there is a cure, after all.”
“I’m trying my best.” His ears dangle a bit. “Believe me, I do. I’ve even looked through all my pockets for a clue, but...”
Suddenly his ears stand erect again. His eyes bulge out like usual.
“What is it?” Fabiola says.
“I found something in my jacket’s pocket. It’s a hidden pocket I totally forgot about.”
“And what did you find in there?” I ask.
The March says nothing. He elevates his hands, showing four thin tubes, like the ones you use in a chemistry lab.
“What are those?” I inquire.
“I still need to remember that, but...” His eyes dart between me and Fabiola. “I think this could be the cure.”