The Pillar’s private plane
I t only takes us a couple of hours to get to the Pillar’s plane, which he previously parked in a private hangar nearby. It wasn’t the mousy chauffeur who was helping this time—the Pillar said he’d let him go home to his family—but another nerdy young man who believed in the evilness of Black Chess.
“Get on the plane,” the Pillar tells me. “Before they catch us.”
I climb up the stairs, watching the young man throwing me one of those sympathetic looks again. “I pray for you,” he says, and I roll my tired eyes one more time.
I am about to scream and pull at my hair when he hands me Tiger Lily’s pot, telling me they picked it up from the safe box.
Upon the plane, I strap in next to the Pillar, who is flying this time. He puts on his oversized goggles and wears a helmet with England’s flag on it as if he’s riding a motorcycle, not a plane. “I am doing this for my country. You know that Alice, right?” He sounds like a child with a toy plane, ready to play James Bond.
“All in her majesty’s service,” I say, playing along.
“You mean the real majesty, right?” He adjusts some levers. “Not the Queen of Hearts. I wonder what happened to the real Queen of England.”
The plane speeds up on the runway, and we’re ready to go wherever the Deep Blue machine is.
“Hang on, Alice,” the Pillar says.
“I am.” I find my back glued to the seat. “You know how to fly this one, right?”
“I do, but a simple side fact: most plane crashes happen while they take off, so technically getting closer to heaven is the scariest part of the flight.”
I close my eyes and wish I could shut my ears, so I’d stop hearing him yell like a lunatic. As my heart sinks into my feet, the plane wriggles midair for a moment, then my whole inner compass is messed up. I am so confused at what’s going on that I am forced to open my eyes again, only to realize the plane is upside down and I am dangling from my seatbelt.
“Had to do it, Alice,” the Pillar’s upside-down face tells me. His mouth looks really weird that way. “Been dreaming of doing this since…”
“You were a child?”
“No, just a couple of minutes ago.”
Finally, he flies the plane back into its normal position.
A few minutes later, I am ready for more questions. “So where does IBM keep the Deep Blue machine now? Where are we going?”
“Let’s keep it a surprise,” he says. “But know this: Deep Blue hasn’t been used since that championship game. Never again. Rumors had it they kept the genius machine in one of the IBM buildings, but later it reappeared in the Computer History Museum in Mountain View, California. They claimed it was a similar one, but it was the real one. For some reason they didn’t want to get rid of it, and neither did they want it shown to the public.”
“So where is it now?”
“In the last place you could ever think of. You’ll see.”
I let out a sigh, but I am used to the Pillar’s vagueness. What’s confusing me is… “What are we actually doing, Pillar?”
“Following the clue.”
“To get us where?”
“So we can find Carroll’s Knight.”
“Which is presumably another chess piece in the shape of a knight?”
“Exactly, part of Lewis Carroll’s special chess set, the one Fabiola only knew about.”
“And you think the clue in the white queen chess piece will lead us to it?”
“I hope so, or the Chessmaster will kill more world leaders. Who knows what he has in store for us if we don’t find it. And don’t ask me why he wants it. I have no idea.”
“Are you sure we shouldn’t try calling Fabiola?”
“She won’t talk. I know her.”
“You mean you love her.” I am being blunt now. “I’ve read the note you sent to her while she was still in the Vatican.”
The Pillar’s face dims. No more happy, playful attitude. Even the plane winces a little in his hands. “How did the letter end up in your hands?”
“The March Hare,” I say. “He took it on her behalf because when you sent it, she’d just left the Vatican. Her assistant collected the letter and sent it to the Inklings, where the March read it.”
“And the key?”
“It’s safe with the March Hare, and Fabiola doesn’t know about it. Don’t avoid my question. How is it you’re in love with Fabiola?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” His voice is shattered and weak. He stares ahead, avoids my eyes, and I feel guilty bringing it up.
In that same instant, I receive a message from the March Hare. It’s saddening news. The kind of news I shouldn’t be telling the Pillar, not now.
“Who’s the message from?” the Pillar asks. “Your Red admirer?”
“It’s from the March Hare. Something happened to Fabiola.”
The Pillar grips the stick harder, still not facing me. He doesn’t even ask what happened to her, pretending to be that tough guy who never breaks down.
“She is dying, Pillar,” I say as slowly and softly as I can. “Someone poisoned her.”
The Pillar says nothing, his knuckles whitening around the flying stick.
“Do you wish to turn back? Maybe you want to see her before she dies.”
“No,” the Pillar says in a flat voice. “Saving the world from the Chessmaster is more important.”
I say nothing. Silence chokes both of us in the cockpit.
“In fact, I feel like doing this again,” the Pillar says, and flies the plane upside down again, like a child in pain with too many toys.