Underground kitchen, Oxford University
“S o the Pillar killing the Executioner was a hoax?” Inspector Dormouse asked.
“Probably,” Tom said. “He made the world think he was freeing them from the worst drug empire in the world, while executing his brilliant plan.”
“What plan?” Inspector Dormouse asked. “We don’t even know why he killed the thirteen—or fourteen—men.”
“A deal that went awry, that’s all we need to know,” Tom said. “What matters is that it had nothing to do with saving the world or Alice being the Real Alice.”
“I heard a few members talking about this when the Pillar hadn’t arrived yet in one of the meetings,” Chopin said. “They argued that he used Alice to kill the Executioner for him. They believed Alice had certain powers or secrets that helped him do it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Tom said. “The man is pure evil. He has the capacity and slyness to fool the world and come out with no blood on his gloves.”
“Still, I need to know what this is all about,” Inspector Dormouse said. “Fourteen people making a deal with the devil, in our case the Pillar, and then being killed years later by him. Why? Did they break the deal? Did he deceive them?”
“Hard to tell, inspector,” Tom said. “Also, none of this tells us who the Pillar really is.”
“Maybe we will never find out,” Inspector Dormouse said. “Chopin, anything else? How about the fourteenth member?”
“It’s hard to tell,” Chopin said. “All I know is that the Pillar couldn’t find him.”
“Any reason why?”
“I overheard the Fourteen mention that the fourteenth member was so sly he managed to hide his identity from all of them,” Chopin said. “Meaning, he changed his name and escaped before the time they’d previously agreed upon.”
“So changing their names was part of the deal?” Tom asked.
“Don’t you get it?” Dormouse said. “This whole deal was about the Fourteen keeping the secret and changing their names at a certain time so the secret dies with them, except that the Pillar broke this deal and, for some reason, had to get rid of them.”
“Probably because he sensed they’d expose him,” Tom said. “But what in God’s name was the deal?”
“I think I know,” Chopin said, putting the knife down, looking agitated. “Look, I’m not sure I heard this right, but since you seem to be stuck, I have to tell you.”
“Speak up,” Tom demanded.
Chopin minded the wound on his newly chopped finger, making sure he wasn’t bleeding anymore, and tucked his lost finger into his pocket—for a later carrot soup, probably. “I don’t believe in magic or spirits or all these things, but here is what I once overheard.”
“Just say it,” Tom said.
“I heard the Fourteen once joke that they sold their souls to the devil.”