Hookah (Insanity Book 4) (18 page)

“He fooled me into showing him where I had hidden one of the keys last week,” I say.

“I heard he posed as the Mad Hatter,” she says.

I lower my head. Heroes shouldn’t be fooled that easily.

“It’s all right, but you should know he was going to give it to the Queen of Hearts.”

“How do you know?”

“I have my sources. He made a deal with her and Black Chess.”

“So he’s working with them now?”

“I don’t think so. All I know is he promised the Queen to get her the key in exchange of something. And like I told you before: the Pillar is not on anyone’s side but his own.”

“Are you telling me he shouldn’t be part of the Inklings at all costs?”

“I’m telling you that you should search the Inklings tile by tile when this is over to make sure he didn’t buy it for a reason of his own,” Fabiola says. “The least I can imagine is that he’d like to know what you’re planning.”

“You really need to tell me more about him sometime, Fabiola.”

“When the right time comes. So I take it that you didn’t get the key back yet. It’s important that you do.”

“Not yet. I saw him with it and was planning to get it back when we returned, but then he jumped out of the plane in Brazil.”

“Brazil?” Fabiola tilts her head and looks back at the kids. “Did you get those kids from Brazil?”

“No, Columbia. They were slaves for the Executioner.”

“Oh, my God, how didn’t I see it?” Fabiola runs back to the kids and kneels down to check their hands. Once she sees they’re missing two fingers, she hugs them tighter, tears forming in her eyes.

“Is there something I should know about those kids?” I stand helpless, a bit too irritated with so many truths being kept from me.

“No.” She wipes off her tears. “You did good, Alice.” She pulls me closer with one arm and hugs me as well. “Damn you, Pillar, for opening up those old wounds.”

“I’m sorry, Fabiola, but I think I deserve to know what’s going on.”

“You want to know what’s going on?” she sobs between the kids’ shoulders. “I know now why the Pillar pretended he was the Hatter and stole the keys from you last week.”

Mushroomland, Columbia

T
he Executioner’s men had no warning.

Still mourning the death of their leader, they were about to have a meeting to elect a new one. Millions of dollars, drug money, was about to come in this week, and someone had to lead the way. And since they had lost too many children to this Alice girl, they had to plan to kidnap and enslave more children soon. Poor children, orphans, were their best candidates.

But none of this went as planned.

Why?

Because of the man in the blue suit with white stripes and golden buttons. The man in the hat with a little bit of bad skin as if it was about to peel off. The man with the hookah who always wore white gloves.

At first, he looked like a silly magician out of a Hollywood movie or something, getting out that plane with two machine guns in his hands and strings of bullets on his back.

Although they had seen him earlier, quirky and full of life, he had turned into a man with no expression on his face. A dull look, heartless and uncaring.

The Pillar shot left and right. Up and ahead. No mercy. No second thought. Not wincing for a moment. Not retreating.

Blood spattered all around and on his suit. He didn’t care.

On his face. He didn’t notice it.

He loaded his guns again and walked like Clint Eastwood shooting left and right.

None of them had a chance to match his skill.

Those who were new in the business wondered who this man was. How he had acquired such skills, and how in the name of mushrooms and grins he dared infiltrate Mushroomland.

But those who’d been here for a long time knew him well. Those were the ones who began running first, although he chased them one by one and finished them.

Those were the ones who knew his name. Senor Pillardo, who had once been one of them.

Everyone had feared Senor Pillardo, but why he was shooting at them now remained a mystery to all.

One of the last survivors, lying panting on the grass, saw the Pillar standing among the piles of dead drug traffickers. He watched him retreat back to his plane, about to take off.

Suddenly the dying man knew him. “You’re…” he stuttered. “It can’t be!” he watched the Pillar taking off, and knew that the man in the blue suit wasn’t finished yet.

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.”

BBC Report

A
man in a blue suit seems to have succeeded in doing what no government has ever been able to accomplish.

The unnamed hero, flying an uncharted plane, raided all of the Columbian drug locations in as little as one hour. Reports are still unclear how he did this, but some locals say they saw him kill each and every member of the drug cartels owned by the infamous criminal called the Executioner. Locals reported seeing this man on his own with two machine guns, on foot, shooting them left and right.

Then, a few minutes later, he bombed Mushroomland, where the most expensive drugs were grown.

“This man come. Shoot all bad men. No mercy. One time,” one of the locals says. “He shoot. They die. Simple. He Jesus Christ machine gun.”

Another older Columbian woman says, “I see movie Men in Black. Good guys. Shoot aliens. This man better. He is man in blue. Shoot. Kill. No reply.”

“I have to admit I have never seen such a daring human being, reported an Englishman living in Columbia. “I mean he was Rambo on mushrooms. Terminator on crack. He shot them with uncanny accuracy, said nothing, got back on his plane, burned everyone else.”

The same instant the world is trying to survive the most lethal plague in history, a single man ends the reign of the drug cartels. Maybe he is part superman, wearing blue. Maybe he is heaven-sent to save us. In any case, maybe there is still hope in this world.

St Peter’s, The Vatican

A
ll of us watch the news in awe.

The children clap their hands, most enthusiastic about it, although I am against them watching it. It is Fabiola who insists they do. I can’t understand what the deal is with the children yet.

“Why did he go back to do this?” I ask Fabiola.

“You never know what’s on the Pillar’s mind.” She looks away. She is lying. She knows why. I’m starting to lose my patience.

“In spite of all his bad doings, he rid the world of those bad people.”

“Did he?” She looks back. “Or did he just promote more violence in the world?”

I am confused. She has a point, but the Pillar may also have a point.

“Do you know of a reason why he would go back to do this while we’re in the middle of stopping Carolus?” I ask her.

“I have no idea, Alice. You said it yourself. He went back when you needed him. Trust me. He just wants to evoke chaos. And even if he doesn’t, you’ll figure out he has an agenda of his own. I hope he returns and gives you back his key.”

“You’re right,” I say, trying to keep my focus on what matters. “I suppose I will let the chauffeur fly back to London.”

“We’ll have to delay that a bit,” the chauffeur says. “The chopper needs some maintenance. But not for long. Don’t worry.”

“Besides, you won’t find Carolus in London,” Fabiola says.

“What do you mean?”

“My sources have told me the Queen of Hearts captured him and is taking him with her to the UN’s meeting in Geneva.”

“Geneva? The Queen and Carolus? Something isn’t right here.”

“I know. That’s is why you have to kill him sooner. Who knows what the Queen has planned for us all.”

Radcliffe asylum, Oxford

S
ince the Cheshire couldn’t find another rat to possess, he resorted to a fly in the end.

Now this was risky business.

For one, he had to leave his phone behind for good now. Second, he was prone to getting killed any moment. Humans loved to kill flies.

To tell the truth, it was tempting, like killing ants. Just a calculated slap and the fly was history.

But soon he found himself another host. One of the asylum’s wardens.

The Cheshire strolled through the ward like had before when he possessed Ogier’s body and scared this Alice girl a few weeks ago. Oh, boy, was that fun. That look on her face would have made one hell of a selfie.

But enough with that poor girl thinking she was the Real Alice. It was Tom’s kids he was looking for.

He gestured at a few other wardens on his way. Everyone seems concerned with something called Plan-X. This loon Dr. Truckle thought he’d survive apocalypse in this asylum.

But frankly, what did the Cheshire care? All these humans, dumb as a bum.

And here he was, staring at Tom’s children, Todd and Tania, with that famous Cheshire grin on his lips.

The two obnoxious kids stared back. There weren’t scared of him. Not at all. They grinned back.

Although he’d heard the news about the Pillar and Alice leaving Columbia by now, and the Queen’s disinterest in sending someone after the Pillar by now, the Cheshire felt excited, staring at Todd and Tania.

I bet I found you after all Tweedledee and Tweedledum. This will be fun.

St Peter’s, The Vatican

T
he March Hare, still hiding in the confession booth, watched the few uninfected people sitting outside. They were waiting for Fabiola’s return. She had taken Alice and the children and went to check on that plane they were talking about with that mousy man who called himself the chauffeur.

During their wait, a priest entered the room.

The March could only see him from behind. He was watching him stand behind the podium, about to talk to the people, who were dead silent. The March wondered if it was out of respect or fear of the man at the podium.

One thing was definitely odd about this priest. He smoked a cigar.

“Hallelujah!” the man said. “All you lazy obnoxious sin washers.”

The March’s eyes widened. The uninfected people stiffened in their places.

“Seriously,” said the priest. “Is this all you can do when the shit hits the wall?”

The March was confused. Was that Carolus in the priest’s outfit?

“All you whining, crying, wailing wusses of the world.” The priest raised both arms. “Going to church, your arches bent over, your heads lowered, and your whole existence just a mess.”

The uninfected looked extremely offended.

“Is that all you can do? No wonder each villain in this world is treading on your sorry existence, making money out of you, poisoning your food, and just toying with you left and right.”

The March thought this couldn’t be Carolus now. This man was shorter, and he thought he recognized the voice.

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” the priest mocked them, dangling out his tongue. “Sinned? Really? You? Have you ever really been introduced to sin? What did you do? Lie to your spouse? Seen a crime and not told about it? Were late for work? Tell me. What was your worst sin ever?”

The March recognized the voice now.

“Have you ever killed someone with your bare hands and hated it?” The priest walked sideways. The March saw he was all soaked in blood, still smoking his cigar. “Have you ever stared evil in the face and grinned at it? Have you ever met a villain? A real one who kills for grins and giggles? Have you ever been kidnapped as a child and sent to work for drug lords on the other side of the world? Have you ever met the darker side of yourself like Lewis Carroll did? Have you ever had to deal with it over and over again, and swear you’d never pass it on to the world, but write the all-time best children’s book instead?”