8:49 A.M.
I nspector Dormouse allows us to ride along in the back seat with the police force to Piccadilly Circus. The police force, or rather the Department of Insanity, is frantic, dispatching, and calling other institutions.
A bomb about to explode in about an hour and a half.
The police make sure the press doesn’t know about it. They call 999 and confirm no one is allowed to pass the news of a loose rabbit with a bomb. No need to turn Piccadilly Circus and London into a real circus. At least not now.
“But how can he know the rabbit is in Piccadilly Circus?” I ask in the back seat. “I mean, it’s a rabbit, not something you control with a remote.”
Although I am expecting insight from Inspector Dormouse, I don’t get any. He is already comatose, snoring in the passenger seat. The officer driving smiles feebly at me in the mirror.
“I have no idea,” the Pillar replies. “This Hatter wants to play a game. Right now, it’s his rules, until we figure out what’s on his mind.” He pokes Inspector Dormouse with his cane from the back. He still doesn’t wake up. “Dedicated sleeper,” the Pillar comments, almost admiringly. “Is he always like that?” he asks the driving officer.
“Most of the time.” The officer is embarrassed too. “But he is a bloody good inspector.”
The Pillar rolls his eyes. “Tell me”—he turns to me—“what happened with Jack?”
“That’s none of your business.” I don’t know why I’m defensive about it. Maybe because I don’t want to remember.
However, the Pillar shoots me another admiring look, as if he likes the way I fired back at him.
“So, are we there yet?” Inspector Dormouse snaps awake.
“Soon enough, sir,” the officer replies.
“Do you dream when you sleep, or do you just pass out?” The Pillar is curious.
“Was I asleep?” The inspector scratches his head and yawns.
I smile. The inspector seems to possess the rare capability to shock the Pillar.
“Did I tell you the Hatter told the children about that one girl that could stop the bomb?” Inspector Dormouse says.
“One girl?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Is her name Alice?” The Pillar doesn’t waste time.
“No.” Inspector Dormouse’s beady eyes promise he’ll fall asleep again. But before he passes out, he answers us. “Mary Ann, the children said.”
“Mary Ann?” I look at the Pillar.
“Who is Mary Ann?” we both utter in one breath.