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  “That’s quite right.” He says it as if it didn’t cross his mind. “The next clue should confirm your theory.”

  The Hatter’s phone beeps on the table. The Pillar and I share an uncomfortable moment. Then I pick it up and read the message:

  I relocated the rabbit with the bomb behind the Snail Mound in Wonderland. You’ll find it there.

  Chapter 25

  The Pillar snatches the phone and reads it. He looks perplexed.

  “Are you saying you don’t know where this Snail Mound is?” I say.

  “I don’t,” the Pillar says. He isn’t comfortable with the fact either. “But you’re missing the fact that whatever that Snail Mound is, it’s supposed to be in Wonderland. How are you supposed to get to Wonderland?”

  “Through the Tom Tower, maybe?” I suggest. “The Einstein Blackboard, traveling back in time?”

  “These aren’t doorways to Wonderland,” the Pillar explains. “These are only temporarily glimpses into it. You can’t use them to stay prolonged periods in Wonderland. To find something specific, you need to learn how to really go to Wonderland. Which, in the meantime, is impossible.”

  “You never told me about that. Why is it impossible?”

  “The only way to go to Wonderland is to find six keys, leading to six doors, leading to Wonderland.” The Pillar pouts, as if he didn’t want to bring this up now. All I can think about is that key Lewis gave me is one of those keys. “Six Impossible Keys. Lewis used to call them Six Impossible Things. But that’s way too soon to talk about. This message doesn’t make sense. It’s another game without much clues.”

  “Okay,” I say. “I will message him and ask him to clarify.” I begin typing my message to him.

  Once I begin, the phone beeps:

  No need to reply to my messages. I was just sipping my tea.

  The message sends shivers to my spine. I raise my head and look up at the surrounding buildings. How is it possible the Hatter sees me?

  I stand up and keep looking at the roofs of the buildings. I am looking for a man with a top hat and goggles, like the children described. But I can’t see such a man.

  I feel like a rocket about to launch, spitting out fire. “What do you want from me?” I scream at the sky, spreading my hands sideways.

  “What’s wrong, Alice?” the Pillar says.

  The walking pedestrians avoid my path, thinking I am insane.

  “Show yourself if you dare!” I raise my voice higher, crane my neck higher.

  “Beware of what you wish for,” the Pillar says sarcastically. “I requested he’d show himself while I was in Phuket, Thailand. Next day a tsunami hit us.”

  I dismiss the Pillar’s annoyance. “How the heck am I supposed to get to the Wonderland?” As I scream, I can feel a slight trembling in my body. It seems to me I am not only mad at this Hatter, but I am still shocked by my previous incident with my sisters.

  “You know how to get Wonderland?” a kid who was watching the Pillar earlier asks me.

  “She’s insane, kiddo.” The Pillar pats him. “Here, pull my finger.”

  The kid does.

  The Pillar farts.

  The kid runs away.

  All of this happens in the back of my scene while I am panting in anger and frustration.

  A phone beeps again. This times it’s my personal phone. I pick it up. It’s the Hatter’s anonymous number. There is no need for him to use his phone again. We’re playing with open cards now. He is trying to drive me crazy, and I am trying to see how deep into the rabbit hole I can go.

  I read the message:

  Find the March Hare. He knows how to get there. And yeah, Wonderland is real—if you’re insane enough to get there.

  Chapter 26

  Queen's Chamber, Buckingham Palace, London

  The Queen of England was grooming herself for the Event when Margaret Kent entered the room.

  “All the invitations are sent, My Queen,” Margaret said. “We’re awaiting confirmation.”

  “Frabjous,” the Queen said. “Did you invite the Chinese?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Japanese?”

  “Yes.”

  “The Portuguese?”

  “Of course.”

  “The Lebanese?”

  “Them too.”

  “The Germanese?”

  “You mean the Germans, Majesty?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes, those.” The Queen flipped a finger arrogantly in the air. “How about the Americanese?”

  “The Americans, Majesty,” Margaret corrected her politely. “Yes. I invited them, too.”

  “I hate the Americans.” The Queen huffed again. “But what the hell. It’s all business. We need them.”

  “We do,” Margaret agreed.

  “So everyone is about to arrive and see my...” The Queen’s eyes widened, and then she snickered again. “Wait!” Her face suddenly knotted. “I hope you made sure we’re not going to run into obstacles and surprises, like the Muffin Man last week.”

  “I have taken special care of all that.” Margaret was sure of herself this time. The Event was the utmost important thing on her mind. “I wanted to tell you about something, though.”

  “Make it brief—and I hope it’s not about the obnoxious citizens of England asking me to lower taxes.”

  “Well, it’s not that, but...” Margaret didn't know how to break the news to her. “There seems to be an unusual incident happening in the last few hours.” She shrugged. “A bomb.”

  “A bomb?” The Queen’s eyes bulged. “In the palace?”

  “No, My Queen. It’s outside the palace.”

  “So what? Put it off?” She combed her hair.

  “We can’t. It’s... inside...”

  “The palace?” She stopped combing.

  “No.” Margaret managed to stay calm.

  “Great.” The Queen combed her hair again. “Then put it out.”

  “We can’t. It’s inside a rabbit.”

  “So what? Shoot the rabbit.” She began putting on her makeup.

  “The rabbit is loose on the streets of London, My Queen.”

  The Queen rammed everything to the floor and turned to face Margaret with furious anger in her eyes. But it was only for a moment. Her nonchalant attitude returned in a second. “That’s hilarious!” She started clapping her hands. “Who thought of this?

  “A man in a circus who was dressed like the Mad Hatter.” Margaret was totally surprised by the Queen’s reaction, but she wouldn’t dare show it.

  “Nonsense.” The Queen waved her hand. “It can’t be him. I know that for a fact. But wait.” She laced her hands behind her back and began walking left and right—thinking, probably. Margaret always hated when the Queen began thinking. It never resulted in good deeds. “I have an idea.”

  “I’m all ears, My Queen.”

  “Find this madman who stuffed a bomb in a rabbit and send him an invitation to the Event.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” the Queen said. “I could use this kind of madness.”

  Chapter 27

  Department of Insanity, 7.5 Ha Ha Road, London

  Time remaining: 23 hours, 49 minutes

  Waiting for Inspector Dormouse inside the Department of Insanity’s office, I can’t help but ask the Pillar about the street name where the department is located: “Ha Ha Road?”

  “Would have sounded better if it were Bonkers Road, Fruitcake Alley, or Lala Avenue.” The Pillar keeps gesturing at police officers while we talk. He seems to enjoy being among them too much—not bad for a serial killer. “But I checked it on Google Maps. It’s a legitimate street name. Maybe that’s why they built the Department of Insanity here.”

  “The sign says Crimes of Insanity, but every one prefers to call it Department of Insanity.”

  “Well, you can’t really call it Crimes of Insanity. If a person is mad it can’t be a crime. Thus the diversion, but I like it. Here he comes.” He cheers at Inspe
ctor Dormouse arriving with his beady eyes.

  “Sorry, had to take an afternoon nap,” the inspector says, and sits across from us.

  “It’s not afternoon yet—” I swallow the sentence when the Pillar kicks my foot under the table.

  “We need your help, inspector,” the Pillar says. “Remember my request on the phone?”

  “I do.” Inspector Dormouse’s belly ripples to his sigh. “You’re looking to meet the so-called March Hare.”

  “Yes. We have evidence that he is connected to several cases of animal crimes,” the Pillar says. “We’d like to interrogate him.”

  “But the March Hare has been locked up for years,” Dormouse says. “He is a very dangerous man.”

  “We have evidence he organized a crew of animal offenders before he was locked up.” The Pillar does all the talking. I barely can grasp how the March Hare is talked about so openly. “It would be a big favor if you helped us meet him. He might lead us to how to stop the rabbit from exploding.”

  “But no rabbit is going to explode anymore,” Inspector Dormouse says. “Can’t you see? We’re past the deadline of 666 minutes. It was all a hoax by a crazy magician in a cheap circus.”

  “Again, we have evidence the deadlines has been extended for another twenty-four hours,” the Pillar says.

  “What evidence?” Inspector Dormouse suddenly seems alert. “Can I see it?”

  “It’s classified,” the Pillar says.

  “I’m the police. Nothing is classified to me,” Inspector Dormouse says.

  “You’re the Department of Insanity on 7.5 Ha Ha Street,” the Pillar remarks in a slightly mocking manner. “I’m sorry, but you’re not really the police.”

  “You’re right.” Inspector Dormouse waves his fatty hand in the air. “I hate my job. We haven’t solved one case since we were hired a few years ago. How am I supposed to catch a madman and convict him of a crime? A bomb inside a rabbit. Huh.”

  “I suppose you could help us, then,” I offer. “We promise you get the credit if we catch the rabbit.”

  The Pillar cranes his head with admiration toward me. “She always keeps her promise,” he tells Inspector Dormouse, as he flashes a thumb at me. “I assure you, she’s not mad like all those criminals you chase. Not in the slightest. She doesn’t even own a Certificate of Insanity.”

  “You look like a fine young woman,” Inspector Dormouse says. “My daughter would look up to you. She likes animals and likes saving them.” He takes a moment to think it over. His head falls onto his chest as he thinks. He is about to sleep again. “So.” Inspector Dormouse comes back from sleep. “What were we saying?”

  “The March Hare,” I say. “We’d like to meet him.” We have to meet him, and soon.

  “Ah, that.”

  “Why is he called the March Hare, by the way?” I ask.

  “Because he is as mad as a March Hare.” Inspector Dormouse chuckles.

  “Mad as a March Hare?” I am really confused about this. I thought the saying was “mad as a Hatter,” although I know now that the Hatter was never described as “mad” in the book.

  “It’s an old saying, young girl,” Inspector Dormouse says. “In my days we used to say things like ‘you’re mad as a March hare’ or ‘mad as a bag of snakes.’”

  “Or ‘mad as a box of frogs,’” the Pillar offers.

  “See, Professor Petmaster knows.” Inspector Dormouse yawns.

  “Mad as a casket in the basket.” The Pillar can’t help it.

  “Mad as the holes in socks.” Inspector Dormouse stands up and high-fives him.

  “Mad as a parrot with a carrot!” the Pillar says.

  Officers around turn their heads at the two loons I am talking to.

  “Mad as the man in the van.” Inspector Dormouse looks wide awake now. No coffee needed.

  “Can anyone really tell me why he is called the March Hare?” I almost yell in frustration. Seriously, why are all these people not locked away in an asylum?

  “Hmm...” Inspector Dormouse adjusts his loose tie and sits back. “Well, young lady, it’s because he is usually nervous, unable to relax, always feeling anxious, and everything around him is a conspiracy.”

  “Did you know that?” I turn and look at the Pillar.

  “I heard about him.” He cocks his head.

  “So does he have a real name?” I ask the inspector.

  “Certainly,” he says. “His name is Professor Jittery March.”

  “He is a professor?”

  “An exceptional Scottish scientist, indeed,” Inspector Dormouse says. “A theorist, architect, and landscapist.”

  “Wow, all that,” I say. “I bet he is nicknamed March Hare for all his talents.”

  “Not at all,” Inspector Dormouse says. “Professor Jittery March is now locked in a high-tech asylum. He is the maddest of the mad.”

  “Asylum?” I look at the Pillar.

  “Top-level high-tech asylum, if I have to repeat myself,” Inspector Dormouse says.

  “Why?”

  Inspector Dormouse takes a long breath and then says, “A few people are allocated to such secure asylums. They say he has gone mad looking for doors to Wonderland.”

  Chapter 28

  Inspector Dormouse’s car, somewhere in London

  Time remaining: 22 hours, 11 minutes

  We’re waiting outside the inspector’s car, preparing to drive to meet Professor Jittery March. Now unusually alert, Inspector Dormouse is making a lot of phone calls, inside his car, trying to arrange a meeting. I don’t know what’s really going on, or where the professor is locked up. Neither does the Pillar.

  “How come you don’t know about Professor Jittery?” I ask him.

  “I do know about him,” the Pillar whispers so the inspector won’t hear us. “It’s just we never crossed paths. Back in Wonderland, he was the Hatter’s best friend. He owned a house where the craziest tea parties took place. I also don’t know what his role is in the upcoming Wonderland Wars.”

  “You mean he isn’t a Wonderland Monster?”

  “Jittery?” The Pillar laughs. “I may not have met him much, but I’m sure he isn’t one. At least the last time I saw him.”

  “Which was when?”

  “A few years go, in a famous convention where he was showing his genius architectural works,” the Pillar says. “Jittery designed most of the world’s greatest gardens, some public, some private.”

  “He did?” I wonder why a talented man like him is locked away.

  “You wouldn’t believe the beauty of those gardens,” the Pillar says. “He was part of a worldwide crew that designed the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, for instance. A masterpiece. He was a major landscape consultant in the designing of the Château de Versailles gardens, and the Master of Nets Garden in Suzhou, China. Such a brilliant landscaper.”

  “I don’t know about most of these gardens.”

  “Just google them. You’ll love what you see,” the Pillar says. “Jittery is also a scientist. He contributed a lot in studying the Big Bang Theory at CERN in Switzerland. A highly respectable organization in their field.”

  “Then why is he locked away in some high-tech asylum?”

  “This is like asking why you’re locked away in the asylum—or the Muffin Man,” the Pillar says. “At some point in history it will be scientifically proven that the real asylum is out there, not behind bars in underground facilities. But that’s another story for another time. All I know is that Jittery is one of the few who hadn’t been locked away by Lewis. He is like Fabiola. Lewis Carroll released them to the real world where they could have a better life. Fabiola used to say she liked Jittery, if I remember correctly. But I am sure she can’t help now.” The Pillar stops and gazes in Inspector Dormouse’s direction. “What really concerns me is this so-called high-tech asylum. I’ve never heard of it.”

  “I agree,” I say. “I mean, why isn’t he just confided to the Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum?”

  “I
was thinking the same thing.” The Pillar taps his cane once on the floor, eyes twitching at the inspector making his phone calls.

  “Do you think we should try calling Dr. Tom Truckle?” I offer. “Maybe he can help?”

  “I did.” The Pillar purses his lips. “He hung up once I mentioned Jittery. Tom’s head is buried in illegal practices, bribes, and extortion. He barely tolerates me, so I don’t expose him.”

  “That’s reassuring.” I sigh.

  “Bear in mind that there is a lot we don’t know about in this world we’re living, dear Alice,” the Pillar says. “There is so much secret politics, moneymaking, and monkey business concerning asylums and insanity. Most of the people in asylums aren't as mad as you think. I said that before, but hey, it wouldn’t hurt to be boring once in a while.”

  “Are you talking about me?” I joke.

  “Nah, you’re bananas,” he says. “I was talking about me. Contrary to common belief, I am the sanest man in the world.”

  Inspector Dormouse summons us to the back of his car. We enter and close the door behind us, ready to listen.

  “Look, it’s not easy.” He cranes his neck and talks to us. He has a sleeping mask wrapped around his forehead, the way people wear their sunglasses when they don’t need them. I guess he is planning to take another nap soon. The five o’clock tea nap, maybe? “To get you to meet Professor Jittery, I will risk my career. I don't know a man who’d risk such a thing at my age.” He tries to play coy, while he is the sweetest of men. “You promised I get the credit of catching the rabbit if you do. I need to make sure you will stick to your promise. My daughter will be proud of me. She never has been proud of me until this point.”

  “I swear in the name of the Jabberwock and—”

  I cut through the Pillar’s sarcasm, and say, “Trust me, Inspector Sherlock. I have no use for the credit. It’s the life of a rabbit that’s at stake here.” Have I just called him by his first name to gain his trust? I think the Pillar’s tactics are growing on me.

  “Aye, young lady, I believe you. Like I said, you remind me of my daughter.”

  “So how are we going to meet the famous Jittery?” the Pillar asks.