“But it can’t be that easy,” I say, contradicting my previous assumption about us being led here to die. Blame it on my insanity, I guess. “I’m confused about this bomb. I really don't know how to stop it.”

“I think you were right.” The Pillar snaps his fingers. “Not about being led here to die, but about the statue being the clue.”

“How so? Tell me. We have so little time.”

“There is something peculiar about the Eros statue,” he says. “I remember someone telling me that if it were to release its arrow, its shaft would bury itself in Shaftesbury Avenue down there.”

“The statue is pointing at a specific destination?” I squeak. “That must be it. The arrow, within this crowd, is a peculiar landmark. It could be like an X marks the spot. Maybe it leads to the rabbit’s whereabouts.”

I am already running for the stairs. The Pillar follows me down.

We reach the street below. It’s already 9:23 a.m., and I dash through the crowd, toward the statue, tolerating all kinds of vulgar insults for my behavior.

The Pillar stands next to me, our backs to the statue. We follow the arrow’s target, and can see it’s exactly pointing at something.

A homeless man...

The man is standing fixed in place, as if someone led him to this precise spot. He looks overly dirty, with tattered clothes. The wandering crowds keep away from him. This must be it. The man stands alone, right in the arrow’s target. He is even staring at the statue.

The Pillar and I approach the man, not knowing what to say. He doesn’t care to lower his eyes at us. He’s fixated on the statue, fidgeting his feet, as if to make sure he’s standing in the accurate spot.

“Do you know where the rabbit is?” I blurt out, as insane as it sounds.

The man lowers his eyes. His gaze is weird. I suddenly realize he looks frightened.

“Answer me, please.” I take a step forward. He says nothing.

“Did the Hatter send you?” the Pillar demands.

The word “Hatter” seems to resonate with the man. Something glitters in his eyes, but he still doesn’t talk. He is scared of something.

The Pillar pulls the man by his collar, about to force him to talk. The man resists. His feet cemented in place. Then I see it. Underneath the man’s tattered clothes, he is wired with dynamite, and it’s probably controlled from afar.

“Look.” I point at the dynamite. The Pillar looks around for whoever is doing this. “Stay put,” I tell the homeless man. “We’ll get help.”

I am about to look for Inspector Dormouse when the Pillar squeezes my hand. “I don't think this is the way to solve it. Let’s see what this awful-smelling man has to say.”

I raise my head and realize that the homeless man has been trying to talk, only he was too scared to raise his voice. The Pillar nears him, trying to listen to the man’s shivering lips. The man begins whispering, still stuttering with fear.

“Louder.” The Pillar can’t make the words out. “You!” he shouts at a few teenagers, listening to their iPods and singing along. The teenagers ignore him, still swinging to the music. The Pillar takes a step forward, pulls their iPods from them, and throws them away. “Walk!” he says, and turns back to the homeless man. The teenagers run away. I haven’t seen this serious side of the Pillar before.

The homeless man raises his voice now, intimidated by the Pillar. “Why did the Mock Turtle call its teacher Tortoise?” the homeless man manages to say.

“What?” I grimace.

“Why did the Mock Turtle call its teacher Tortoise?” the man repeats, his eyes sincerely pleading for an answer.

“Is this is joke?” I say.

“He’s talking about the Alice in Wonderland book,” the Pillar says. “It’s a play on words that we’re supposed to solve. It was mentioned in the book.”

“What kind of sick game is this?” I lament, then scratch my memory to solve the puzzle. I am supposed to have the Alice in Wonderland book memorized in the back of my head, but panic disrupts my thinking.

I look at the Pillar for the solution, and I hate myself for not solving it myself. I want to save this homeless man from exploding any minute now.

“Just give me a minute.” The Pillar raises a finger. “I know the solution to this.”

“There’s no time,” the homeless man stutters. “The Hatter told me a girl named Mary Ann might know the answer.”

The Pillar and I exchange worried looks. Who the heck is Mary Ann?

“Forget about this Mary Ann,” the Pillar tells the man. “We’re going to get it solved and save your sorry life.”

“Please...” the man says, but then he can’t say more.

We’re too late. Something splashes against the man’s chest. At first, I don’t understand what it is. But when the Pillar holds the man tight and helps him fall to the ground, I realize what it is.

The homeless man was shot, probably with a silencer.

Chapter 9

9:36 a.m.

Panicked, I kneel down next to the Pillar, who grits his teeth, pulling his hands away from the corpse. He stands up and stares at the wandering crowd. He flashes fake smiles and persuades them the man has a fainting condition, and that everything is going to be all right once they give him his medicine. The Pillar is worried about the people panicking.

Surprisingly, no one even cares about the homeless guy sprawled in red on the ground.

I refuse to believe the man is dead that soon. There must be a way to save him. I pull my phone out to call an ambulance.

“Stop this,” the Pillar says. “I told you, these Wonderland Wars are beyond police and ambulances’ help. We don’t want them to interfere.”

“We were riding along with Inspector Dormouse a few minutes ago. I thought we might work hand in hand to save people’s lives by now.”

“That was just a trick so we could enter the scene of the crime,” the Pillar says. “Why do you even care about a homeless man you don’t know?”

“What did you just say?” I snap back. “What’s wrong with you? One minute you want us to save lives and then you don’t care if a man dies.”

“There are bigger stakes at hand.” The Pillar looks frustrated, his eyes looking around for whoever executed that shot. “This sentimental heart of yours will blow everything.”

The emergency number picks up, and a woman asks me how she can help. I begin telling her a man is shot at Piccadilly Circus and that we need an ambulance.

“This isn’t making any sense,” the Pillar says to himself next to me. “Why shoot a man when he is wired with dynamite?”

The Pillar’s questioning alerts me after I hang up with the woman, who promised me an ambulance will arrive in a few minutes.

“You’re right,” I say. “It doesn’t make sense.”

The Pillar turns and faces me, his eyes looking over my shoulder, wide open. “Unless this is a joke.” He points at someone behind me.

I turn around. The homeless man is on his feet, staring at us.

Chapter 10

Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum

Dr. Tom Truckle was gorging on his favorite mock turtle soup when the phone rang.

“Director of the Radcliffe Lunatic Asylum.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to sound authoritative as possible.

“The Queen of England sent us a patient,” Waltraud said. She sounded terrified.

“The Queen of who?” He dropped his spoon.

“England! Your queen, doctor,” Waltraud said. “My queen, too.”

“A patient?” He wasn’t quite comprehending the conversation. “Send him in immediately!”

“But of course.”

“Waltraud! Wait!” Tom stood up. “Send the patient to the VIP ward with the best room possible.”

“I thought so.”

“And Waltraud, is it a male or a female?”

Waltraud waited for a while. “It’s hard to tell, doctor.”