“And we all know what that means, of course.”
“That he was mad and took drugs.” She snickered.
“You know what’s madder? That we love this book so much.”
“I guess we’re mad too,” Tania said.
“We’re all mad here.” The Cheshire grinned.
“Oh, my God, Todd,” Tania said. “Do that again.”
“What? We’re all mad here?”
“That’s bombastically amazing. You look just like the Cheshire.”
“Oh, come on. Who could match the Cheshire’s creepy grin in that Disney movie?”
“No, seriously. Yours is even better,” Tania said. “Please do it again.”
“You know what I can do better? I can make my head disappear, too.”
“Haha. Don’t get carried away.”
The Cheshire grinned. “Wanna see? Look.”
But of course his head didn’t disappear, because sometimes he was still bound by the body of the one he possessed. It seemed that not only was Todd not one of the Tweedles, but he also wasn’t a good sport. His head wouldn’t budge.
“You made me laugh, anyway,” Tania said. “You should do that grin a lot. I think girls will like it. Girls like all kinds of weirds things, trust me.”
“Are you having fun, children?” Dr. Truckle entered the cell.
“Lotsa fun and grins.” The Cheshire put his hands around his father’s arm in hopes of possessing the man’s body to find his way out of the asylum.
To his surprise, he couldn’t get into Tom’s body.
The Cheshire, still trapped inside the teenager, stared suspiciously at Dr. Tom Truckle. To his knowledge, it was only Wonderlanders he could not possess. Who are you, Dr. Truckle?
Chapter 90
St Peter’s, The Vatican
“I think you were a bit harsh on the Pillar.” I tell Fabiola.
She dismisses my comment and checks on the March Hare in the confession booth. “Did you remember anything of importance yet?”
“Nothing, White Queen,” he replied. “But I feel the drug wearing off. I should remember all that happened soon enough.”
“Then you have no choice but to go to Geneva,” Fabiola tells me. “Take your umbrella. I have a feeling it’s the way to kill Carolus.”
“It makes sense. If Lewis gave it to me, then maybe it’s the weapon to kill his darker half with.” I stare at the laughable umbrella that has saved my life repeatedly.
Fabiola’s phone rings. “Go check if the plane is ready. I need to answer this.”
I don’t go out but call the chauffeur who’s outside somewhere. He landed the chopper on top of a locked building, so he wouldn’t bump into citizens looking for a fight.
“All set,” the chauffeur says. “Come over. We’ll be in Geneva soon enough.”
I hang up and tell the White Queen, but she shocks me with the latest news.
“I know what the Queen is up to.”
“I’m so curious about your sources inside the Queen’s castle,” I say. “What is it?”
“You know the Geneva meeting will have the world’s most prestigious presidents, right?”
“Sure.”
“It will have the president of United States meet the Queen of England. The Israeli presidents meet the most prestigious Arab president. The Russian president meet the Ukrainian president and so forth, to name a few.”
“Those presidents’ nations are in continuous conflict with each other,” Fabiola says. “Usually, in every world meeting of this kind, they settle for courtesy and etiquette, choose not to clash against one another or say what’s really on their mind.”
“I’m not following.”
“Most of the world’s leaders hate each other, Alice. Their countries hate the others’ countries too.” Fabiola holds me by the arms. “Everyone in the world knows that. But we always find a way to make peace in the world. You know how?”
“I get it now,” I say. “By not saying the truth.”
“That’s why the Queen took Carolus with her. He has some of the plague’s scent left. She is going to pour it into their tea at the meeting. And you know what will happen then?”
“Every president will tell the truth,” I say absently.
“The bad truth none of us can handle.”
“And then the world will be in continuous wars, nations against nations. It’s what the Queen loves most.”
“How is this different from a plague?”
“Alice. What happened to you?” Fabiola says. “In a plague everyone dies. Poor, rich, powerful, weak, buyer, seller. In a war, a lot of people get rich. You sell weapons, give the illusion of safety to those you protect. It’s a different ball game.”
I am not quite sure I really understand the difference, but I know the Queen needs to be stopped first, even before killing Carolus. Maybe the two things have to be done at once.
“This is a bit too much for me.” I shrug.
“I know,” Fabiola says. “That’s why I’m coming with you to Geneva.”
Chapter 91
On the way to Geneva
The Cheshire, disguised in another cell mate, sat next to Tom Truckle in the plane going to Geneva.
He’d persuaded him he knew how to get in, and that Tom needed to be there since the world’s presidents would discuss the consequences of the plague, something Tom was interested in.
The Cheshire had to do it, because as much as he was looking for the Tweedles, he was incredibly curious about Dr. Truckle’s identity.
“Are you sure we can get in?” Tom asked, looking at the world below.
“I’m sure. I’ve always had my secret ways to get into the Queen’s meetings.”
“Well, I sure hope so. I’ve always suspected that the world’s elite people had planned a way out of the apocalypse, like a ship in the sea, or even escaping to the moon. I read about it.”
“Of course. I’m as curious as you are. Let’s hope we expose their plans.”
“But you never told me why you admitted yourself to the asylum, Jack.” Dr. Truckle said. “I always thought you weren’t mad.”
“I have my reasons.”
“I think you’re in love with that bonkers girl, Alice.” He elbowed him. “What’s with that girl? Why is everyone so interested in her?”
“She is special.” The Cheshire grinned. Possessing Jack’s body didn’t fall under the rule that he couldn’t enter a Wonderlander’s body. Because let’s face it. Jack wasn’t a Wonderlander anymore. He was dead. A figment of his own imagination.
Which rather irritated the Cheshire. How could he possess a nobody’s body? It was mindboggling, even for a cat.
Chapter 92
Geneva, Switzerland
Margaret watched the Queen rub her hands with enthusiasm.
Soon the presidents would all enter the main hall and have their conference. The first part was planned to be aired for the public—well, the few channels that hadn’t been brought down by the angry public yet. The second part was going to be a closed meeting where they’d arrange the escape of the richest people in case the plague had no cure.
The Queen’s made sure there wasn’t going to be a second part of the meeting.
She’d injected the tea with the truth serum already, and even called it the Tea to Truth. “Oh, the Mad Hatter would’ve loved this if he were here. The real Mad Hatter, I mean.”
“I still don’t understand trying to make the world’s most powerful presidents clash against each other when the world is going to end anyway,” Margaret had to say.
“I know what I am doing. Didn’t I say don’t question me? Besides, villains always do it in James Bond movies.” She stood on a high chair, checking out her beauty in a mirror. “Do you think I look good for the end of the world?”
“If you’re planning to take a photo with you to the afterlife,” Margaret mumbled.