“I’m not sure. What book?”
“This!” He shows it to me. “Alice’s Adventures Under Ground.”
I am about to shriek. It’s the same book he showed me in the future, the first time I met him.
“One of the few original copies in the world,” the Pillar says. “Just remembered now when you told me. Why do I remember it now?”
I watch the dark smile on the Pillar’s face. A nerdy professor about to turn into a madman and kill twelve people. He is staring at the same book that drove him mad. This time, I really need to sit down and contemplate. I realized I’ve just triggered the Pillar’s madness.
Mrs. Tock is definitely right. The future can’t be changed. It will always find a way.
Chapter 69
THE PRESENT: THE DEPARTMENT OF INSANITY, HA HA STREET, LONDON
Inspector Dormouse drank his fifth coffee in the last hour. Never had he felt the urge to stay awake like today. Since last week’s incidents with the mad Carolus, he’d begun to realize that sleeping wasn’t going to help him at his job. He needed to stay alert. Something was going on in this world. Something he needed to figure out.
He’d been tracing Alice and Pillar’s past through the documents on his desk. Never mind they had fooled him into thinking she was a girl called Amy Watson and he was an animal rights activist called Petmaster. He’d figured out they were frauds last week. He’d also figured out they were mad and connected to some mysterious Wonderland War. Whatever that meant.
After dozing off again, Inspector Dormouse snapped awake and walked to the coffee machine, gulping himself another shot of caffeine. Staying awake was hard work, really. A pillow and a cushiony bed would be heaven right now.
But he had to get a grip of himself. He was about to discover something.
And there it was, right in front of him, in the Pillar’s profile.
The controversial professor had killed twelve people. Why twelve? Who were they?
Inspector Dormouse sat sipping his coffee, flipping pages in the Pillar’s profile. It mentioned the professor pleading insanity and ending up in Radcliffe Asylum. Inspector Dormouse wondered if that was what it was all about. The Pillar had killed those people to plead insanity in court and end up near this girl Alice for some reason.
But why kill? Weren’t there easier ways to sneak into an asylum?
Flipping pages, he couldn’t get the answer. Not right away. Not until he came about the victims’ names and the locations of death. That was when the inspector had his suspicions. Could it be?
Inspector Dormouse tapped the file and said, “So that’s why you killed them, professor.” And before he could follow up with a conclusion, the inspector fell asleep again. Coffee definitely wasn’t the answer for consciousness.
Chapter 70
THE PAST: AN ALLEY IN OXFORD
Despite the Pillar’s dilemma with remembering the past, he does in fact know Jack’s whereabouts. Turns out Jack is a well-known young hustler all over Oxford and London. Not in the ways I imagined, though. Jack is a card player of distinctive qualities.
I stand with the Pillar, peeking into an alley from the edges of a garbage can, watching Jack. He sits among a bunch of older men playing cards on the back of an abandoned vehicle.
“Five pounds for the next round.” Jack bites on the tip of a matchstick, mocking the muscled man before him.
“Ten pounds,” the man offers. “If I win this round of blackjack, I get ten pounds.”
“And if I win?” Jack inquires.
“You get five.”
“What kind of logic is that?”
“The logic of muscles.” The man stretches out his broad torso. His gargoyle friends back him up with a laugh behind folded arms.
Jack is really thin. He looks mischievous and slick, but he wouldn’t have a chance in a fight.
“I have a better idea,” Jack says. “If I win, I take all of your clothes.”
“What did you just say?” the man growled.
“In exchange, you get to beat the bonkers out of me if I lose.” Jack winks. “I swear I won’t file charges.”
“Who bets this way?” The man frowns.
“A boy who’s sure he is going to win.”
“Are you even aware of what you will become if we beat you? You’d be lying flat on the floor.”
“Just like this card on the table?” Jack lays down his first card.
“Rethink this, Jack,” the man says. “You’ve got all those fluffy girls liking you back in school. They won’t like you with a bruise for a nose and hole for an eye.”
“Truth is, I need the money,” Jack says. “And your heavy metal cha cha cha clothes look like they’re worth a hundred pounds.”
The semi-nerdy Pillar whispers in my ear, “This Jack is badass. Better than Indy.”
I try not to roll my eyes. They hurt from doing this too much already. “Are we going to let him do this to himself?” I ask the Pillar. “Jack may need help.”
“Help him if you want. I’m staying here,” says a cowardly Pillar. “Besides, I think he is going to win.”
But the Pillar is wrong. Whatever version of blackjack they’re playing, Jack is losing fast. The muscular men roar with laughter and start knuckling their fingers.
“Here is your ten pounds.” Jack grins.
“What?” the man says.
“You said you’d take ten if you won.”
“No, that was the first deal. Then you said we could beat you if you lose.”
“Who said that?” Jack says. “You guys must be dreaming.”
“What? Are you calling us mad?”
“Think of it. Why would I play cards for you to beat me when you can just beat me whenever you want? You just misunderstood me.”
The muscular men scratch their temples, thinking it over. “So we don’t need to win to beat you?”
“Right on.”
“Then no problem. Let’s beat him up, boys.”
“But hey.” Jack raises his hands. “That’s not a fair fight. And as strong and muscular as you are, you surely want a fair fight. You wouldn’t brag about squashing a cockroach, right? It’s just not good manners.”
They scratch their heads again. “So what do you suggest we do?”
“I’ll fight one man at a time.”
“Deal.” The man takes off his jacket, his muscles spilling over on the sides. “I’ll go first.”
“Hey,” Jack says. “Come on. Look at you. You’re twice my age, four times my size, six times my weight. In fact, you’re the size of my whole family.”
“So what now, Jack?”
“I can’t fight you all at once. It’s like you squishing a rat.”
“Then how am I going to beat you, Jack?” The man starts to lose patience.
“I suggest I fight with just your arms first.” He raps the man’s arms. “Just about the right size. Your arms against the whole me.”
“And where do you suggest the rest of me goes?”
“I don’t know.” Jack shakes his shoulders. “That’s your problem. You could cut off your arm or something.”
The man grunts, stepping forward.
“Okay, bad joke.” Jack shrugs. “I have a better idea. Just hear me out.”
“Last chance.”
“You wouldn’t be able to move your arm if it wasn’t for your brain, right?”
“Come again?”