“So tell me why Professor Petmaster can’t meet the March Hare,” I say.
“Like I said, I’m taking a big risk here,” the inspector says. “Jittery is a danger to society. A few men and women are secretly kept where he is. I made a few phone calls and arranged for a meeting. Since I’m one of few men in the police force allowed to meet with dangerous madmen, they agreed. Hesitantly. They only agreed when I told him his niece wishes to see him.”
“Me?”
“Yes,” Inspector Dormouse says. “I told them his niece is my only way to lure him into confessing anything about his madness.”
“They believed you?” The Pillar raises a skeptical eyebrow.
“Welcome to the real world,” Inspector Dormouse says. “No one cares about anything. Each worker in the system only cares to lift the responsibility off his shoulders. Give them a good reason and promise it’s all your fault when something goes wrong, and you're good to go.”
“Makes sense to me,” I say. “So why aren’t we driving to meet Professor Jittery yet?”
“Because I will have to blindfold your eyes and stuff your ears with earplugs,” Inspector Dormouse says. “I’m sorry, but no one gets to know the location of the secret asylum. The Hole.”
Chapter 29
Flight 321, Beijing airport, China
The man inside the private airplane, ready to take off, was one of the closest to the president of China. An important man indeed, who had served his country for many years.
He leaned back in his seat and stared at the invitation in his hand.
He wasn’t quite a fan of the Queen of England, but he had heard about the Event a while ago. It was without question something he would love to be a part of. He and the likes of the Queen had a lot in common.
He was curious.
The Chinese man ordered his pilot to change direction and fly to London immediately. It was about time the world knew about the likes of him and the Queen.
Chapter 30
Secret asylum, the Hole. Somewhere in London?
Time remaining: 20 hours, 34 minutes
“What’s a cute girl like you doing in the Hole?” a male voice says.
My eyes are still wrapped with some bandana that prevents me from seeing. I can only rely on my ears and sense of smell to know where I am. But it’s been hard to tell in the inspector’s car. London is noisy, crowded, and I don’t know it well. I only began relying on my senses when I stepped inside what seemed like an elevator.
Now, I can feel my heart rise in my chest as we’re chugging down. I can hear the drone of a high-tech machine.
And I don’t answer whoever is escorting me down the Hole.
“We rarely have visitors to Professor Jittery.” He sounds young. In his twenties, maybe. A nurse of some sorts. “But rarely a beautiful girl like you.”
I am getting more and more uncomfortable. Having been hit on twice today is a bit confusing—I remember the lanky officer at the circus this morning. Is that what happens to all girls my age when they’re going through their days? Should I giggle and dance, happy that boys don’t realize I am insane? Happy that they think I am beautiful and cute? Or is this the kind of normal obstacle that a girl with a mission has to face all day long? It’s as if girls aren’t expected to handle big stuff or something.
“Can I pull off my blindfold?” I ask.
“Of course, we’re almost there,” the boy in the elevator says. “Here. Let me do it for you—”
His hands touch my face. I slap them as hard as I can. It’s spontaneous. It’s instinctual. It’s what I learned in None Fu.
“Ouch!” the boy says. “What was that for?”
I pull off my blindfold, feeling the thump of the elevator stopping under my feet. Slowly my eyes go from blurry to translucent then to normal vision. The boy’s face forms in front of me while the elevator doors open.
When I fully regain my vision, I see the boy’s hand wounded. I did that? I must be learning to fight faster, although I didn’t need to hurt him.
“Sorry. I’m not used to someone touching me, or even getting close. You’re cute yourself,” I say, not in an attractive way. “Shall we go?” I point at the door.
“You also have beautiful eyes,” the boy, who turns out to be in his twenties, with short hair and a muscular figure, says.
“I know.” I shrug, playing aloof. “But stay away. Some days I wake up crippled and insane.” I don’t have time for flirting. Incidents like these make me remember Jack. And I don’t want to remember Jack right now. It hurts too much.
The boy laughs. “Beautiful and smart.” He ushers me through a corridor of white walls and white tiles. We stop before a white door, and it takes a while before I see him insert a magnetic card into a white slot in the door. The card is as white as everything else.
How do they expect a patient to heal in here? All this white is driving me crazy.