Circus - Jace Cameron (читать книгу онлайн бесплатно без .txt) 📗

“You think it’s the Hatter’s real name?” I cut in, facing the Pillar.

“No,” the Pillar says. “The word ‘Piccadilly’ is written inside a circle. Not the ring, but the one carved with the stick around the word.”

I tiptoe and look down to grasp the whole picture. “I see it. A code? Part word and part drawing?”

The Pillar nods.

“Piccadilly Circle?” I interpret. “Is that somewhere we need to go?” Then I get it. “This is where we should look for the rabbit if we want to stop it.”

“Yes,” the Pillar says. Inspector Dormouse looks at us like two loons from outer space—which we might be. “But it’s not Piccadilly Circle. There is no place called Piccadilly Circle. It’s Piccadilly Circus, the famous road junction in London.”

“How do you know it’s ‘Circus,’ not ‘Circle’?” I say.

“Circus is Latin for circle,” the Pillar explains. “The so-called Hatter wants to play a game.”

“Are you saying the bomb, I mean the rabbit, is in Piccadilly Circus in London?” Inspector Dormouse has awakened again.

“Looks like it,” the Pillar says.

“Then we have to go there,” I insist. “How much time do we have before the bomb goes off?”

“666 minutes.” Inspector Dormouse finally knows something. “That’s what the children said the digital timer showed on the bomb.”

“That’s eleven hours and six minutes.” The Pillar looks at his pocket watch. “The rabbit was set loose 12:00 p.m. yesterday, so the bomb should explode 11:06 a.m. today. It’s 8:46 a.m. now. We’ve only got very little time before the bomb goes off!”

Chapter 5

8:49 a.m.

Inspector Dormouse allows us to ride along in the backseat with the police force to Piccadilly Circus. The police force, or rather the Department of Insanity, is frantic, dispatching and calling other institutions.

A bomb about to explode in about an hour and half.

The police make sure the press doesn’t know about it. They call 999 and confirm no one is allowed to pass the news of a loose rabbit with a bomb. No need to turn Piccadilly Circus, and London, into a real circus. At least not now.

“But how can he know the rabbit is in Piccadilly Circus?” I ask in the backseat. “I mean, it’s a rabbit, not something you control with a remote control.”

Although I am expecting insight from Inspector Dormouse, I don’t get any. He is already comatose, snoring in the passenger seat. The officer driving smiles feebly at me in the mirror.

“I have no idea,” the Pillar replies. “This Hatter wants to play a game. Right now, it’s his rules, until we figure out what's on his mind.” He pokes Inspector Dormouse with his cane from the back. He still doesn’t wake up. “Dedicated sleeper,” the Pillar comments, almost admiringly. “Is he always like that?” he asks the driving officer.

“Most of the time.” The officer is embarrassed too. “But he is a bloody good inspector.”

The Pillar rolls his eyes. “Tell me”—he turns to me—“what happened with Jack?”

“That’s none of your business.” I don’t know why I’m defensive about it. Maybe because I don’t want to remember.

However, the Pillar shoots me another admiring look, as if he likes the way I fired back at him.

“So are we there yet?” Inspector Dormouse snaps awake.

“Soon enough, sir,” the officer replies.

“Do you dream when you sleep or do you just pass out?” The Pillar is curious.

“Was I asleep?” The inspector scratches his head and yawns.

I smile. The inspector seems to posses the rare capability to shock the Pillar.

“Did I tell you the Hatter told the children about that one girl that could stop the bomb?” Inspector Dormouse says.

“One girl?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Is her name Alice?” The Pillar doesn’t waste time.

“No.” Inspector Dormouse’s beady eyes promise he’ll fall asleep again. But before he passes out, he answers us. “Mary Ann, the children said.”

“Mary Ann?” I look at the Pillar.

“Who is Mary Ann?” we both utter in one breath.

Chapter 6

Piccadilly Circus, London, 9:06 a.m.

Piccadilly Circus isn’t a real circus. It’s some sort of a traffic junction, more of a public space at London's West End. It’s a busy meeting place. Sometimes, a tourist attraction for those who love noisy and overcrowded places.

“It’s been said that a person who stays long enough at Piccadilly Circus would eventually bump into everyone they know.” The Pillar sighs as the vehicle stops. The police officer wakes up the inspector, telling him we’ve arrived. He also tells the inspector to wipe away the words written with a marker on his forehead:

Inspector Sherlock Dormouse

Was miraculously awake from 9:02-9:04.

May he sleep in peace.

“Who did that!” the inspector barks, staring in the rearview mirror.

“It’s him.” The Pillar points at the officer, when it was him who did it a second ago. “But we’re in a hurry. Let’s get out, Alice.” He takes my hand, and I follow him outside while the inspector punishes the innocent officer in the car.

“Now we’re free to begin our investigation alone,” the Pillar says, “tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary in the circus.”

Piccadilly Circus is full of video displays and neon signs mounted on every building on the northern side. Even this early, it throngs with all kinds of people.

In a hurry, I glimpse a few notable buildings, including the London Pavilion, Criterion Restaurant, and Criterion Theatre. How are we supposed to find a rabbit in this humongous place?

“I don’t know what I am looking for,” I say.

“You’re right. Come with me,” the Pillar demands. “There is no way we’re going to find clues in all this mess.”

“Don’t you think Mary Ann is the clue, not Piccadilly Circus?” I ask.

“I don’t know who Mary Ann is,” he says. “Until we do, this crowded place is all we’ve got.”

I follow the Pillar, glimpsing the time on my watch. It’s already 9:07 a.m.

As we snake our way through the crowd and cars, I see a tube station, part of the London Underground system. I wonder if the rabbit ventured down there. I hope not.

“We have to get a better look from the top.” The Pillar enters a building and runs up the stairs.

Climbing up, we’re trying not to infect others with our panic. So far, no one knows about the bomb that is about to explode in London.

The view from the top is even more confusing. It’s like a Caucus Race down there. People walking in every direction. I can’t seem to locate most of the police officers.

“This doesn’t look good.” The Pillar sighs. “It doesn’t look like there are clues for us here. And I wouldn’t expect to see the rabbit if it’s hopping down there.”

I concentrate, trying to find the next clue, but it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack. I wonder if the Pillar is right about this. Are we really supposed to find the rabbit here? And why hasn’t this Hatter contacted us if he wants to play games?

9:09 a.m.

“What’s that?” I point at a notable statue in the middle of the circus. It’s of a winged, nude man, pointing a bow and string down at the tourists. “Is that Eros?”

“Eros to the Greek, Cupid to the Roman,” the Pillar says, still looking lost. “It’s one of London’s most famous landmarks. But you must know that.”

“I know a little about it,” I say, although I hardly remember being here before. “Tell me more about it.”

“We don’t have time, Alice,” the Pillar scoffs.

“But what if it’s the clue?” I argue. “As far as I see, it’s the most eye-catching landmark in this crowded place. It certainly stands out.”

“You’ve got a point.” The Pillar stares with interest. “The statue is one of London’s icons.” He starts reciting facts in case they may lead us somewhere. “It was the first in the world to be cast in aluminum. It’s set on a bronze fountain, designed by Alfred Gilbert. It’s the symbol of love, but everyone knows that.”