literature

The Great Mouse Reporter ~ Chapter 39

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Earlier that day, a gentlemouse in a top hat and a thick beard approached the entrance to the Museum of Natural History. This gentlemouse, of course, was none other than Basil of Baker Street in a cunning disguise. Reed Daley had warned him to stay indoors for now, but Basil couldn't just sit idly by with his dearest friend Dawson imprisoned, and his love Nellie Brie at risk, and the son of his arch-enemy causing havoc. He needed answers. As of late he'd been reading through old back issues of The Daily Nibbler for any information he could find about Quinn's allies. He found the incident with the Lenape girl and the angry mob that tried to capture her of particular interest. By finding more about the past, he could perhaps predict the next move Quinn would make. Basil presumed Ratigan must have done the very same research before laying out his son's plans in the will.

Basil knocked on the door. In a few moments, the museum's director opened it.

"Yes sir? The museum's closed at the moment I'm afraid, as it's after 5 o'clock."

The doctor was rotund, with a thick mustache. He wasn't a mouse, Basil could see. A mole, perhaps?

"Doctor Dithering, is it?" Basil asked, "I want to ask you some questions."

"Questions? What about?" Dr. Dithering asked.

"Questions about your involvement with the Lenape a few years ago."

"The Len-…y-you're not with the police, are you?" he stammered, alarmed.

"Oh no dear sir, of course not."

"I don't know where the girl is, I swear to it, I'm not involved this time!"
"I just said I'm not-"

"I wasn't there when Scuttlebutt and Chief McBrusque were killed, I told you already!"

"Sir will you please calm down-"

"They almost fed me into a meat grinder last time I got involved with the Lenape! A meat grinder! Do you think I want to go through that again?"

"I am not with the police!" Basil shouted.

Dr. Dithering slammed the door in Basil's face. As he rubbed his snout in pain, Basil came to the conclusion that the police must have already interrogated Dr. Dithering, and that he'd be of no help now. In disappointment, he decided to return to his new base of operation.

Hours later, Reed Daley entered his home after a long, exhausting day at the office putting together the special evening edition of The Daily Nibbler that Quinn Ratbone had asked for. Reed had a nice home in Uptown New York, the same home occupied by the human editor of the New York World newspaper. It was a big place to have all to himself, but of course, he didn't plan on living by himself forever. Perhaps if he wasn't such a workaholic, and if he knew how to act around women, he wouldn't be alone, he lamented. At least there was more than enough room for his new roommate.

Reed found him sitting in a chair, mournfully playing the violin by the fireplace, just as he did back home.

"Well, before I tell you what happened to me today, how was your day, Mr. Detective?"

Basil cast Reed a look of sorrow, "Thoroughly unproductive. Again."

"I'd kill to have a thoroughly unproductive day," Reed said, taking a seat across from Basil.

"It's not for a lack of trying, mind you," Basil said over his music.

"What do you mean by that? You didn't go out, did you?"

"I am a detective. It's what I do."

Reed took a rolled up newspaper out from his back pocket, "You do realize you're basically public enemy number one, right? I can only help you so much."

"Basically everyone I care about is in danger," Basil sighed, "I'm not just going to sit around all day. Besides, I wore a brilliant disguise, no one would recognize me."

"Where did you go?"

"To see if Dr. Dithering would give me some information," Basil answered, "I think Officer Bellingham must have gotten to him first."

"Ah. That old doctor from the museum, right? It stands to reason they must have been after him when that Cholena girl resurfaced, just before Quinn started his rise to power."

"He literally slammed the door in my face," Basil said.

"I just hope you don't end up getting me into trouble too," Reed said, "I have some information you'll want to hear, and I'll be getting more tonight at the secret meeting. Here, I think I'll let you read this first, then I'll explain it."

Reed tossed the rolled-up newspaper into Basil's lap. Basil put his violin down, and unrolled it.

"Indian Assassin Captured- To Reveal Location of Indian Hideout," Basil read aloud, knowing that this couldn't be good.

"They finally caught their original fall guy for the Mozzarella murder, thus making Ratbone's ascension to mayor airtight, absolving him of his crimes," Reed said.

"There's an interview with Quinn in here," Basil said, as he read what their plans would be, "He's going to paint himself a hero by murdering an entire tribe…the cad. This is unforgiveable."

"Maybe, unless we can stop him before he goes through with it," said Reed, "They've called an emergency meeting tonight, and I'm going to be there. I didn't think they'd actually manage to get the Indian to talk, but now I'm not so sure. I don't know why else they'd have called another meeting when we had one just this morning."

"Quinn needs time to get the public on his side," said Basil, "He wouldn't strike so soon after having you print this article, would he?"

"I don't know, I thought he'd at least wait a day or two," Reed answered, "The bosses of the Cheese Factory were going to whip their employees into a frenzy again first."

"Just like last time," Basil remarked, "I need to find Nellie. And Dawson."

"We know where Dawson is," Reed said, "Getting him out of that cage is another matter."

Basil read the rest of the article in silence. It was a propaganda piece through and through, demonizing the Native American mice while making Quinn look like the savior of New York. At least with Reed Daley's cooperation in making the article, he had Quinn's trust.

"I'll wait while you attend the meeting," said Basil, "Take meticulous notes dear boy, I want to know everything that happens. Every word that is spoken."

"You've got it," said Reed, "Just promise not to do anything stupid while I'm gone this time, will you? Stay here."

"You have my word," said Basil, "…and it wasn't stupid."

Reed rolled his eyes, "Right, because you're incapable of making mistakes."

Though he'd now 'seen the light', so to speak, Basil still made him a bit jealous. Reed got up, and brewed some coffee for the two of them, and rested for a time before heading out again, this time to Mott Street and down a storm drain, bringing with him a notepad.

Within the Mott Street Mauler's hideout, all of Quinn's partners were gathered at the round poker table, the mouse members of the clan sitting on miniature chairs on top. Their underlings stood nearby against the wall. Reed was one of the last to arrive.

"Could someone give me a lift?" he asked as he approached the table.

"Very well," Cat R. Waul said, picking Reed up by the back of his suspenders and placing him on the table.

Madame Mousey was sill glaring at Waul, livid over their exchange earlier in the day. Warren leaned back in his chair, blowing smoke rings from his cigar. Reed took a seat between Mr. Grasping and Chief Bellingham, as Quinn climbed up to the top of the player piano in front of them.

"Now then, I trust we are all in attendance?" he began.

"Yes Quinn, we're all here," said Waul.

"Except Fidget," Chula lamented.

"Right, now let's not have this meeting take any longer than it needs to," Quinn said, "Some of you already know what's happened today, but I'll fill the rest of you in. As of today, we now know the location of Nellie Brie, and, the secret Indian hideout."

"You what?!" Officer Bellingham exclaimed.

Reed froze when he heard this news. He readied himself to jot down everything that was said. This was not good.

"Yes, I know, shocking isn't it? And we were so certain our friend Hakan would be the one to tell us. No, for this discovery we have some of our lower-ranking minions to thank; Bill the Lizard, and Chula. Bill for discovering the secret tunnel to the hideout, and Chula for finding Nellie Brie. Now, Basil is still at large, but, once we have Nellie he'll have no choice but to show himself. And then the last threat to our plans will be extinguished."

Madame Mousey raised her paw.

"Yes, what is it?"

"I want to deal with Nellie Brrrie! When I agreed to join you, you said I'd be able to get even with Nellie Brie!"

"Oh come now, she's on my territory," Waul objected, "You had your chance."

"Yes Mousey, I'm afraid Waul is correct," Quinn said, "You already know our plan and I will not change it. For those who haven't heard, Nellie Brie was discovered hiding out in the home of Gussie Mausheimer. No doubt the two of them plan on conspiring against me. And since she lives in the Uptown area, I'm leaving the surveillance of the two of them up to Cat R. Waul. As for Mousey, as Waul so astutely pointed out, she had her chance to get even with Nellie, but instead she let Nellie and the Indian girl escape. Her later successes in capturing Dawson and the other Indian have not caused me to forget that."

Madame Mousey growled.

"And Mr. Daley, any objections as to what happens with Nellie?" Quinn asked.

"None whatsoever," Reed replied.

"Good. I loved the article by the way," Quinn remarked, "Now then, as you know I had planned to eliminate Mausheimer eventually anyway. Now it will need to happen sooner. But, it must be handled with care, just as any assassination of an important figure. If she is simply eaten by a cat at random, it's going to reflect badly on me, as I'm supposed to have the cat attacks under control. So; as with Mozzarella, we're going to need someone to take the blame."

"Let me kill her and Nellie and take the blame," suggested Madame Mousey.

"And let the public think I don't have the dogs under control? How would that benefit me? No…but, if we do have a cat do it, perhaps we can make it seem as though the cat acted independently."

"I suppose one of my colleagues would be up to the challenge," said Waul, looking back at the lone of cowboy cats watching on the sidelines.

"Ha, let me do it Cat R. Waul," came the gruff voice of Sweet William, a burly mustached cat, "It'd make sense to have me be the one who disobeyed you; I did it all the time in Green River. And I just arrived here in New York a couple days ago, it could look like I wasn't clear on the rules."

"Yes, yes you did," said Waul, recalling with disdain the dreadful memories of being pummeled by Sweet William and his gang when his various schemes to capture the mice of Green River went awry, "The more well-informed mice will have seen it coming. And perhaps Reed Daley can inform the rest of them."

"We'll be your backup," said Felonius "Earless" Poultroon, a gray cat whose ear was missing. He was followed by Slim, a short, stout cat despite his name.

"Good good, although your punishment will need to be quite public," said Quinn, "We'll need to decide what it will be."

"Could put 'em on a boat to Hong Kong," Warren suggested.

"Or lock zem in Central Park to be torn apart my my dogs," Mousey said.

"Hey, let's not get too literal," said Sweet William, "You've gotta, you know, pretend to punish us but not actually do it."

"Obviously," said Quinn, "Hmm…we could tell everyone you've been sent to the pound, but you'd need to get out of town."

"You mean I'll hafta leave?"

"Yes, you will," said Quinn, "And it will have to be someplace where none of the mice know who you are so that word doesn't get out that you're not actually in the pound. So no returning to Green River either."

"This Mausenheimer dame better be pretty tasty," Sweet William said bitterly.

"And remember not to eat Nellie Brie," Quinn added, "She's to be delivered here. Don't let her escape. As Mousey knows, she's crafty."

"So we're leaving her alive?" Waul asked.

"Yes, is there a problem?"

"Oh nothing, I'm just thinking back to your father's last 'trap' for Basil," Waul said.

"Do you have a better idea?" Quinn asked.

"I'm just saying that it would have been so much simpler if we'd just eaten them. None of that 'collapsing mine' bollocks that almost got me killed, and did get him killed."

"I have a plan for Basil, or rather my father does, and I'm following it," said Quinn, "And the less I say about how much blame you sharefor the failure of my father's plan, the better."

"Say what?"

"Let's drop it," said Quinn, "We're doing things my way. Now then, the Indians. It seems that they've collapsed their tunnel beneath Central Park, but, we can still trace it to their hideout. Now, I've been mulling it over all day, and I think I have the perfect plan."

Quinn produced a chart from his pocket and unrolled it. He then motioned to Warren, who got up and took out a magnifying glass, placing it in front.

"Now you see, here is the collapsed tunnel, and here, you see the fountain," he said, pointing to the drawings he'd made, "This fountain is fed through by a pipe. Now we simply dig this pipe up, unscrew the bolts with a wrench, and feed the water through a hose. We find the spot where the tunnel ceases to be collapsed, dig a hole in the ground, and their hideout will be flooded! They will have no way to defend themselves, and we'll avoid those nasty booby traps I've heard they have."

Quinn looked around, for the approval of his minions.

"That sounds all very well and good," said Mr. O'Bloat, "But what if these Indians have other escape routes?"

"Hmm yes, I've thought of this," said Quinn, "Warren, Waul and Mousey will have their underlings patrolling their respective sections of the city for any groups of refugees, and they can make short work of them. If any do escape, well, the public doesn't have to know about it."

"But then they'll escape," said Mr. Grasping, "They'll be a threat."

"I doubt it. As long as the public thinks the Indians have been dealt with, it doesn't matter," said Quinn, "We don't have to kill all of them for this to work; the primary objective here is to make it look like I've eliminated a threat, not so much to eradicate every last one of them. That's what we have Reed here for. His paper will make the public believe whatever I want them to. This will still win me votes when I run for governor, and then president. And what's a few spears and arrows anyway? We have guns. And cats."

The three factory owners were silent, clearly disapproving.

"Any more objections?"

Everyone else seemed to be in agreement over the plan. Reed however was worried about how on Earth Basil was going to stop it. At least now he could tell Basil where Nellie was, before it was too late.

"Good," said Quinn, "We'll begin tomorrow night at, oh say, midnight, so as not to attract any unwanted human attention. Mousey, you and your dogs will do the digging. Warren, your gang will be in charge of fetching the supplies we'll need. Just to give you something to do."

"Much obliged," Warren said, "Let me know when Mausheimer's been killed. I've wanted her dead for a long time."

"Good to see you're being mature, and not throwing a fit over not being the one to kill her," said Quinn, annoying Madame Mousey, "Right then, I believe we're all on the same page now."

"I suppose I'll alert my workers to be vigilant for any survivors of the flooding," said Mr. Grasping.

"Yes yes, good idea. Right now those Indians think they're safe because they've collapsed the tunnel. They won't see this coming. I don't think there will be many survivors, if any at all."

Reed finished jotting down his notes, "Do you want an article on this tomorrow?"

"Hm, maybe we better keep this operation a secret until after the fact," said Quinn, "Wouldn't want any nosy detectives or reporters getting wind of it and trying to put a stop to it, if you know what I mean."

"Alright then," Reed said, glad he wouldn't need to work on an emergency last minute article tonight.

"I may want to meet with you in private tomorrow though, so that we can discuss how you are going to handle Miss Mausheimer's untimely demise. I'll send a telegram to your office when I have a time picked out."

Reed nodded, "Understood."

"Anything else to address before we adjourn this meeting?" Quinn asked.

The room was silent.

"Very well then, meeting adjourned," said Quinn.

Reed tucked his pencil behind his ear, and got up, waiting in line to be moved back to the floor by Warren and Waul. He couldn't wait to get home; of course, he hoped Basil wouldn't do anything brash once he learned where Nellie was.
Only in the 1800's would killing Indians give one a political boost. Could it be that Quinn is too far gone to be redeemed now? Maybe, but it's not too late for our heroes to stop him. Perhaps his long lost mother will be the key? And thanks to Reed perhaps Nellie and Basil will reunite soon. But they'll have a planned cat attack to contend with.

Sweet William was one of the main villains in the TV show Fievel's American Tails, for those who don't know. He often operated independently of Waul. 
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ThalassoAtrox's avatar
I have a feeling Waul will make sure that Sweet Williams "fake" punishment wont be so fake,out of revenge for beating the crap out of his several times before.=P (Razz)