The Black Paw

by Heather Vogel Frederick

  Bunsen straightened up, his pink eyes widening in fear. ‘You mean the humans are here? Now?’

  ‘It'll be fine, Bunsen, trust me.’ Glory gave a sharp whistle.

  Oz and DB poked their heads out from the cafe's back entrance. As they approached the mice, Bunsen began to tremble. Glory placed a comforting paw on his shoulder.

  ‘Bunsen, meet Oz – his father runs the cafe – and DB. They're friends of mine,’ she finished, emphasizing the word ‘friends’.

  ‘I'm, uh, pleased to meet you,’ squeaked Bunsen. ‘I think.’

  Oz and DB squatted down by the pile of gadgets heaped on the floor.

  ‘What is this stuff?’ asked DB scornfully, poking at the items with her finger. ‘Looks like something from my grandfather's junk drawer.’

  ‘The equipment may be old,’ Bunsen replied stiffly, ‘but it's still serviceable. In fact, better than serviceable. We in the lab have made a few, um, improvements. Mouse technology may not be quite as advanced as yours – yet – but you needn't twitch your whiskers at it.’

  ‘I think the correct human expression is, “turn up your nose at it”,’ whispered Glory.

  ‘I still say it looks old as the hills,’ said DB.

  ‘A bit dated, perhaps,’ Bunsen conceded.

  ‘Dated?’ scoffed DB. ‘This stuff hasn't been dusted off since World War Two.’

  ‘There's no need to be imippy about it, the lab mouse huffed. ‘I can promise you it will work all right. I will admit that you computer microchip is proving a tough nut to crack, but we have lab mice working around the clock on the problem. Radio technology, however, is quite simple and nearly foolproof –’ He paused and looked down at the duffel bag in dismay. ‘Radio technology! What are we going to use for a receiver? Now that this is an undercover solo mission, you can't transmit back to Central Command as usual.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Glory. ‘That is a problem.’

  Bunsen began rummaging through the duffel bag in a panic. ‘There's this, and well, no, I couldn't use that. Let me see here, how about…’

  ‘You need a radio?’ said Oz.

  ‘Not exactly,’ Bunsen replied. His voice was muffled, as his head was now entirely inside the duffel bag. ‘I need a receiver.’

  Oz cleared his throat. He held up his CD player. ‘Could you use this?’

  Bunsen pulled his head out of the duffel bag. His pink eyes lit up when he saw what Oz held in his hand. ‘I've read about these, but I've never actually seen one up close,’ he said in excitement, hopping over for a better look. ‘The Foragers haven't had any luck acquiring one yet.’ Oz laid it down on the floor so the mouse could inspect it more closely. Bunsen grabbed a tiny screwdriver (foraged from an eyeglasses repair kit) from his duffel bag and expertly unscrewed the back.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I think I can make this work.’

  Glory winked at Oz. ‘See? I told you that you had all the makings of a secret agent.’ She turned to Bunsen. ‘The boy can think on his paws. His feet, I mean.’

  Oz gazed modestly at his shoes, but he couldn't keep a smile from creeping across his face. As Bunsen busied himself converting the CD player to a radio receiver, Oz squatted down and poked idly through the gadgets again.

  ‘Hey, what's this?’

  Glory scurried over to see what he had found. ‘The watch-camera!’ she said, frowning. ‘That wasn't on my list, Bunsen.’

  ‘Oh, I brought along several things that weren't on your list,’ said Bunsen airily. ‘One never knows. You might want to take a few pictures of Dupont's lair. If you make it that far,’ he added gloomily.

  ‘Oh, I'll make it that far all right,’ said Glory, whose tail was beginning to flutter in excitement. ‘Good thinking, Bunsen. Pictures of Rat HQ. That'll wow Julius. He can't help but give me my job back then.’

  ‘Eeeew, what's that?’ said DB, pointing to a small brown lump in the pile.

  ‘That is a transmitter,’ explained Bunsen. ‘Not on Glory's list either, but I thought that if there were room for it in the can – the, ah, Trojan Horse, as you put it – we might use it to bug Dupont's headquarters.’

  ‘Bunsen! That's brilliant!’ cried Glory, and the lab mouse's nose glowed pink with pleasure.

  ‘It looks like dog doo,’ DB protested.

  ‘It's supposed to look like dog doo,’ said Bunsen.

  ‘That is disgusting,’ stated DB, folding her arms across her chest.

  ‘It's just plastic,’ said Oz, picking it up. ‘See?’

  DB shuddered. ‘I still say it's disgusting.’

  ‘We do not have time to be arguing over dog doo!’ said Glory, tapping a paw on the hallway floor in irritation. ‘We have a long afternoon ahead of us.’

  ‘Almost done here,’ said Bunsen, replacing the cover on the back of the CD player and tightening it down again.

  As Bunsen packed the gear back into his duffel bag and climbed into Oz's pocket next to Glory – not without a few squeaks of apprehension, for the lab mouse had never been this close to a human before – no one noticed the plump nose that appeared in the mouse hole entrance to the Spy Mice Agency. Nor did they notice as Fumble quietly observed their preparations, then just as quietly withdrew into the darkness.

  ‘What's a rat have to do to get a decent meal

  ood again. He stuck ined pizza box and nothing but a single f mozzarella cheese, and gave a snort of disgust. ‘Useless trash. Lulu!’

  Limburger Lulu came scurrying out of the shadows. ‘Yes, Boss?’

  Dupont glared at her. ‘I need food, FOOD! Sustenance! Haven't I made that clear? Find that worthless brother of yours and tell him if he doesn't get his worthless tail in gear and bring me something to eat pronto, and I mean pronto, I'll be putting HIM on the menu!’

  Lulu squeaked in terror. ‘Yes, Boss!’ she said, and scurried off into the shadows again.

  ‘Gnaw! Scurvy!’

  Dupont's scruffy aides materialized instantly. ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘What's the latest on the Goldenleaf brat? Have you found her yet?’

  Gnaw scratched his lone ear fearfully. He hated to be the bearer of bad tidings. Especially to Roquefort Dupont. ‘Disappeared,’ he finally managed to whisper.

  ‘What? Speak up, you useless sewer crawler.’

  ‘She disappeared,’ repeated Gnaw in a marginally louder croak.

  ‘DISAPPEARED?!’ roared Dupont, and Gnaw nearly leaped out of his fur. ‘What do you mean, “disappeared”?’

  ‘We were watching all the entrances to the museum, had the roof covered and the gate to Dumbarton Oaks and everything,’ Gnaw babbled. ‘There's been absolutely no sign of her. She vanished into thin air.’

  ‘Maybe they moved her to a safe house,’ ventured Scurvy.

  His boss turned on him. ‘If I want your opinion I'll ask for it,’ he snarled, and Scurvy drew back in alarm. Dupont started to pace. ‘Vanished, you say?’

  ‘Yes, Boss,’ said Gnaw.

  ‘You see that wall?’ Dupont said, booting a petrified nectarine stone across his litter-strewn headquarters. It bounced off the far wall and skittered into the shadows.

  Gnaw eyed the wall. Upon it were nailed a number of small, shrivelled and decidedly unsavoury objects. He nodded unhappily. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Have you forgotten about the WALL?’ roared Dupont, whipping his tail back and forth angrily.

  Gnaw shook his head vigorously. ‘No, sir!’

  ‘See that you don't,’ barked Dupont, lurching across his lair. He stared up at the expanse of dank stone and squinted at his trophies. ‘Now, was it this one or that one?’ he muttered. ‘Ah, there it is.’

  He tapped a dried flap of grey fur with his tail and turned, casting a speculative glance at his aide's remaining ear. Gnaw placed a paw protectively over it and shrank back. ‘I left room for the other one right beside it,’ Dupont said in a silky tone. ‘In fact, it's looking a little lonely tonight, don't you think, up here all by itself.’

  He advanced towards G
naw, who cowered against a greasy brown lunch bag. ‘That's right,’ murmured Dupont, still advancing. ‘Fear is good. Fear and terror. Those are a rat's best weapons.’ He bared his yellowed fangs at Gnaw. ‘Shall we just have it off right here and now, then? Relieve you of the suspense once and for all?’ Dupont gave a brutal laugh, then snapped his razor-sharp teeth together with a CLACK! that made Gnaw leap skyward again.

  ‘Incompetent nincompoop!’ said Dupont in disgust, turning away. ‘Get out of my sight. And don't come back until you have that Goldenleaf brat! She can't have vanished – she's out there somewhere. Turn up the heat. You'll find her.’

  Gnaw didn't have to be told twice. As he scuttled off, Dupont picked up the Kiss of Death and stroked it lovingly. He turned to Scurvy. ‘Anything else to report? How about upstairs? Any unusual activity?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Scurvy replied. ‘Just a couple of kids parked on our bench waiting for their train.’

  ‘Good,’ said Dupont, rubbing his paws together. ‘And is everything set for tomorrow night?’

  Scurvy nodded. ‘The troops are gathered in the sewer right now, awaiting your speech.’

  Dupont bared his yellowed teeth again in a smile. ‘Then let's give them what they came for, shall we? LULU! LOUIE!’

  The rats-in-waiting, who had been watching the proceedings with trepidation, jumped as they heard their names and tumbled tail over whiskers across the lair to land in a heap at Dupont's paws. They lay there, trembling.

  Dupont's smile was a soulless grimace as he gazed down at the two of them. ‘It's showtime!’ he whispered. Just as soon as you bring me something to EAT!’

  ‘Agent in place.’

  Glory's voice crackled over Oz's headphones. Oz turned the volume up slightly and gave Bunsen and DB, who were seated next to him on the bench in the Metro station, a thumbs-up. ‘She's in,’ he reported.

  ‘Can she see anything?’ Bunsen asked.

  ‘Glory, can you see anything?’ Oz relayed the question.

  For a moment there was only silence, then Glory's voice came floating through the headphones again. ‘I see it,’ she said, a note of triumph in her voice. ‘Propped up against a cottage cheese container.’

  ‘What else does she see?’ prompted Bunsen. ‘Is Dupont there?’

  Oz relayed the question to Glory, who replied, ‘Yeah, and Scurvy is with him.’

  ‘How about the Limburger twins?’

  ‘No sign of them, or of Gnaw. I'll sit tight and wait until the coast is clear, then I'm going in.’

  Bunsen clutched his pale paws together when Oz told him Glory's reply. ‘Oh, do tell her to be careful!’ he said. ‘I don't think I could bear it if something happened to her – but don't tell her that part,’ he added hastily.

  As Oz relayed the first part of Bunsen's message, DB gave the slender white mouse a speculative glance. ‘So, Bunsen, does that mean what I think it means?’

  Bunsen's nose and tail turned bright pink. He sighed. ‘No use trying to hide it, I suppose. Glory Goldenleaf is the most amazing creature I've ever seen. She's beautiful and brave and clever – and I don't stand a chance.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I'm a lab mouse, of course,’ said Bunsen matter-of-factly.

  ‘What's wrong with being a lab mouse?’ asked DB.

  Bunsen drooped. ‘It's so ordinary,’ he lamented. ‘So dull. What could a mouse like Glory possibly see in a scientific mouse like me? I'm sure she goes for the more glamorous type – a real mouse-about-town. One of those explorers from the National Geographic Society, perhaps, or a hotshot Silver Skateboard agent, or a dashing surveillance pilot. Not a plodder like me.’

  ‘I'd hardly call you a plodder,’ said DB. ‘Besides, you're the one Glory turned to for help, aren't you?’

  Bunsen gave a dismissive wave of his paw. ‘That's just because I could get her all this equipment.’

  ‘You shouldn't write yourself off so quickly,’ DB insisted. ‘You've got a lot going for you, Bunsen. You're smart too and brave. You talked to us humans, didn't you? And I'm sure you're very good-looking for a mouse.’

  Bunsen blushed again. Ducking his head bashfully, he twiddled the dials on the makeshift radio receiver. Oz nudged DB.

  ‘I do not believe you are having this conversation,’ he whispered. ‘I do not believe you are talking to a mouse about his love life.’

  DB grinned. The headphones crackled again, and the three of them sprang to attention.

  ‘Dupont and Gnaw are heading off,’ said Glory. ‘The coast is clear. Tell Bunsen I'll hide the dog-doo receiver in a safe spot, take a few pictures, then grab the Kiss of Death. Be ready to pull me out when I give the signal. I may be moving fast.’

  ‘Roger that,’ said Oz, hoping he sounded a little bit like James Bond. He pressed the headphones tightly to his ears, listening intently. Bunsen was perched in his pocket, anxiously clutching his tail. DB grasped the fishing rod with both hands. The three of them sat on the bench, motionless, waiting for Glory's signal.

  Two subway trains came and went. A couple with a baby in a pushchair wandered by and glanced at them curiously. Oz started bobbing his head back and forth, pretending to listen to music on his headphones. DB made a show of examining her fingernails. The couple walked on.

  ‘NOW!’

  Oz jerked upright, Glory's command ringing in his ears.

  ‘Now!’ he cried.

  DB started reeling Glory in, her small hand a blur as she wound the handle of the fishing reel. It wasn't long before they heard the clanking of the can as it clattered up the last few feet of the tunnel.

  Oz reached under the bench and grabbed the can as it emerged from the hole marking the entrance to Dupont's lair.

  ‘Open it up,’ said DB.

  ‘Hurry!’ Bunsen urged.

  Oz hastily unscrewed the lid. Glory emerged, and without a word she passed the Kiss of Death and the watch-camera to Bunsen, who stowed them both in Oz's pocket. Then she hauled herself up on to Oz's palm. She was shaking like a leaf.

  ‘Glory, what is it? What's wrong?’ cried Bunsen.

  ‘My father,’ Glory whispered, her whiskers trembling uncontrollably.

  ‘Your father?’ Bunsen stared at her. ‘I don't understand.’

  Glory's bright little eyes brimmed with tears. ‘He's still alive.’

  Bunsen gasped.

  ‘Barely, but he's alive,’ Glory continued. ‘Dupont has been keeping him in a cage.’

  Oz and DB exchanged a horrified glance. The flush of pink that had come to Bunsen's nose and tail at seeing his beloved safely back again drained away.

  ‘Oh, Glory!’ he said.

  ‘It's horrible down there!’ she continued, still quaking uncontrollably. ‘Dupont has a wall, a wall –’ her voice broke.

  ‘A wall?’ Oz repeated, mystified.

  ‘Of trophies,’ Glory managed to whisper. ‘Ears and tails. Hundreds of them.’

  The children and the lab mouse stared at her in shock.

  ‘It's dreadful,’ Glory finished. ‘I've never seen anything like it. Dupont is a monster.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’ asked DB.

  Glory drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. ‘There's only one thing to do,’ she announced. ‘I'm going back for my father.’

  ‘Glory, you can't go back!’ cried Bunsen in alarm. ‘It's a miracle you got out of there at all!’

  ‘I can't just leave him there,’ Glory replied. ‘I won't. He's my father.’

  Bunsen's whiskers quivered in agitation. ‘Glory, this is a job for the Mouse Guard commandos, not for a solo field agent.’

  Glory shook her head stubbornly. ‘There's no time for that. When Dupont discovers that the Kiss of Death is gone, I'm the first one he'll suspect, and he may take it out on my father.’ She gave the three of them a pleading look. ‘Besides, the sooner I get him out, the better. He doesn't look so good.’

  Oz and DB and Bunsen were silent.

  ‘OK, Glory, we're behind
you one hundred per cent,’ Oz said finally, speaking with a confidence he didn't feel. ‘We'll play it just like we did before. You go in, grab your dad, and we'll have you out of there in nothing flat.’

  Glory gave her friends a tremulous smile. ‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘You're all true blue.’ Shouldering her backpack, she gave a sharp nod. ‘Right, then. Let's roll.’

  Like a tiny astronaut entering a space capsule, Glory hopped from Oz's palm back into the can. She gave Oz and DB and Bunsen a quick salute, then crouched down in the silvery interior as Oz screwed the lid down tight.

  ‘Good luck, Glory,’ he whispered through one of the airholes. His heart gave a twinge. Oz had known Glory for just a single day, but Bunsen was right – she was one of the bravest creatures he'd ever met.

  DB released the catch on the fishing reel. The line whirred out as Oz tugged the can towards the hole beneath the bench.

  ‘ll systems go,’ he said into his microphone. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Blast off,’ Glory replied.

  Oz dropped the can into the hole and it rolled off into the darkness. The whir of the fishing line echoed in the cavernous subway station as it flew off the reel, and Oz glanced around to see if anyone noticed. None of the late-afternoon travellers paid the two children – and one unseen lab mouse – the slightest bit of attention.

  Glory was breathless and dizzy by the time the can finally clattered back into rat headquarters. It bumped up against the empty pizza box, rolled back and forth a few times, then came to a stop. She lay motionless inside, her heart pounding as she strained to hear Dupont and his cronies.

  ‘Looks like Louie finally came through for you, Boss,’ she heard Scurvy say. ‘He sent you a can of fizzy pop.’

  Glory sat up in a panic. She heard the scrabble of rat claws as someone crossed headquarters towards her hiding place. Her heart almost stopped beating altogether. They'd see the airholes!

  And then, the can jerked and rolled again as someone gave it a kick. Inside, Glory rolled with it.

  ‘I said something to EAT, not DRINK!’ screeched Dupont. ‘If I was thirsty, I would have said so! Where is that worthless rat-in-waiting? Louie!’