Chapter Ten: A Web of Wills.

Author's Note: By this time some readers may have noticed what seem to be multiple spelling mistakes. I am keeping these words spelled as they are as this site corrects to the American spelling and this is not the spelling I follow - UK. Any other strange words are made-up character names or places.

Sly stood atop the majestic outcrop and gazed unflinchingly towards the hulking menace that sat before him, at the heart of the tremendous loch. It was like a shadow that cast its unwanted presence over the island. The whole structure seemed to be lording itself above everything that lay about it. Raleigh's menace was the true terror of the seas. And the smug villain sat above it all, crushing anyone in the palm of his hand. The storm machine floated lazily above the crazy wooden and steel construction of the vessel. The mastermind truly controlled every aspect of his thieving and devious operations. At a single whim he could seize whatever riches he desired and nobody could stand before him.
But Sly was determined to change all that.

He had that final score to settle with Raleigh. He had been the very member who had seized his family's book and torn it from cover to cover. And he had a large portion of the papers. For all the lives he had ruined, for all the lives he had shattered, Raleigh was about to get what he deserved. No longer would he terrorize innocent people. It was time he was stood up to. This was not only regarding Raleigh himself, but the whole Fiendish Five. They needed to know the pain of what they had done and the web of destruction they had caused. They had bitten Sly and his whole family and the wound ran deep. Now they would know what it was to feel what they had done! Time to bite back!

Fuelled by his thoughts of injustice, in the villain that reposed somewhere in the monstrosity before him, Sly fixed a determined look onto his face and returned to the remainder of the path. No obstacles such as lasers or any kind of gate or alarm lay before him. He could not see a single camera in sight. Clearly Raleigh had sneeringly thought that Sly would never have made it this far. Well, he was proven wrong yet again. That was the simple weakness of criminals like him-sheer arrogance and the tendency to brag. And if Sly could continue to exploit that in just the right way, he would continue to have the upper hand.

He was not going to let any trap of Raleigh's stand before him. Those papers were rightfully his and the slippery frog had no right to get his slimy flippers on them. Sly would show him that the Cooper gang members were just as capable working independently as in a team-that he didn't always need his friends behind him. Bentley would have been proud of that. He was not going to be letting them down this time.

Carefully, Sly examined any of the other natural obstacles that lay before him. Behind him rose a set of sheer limestone cliffs adorned in dark-green moss and craggy boulders. Stacked peaks of eroded and crumbled rocks sat atop each of them. The canyon was dark now as he had left the lights behind and could only see a very faint glimmer of green over the outcrops, emanating from the flare. The path itself was still scattered with pebbles and a fine dusting of sand. In front of him was a sloping series of smooth boulders mounted atop a narrow cliff, worn down to smoothness by the wind and rain. The cliff continued snaking outwards until it jutted way from the rest of the cliffs at the lake's edge and stood hanging precariously over the crystalline, smooth water of the lake.

Just below the surface Sly could see again glimmering specks of gold, silver and gems as well as the occasional mahogany fragment of a chest or barrel. More twisted wreckages of sunken ships, tortured by the wind and rain floated contortedly on the strangely smooth surface of the lake. The promontory itself stretched out over this patch of water and was decorated with its own coating of grass and sea daisies. Away in the distance, the opposite cliffs of the other bank appeared, with the torrential waterfalls flowing down them, the boulders packed against them and the lush sprouting of swamp trees hung about with vines atop their craggy surface. On this side of the bank more boulders and the occasional rivulet of water gathered in clumps at the base, on narrow beaches of grainy sand.

Only the occasional fern clump or laurel bush sprouted from the dirt encrusted along the narrow, jutting cliff. Aside from that, the only touch of green was the grass that grew there before at the end everything plunged into the lake. But Sly had noticed one other thing beside the natural, rugged features. Beyond the uneven stone steps extending away from the cliffs to the edge of the promontory lay a twisted wooden frame, swaying slightly in the wind. It was comprised of wooden sluts held together with rusty red nails and teetered at the edge of the cliffs. It created a sort of rectangular shape and Sly could see a winch with an ancient looking set of ropes, wheels and rusted cogs fixed to the top.

At the end of the fraying rope fixed to the reel of the winch hung a faded yellow hook, probably once meant for lowering cargo down to the banks for transport out of Wales. Another rusted set of control panels covered with dials and switches lay beside it, though it looked long out of use. A spiral deck of wooden boards surrounded the winch and was once seemingly meant to have been an observation platform. No kind of equipment lay beneath the winch on the shore except for a heap of wooden slats which, being mostly and somewhat submerged in the shallows of the lake, look like it had completely keeled over. But it was fine for Sly's purposes. If he could hook his cane onto the hook of the winch cable, it would be a perfect way to ascend to the level of the lake and find a path across the lake to the boat. Sly was light enough that it could probably hold him. And there was a second advantage.

Noticing it just then Sly saw that stretching just beyond the shoreline lay a haphazard assortment of floating barrels, torn chests, wooden beams, overturned boat hulls and what looked liked the twisted metallic remains of airplane wings. It seemed as if Raleigh did not just capture ships as he had thought. Sly shuddered to think of the fates the poor pilots might have met. Funnily enough, the trail of wreckage gave Sly the perfect path to cross the water and ascend the hull of the boat. With his quick and nimble reflexes it would be a snap jumping from barrel to barrel. So far he had managed to avoid the water all together - just so long as he didn't fall into it!

And to make matters even better, another series of frail ropes trailing from a winch that also seemed to be part of a cargo loading bay hung from the ridge of the hull to just above the water. Sly could climb up those and then he would be on board. The large gashes in the wooden hull of the vessel, from which more light came and had seemingly been torn in the violent winds of the storms, would also assist his ascent as foot holds.

Unlike the winch on his side, the one on the boat looked in good condition as it was probably used by Raleigh's men to haul treasure on board. Now it would help Sly on board-how ironic. There wasn't even a single walrus guard in sight. With his means of a path set for getting down to the lake, across it and up to the deck of Raleigh's boat, Sly gripped his cane firmly and eagerly leapt forward to take the coming challenge.

Just as Sly was about to make for the first winch cable, he stopped as he noticed a glint of silver from behind a laurel bush. Quickly he hurried over to the side of the path and pushed aside the delicate leafs. There behind the bush, sitting comfortably on the grass laid a silver, metallic node. A blue fluorescent dome was mounted atop its cone and the same single blue button sat on the side of the panel. Bentley had planned his strategy well. The node was just like the one Sly had discovered over half an hour before. Excited at what information Bentley might be able to give him before he plunged into the heart of the beast, Sly leant forwards through the sheets of rain and with a single blue gloved finger of his right hand, pressed the button. The dark and troubled turmoil of the clouded and raining skies above continued to thunder and rumble as the hologram bloomed from the intricate device.

#

Winston Nicholas Higgins stood by, watching the proceedings with a curious eye. Already slightly board at the rather routine proceedings, he was itching to get out onto the field and see a little more action than this. For the past half an hour since their conversation, the turtle and hippo had remained silent and completely untroublesome. The guards who had been standing about them seemed to have thought they would not be going anywhere as they had relaxed now and were exchanging polite small talk with their companions and scuffing their feet in a kind of bored fashion.

Meanwhile, the two captured thieves had not made any attempts to escape and were remaining completely silent. Nothing much was happening. Many of the officers were still scuttling around examining the equipment from the Cooper van and asking questions of the prisoners, for which they got brief and rather curt answers. Clearly the two of them planned to go nowhere at all until they were reunited with their friend. They were also persistently refusing not to give the game away - true friends in other words. Higgins absentmindedly wished to himself that he had friends as close as that besides the officers around him. He felt a little alone to say the least.

He glanced hopefully towards Inspector Fox who was in deep conversation with the senior officer Pierre; a strapping, coffee-coloured brown mule deer who was a true born and bred Frenchman. His great antlers soared from his head. They seemed to be discussing the tactics for the coming mission. Higgins was slightly jealous to say the least and his inner feelings seemed to roar up inside him like an angry lion. After this mission he hoped to be more of an idol in the Inspector's eyes. He felt that the inner journey within him was not yet quite begun and it had a long way to go before he realised his true potential and purpose. This challenge he was about to undertake was the key to unlocking that path. He just had to wait and take it as it came. He smiled to himself encouragingly. He was ready to begin.

#

Bentley sat patiently and calmly beside the van, letting the continual light drizzle of rain run down off of his nose and down his expensive, red Italian bowtie. After all, there was nothing he could do at present. And Murray knew that also. At this current time their only mission was to protect Sly and his desperate plan to retrieve the Thievious Raccoonus. There was absolutely no point in jeopardizing the whole business they had come here to perform in the first place. Anyway, for their own satisfaction Bentley knew that the pair of them also wanted the mission to succeed. It would cement the reputation of the Cooper gang and finally crumble the ill-gotten image of the malevolent Fiendish Five. It was a personal journey of self discovery and potential as well as just a simple mission.

It was like taking another step on a mysteriously winding path that Bentley had long guessed he must take. The whole journey was necessary to really unlock secrets about themselves as well as take back secrets wrongfully stolen from them. He also knew that the journey had another purpose-to finally bring together the two warring sides represented by Carmelita and Sly so as to finally fight the greatest evil of all. Only through unity could the ultimate goal be achieved. Higgins had broken through the surface of that. Carmelita was yet to finally open herself to the fact that despite his role in life, she and Sly were actually somewhat on the same side.

The true potential of unity and understanding was yet to be achieved. Once that happened, both sides could finally come together at last. Then the greatest challenge could be faced. And Bentley was quite positive that it would not be the last time. Once the journey was complete, that unity would need to be refreshed again. The bond, no matter how invisible it would seem to become, would always return clear and strong in the times of its greatest need. More than once would the two sides be drawn together and renewed to fight the growing maliciousness of the world. As one they would stand against the darkness that gradually feed and consumed upon the shattered life - light versus darkness. The light would return once again. The true bonds of friendship would unlock the potential.

At the end of the journey, that was what was truly to be discovered. The true potential of both sides was the true key to the problem. And the final piece to the puzzle at the end of the first journey would be Inspector Fox herself. Little did she know it but it was her purpose to secure the bond. Once she and Sly gained that full understanding of each other, the key would be complete: thief and inspector together as one - the true potential of love.

Smiling slightly blissfully and happily inside his head, imagining how much brighter the world would become once Sly and Carmelita finally came together in realising their true potentials; Bentley shook himself from his reverie and glanced quickly around at the scene. Nothing had changed really. Carmelita Montoya Fox, slightly letting her thick Spanish accent slide through under her French one, was still in discussion with the senior officer Pierre, while the rest of the officers and Higgins casually strolled about the lawn and exchanged quiet words in French.

While Higgins seemed pre-occupied in his apparently engrossing thoughts, the rest of the officers seemed just plainly casual. Even a small handful of them had taken out their platinum lighters and lit up a cigarette. The glowing orange tips sparked through the rain and the occasional puffs of smoke rose into the air and made Bentley choke and cough-as a rule he never had or would smoke. The same could seemingly be said for Carmelita, who was disgustedly wrinkling up her dainty black nose at the smell of the foul, grey smoke. Her tail twitched in evident agitation. She placed her yellow-gloved hands back on her curved waist as she stifled a cough and returned to the conversation.

Then, just as Bentley was somewhat nodding off, he noticed a slight shadow flicker by him. Quickly he snapped upwards and swung his head around to face the large clump of wet ferns that grew on the opposite side of the clearing. He thought he could just see the vague, dark shape of a pointed face and glasses, someone crouching in the bushes. But as he rubbed his eyes on a sleeve, he looked up once more and the spectre was gone. There was absolutely no sign anyone had been there. Trying to dismiss the unusual occurrence, Bentley put it out of his mind and turned towards Murray, who was taking a little nap with the occasional rumbling snore, on the softest patch of grass he could find. Seeing he seemed to be okay and in fact actually resting quite well, Bentley whispered a few words into his friend's ear.

"Everything is okay Murray - Interpol have not captured Sly and the mission seems to be succeeding. You should keep on resting-you need to sleep and build your strength up, we'll need it. Sly is safe, there is no need to worry yourself." He punctuated the last sentence with a hopeful tone.

"Thanks Bentley," Murray grumbled in his sleep through a snore, "I appreciate that."

He rolled over and gave a final grunt as Bentley sat back, resigned to the long wait.

Four kilometres away from his friends, Sly was unaware of the proceedings. At the moment he was mostly concerned with his attempt to board Raleigh's boat and infiltrate his operation. But if he had known how concerned Bentley and Murray were for his personal welfare, he would have appreciated it. If he also knew how much Bentley had worried himself sick about the placing of his nodes and how they would have helped Sly, he would have been touched.

But he could guess how much Bentley had wanted to help him and his endeavour to make the mission to succeed. He knew that Bentley had tried his very hardest to assist Sly in any way he could as well as constantly looking out for him in any situation. And he did appreciate it. He appreciated it very much. And he hoped Bentley would guess or know it in himself. Giving a final, silent thanks to his friends, Sly reversed his attention to the spinning blue hologram that bloomed from the node beacon before him.
"Congratulations Sly," echoed the holographic image of Bentley's head. "Thanks to your continual skill and perseverance, you have located my second checkpoint node." The hologram spun briefly on the spot before coming around again and revealing the shape of the box turtle, giving a brief cough.

"No problem, it was a snap buddy," Sly replied with a touch of pride, "After all, I had a lot of help from you and Murray. And if it weren't for some of your mechanical genius, I wouldn't even be listening to this right now." Sly beamed forgivingly before he realised that, of course, the hologram was not going to reply back. Reddening in the face and looking slightly sheepish, Sly quietened down so as to hear the information.

"Now that you have the best dole I could uncover for the storm machine, I think it best that I briefly inform you of a few other little perks I have managed to place," continued the flickering blue projection. "I have initiated a new invention which shall be used for the first time on this mission. I have designed it so as it can assist you-hopefully it will anyway."

"I should think it will," murmured Sly pleasantly.

"This invention is something I have nicknamed the lucky horse shoe," said Bentley. "It is a device which is about the size of your open palm and is constructed from steel. It should aid your thieving opportunities as I have designed it to be light and easy to carry." Sly grinned approvingly.

"Really it is actually in the shape of a horseshoe, a play on the old saying," said Bentley, "And it is packed with my latest and most high-tech magnetic gadgetry."
"Magnetic aye," mused Sly, "That sounds interesting in deed."

"What it does is this," said Bentley. "It has contained within it a revolutionary composition of electric micro-circuitry, which emits a magnetic pulse when activated. A small switch in the base of the device will activate it and the device is powered by a lithium battery, about the size of a pack of chewing gum."

"A lithium battery?" said Sly, "Resourceful as ever Bentley."

"Hopefully the addition of the lithium will give the device an extended operation time when it is activated," Bentley said. "I guess the device can get a maximum of six hours before the charge goes flat and it needs a new battery. Hopefully that time should be more than enough. You probably won't need to use it continuously anyway. You see, the device is meant to emit strong enough magnetic pulses that when you get close to an enemy who holds a metal weapon or there is a metal object you require out of your reach, it can attract it towards you. Likewise, if you get close enough to a concentrated group of metals when it is activated, you will be pulled towards it. Be careful when operating the device. I imagine it could help you traverse the machines beneath Raleigh's boat."

"Right on Bentley," said Sly, "Good thinking on your part-that device will surely come in handy."

"I have placed about twelve of these small devices around Raleigh's hideout for you in undisclosed locations by R.C chopper. When you come across them they should help you achieve your goals." Bentley's head rotated again before resuming speech. "Another few things I have to remind you about are that each device is identified by the metallic silver colour they give out. Also, the pulse can be strengthened or lessened depending on how powerful you need it. At full power all the time, I would guess at you getting about two hours out of a single device-this is why I have placed multiple around the boat. Unfortunately I could not disclose their locations here as it might be noticed by Raleigh's henchmen. You will just have to locate them as you need them."

"That's okay pal," said Sly, "That's what we thieves are good at. Search and find, smash and grab. It does add a bit of a challenge-nice touch."

"And one more thing," said Bentley. "Each device is compatible with the circuitry of the next. If you should manage to locate and power up more than one device at a time, the power will be doubled. Once you use up to three devices at once, the collision of the electric surge in magnetic power will cause them to glow gold. This is nothing to worry about however-this just merely means that the devices are working at peak efficiency. However, once again, I must warn you against the extreme usage of these devices as too many activated at once could cause an extreme magnetic surge which could tear apart any metal or steel. Only use these as per necessary."

"Don't stress Bentley," said Sly, "I'll remember that."

"Some other purposes these devices may serve are this," said Bentley. "At a safe voltage they can even cause you to slightly levitate over magnetic or metallic areas, which could be helpful to avoid obstacles. Likewise, as I mentioned before, they can help you remove any obstacles in your path by tearing them down. Just please try and look after the devices as they were somewhat expensive. Just bring all of them back if you can-I am hoping to reequip them with more batteries before our next mission against the Fiendish Five. They will be a valuable tool-use them wisely. You can attach them to the back of your pack to make them easy to reach."

"That will be easy," said Sly, "I'll make sure to take care of them. And having them on my pack will be really handy - I might even be able to prank a few guards, especially the guys with those throwing stars. I wish you had thought of these little miracles before Bentley, these will be simply radical!" Sly hooted and waved his cap over his head in ecstasy. "Combined with my family's skills, this will be the ultimate mission; time to go and give it to those criminals."

"Now that you know all about the devices, how I have placed them, how they work and how to use them as well as the dangers, I'll give you a brief image so you know what to pick up." Bentley's holographic head faded away to be replaced by a blue image of a small horse shoe shaped piece of metal. It looked quite ordinary and plain. After a few seconds, Bentley's head popped up again.

"You will notice that the device looks rather plain," said Bentley, "This is so that it blends in and Raleigh's men will not pick them up. You have a sharp eye and I am sure you will easily pick them up. Good luck Sly and happy hunting. Let me know about the success of the device. And remember you have always got your Binoc-u-com to communicate with us; over and out."

Bentley's image flickered out once again and in its place bloomed up the caricature of the raccoon's head. Once again it served the great purpose of being a beacon Sly could follow-he would probably even see it from the boat. It glowed through the sheets of rain like a lighthouse. Bentley had planned it well. Now there was no way he could get disorientated. With the device properly activated, it was time for Sly to get moving. He was even closer to those pages now and he was just about to infiltrate part of Raleigh's inner sanctum. He was now more excited than ever at the prospect of trying Bentley's new device out on the Fiendish Five. What would he do without his friend's ingenious little inventions?

"You clever reptile you," murmured Sly, "What would I do without you both? I'll be back for you soon, never fear." Sly stood up over the rotating image projected by the beacon and turned back towards the shimmering lights of the many layered decks, towers, cannons and turrets that sat atop the enormous boat. Hopefully no one had spotted him from the deck. He decided to get under cover as soon as possible and out of the open. Giving a final look to the ingenious node he sprinted back over to the winch. Looking the device over, he knew the mission was only going to get harder. He hitched on a determined expression and reminded himself he was set to face any of the dangers thrown at him: time to take on his nemeses for the last and final time.

The coils of the rope swayed and whistled in the strong currents of the wind as Sly yanked on the rusted winch. At first the reddened coating didn't allow the metal to move, but then there was a jangling creak of metal against wood and the winch gave away, the coils of rope suddenly spinning loose. The coils of rope begun to collect in a large spool in his hands as the winch spun out and the cogs creaked. The whole mechanism was rattling and convulsing wildly, as if it wouldn't hold, but then it gave another final groan of tired gears and the cogs grinded to a halt. Sly dropped the mound of frayed rope he had gathered at his feet and walked over to the edge of the cliff. The carved sandstone curved inwards beneath his feet before coming out again in a graceful arc and smoothly meeting the white sand at the shore. The lush greenness of the sea grass, bolstered by the frequent rain, flowed over the edge and swung off the lip of the cliff in vines, swaying in the winds.

It would be a smooth descent down to the lower platform. Luckily no jagged or protruding rocks extended from the cliff face. Only the wild winds and rain would pose any problem. Sly yanked on the old rope to make sure it was secure and then he seized the end and tossed the reel over the cliff. The trail of rope suddenly tightened and began unravelling like a snake as it was pulled over the cliff. Finally, the rope tightened and lay tightly over the cliff edge. The length of it swayed gently against the cliffs while the end just brushed the smooth sand. The winch was ready to go. The wooden gantry creaked as he stepped onto it.

Satisfied with his work, Sly gave the rope a second yank and then dropped it to the ground again. Still the cord held and lay tightly coiled. Sly raised his cane and stretched out for the hook which was suspended off the opposite end of the rope, furled over the reel. Once he let his full weight hang from the hook, the rope would lower him down to the shore of the lake as the hanging coil of rope was reeled back through the winch. He just hoped the rust on the cogs didn't jam the whole device before he was all the way down.
He had also observed that the electrical circuits which had once operated the device were completely flat-the cords frayed and broken. The control panel had long since sparked out and not a single buzz of electricity emanated from it. There would be no interference there. Sly looped the crook of his cane over the hook. Bouncing on the balls of his feet, he quickly tested his weight. The frame swayed a final time and creaked as the nails rattled in their fixtures. But just as Sly was about to plunge off of the cliff edge to the sand below, a bellowing wail of sirens tore through the night air.

#

"Ha-ha," cackled Sir Raleigh hoarsely, "At last we have got him. The Cooper boy can't escape this time. I've got him cornered!"

As he let out another laugh, you could distinctly hear a thick, southern-English-actually rather Welsh-accent on his tongue. He raised one white gloved flipper and used it to brush some dust from his large, bobbled hat as he spoke.

"Finally the five shall be rid of that thieving brat," said Raleigh, continuing his speech. "Now that my men have spotted him at the old loading bay, it will be a snap to pick him off. There is absolutely no way he can make it past any of my deck defences. Another trophy to our name-a reputation well deserved."

In celebration, Raleigh bounced over to a little polished wooden box lined with trimmed lace that sat on a mahogany side table on a doily. Daintily he searched around inside the contents of the box before extracting a chocolate coated liquorice bullet. They were his favourite and very expensive. The liquorice was the finest in England and the covertures chocolate came from the best cacao fields in Brazil. In fact, he owned half of the cacao fields in the country. Life was splendid when one had so much money at their immediate disposal.

Raleigh sighed contentedly in a rather malicious kind of way as he munched his way through a second chocolate liquorice bullet, this time covered in the finest white chocolate composed of Madagascan vanilla-again from his very own plants. With his mouth full of delicacies, Raleigh closed the mahogany box and turned back towards his great iron throne. It sat on the edge of a large pool of lightly steaming water, like a lighthouse on the cliffs of the sea. Wrought out of metals and plate-gold, it also was adorned with Raleigh's family crest, this being an ornate golden letter R.

Raleigh snarled to himself in a rather contemptuous fashion, as if the idea that his family should share in his riches was preposterous. What a thought indeed! Raleigh grunted again as he swallowed the last flecks of milky white and plonked himself heavily atop the rouge velvet cushion. From there he gazed in a smug way across the steaming pool which made up the beating heart of his most diabolical invention, the storm machine.

Around the pool stretched an expanse of piping, platforms, gantries, wires, panels and an enormous canopy window that wrapped around a one-eighty degree expanse of the blimp. A grim and continuous drizzle of sluggish, moist drops continued to pour down the double-paned surface as the clouds also continued to precipitate their contents. From his perch he could observe all the inner workings of his most brilliant creation, the very centre of the machine. There was no way the Cooper boy could reach him here, in his inner most sanctum.
Besides, it was the place he had chosen to hidden the very articles the thief was after.

Right beneath the throne he sat upon was a small vault; titanium walled with a six-digit combination lock and within it sat a compilation of pages from the Cooper book, the Thievious Raccoonus. He would ensure maximum security was observed in every way. He even had his faithful walrus guards blocking all the ventilation ducts. You just couldn't stop progress. As he thought this, a sudden flicker came to his mind and he prodded the intercom button in the control panel on the arm of the chair that lay beside him. The speaker crackled into life and a deep, distinctly Indian mixed with Malay accent answered.

"Ah, yes Eric," droned the voice, "What do you require. I have stationed the guards all over the ship. I heard from the men that there is quite a bit of chaos down by the old dock-something to do with that Sly Cooper. Tracked you down at last has he? If so, my good man, then we had better act rather quick sharp. You know the master will not be pleased if Cooper does anything to destroy our plans. And by the way, he seems rather displeased from your last communication that Interpol have managed to become embroiled in this affair. He thinks it would be best to, how do you say, remove them from the scene." He ended the last word with a slight tone of mixed menace and fear.

This rather annoyed Raleigh and with a small snarl of contempt, jabbed the intercom button again and spoke.

"Yes, I know that all too well Marius," growled Raleigh, "The master shall not be at all pleased if Cooper so much as manages to get his hands on a single page. As for those Interpol runts, I have already decided to address that problem. I have an idea as to how we shall get rid of that meddlesome Inspector Fox for good. As I said, I am fully aware of the dangers she and the rest of those meddlesome law enforcers might pose to the master's scheme. I do not need to be reminded of that, thank you very much. Remember, Marius, it was I who hired you and me who brought you into partnership with our glorious empire."

"Of course, of course," said Marius, "I forgot my place somewhat sir-please forgive me. I was only intending to remind you of the rather precarious situation we must eradicate."

"You are forgiven," Raleigh said, slightly begrudgingly. "After all, you are quite right. Neither you nor I shall let the master down. As I was saying, I already have a scheme in place to address that problem. At the same time we may even be able to eradicate that wretched turtle and hippo, which ally their persons with Cooper. We shall kill two birds with one stone and then I believe threats to the master's will be all but destroyed."

"Ah excellent, excellent," whispered Marius over the intercom, "What might this grand plan of yours be, oh Eric?"

"It is rather simple really," drawled Raleigh. "As my new ally and General to my men, Marius, you are a key activist in my plan. Have five of my best men set out right this very night across the English Channel. Have them use my patrol boats in the lower docks. They must be at the coast of France by midnight tonight. From there they are to find their way to the covert headquarters of the Interpol agency, in Versailles I believe, and then they will assassinate Inspector Barkley. Remove that badger from the scene and Interpol will collapse-then we shall have no more difficulties from them. They have irked us once too often, for far too long. From the Intel gathered by my master, I believe that he will be the key. Have that done right this moment Marius, and do not forget my orders. We must end Barkley's life, for that is what the master asks-he is not questioned."

Ending his sentence with a taste of venom, Raleigh again flicked the dial to activate the intercom channel. When Marius replied, he sounded rather apprehensive.

"But sir," said Marius "Isn't that rather ambitious. I mean, Inspector Barkley will be covered by security at all times-rather a task for even our best men to get at him. And even so, we must still dispatch the officers who at this moment risk uncovering our hideout. How is that to be done? And anyway, I still feel that Cooper is a threat who must be dealt with also."

"Do not question my leadership Marius," Raleigh said, this time with ice in his voice. "I am fully aware of all these obstacles. In any case, my men are more than perfectly capable for such a task. It shall be completed or they will not come back here the way they left, at least not in one piece, if you get my drift. As in, they may look the way Barkley will look a few hours from now, that spanner in my machine"

Marius gulped nervously and wiped a nervous trickle of sweat of off his brow. At least, it sounded that way over the intercom.

"While they dispatch Barkley and shatter Interpol," continued the arrogant frog, "I shall send another contingent of my loyal walrus guards to deal with Miss Fox and the rest of her posse. In fact, you shall organise that right now Marius. I want them dealt with before midnight tonight. Then the only obstacle to finish off is Cooper. As soon as you have sent off my men, I am entrusting you the duty to wipe him out. Use whatever method you like, but make sure he is dead. Once you have done that I want his body bought to me. I think the master would appreciate a trophy of his final victory against the Coopers. Then we may finally be able to really see what can be done with the pages of this dratted book we are hoarding-I am not much one for reading you see."

"It shall be done sir," said Marius. "I will ensure your men are put to the job. I will also take it upon myself to ensure they succeed. Your plans will be carried out with the upmost efficiency. Then I will be happy to personally take on the pleasure of destroying Cooper-he shall be brought to you dead or on his knees. I assure you it will be done. From this moment on it means the end of the Cooper gang. Without Interpol on our consciousness, Cooper shall be but a single blip on the radar."

Marius was clearly trying to force conviction into his voice with this last line but he still sounded apprehensive behind it all. Well, that would not last long.

"Very well Marius," said Raleigh, "That is what I want. Ruthless efficiency is what the master needs. From this night, all threats will be destroyed. Get to work my friend and I assure you I will instil in you my greatest confidence. But remember, leave no stone unturned Marius. I want every one of them disposed of and all traces of this folly eradicated by tonight. Barkley, Interpol, Miss Fox and the blasted Cooper gang must all be dead. Then the Welsh authorities will have no leads on me at all. Get to work, General Aqualon. Wipe them out, all of them!"

Not waiting for any reply, Sir Raleigh twiddled the voltage dial and the line died. Sitting back contently in his ornate and rather pompous throne, he smiled happily. Everything was going his way. Interpol would be in chaos and the Cooper gang and the whole Cooper legacy would be shattered for good. His master would be pleased. Marius Aqualon would not fail him-he was a good soldier and General. Cooper would be dealt with in the hour. At last, Raleigh could say all his difficulties were dealt with-everything was going his way. Yawning in a self-indulgent way, Raleigh decided to treat himself to another dark-chocolate liquorice snap. He licked his lips as he sucked on the luscious noir chocolate from Ghana.

#

General Marius Aqualon sighed in a rather resigned way to himself. He was intending with all his fibre to make sure that Sir Raleigh's orders were to be carried out. He was only forty-eight and just retired from service in the Malaysian navy. It had been a hard path. But it had payed off; he was now in contact with one of the most powerful empires in the world. Besides, he was all too happy to assist in the destruction of Sly Cooper. Anyway, he had his own reasons to hate the Cooper family. He remembered when he had listened to his grandfather telling him of his days in the navy service. He had outshined all but one naval commander in his campaigns.

That had been a one Ernest Arthur Cooper, one of the most famous seamen of the nineteen-forties. His grandfather had just never managed to meet the standard of his naval tactics. He had respected but, of course, hated the infernal Irishman for it at the same time. General Aqualon ground his teeth in anger as he thought of this. He would have his revenge for his grandfather. He was sure of that. Cooper was about to meet his match. He would see who the real master of the sea was. He would win back his grandfather's stolen glory; it was time for Cooper to pay for the humiliation he had caused his family. He turned along the wooden deck and strode back towards his men, lined up against the wall, with the sirens at the docks ringing in his ears.

#

Captain Tusk was a rather dim man, used to taking orders. However, he drilled his men well and ensured they did not slack on their duties. Glancing up and seeing that the master's second-in-command, General Aqualon, was marching towards them, he briskly stood to attention and shouted a crisp command in husky English to his soldiers. Like clockwork, they all snapped to attention as General Aqualon sidled towards them.

"Remember boys," whispered Captain Tusk to his men, "The master says we have an important mission to complete. We must be at our best and no shirking whatsoever. We are to listen to General Aqualon and carry out his orders. Is that understood?"

All his men gave him brisk nods and then snapped their chins back as General Aqualon came and stood before them. Inspecting each of the walrus in turn, Tusk noticed that the General looked rather apprehensive and a little worse for wear. He wondered what mission that there was in store for them. The old octopus generally seemed rather surer of himself. Maybe those years in the navy had done him in after all.

"General Aqualon sir!" exclaimed Captain Tusk, "What do you command sir?"

Simultaneously, his contingent of men snapped to attention and raised their paws in a broad salute. A pleased smirk crossed the General's face. He raised a tentacle to silence them and they immediately stopped speaking.

"At ease men, at ease," said Marius Aqualon, "As you have probably guessed, you mostly Captain Tusk, Sir Raleigh has asked me to assign you an important mission. As you would also know by now, there is rather a bit of confusion down by the old loading bays. Please do not be alarmed and carry out what I tell you. I shall deal with that myself. The mission I have for you and your men is to wipe out Interpol and the rest of the Cooper gang."

The men before him gasped openly and Captain Tusk mumbled something as if just about to speak.

"Now I guess you will be apprehensive," continued Marius, "But I will let you know that I have complete confidence in all of you. The missions to be completed are these; Captain Tusk will lead four men-Williamson, Clayton, Frederick and Harrison-across the English Channel tonight, from where you are to make tracks for the Interpol headquarters in Versailles. Your assignment is to assassinate Inspector Barkley. No mistakes will be tolerated. Then, Captain Tusk, you are to send another ten of your best men to the entrance on the north side of the island. There they will dispatch Inspector Fox and the other members of the Cooper gang. I will see to Sly Cooper myself. Is that understood?"

"Very clearly sir," boomed Captain Tusk. "My men and I will set about that right now. Once I have sent my men out to the northern shores of the isle, I will take my men across the channel and the Inspector shall be dealt with before the night is out. I swear it, oh General."

"Excellent Tusk," said Marius, "Now get to work. The sooner the deeds are done and you are back here with your men, the better. Now go, I must deal with Cooper."
He turned resolutely and marched away across the deck. A single tentacle snapped off a final salute as he disappeared down to the lower dock.
"Right men," said Tusk, "You know what to do."

Ten men broke off from the group and, with grunts of acknowledgment to their captain, ran towards the southern side of the boat. Captain Tusk knew they were headed for the weapons armoury on the lower area of the boat. Excellent-efficiency was what he needed. Interpol didn't stand a chance at all. With that deed now fixed, Captain Tusk now turned to his remaining four men of the group. They would need to complete the most important mission ever assigned to them.

"As for us men," he said to the soldiers, "You know what we must do. And we must not fail. It is time for us to leave."

He shuddered slightly as he concluded his speech. It was a treacherous mission ahead of them, but they must not fail. He knew all too well of the consequences. With a final barking command to the walruses assembled before him, they all rose up and marched along the deck and towards the entrance way to the docks. And that night, under the cover of the clouds, a single black vessel skimmed across the English Channel, headed for one man in Versailles.

#

Over on the northern side of the island, almost three kilometres away, Carmelita suddenly heard a wailing shriek emanating off of the cliffs, as if a siren were going off. Something was wrong and she knew it. What trouble had Cooper worked himself into? She could not just sit there and let the ring-tail be at the mercy of the Fiendish Five. Glancing nervously over at her two captives, Carmelita gulped and stiffened her resolve. Her delicate bosom heaved as she breathed in heavily. Something must be done. A storm was coming: she had felt it from the beginning. Her affection for the raccoon now seemed even more important than it had been to her before. She must be prepared for the fight she knew was to come. The men needed to be ready, they all must be ready. Then the battle could be overcome. It was time to fight. She was ready to tackle anything.

"Don't worry Cooper," she said quietly, "I am here for you, and we will fight this together. Together we will overcome and survive. I promise it." She surprised herself by saying this: how could it be that she even felt this at all – he was a thief, she an inspector.

She stood up resolutely and strode over towards the men. They all glanced up expectantly as she marched towards them, all with similarly grave yet determined looks upon their faces. The mule deer, Pierre, nodded at her officially and stood to attention beside her as she stood resolutely before them all. She returned the gesture with a wan smile. They could all tell from the grim look on her face that something significant was about to occur.

#

With the infernal noise of the deck alarm ringing through his eardrums, Marius descended down onto the artillery deck. He gave a sigh and rattled off a few words in mixed Latin and Indian as he rubbed his temples. He often said things like this to his conscience between times. He felt a slight ache through his forehead which could probably be fixed with a few aspirin, a shower and some good bed rest after the night was out.

But that would have to wait, and probably for some time to. Staring about him as several burly walruses thudded about the deck, attempting and failing to get things in order; Marius noted the array of extreme weapons that lay at his disposal to wipe out Cooper. Every single piece of weaponry was aimed at the quay opposite the boat on the cliffs. And there he could see, about two hundred metres away, the solitary blue and grey figure that was Cooper himself. Marius locked his eyes on him-it was just the two of them.

Several large metal tubes, about a metre long each with a large funnel at the end, swung out over the wooden railings of the boat and hung above the calm waters below. These seemed to be military grade rocket launchers. Besides these devices there were multiple deck mounted machine guns, mounted on gantries and balconies, each of their cartridges choked with extensive reels of bullets like teeth.

Finally, multiple grapple launchers, net launchers and tear gas launchers were being mounted atop tripods that were hurriedly being scooped from below decks and thus being erected by the walruses. It all seemed at least a tad extreme for just one raccoon; Eric was not known for being conservative. But then again, he was a Cooper. Still, Marius thought, maybe the old chap was just a bit senile. He did seem a little over the edge. There was no use in promising he could return him Cooper's body at all. With all these weapons Cooper would be completely torn to shreds. He would return his remains to the frog in a matchbox. He chuckled silently to himself at his dry wit.

Bringing himself back to the present task, General Aqualon gave a brief whistle in a rather tasteless fashion and turned about to face his armoury. He wished to make himself look as imposing as possible towards his men. He thought this was rather gloriously achieved, what with his tall and elegant physique. Then there was his imperious military green uniform he wore, the lapel encrusted in about twenty pins and medals he had succeeded in winning during his navy days. Then he sported a stiffly starched collar with a severe black tie, as well as a handkerchief, ironed within an inch of its life, that poked out of his right breast pocket. He also wore a pair of severely cut, black nylon type pants secured by a belt made from genuine Scottish leather.

Four of his bluish tentacles snaked out of the pants and lay pointedly on the deck. His other four tentacles protruded fourth from his shirt sleeves, tailor cut for him with four arms, allowing him to stroll back and forth with ease. Besides his very minute pencil moustache, he finished off his appearance with an official officer's cap, flat topped with a brim of black polished leather. One final detail was that he also sported four scabbards at his belt, two on each side. Each of these vessels nursed an elongated and venomous looking blade; one for each tentacle. He was the perfect walking arsenal in himself. He was glad he had kept his old naval uniform-it reminded him of his true status.

Raising a tentacle to steady the guards at the ready, General Aqualon silently praised the rain continuously pouring from the darkened sky. He had never liked the dry; it made him feel awfully parched and thirst ridden. This place, where there was water all around, was the form of location he liked. Keeping his arm up for another split second, Marius had another final thought as he flung it down; "Goodbye Cooper." There was a shrieking of shrapnel fire.

As the siren continued to belt outs its infernal blaring call, the heavy torrential rain continued to pound down on Sly as he gazed defiantly towards his enemies. This was really just what he needed, in a sarcastic way of course. With such a distraction in his way it was looking unlikely as to if he would ever be able to get back to his friends and free them, besides retrieving what remnants of his family's book were stored there.

Then there was still a potential skirmish with Carmelita to sort out. He cursed to himself in French and then again in English. Being French by his mother and possibly English by his father, Sly often did this, and often quite involuntarily. But it was no time at all to worry about his family history; he had already worked himself into yet another scrap indeed. But just as he realised what was going on, a tremendous crackling and rumbling of gunfire was heard atop the deck of the boat and, a few moments later, several bullets and shrapnel fragments soared over his head. Narrowly ducking down and flattening himself to the grass, Sly felt several hairs part company with the back of his scalp.

Quickly raising his head again, Sly was just in time to see a fair sized rocket, a severe looking colour of red, come thundering towards him with a trail of flame blasting from behind it. Giving a second, strangled yell, Sly pivoted himself over a bush and rolled down the embankment, coming to rest beside the control panel for the crane pulley. Again raising himself to his knees, Sly was just in time to see a large laurel bush that had been behind him burst into flames and fall to ashes as the rocket exploded.

His heart thundering loudly, and the sound of what seemed like a one-hundred and twenty piece orchestra thundering in his ears, Sly forced himself to his feet as a smaller green rocket hurled itself at him from across the water and erupted. A faintly green substance issued from it and floated down towards him as he ducked aside to avoid a second hail of blazing machine gun fire. His heart again pounding, and he himself panting like a demented steam engine, Sly glanced in shock at the green gas rapidly rolling towards him.

"Oh no," said Sly in a strangled cry, "Tear gas, not that again. Bentley got enough of that horrid stuff in Bogota." He felt his eyes start to water as the first wisps of cloud began to descend upon him.

Desperately, Sly raced forward and slammed his fist onto the control panel, which suddenly, surprisingly, blazed into life. A rusted humming began to issue from the winch before Sly realised he had just activated the crane mechanism. But the whole panel was beginning to shake and spark even now, as if it could not hold the pressure building within its worn circuits. But that worry was put an end to as several more rounds of shrapnel and bullets completely obliterated the panel surface. Seeing the hook on the winch swing out on the rusted metal arm, beginning to drop, Sly rushed for it, realising the mechanism had lost complete control. As he lunged and struck out for the rapidly disappearing hook with his cane, Sly was thankful had just done so because a truly enormous rocket had just propelled itself away from the deck and slammed headlong into the control box.

A tremendous roaring and tearing of tortured metal sounded as the cliff edge crumbled and blocks of limestone and granite thundered down the cliff and rained into the lagoon. The wooden platform had buckled and now splintered under Sly's feet as he lunged and it now tore itself free of the cliff and tumbled along with the mixture of earth and stone into the water several metres below. As for the control box, it had erupted in a plume of blaring orange light and torn itself apart in another ball of fire. The shrapnel realised from the exploding rocket now rained down upon Sly as he tumbled all but freely down to the sandy shore. The worst of it he had just realised; the crane arm had been torn free and the rope fell limp in his hands as it came uncoiled and fell past him to slither to the sand beneath.

The hook soared through the sky and struck a moss covered boulder on the beach with a resounding clang, which echoed off the cliffs, before slipping beneath the water to join the wreckage. Sly had just enough time to glance above him and see the orange mushroom cloud of flame from the control box explosion dissipate and blow away into the night sky, along with the gas, and reveal the smoking wreckage. Heaving a brief and suddenly strangled sigh, sly gaped in horror as he saw the bank rush up to met him. He hit the sand, stones and gravel with a gut-wrenching thud and the fragments of metal and wood rained down about him.

Raising his head with a pained movement, Sly felt an awkward pain suddenly sear in his left ankle. He must have landed on it awkwardly after his fall and now it hurt ever so slightly as he raised himself up and stood upon it to face his path. The floating trail of debris that would allow him entry to the enormous vessel lay before him now. But Sly was still aware of the several weapons even now reversing themselves to aim at him, simultaneously aware of his escape from the explosion. He threw himself with all his might behind a large boulder just as another awful hail of fire rained upon the beach and thudded and pinged off the sand covered shore.

As it was, a single bullet skimmed over the surface of the boulder and buried itself, with a painful jarring, into Sly's shoulder. He cried out in pain as he fell backwards and another bullet sailed past and sliced across his thin nose, causing a thin trickle of deep red blood to run down his cheeks and splash onto the ground. At the same time a descent trickle of blood was slowly oozing down his right shoulder from the first wound. With his teeth gritted and his eyes narrowed, Sly wrenched the bullet from his wound and tossed it into the water. The cut seared, but Sly managed to swallow down the pain and stem both wounds with sections torn from his handkerchief, which Bentley had made him take. He briefly mimed giving a-hundred thanks before he turned to face his attackers.

Edging forward to face his unseen foes, Sly felt his foot bump up against a small, hard piece of cold metal. He glanced downwards to see a small horse-shoe shaped device inlaid with bolts resting in a niche amongst the rocks. The raccoon's head logo was stamped upon it. Quickly he bent down and scooped up the small device. Flipping it over he noticed a single dial and metre that seemingly measured electric pulses, on the reverse side. It appeared from the outset to be one of Bentley's magnetic lucky horse-shoe devices; he pocketed it in his leg satchel. It would come in useful later. But as he stood up from behind his hiding place, he forgot the immediate peril he was in. A final rocket soared overhead and smashed with a colossal crash into the cliffs of granite and limestone. Rocks rained down in a cascade upon the spot Sly was standing. A ceaseless shower of gun fire rained around him as he lunged desperately forwards and plunged into the shallow water.

Immediately Sly remembered his lack of swimming abilities and with a choking gasp sank beneath the surface. The water foamed as several bullets pitched themselves through the clear surface and sank to the bottom. A single scrap of black material from Sly's blindfold drifted to the surface on its own. As for Sly, he was nowhere to be seen at all.

From the deck of the ship, General Aqualon gave a satisfied nod. His men stopped firing and the noise ceased. Giving a final sweep of the wreckage, Marius grunted satisfactorily; his mission had indeed been completed. For all practical purposes, now, Sly Cooper was dead.

#

Carmelita's head jerked up suddenly. Her keen ears had just heard a great echoing racket of gunfire, which had ceased shortly after it had begun. This had followed the blaring sirens she had heard earlier. What had become of Cooper? She could not know how to take this: the possibility that the ring-tail was dead. What would her life be like without the raccoon? This was even more incomprehensible than the thousands of other questions buzzing around in her head. But she did not know for sure – there was still the chance, the chance he was alive.

There had to be a chance. As much as a charlatan he might be, - even arrogant - Cooper did not deserve to die. To be gunned down by some organised crime figure. Not if she had anything to do with it. And she would find out. She would find Cooper. A single unbidden tear trickled down her check. She felt her heart throbbing in her chest, as if with more life than before. She would find Sly Cooper. As incomprehensible as it was, she knew this for certain. She would know: she had chosen this path for herself. Would her parents, though dead, have been proud? No one could say.

Her heart told her it was the right thing to do.

This is Chapter 10 - Chapter 7 of 13 in Part 2 of 6.
What will happen next - General Aqualon now thinks Sly is dead and he maybe just about the only one capable of halting Raleigh's terror.
Carmelita is not about to give up on the raccoon but greater obstacles are ahead. What part in all this will Bentley and Murray play.
Higgins' greater role is yet to be made apparent...
As always, I hope you enjoyed reading the story. More chapters are in the works soon...