There was a knock at the door to Quinn's office.
"Yes?" Quinn answered, signing off on a proposal to provide more police protection at the Castle Garden marketplace against cat attacks, though knowing full well that Warren's gang and the police had an agreement on how many mice they were allowed to take from that area.
His secretary answered the door, "There's a haggard, damp lizard with burn marks on his clothing to see you."
"This job," he sighed, "Send him in."
A few moments later Bill entered the room. He was indeed soaked after swimming through the water fountain to escape into Central Park; however that had felt wonderful after the burns he received from the hot coals.
"Quinn, we found the Indians!"
"What?" Quinn stood up from his chair.
"I was with Fidget and Chula, we saw Nellie Brie talking to these two guys Fidget and Chula knew…one of them was the toymaker. You know, Flaversham."
"He's here, in New York? Probably after his brat. Tell me you didn't lose track of Nellie Brie."
"Chula went after her, while Fidget and I followed the other two, through a secret passage in a statue at Central Park. The passage led deep underground, through a bunch of tunnels. But then, they made it to the secret Indian hideout. But it was booby trapped!"
"Booby trapped, you say?"
"Fidget chased them into the booby traps. I would have followed, but there were these hot coals. I got burned up, and I ran out. Fidget never came out again."
"Foolish bat. If the traps didn't kill him the Indians probably did," Quinn thought for a moment, "Drat, you should have followed without being seen! This means we won't have the element of surprise! And the Indians probably seal the tunnels now, just as they did beneath the subway. Idiots!"
"W-w-well Fidget was the one who had the idea to sneak up on them," Bill stammered.
"I needed time! We needed to find the entrance, and then alert the media and get everyone worked into a frenzy, leaving me looking like a hero after we destroyed the Indians!"
"I guess you could always um…come up with a new way of doing it," said Bill, "Ratigan improvised all the time when his plan hit a snag."
"He did, did he?" Quinn asked, opening up his top drawer, where he kept a picture of Ratigan, "What would my father do if he were me now?"
Quinn got up from his chair and paced, deep in thought.
"Did you hear from Chula?" Quinn asked.
"No, I came straight here," Bill answered.
"Chula should be able to tell me where Nellie is hiding. At least we've made some sort of progress. I must organize another meeting. We probably won't be able to stop the Indians from sealing the tunnel, but maybe we won't need to. How well do you remember the route you took?"
"Well, I remember we followed a pipeline for a long time. Then there were these big underground caves, and running water."
"Would you be able to show me approximately where you went from above the ground?"
"Maybe," Bill said, "I couldn't see much, we were relying on Fidget's bat radar most of the way."
"Well, you may still be of some help. You come with me back to the park, and show me exactly where this secret entrance was. We will attempt to trace it from there."
"Shouldn't we wait for Chula?" Bill asked.
"I'll let my secretary tell him I'm out at Central Park if he or Waul shows up."
"Say are we gonna get a raise for this?"
"Hm, maybe you and Chula will. Not Fidget. I should have known he'd be dead weight to our operation. Why else would my father throw him off a blimp?"
A while later, Quinn and Bill had retraced his steps back to Central Park, and were walking down the cement path toward the fountain, dodging the feet of humans along the way.
"Are you certain you remember which fountain it was?" Quinn asked, "There are several after all."
"I got a pretty good look at it when I was swimming in it, boss," said Bill.
"Very well then," he said.
As they walked, they were soon sighted by a bloodhound, which leapt out of the bushes at them. Startled, Quinn grabbed Bill and thrust him at the dog for his own protection.
The dog sniffed Bill instead, and scoffed in a British accent, "It's only one of Quinn's flunkies. And you must be Quinn Ratbone himself."
Madame Mousey exited the bushes as well, "Did you find any rodents?"
"The wrong one," said Sir Charles.
"Ahhh well if it isn't Monsieur Ratbone," Madame Mousey said, circling them, "And what can I do for you, mayor?"
Quinn composed himself, "You can tell your friend that I'm not Basil or Nellie, to start with."
"My apologies," she said with a smile.
"We have a serious lead on the whereabouts of the Lenape tribe," Quinn explained, "Bill and Fidget made it all the way to the entrance before blundering it like they always do."
"It was Fidget's fault," said Bill.
"So he is going to show you ze way? Maybe I can be of service to you, as your most productive and successful of subservients, no?"
"It would seem you have stiff competition from Chula now," said Quinn, "He's found Nellie, and will tell me where she is once he's done spying on her I presume."
News of this made Madame Mousey's blood boil, and she may have had a tantrum had she not been able to swallow her rage because Quinn was present.
"Ahem, I am sure I can at least be of help in some way now," she said.
"Perhaps," said Quinn, "If their hideout is directly beneath Central Park, we will need someone to help us dig. And dogs are known to be good at that sort of thing."
"Much better than felines," said Sir Charles.
They walked up to the fountain.
"That's the one boss, I'm sure of it." said Bill.
Charles sniffed the ground, "I smell rodents. Nellie was here."
"Yes she was," said Bill, "This morning. That's when Chula followed her."
Madame Mousey let out a low growl, angry that she had missed Nellie.
Quinn looked up at the statue at the center of the fountain, "Dare we look for the secret passage? It's possible they haven't sealed it yet."
"I don't know if we want to run into any Indians in there," said Bill.
"I should have contacted Chief Bellingham," said Quinn, "No matter. We'll stick to our original plan. Bill, lead us in the direction the tunnels went."
"Okay…I think it went that way, after a sharp drop," said Bill, pointing behind the statue.
The four of them followed, Sir Charles keeping his nose to the ground as they did.
"The tunnels were under a long pipe," said Bill.
"A pipe probably connected to the fountain," said Quinn, as he followed Bill.
Bill kept walking, until suddenly the ground began to cave in beneath him, leaving him up to his neck in dirt and in shock.
"A cave in! They must have already collapsed the tunnel right beneath us," said Quinn, "Little did they know we were directly above them, and now know exactly where their tunnel is."
"Shall we begin digging?" Madame Mousey asked.
"We're not prepared yet," said Quinn, "Let's wait, give the Indians a false sense of security while I get the police and Warren and Waul's gangs involved. We'll dig them up in a day or two. Thus it will look like cats, dogs and mice are working together in unison toward a common goal. Then I will take credit for the discovery, and my name will be guaranteed to be in the history books!"
"A little help here?" Bill asked.
"Oh come now Bill, I don't want to get my hands dirty," said Quinn.
Bill tried to drag himself out of the sinkhole. As he did, they noticed the figure of Cat R. Waul making his way down the pathway with Chula in tow.
"Ah and here comes my news on Nellie Brie," Quinn said with a grin.
"There you are Mr. Ratbone, I hope I've caught you at an appropriate time," said Waul, "It just so happens I have managed to procure some valuable information for you."
"Bill already told me, Chula found Nellie," Quinn said.
"He what?" Waul eyed the lizard in annoyance, the reptile having negated any chance Waul had of taking credit for the discovery himself, "Well, I trust he didn't tell you of Chula's findings?"
"No, that's what I was waiting for, but if it makes you feel more special, you can tell me instead of Chula."
Waul held back his anger and sighed, "Well, it would appear that the meddlesome reporter has taken up residence with Gussie Mausheimer. The two of them are plotting against you, but as far as Chula has found, they don't have anything to use against you yet."
"And they never will," said Quinn, "Blast that Mausheimer…I want your cat gang to survey her residence 24/7, understood? This is happening on your turf, so I'm going to put you in charge of this problem. I hope that I can trust you, as you joined this scheme rather reluctantly if I recall."
"Yes well, that was then. I think Warren really just wanted an excuse to club me in the head, really. Be that as it may, I've come to enjoy being back in charge of uptown. I assure you, you can count on me."
"Was anyone else with Nellie?" Quinn asked.
"Just that Middle Eastern kid," said Chula, "I think the other brats are down there with the Indians, along with their parents."
"So she hasn't reunited with Basil as far as we know," said Quinn, "I hope that remains the case."
"When will we get to eat the mice?" Chula said, excitement in his voice.
"Soon enough, but not right away," said Quinn, "Such a high profile death will send shockwaves. I want to try and work it out in my favor if we are to have Gussie eaten or assassinated in some other way. Just keep a close eye on them."
"Indeed we shall," said Waul, "So, I also hear you've finally found those Indian mice. Will you be needing my assistance in that matter?"
"Having you be present when we dig them up will show a sense of unity to the public, and make them trust you more, so yes. However, do leave some of your gang behind to watch Gussie's home."
"Very well," Waul replied.
"I will let you know when I'm ready to start the digging. It will be soon, I just need to organize it. I should let Officer Bellingham in on our discovery next. It seems we won't need the testimony of that captive anymore, though we can make it sound like he was the one who told us the location in the newspapers. Suppose I'll need to contact Reed Daley as well. I'm going to head back to my office and send the telegraphs, the rest of you may continue your tasks of patrolling your respective territories."
"Oui, Monsieur Ratbone," said Madame Mousey, "Good day to you."
"Indeed, Chula and I will be off at once, and I'll give orders to One-Eye, Frenchy and Felonius to patrol the Mausheimer residence in shifts."
Quinn nodded, and went off down the pathway, knowing he had nothing to fear from either dog or cat as he returned to Tammany Hall. Bill followed him, his outfit completely dirty.
"Don't forget to wipe your shoes when we get in," Quinn said.
As soon as he was out of earshot, Madame Mousey flashed Waul a grin.
"Failed once again to impress ze boss, have you? Poor little Pussy Poo, upstaged by his own minion."
"We'll see who's laughing when I am dining on Nellie Brie," Waul snapped back.
Madame Mousey growled, "Over my dead body you will. She's mine!"
"I can always arrange for your old owner to find you if you get in my way," threatened Waul, "I'm sure she's at the country club as we speak, telling my former owner about how much she misses you."
"If you did, what would stop me from arranging for your owner to find you? We're both on ze run from our wealthy, overbearing and annoying owners. Face it, we're not so different, Monsieur Waul."
"Our difference is that in this game of one-upsmanship, I will emerge victorious. And that I don't have to fake my accent. Nellie Brie is on my territory, therefore she is mine."
Madame Mousey was livid, but she gave an exasperated huff, "If those Indians are under ze park, zen Fievel is on my territory. How about if I give you Fievel? Zen can I have Nellie."
"I've no interest in that little brat anymore. I have what I want in life, and he's no longer a problem. Let him parish among the Indian mice for all I care."
Mousey growled again, "Then get out of my park!"
"Very well, I don't want to spend more time than I have to in this overgrown weed patch. Come Chula, we have a German mouse to stalk."
"Hehehe! We're gonna make mouse bratwurst outta her!"
"Eventually," Waul said, as the two of them walked off.
"Lone Woof would have torn him limb from limb by now," Sir Charles remarked.
"Don't you start!" Mousey barked back in her Brooklyn accent, before marching off in her own direction.