Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws.
The Fire Triangle—A Zootopia Fanfiction
Part One:
Fuel
Chapter 11 –The Fire Next Time
(Pt. 1)
Judy flattened herself against the wall, reaching with her paw and feeling for the keypad next to the door. On the opposite side of the doorframe, Nick Wilde was holding a pocket-mirror, tilting it so that his partner could see the control-panel without actually looking at it.
No way were they going to open this door while standing directly in front of it…or even in front of the access panel.
Both of them were dressed in their civvies. The Chief's text, (if the sender was Bogo,) had warned them in so many words that secrecy was absolutely vital. With that in mind, they had each decided separately to leave the cop-clothes at home. (Uniformed officers have a way of attracting attention.) Accordingly, Nick was dressed in his standard faux-Hawaiian ensemble, while Judy was wearing dungaree shorts, a knit shirt, and a hoodie, with a faded denim ball-cap to top it off.
She studied the mirror carefully, nose twitching in concentration. The reflection of the keypad was a reverse image of the real one and she needed to be certain of her actions; who knew what might happen if she entered the wrong access code?
The access code….dangit, she'd known it a minute ago!
"Nick, what're those door code numbers again?"
There was no answer for a few seconds.
"Nick?"
"Hold on, I'm thinking," the red fox replied, grumbling under his breath. Oh, swell…he'd forgotten it, too.
"Some pair of supercops WE are," Judy groaned inwardly, "So long Detective Bureau; maybe we'll catch you again someday."
Then Nick finally answered her.
"Okay, try 1620."
Judy's teeth came together and began to grind. "That's the UNIT number, Slick."
"Right, Right," he answered apologetically, "how about 403?"
If Judy's paws had been free, she would have…well, she wouldn't have known who to slap, herself, or the dumb fox.
"That's the address, Nick, and the door-code has FOUR digits."
"Sorry, Sorry…Oh wait, I know it's…uhm…uhhh, how about A113?"
"NICK!"
"Dangit Jude, I'm a fox, not an elephant. All right, wait….okay-y-y it's…5025, followed by the pound key."
"Are you…?" she started to asked
"Yes, I'm sure," the red fox snapped, sounding anything but certain of his response.
Neither was Judy, but she couldn't hold like this for very much longer. She reached a little further and began to enter the access code.
"One thing in our favor," she said to herself. "If there IS anybody watching from the other side of that door, they'll be too busy laughing to get the drop on us."
She drew in a short breath and pressed the #pound key; a soft click answered.
Taking hold of the doorknob, Judy slowly twisted it clockwise and then looked at Nick, who nodded and began to count off on his fingers; one…two…
On the count of three Judy threw open the door and the pair of them dived through the opening, landing in a prone position with their trank-guns at the ready.
No one was there…or was there? Just then, they heard a familiar, gruff voice, coming from somewhere around the corner.
"What's all this then, amateur dramatics?"
Nick and Judy looked at each other, more irritated than embarrassed; what did Bogo expect after sending them a cryptic message like that?
"At least we're here on time," the red fox pointed out, speaking either to the Chief or no on in particular. He got up and offered Judy a paw.
She allowed the fox to help her to her feet, but then realized something…how had Bogo known about the 'drama' if he hadn't been able to see…? Uh-oh, there it was, mounted on the ceiling
"Nick…camera," she hissed and he quickly let go of her. Secret meeting or not, they couldn't afford the risk; the last thing either one of them wanted was to give Rock Hardesty a little more ammunition.
Still, a camera…aimed at the door? That was odd, but it was also somewhat familiar. Judy had seen a set-up like this at least once before—but where?
Before she could remember, Chief Bogo appeared in the hallway. He too was out of uniform; shirtsleeves and suspenders. Throw in a shoulder holster and he would have looked the quintessential TV police-detective.
Typically, he was not in the mood for small talk.
"This way," he said, turning and beckoning for the fox and bunny to follow.
The further Judy ventured down the hall, the more curious—and recognizable—the surroundings became. This was supposed to be a commercial office space, and yet it contained a kitchenette (with a refrigerator), a bathroom with a shower, and just visible through a half-open door, a pair of twin beds.
All of these were in large-mammal size, (although the shower stall appeared to have been fitted second, smaller spray-nozzle and controls.)
But it wasn't until they reached the 'living room' that the doe-bunny finally got it. There, dominating one wall was a big screen-TV. And parked against the diagonal wall was a long, blond-oak table. Underneath that she could see six electrical outlets and hookups for eight separate telephone jacks.
There could be only one possible reason for such an arrangement…but just to make sure, Judy went over and tapped on a window her finger-claw. It responded with a dull 'thunk'.
Just as she'd thought—bullet-proof; she turned around again.
"This is a safe house, isn't it Chief?" she said and was rewarded with a small grunt.
"Yes, that's right; we've kept many a witness under wraps in this location—so I expect you two to keep it to y'selves." He said this while pointing at the fox and bunny in turn.
Nick just raised an eyebrow.
"Hmmm, we're on the top floor here…so I take it there's rooftop access?"
A small, droll smile wiped itself across Judy's face. Her partner was apparently not about to be put off—or outdone—by her. Just the same, it was a shrewd guess; this building had a wide, flat roof, perfect for a helicopter evac if the situation arose.
Bogo snorted again, and then grunted.
"Right, but you'll understand if I don't point it out," he said, and then directed them to the sofa facing the big-screen television. It was a little too large for either of them, and Judy was obliged to give Nick a boost before hopping up after him, (oddly enough, the coffee table facing the couch was just the right height for a fox and/or bunny.)
There was a large-mammal tablet lying on the tabletop and Bogo scooped it up as he took the seat crosswise of Nick and Judy. He gave them each a warning look and then his voice became portentous.
"What I'm about to tell you is not, repeat, NOT to leave this room…under any circumstances. Do you understand that, Hopps?" His eyes were boring into her like a gimlet.
Judy swallowed and said, "Yes Chief, I understand that."
Bogo nodded and turned his gaze on Nick, "Do you understand that, Wilde?"
His response was bit more flustered. "I, uhm, well, ah…yes sir."
"Good," the Chief nodded, and thumbed his tablet.
A video promptly appeared on the screen, 'Watch MoleJo presents, Gazelle's Top Ten Hottest Dance Moves.'
Bogo made a sound more appropriate to a rodent than a hooved mammal and frantically thumbed the tablet again.
The big screen instantly winked out.
"You NEVER saw that!" he belled …so loudly that the windows rattled.
Judy bit her lip and nodded, saying nothing for fear of what might come out instead. From the corner of her eye, she could see Nick pressing a foot down on his tail; he was also trying desperately not to laugh.
Bogo, meanwhile, was working the tablet again…and now a new image appeared on the screen, the smoldering skeleton of building, somewhere in the Rainforest District.
"This happened, the night before last," he informed his officers grimly, and thumbed the tablet again. The image vanished and new one appeared, of another smoking ruin, this one on a pier somewhere.
"The Canal District, two nights ago," the Cape buffalo said, "And this last one I think you two may recognize; Savanna Central, last week."
The view shifted to a row of storefronts, gutted in the shape of a V, with debris strewn all over the street in front of them. Judy grimaced and turned away with her eyes shut tight. That erased the image of the burned out building but not the one playing back in her head; a bundle of live electrical cables, drifting slowly towards the stream of water where she was standing.
Oh yes, she recognized that location all right; the broken power pole at the end of the building was a dead…was the giveaway.
"Are you okay, Carrots?" she heard Nick saying from beside her. His paw briefly brushed against hers, but did not take it; not in front of The Chief, and definitely not with Rock Hardesty on the warpath.
"Sir, with all due respect," the red fox queried stiffly, "Why are you showing us these photos?" He seemed angry and Judy wondered if it was on her behalf; piqued off at the Chief making her relive that experience.
Bogo folded his arms, the way he did just prior to making an announcement.
"Because Wilde, those fires were all deliberately set—and in all three cases, it was the work of professionals, not amateurs; the arson squad's confirmed it."
Nick's ears turned forward and his head tilted sideways…and Judy felt her nose twitching curiously. So…? So someone was running a fire-insurance scam; serious to be certain, but not urgent. Certainly it wasn't critical enough to require a secret meeting like this one. What the heck was going on here?
"Chief, I-I'm still not sure I understand." She said.
"Me neither," Nick agreed from beside her.
Bogo pointed at the image on the TV screen.
"There were several shops destroyed in that fire…but we've determined that the arsonist's target was a franchise of Tux-On Tuxedo shops."
That was even more confusing…to Judy. Nick gasped so loudly that it triggered a brief coughing spell. Maybe SHE didn't recognize that name, but with him it rang a cathedral bell.
Bogo moved back to the second picture, the smoldering pier.
"And this was formerly a franchise of Interspecies Recycling Services," he said, and this time there was no reaction from Nick except a puzzled look. Ditto for Judy; that name meant nothing to her.
Bogo clicked back to the first image.
"And THIS is what was once the Rainforest District branch of Tundratown Limousine Services. "
Now Judy gasped…even louder than her partner. She knew that name, how could she ever forget? Her confrontation with Nick at the fenceline, the discovery inside that limousine, the scratches, the polar-bear fur, and Mr. Otterton's driver's license; Tundratown limo was a name all but etched in her memory.
But mostly what she remembered was Mr. Big's ire upon learning that she and Nick had been caught nosing around the premises. If that was his reaction to a mere snooper, how would he feel about someone burning down one of his limousine stands?
Unless…hang on a second; unless it had burned on HIS orders; since when did gangsters not indulge in the odd insurance scam?
Except, if that was the case, what the heck was this meeting for, and why was it being held in secret?
Well, there was one possible way to determine if those fires were only about insurance; Judy posed the question as delicately as if she were venturing onto thin ice.
"And…Interspecies Recycling and Tux-On Tuxedos; are they also Mr. Big's properties?"
Bogo's face turned stone-cold grim.
"Tux-On yes, the recycling plant no; that belongs to, or should I say, formerly belonged to THIS individual."
He thumbed the tablet and a new image appeared on this screen.
Nick let out a whimper, and Judy would have done the same if rabbits were capable making that sound.
There, in front of them, was a surveillance-camera image of a burly javelina with reddish-brown fur. From his mode of dress he might have been just a regular-joe construction worker, a headband, a sleeveless ripstop jacket, and a greasy-blue work-shirt. His face, however, told a different story; a narrow gaze and an amused grin, as if he knew the ZPD was watching him—and was equally certain they couldn't touch him.
"Oh my God, the Red Pig." Nick was practically keening with apprehension.
Judy bit her lip and tried to recall everything she knew about the animal on the screen in front of her.
Rocco Peccari, aka the Red Pig, godfather of the Sahara Square Mob and Mr. Big's most hated rival. He had earned his underworld nickname not by way of his coloration, but for another reason. Whenever he lost his temper, (a not infrequent occurrence,) his face would turn the color of a ripe tomato—visible even through his facial fur.
Peccari had gotten his start as a lowly street enforcer, rising quickly through the ranks to become head of The Razorbacks, the Sahara Square Mob's strong-arm squad. Eventually, he had gone all the way to the top, an elevation that, according to Nick Wilde, had driven Mr. Big to a state of near apoplexy—and the feeling was apparently mutual. Not to put too fine a point on it, they hated each other's guts.
"Chief," Nick sounded a schoolkit, who hadn't understood the teacher's question, "we know those fires were set on purpose, but has there been any…are we sure that either The Red Pig or Mr. Big was behind any one of them?"
Bogo answered him by clicking to another image.
"This is from a surveillance camera, taken just before the Tux On shop went up; you tell me."
Judy felt as if she'd been punched in the gut. The surveillance camera photo showed a pair of animals apparently fleeing the scene. The image was grainy and slightly blurry and they were visible as barely more than silhouettes—but the profile of the first one was unmistakable. A curved snout, a flattened nose, tushes and floppy ears; this face could only belong to a member of the hog family.
"And the other locations?" The doe-bunny queried…half-heartedly, as if she already knew the answer.
Bogo didn't disappoint her…or perhaps it would have been better to say, he disappointed her mightily.
"The Quarantena Canal—that's the waterway that runs past Interspecies Recycling—was found to be full of polar bear fur on the morning after the fire; we haven't been able to make any individual identifications but it was definitely from that species. As for the Tundratown Limo fire, The ZFD found a discarded overshoe left outside the door. Forensics says it was definitely worn by some sort of smaller hoofed mammal, and it was also found to contain hog hair. We've also got a security camera photo from that location." He gave a small snort, "I won't bother showing it to you; I think you've got the idea."
"Yes Chief, we get it," Nick responded, sounding suddenly very tired, "But why us, why are we here?"
Bogo grunted and the hint of a smirk flitted across his face, as if this was the very question he'd been hoping the fox would ask.
"Because," he said, "The last property to be set alight belonged to Mr. Big; that puts the ball in his court, doesn't it?"
He set his paws on his hips, looking from the fox to Judy and back again.
"There's no one on the force as familiar with that arctic shrew as you two. You, Hopps, are the Godmother to his daughter's little girl…and you, Wilde; you were his associate for many years."
"Until he excommunicated me," the red fox pointed out, "for selling him that skunk butt rug. After that, I was completely shut out of the loop."
Bogo raised an eyebrow.
"I thought he'd forgiven you for that."
"He has," Nick admitted, "but that doesn't mean I'm a friend of his, much less a friend of ours, if you know what I mean." He leaned forward with his paws on his knees. "Especially since I joined the ZPD; the only way I could get back into his good graces NOW would be if I were to go on the take and…well, you know I won't do that."
He said this last while looking earnestly up at the Cape buffalo, who made a small sound and nodded in grudging approval.
"Quite right, but you've still got some idea as to how he thinks, haven't you; the way he operates?"
"Mmmm, yes…I suppose so," the red fox nodded reluctantly.
"Okay Chief, we get that," Judy interjected, "But you still haven't said what it is that you want from us." She really was curious, but at the same time, she hoped to deflect him from what she was sure was coming next; a recap of the method by which she and Nick had 'persuaded' Duke Weaselton to give them Doug.
Again, she saw that barest hint of a smirk, "Because, as I said, since Mr. Big was the last injured party, it will be his turn to light the next fire…and if we can determine when and where he's going to strike, then maybe, just maybe, we can stop it before it happens." His expression turned wanly hopeful. "Perhaps we can even put an end to this tit-for-tat arson business before it escalates any further."
He got up and began pacing back and forth, gesturing with a hoof—while Judy stared with her nose twitching. She had never seen him do this before.
"I don't think I need remind either one of you what a gang-war between the Tundratown and Sahara Square mobs would mean for this city; panic, chaos, collateral damage, civilians caught in the crossfire." He stopped and looked directly at her and Nick.
"In fact, it's happened already, hasn't it?"
To illustrate what he meant, Bogo snatched up the tablet and moved his thumb over it. The photo of the Tux-On fire reappeared on the screen.
"Not only Mr. Big's establishment, but that entire row of shops has had to be condemned," he said, "Four innocent animals, none of whom had anything to do with either Mr. Big or the Red Pig have lost their businesses because of that fire."
Judy breathed an inward sight of relief; for a second there, she had thought he has going to bring up…
"…to say nothing of how you nearly paid full price because of it, eh Hopps?"
Judy felt that punch to the gut again. Over on the right, Nick was halfway out of his seat and trying not to show his fangs; it did not go unnoticed by the Chief.
"Sorry, had to say it." The big Cape buffalo shrugged. For perhaps half a second his expression was sympathetic, but then his features turned as dark as a black hole, "When someone endangers the life of one of MY officers, I take it very seriously."
Nick and Judy regarded each other for a moment, the fox looking slightly contrite. Yes, he did, and everyone on the force knew it.
"So," Nick finally ventured, "I take it what you want from us is some insight as to where and when Mr. Big will hit back?"
"Yes, exactly that." the Big Cape buffalo said, folding his arms again. Judy suspected that was far from everything he wanted; otherwise, why all the secrecy? Did he, for example, expect her to try and get anything out of Fru-Fru? If that was the case, sorry, but the idea was a complete non-starter. Not only would Fru never give away any of the family secrets, she had no secrets to give. Mr. Big had always gone out of the way to keep his daughter insulated from 'that life,' as he called it. Fru-Fru probably had little more knowledge of her father's 'business dealings' than Bogo did—if that much.
Meanwhile, her partner had a suggestion, "Chief, before we go any further, may I offer something that might help us avoid becoming redundant and repetitive."
He said this with just hint of a sardonic smile—and Judy rolled her eyes. That was Nick; even now, he couldn't resist playing the sly fox.
But then he got serious.
"How much do you actually know about the relationship between Mr. Big and the Red Pig?"
Bogo thought for minute.
"Hmmm, let's call it the gist but not the specifics," he said.
"Well, I don't know anything," Judy suddenly said, in an outburst that surprised even her. "WHY the heck do they hate each other so much? It can't be all just fursonal."
"You're right, it isn't." Nick told her. He looked at the Chief, who nodded as if giving the fox permission.
"It actually goes back a lot further than the Red Pig, Carrots," he said, "Remember what I told you once, about how Mr. Big's dream has always been to open a casino—his own, legal gambling casino—in Tundra town?"
Judy did remember. "Yes, and you also told me that he was never able to make it happen."
"Right," the red fox nodded, "and for that, he can thank the Sahara Square Mob; every time he tried to make it happen, they blocked it."
Judy felt her nose beginning to twitch again.
"How'd they manage that; was someone on the City Council taking payoffs?" It wasn't hard to imagine Dawn Bellwether accepting kickbacks from the mob.
It was Bogo who answered her.
"Didn't need one, Hopps; the last time Mr. Big tried to get license to build a casino in Tundratown was right before you joined the force. " He snorted cynically, "I'll never forget it. The day of the vote, a group called the Million Mammal Mums staged a protest rally outside City Hall. Huge crowd, practically a multitude; so many animals in attendance, they were backed up all way onto the steps of Precinct-1. I had to dispatch every officer in the building to go help keep the peace—even Clawhauser, yes, I know!"
He drummed his fingers on the crook of his elbow waiting for his officers to stop sniggering. They couldn't help it; the thought of Benjamin Clawhauser in riot gear was just TOO much.
"Anyway," Bogo finally said, "Leodore Lionheart was mayor back then, so you can imagine how HE reacted when he saw that crowd; no casino in Tundratown—ever! We later learned the buses that delivered most of protesters were paid for by the Red Pig; so was the crew that cleaned up after them. And as I've already said, that was the last time Mr. Big tried bring legalized gambling to Tundratown."
"All right," Judy nodded. Her next question felt like something only a dumb bunny would ask, but she had to know. "But why would the Red Pig want to keep Mr. Big from getting a casino in the first place?"
Bogo's answer was mercifully absent of any condescension, "because the Sahara Square Mob is perfectly happy to have only ONE legal gambling establishment in Zootopia; the Palm Hotel Casino—in their territory."
Judy felt her ears standing up.
"Hold on, they own that casino?" This was sure as heck news to her.
Bogo waved a hoof.
"No, but they're certainly skimming the take. We've never been able to prove it, but we know they're doing it; every time one of the Red Pig's captains sits down at a table in that casino, he always gets up with a LOT more money than he brought with him."
"AND the Sahara Square Mob controls every service industry connected to that casino," Nick Wilde reminded them both, "Food and beverage, sanitation, uniforms, janitorial services, even security."
"Quite right, and to say nothing of their hold on the Service Workers Union," Bogo nodded in concurrence. "If he wanted to, the Red Pig could shut down that casino with a snap of his fingers. It's the sort of arrangement Mr. Big can only dream about; and the Sahara Square mob's not about to share the wealth—with anyone, and especially not him."
"Ohhhh, I see," Judy nodded again, but then Nick Wilde spoke up.
"Ahhhh, I'm not quite sure if you do, Chief…Carrots?" he said, "You see, this casino business isn't just about greed; for the Sahara Square Mob, it's a matter of survival."
"Survival?" Judy's nose was twitching again.
"Survival?" Bogo echoed, staring confusedly at the fox, "What d'you mean then, Wilde?"
Nick got up off the sofa. "The Tundratown Outfit is the largest crime-family is in Zootopia, sir. Mr. Big controls at least twice as much territory as the Red Pig, and has three times as many soldiers—BUT!" he raised a finger, "thanks to the Palm Hotel Casino, the Sahara Square Mob is much richer…and that kind of money buys a lot of outside muscle."
"So if Mr. Big were ever able to open a legal gambling casino…" Judy prompted, beginning to get it at last.
"…it would change the balance of power," Bogo was musing thoughtfully, "And that explains why those two have never come to blows…at least until now. Please Wilde, do go on."
The red fox did just that.
"So Mr. Big has never gotten along with the Sahara Square Mob—but things really started to come off the rails when Rocco Peccari took over." He looked at Bogo, "And that one IS mostly fursonal Chief. Mr. Big thinks The Red Pig is nothing more than an elevated street thug—which is at least partially true—and Rocco Peccari thinks he's some kind of relic, 'past his expiration date,' is how he puts it."
A corner of Bogo's mouth turned wryly upwards
"Hmmm, sounds like you were privy to some of their exchanges, Wilde."
"Only one sir," Nick answered him, "but I can't forget that evening. It was the first time they ever met face-to-face, at the Bella Notte restaurant in Savanna Central."
"Neutral ground," the Chief observed with a grunt, "Figures."
"Right," Nick nodded. "The Red Pig was just a captain back then, but he was considered a real comer. Anyway, after we sat down, Mr. Big delivered a lecture about the importance of honor and proper respect. Peccari listened politely, or that's what everyone thought, but then he snorted and said, "Get the heck outta here, Big; that stuff went out with rotary phones. You wanna waste yer time swimmin' in the Egyptian river, go right ahead. Me, I don't got time for that stuff, I got business to conduct; this ain't the old country and we ain't any of your so-called mammals of honor—we're crooks. That's what I am and that's what you are. And the sooner you face it, the better off you're gonna be."
Judy stared, and Bogo let out a low whistle.
"Good Lord, how the devil did the Red Pig ever get away with talking to Mr. Big like THAT?"
Nick shrugged and his expression turned sly. "Because he was right and deep down Mr. Big knew it. That—and Peccari had half the Razorbacks with him; even Koslov was going to think twice before taking them on. They may not be the biggest animals in Zootopia, but enforcers don't come any meaner than those pigs."
"And they're fanatically loyal to their boss," Bogo snorted, "Mmmm yes, that'd do it, I shouldn't wonder."
"Yep, that's right," Nick nodded, again with that sly smirk, "It did come close though. When Kevin and Koslov heard what Peccari was saying to their boss, they both went for their jackets—and Raymond slipped me a gun under the table; I just about wet my pants."
All three of them shared a hearty, cathartic laugh…and then Nick pulled yet another surprise from out of his sleeve.
"But what you need to understand sir is that Mr. Big was every bit as much out of line back there as The Red Pig."
"What then?" Once more Judy and the Chief were staring dumfounded at the fox.
"I know, I know…it sounds crazy." Nick told them, making 'slow down' gestures with his paws. "But you see, it's completely against mob protocol for a boss to give another boss's captain a lecture like that…especially behind his back. As they say across the pond, it's 'Not Done.' And when the Red Pig's chief heard about it, he went right through the ceiling. He called up Mr. Big and told him, "You backstabbing little shrimp; I'll pour gas on myself and play with matches before I'll let you open a casino in Tundratown . It's never happening, you hear me; NEVER!"
Bogo let out another low whistle.
"Cor, I'll bet Mr. Big didn't like that very much."
"No sir, he didn't," Nick nodded, "and he blamed the whole thing on the Red Pig." He threw up his paws, as if in surrender. "That was it; that's where the bad blood between those two really got started."
"And it's only gotten worse since then, hasn't it?" Bogo observed pointedly.
Judy whistled through her fingers, as if to call 'time.'
"All right, let me see if I got this," she said, "It sounds to me as if a gang war between the Sahara Square Mob and the Tundratown Outfit has been brewing for a long time now—but they've never actually come to blows because they're too evenly matched; neither one of them can actually win that fight, am I right?"
"That's about the size of it, Hopps." Bogo's hooves were on his hips again, "And I'll guess that your next question is, then why've they chosen to ago after each other's businesses now?"
"That's about the size of it, Chief," Judy said, unable to keep the wryness out of her voice.
The corners of Bogo's mouth turned in opposite directions.
"If it were Mr. Big that started it, I'd be every bit as puzzled as you are, Hopps." he said, and then the amusement vanished abruptly from his face, "only it wasn't him, was it? It was the Red Pig drew first blood—and since when has that walking volcano ever needed a reason to go off on a rampage?"
Nick Wilde's paw shot upwards, as if grabbing for a runaway balloon.
"With all due respect sir, I disagree with you there. The Red Pig may be crude and he may be temperamental…but a loose cannon, he's not. If that was the case, he'd never have lasted this long as boss of the Sahara Square mob. Matter of fact, the word on the street is that they've been earning better than ever since he took over. Believe me; Rocco Peccari would never put a match to one of Mr. Big's properties over anything trivial, no matter how mad he was. It'd take a lot more than say, an imagined insult to make him go that far."
Bogo nodded and that sardonic smile crossed his features again…but his time filled with a significance that Judy wasn't sure she liked.
"And that," he said, "is precisely why I've asked you to be here." He pointed to a desk, propped against the far wall, where a stack of thick Manila folders lay.
"Those are the case files from the three arson fires. I need you study them and then put your heads together; try to figure out where—and possibly when Mr. Big is likely to take his revenge on the Red Pig."
He pulled out a memory stick; in his oversized hoof, it looked like a soap-flake.
"The video files are here," he said, passing it to Judy, who took it as if it might contain a hidden booby-trap.
"How long do we have?" she asked him.
Bogo tapped at a horn for a moment.
"I'll need something preliminary by tomorrow afternoon; other than that, take as much time as you need, but try to work fast as you can; I don't think I need remind you that the clock is ticking."
"Actually sir, I think we have some breathing space," Nick Wilde responded, disagreeing with his Chief yet again. "Mr. Big won't hit back right away; his motto has always been, 'Revenge is a dish you want to eat cold.'"
"What, that line from 'The Wrath of Khamel?'" Judy's ears were pointing straight up at the ceiling.
Nick smiled slightly. "It's actually an old Sealpolitain saying—and what it means is, if you want to get payback on someone don't do it right away, give your emotions time to cool down, so you can think it through logically."
"Right, and you also want to give it some time so's to lull your opponent into a false sense of security." Chief Bogo was also familiar with the homily. He frowned, deeply, "Except that won't happen with the Red Pig, will it? HE won't be fool enough to lower his guard, no matter how long Mr. Big holds off."
"No sir, he won't," the red fox agreed, "But Mr. Big will still give it some time before he retaliates; I've never known him to do anything else."
He seemed to immediately regret his words—and Judy thought she knew why; however unintentionally, he had just roped them into this job.
Not that she minded, at least not as much as her partner. The Chief was right; a gang war between the Tundratown and Sahara-Square mobs would be a cataclysm for the city of Zootopia. And if it was within her means to help prevent it…of course she'd accept the assignment.
"In the interest of security," Bogo was saying, sweeping his hoof around the room "I'd like you to make this your temporary headquarters. And again, you're to say nothing of what you've seen and heard here, not to anyone else; and that includes your fellow officers."
His final admonition caught Judy almost completely by surprise; what, not even the other cops? She was tempted to ask him why, but something inside the gray-furred bunny was telling her to keep it to herself, at least for now.
"Right then, is there anything you need, before I go?" Bogo asked. He seemed to have just now realized that he had important business elsewhere.
"We could use a laptop." Nick Wilde submitted.
The Chief pointed to the desk where he'd left the case files.
"There's one in the top drawer there," he said, "It's got a wireless remote so you can connect it to the wall TV if you like. Anything else?" He was raising an eyebrow while squinting with the other one; Bogo-ese for, 'I wouldn't say yes, if I were you.'
"Noooo, I think we're good," Judy answered him—quickly, before Nick could put his foot in it.
"Right, I'll leave you to it, then." The Cape buffalo told them, turning for the hallway. "Let me know at once if you get any ideas." He went to the door and left without another word.
Judy waited until he was out of hearing range, and then turned and spoke to her partner.
"Well, at least now we know the real reason he let us get pulled us off the Conor Lewis investigation." The Chief had seemed a mite less reluctant to let that happen than he'd indicated, (or that was how it felt anyway.)
Nick stubbornly folded his arms.
"That's still the case I'd rather be working, Carrots."
"So would I," Judy thought but did not say. Even so, there was no denying that the assignment they'd been given took precedence. Serious as it was the young silver fox's escape from custody wasn't putting any lives in danger. A full scale gang-war would, and then some—unless they could stop it in time. However, given the expression on her partner's face, Judy decided that it would be most unwise of her to say so. Instead she opted instead for a change of subject.
"I didn't want say this while the Chief was here, Nick, but why all the secrecy; do you have any thoughts about that?"
As a matter of fact, he did.
"Yes, but you're not going to like it, Carrots. I don't know what the situation is now, but back when I first knew him, Mr. Big had at least a few ZPD officers on his payroll."
Judy's paws flew up to her mouth; if anyone [i]else[/i] had said that…
"And could he still, do you think?"
"Not a clue," the red fox admitted, shrugging, "But Chief Bogo seems to think it's at least a possibility…and if I were him, I wouldn't take chances either." He looked at her with an eyebrow raised, in sardonic imitation of their boss, "Anything else?"
Judy giggled; she couldn't help it, and then she got serious.
"Just one thing; is there anywhere around here to get something to eat? I've got a feeling we're going to be working straight through dinner."
"There's a food-cart collective right around the corner," the red fox told her, ever the savvy mammal when it came to the streets of Zootopia. And then he went over to the desk, where the case-files lay. It was a little too tall for a fox-sized mammal, and he had to scramble up onto the desk chair in order to reach the folders.
"In the meantime, let's see what we have to work with here."