Chapter Three

Lizz: Oh, yeah, that was mean of Basil to send Meg on a false trail.

Meg: Plot people, PLOT!

"Not so fast," an almost whiny voice commanded. I froze. A muscular mouse stood right in our path, but he had not been the one talking. I spotted two others behind him. The smallest continued talking. "Now come with us, sir, and we promise we won't do nothin' to you or your little girl."

I pushed Flaversham and Olivia behind me and faced the three kidnappers. "Over my dead body!" I cried.

"No Mrs. Havers!" the toy maker hissed. "Let me defend my own family."

I ignored him. "Who's that?" the middle-sized mouse asked. "No one said nothin' about no broad."

"Who cares? Gut 'er and get the others!" the small one, who was obviously the leader, ordered.

"Aaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeee!!!!!" I did not realize I had shouted that out until I had kicked the big mouse in the chest. He fell back into his two comrades, bringing them all to the floor. Flaversham grabbed Olivia and the three of us ran pass the would-be captors. The small mouse reached for my foot, but it slipped from his grasp. The middle-sized one recovered first and lunged at me.

"Go!" I screamed to the Flavershams.

Mr. Flaversham pushed the girl to the door and ran back to help me.

"No! Go!" I repeated as I fought the mouse. I almost had him.

His buddies were there to help by that time, and the big mouse assisted the middle-sized one in trying to pin me down. The small one pressed a gun to my head and barked, "I'll blow your brains out if you move again!"

I immediately stopped. I was no use to anyone dead.

Flaversham stopped too. I noticed Olivia had not tried to leave at all.

"Get in there!" the middle-sized mouse shoved me roughly into a small closet and slammed the door. I heard a key turn in the lock.

I had been beaten, blindfolded and dragged through the streets of New York. I had absolutely no idea where I was. The last I had seen of Mr. Flaversham and Olivia, they had been tied up too, but had not left the toyshop like I had.

I struggled with the bonds on my hands and feet. I realized that the ropes on my hands were not tied on very tightly, and if I worked with them enough, I could probably loosen them. In ten minutes I was completely free. But how do I get out of here? Suddenly I had a plan.

I started to bang on the door. At first my captor ignored me, but after a few minutes it started to bother him. "Shuddup in there, will ya!" he yelled. I continued my pounding. "If you don't quit it, you're gonna wish you was never born!"

I ignored his threats. Finally I heard him unlock the door. When he opened it I gave him a sharp kick in the groin. He crouched over, groaning. I found a fireplace poker for a weapon. Tripping the thug, I easily pinned him down and held the poker close to his throat. "Okay pal," I said, breathing heavily. "Who has the Flavershams? And don't try anything funny. I've killed pirates before."

He took me for my word. "My boss."

"Who is your boss, scum?"

"Uh..."

I pushed the poker closer. "Don't you lie to me!"

"Okay, okay, it's Childres!"

"Childres? The president of Standard Oil?"

"Yeah."

So Basil had been right about him. "Why does he want them?"

"How should I know? He just told us to get the toy maker."

"Where did your buddies take Mr. Flaversham and his daughter?"

"Uh... San Antonio."

"Where?"

"Texas."

"How are they going to get there?"

"Rail."

"What station?"

"Grand Central. But you're too late. The train leaves at one!"

His eyes darted to the wall on my right. I followed his glance to a clock there. Quarter to one.

"Ten minutes!" I gasped.

I still had him pinned down, but I was starting to lose my footing. The thug shoved me off and pulled out a switchblade. I thought about fighting him, but decided to try to get to the train before it left. I dropped the poker and ran out of the room.

I flew down flights of stairs and past machinery. I was in a factory. Once outside, I realized that I was in the slums, with no idea where to go.

I finally started off through the deserted streets, trying to find some directions. Suddenly a fat yellow cat jumped in front of my path. I gave a small shrieked.

"Mmmmm... I could go for a midnight snack about now," he purred.

"Oh really?" I squeaked. "Well, uh, eating this late can be bad for you." What was I saying? I slowly started to back up. "Well, uh, see you later?"

I turned to run. The cat leaped in my path. "I don't think so."

He pounced. I threw myself sideways, and he missed me. He pawed at me, knocking me into the street. I fell next to a sewer grate. I quickly rolled myself into the sewer, landing into a pile of wet newspapers and sludge.
After traveling the sewer for some distance, I crawled out and found my way to Grand Central Station. Of course I was too late.

I bought a ticket for the next train to San Antonio, and then sent a telegram to Basil telling him exactly what had happened and that I was going after them. Since the train did not leave until 8:00 am, I went back to the apartment, freed Caleb (who was still tied up), got my things, and used the Flavershams' telephone to call the police. I told Caleb to stay there until they arrived, and went back to the station.

Even though it had been about an hour since I had sent the telegram, I checked to see if there was any response. When there was not, I acquired a list of stops before the train reached San Antonio and sent them to Basil.

Afterwards, I found a seat and waited, exhausted.

This is it. You're all alone. You've got to act the part of the detective now.
Sarah: How come the cat can talk? Felicia and Toby never did.

Meg: I was thinking more of "An American Tail". Sorry.

Sarah: Then why don't you change it?

Meg: Because this story just seems to make more sense with talking cats/dogs. You'll see.

JWJ: Meaning that she was just too lazy to change it.

Meg: Hey!