Chapter Two

Meg: I was suddenly inspired. I think I can really write a pretty decent story now. Dekujama: sorry about the note things. I get really off the wall when I start writing.

Multiple hands grabbed my arms and pinned them behind me. I made an attempt to call out for help, but a handkerchief then my mouth was gagged. I twisted and kicked, but it was like chasing shadows—they were everywhere and nowhere at once.

Then the lightning flashed again, revealing to me glimpses of mice, of Isabelle with her mouth open as if to scream; but was she screaming? Of Li Yan, eyes closed as if she were dead; of Mrs. Judson, fainted, being supported by a thug, of Olivia, kicking and yelling. My right arm tore free, and I slugged the nearest face, but then the room went black.

Another flash and I was entirely free, I headed for the door, but I was moving as if under water, so slowly, and the thugs were moving normally.

Strong hands pulled me, threw me back into the darkness. Darkness! Evil lurked there; was at my elbow; whispered into my ear, "Do not resist my dear, you will only make it harder for your friends."

"No!"

I was bound and gagged and taken away.

It was quarter past eleven by the time Basil, Dawson, Liang, and Flaversham arrived back at Baker Street on a hansom. Rahle had gone on to his own studio a few streets away.

Dawson took out his key to the flat, but before he could place it in the lock Basil held up a hand. "Wait," he said softly.

"What's wrong?" Flaversham asked.

"No welcoming fire, no food being baked in the oven ready for our return, no lights on at all."

"Maybe they got tired of waiting for us and went to bed," Dawson offered.

Basil threw the door open. "Unlocked," he muttered before dashing inside.

He lit a match, revealing nothing particularly out of the ordinary. The others came in after him. Basil lit a lamp as Dawson and Flaversham rushed upstairs. Liang began to search the kitchen. In a few minutes they all gathered back downstairs.

"No one's here!" Dawson exclaimed. "Where could they have gone?"

Basil slammed his fist on the mantle. "That foul sewer rat!" he burst, motioning to a spot on the mantle. "He's done it again!"

Dawson gasped. The bell, the symbol of Ratigan's greatest defeat, was no longer there.

We were huddled together in the middle of Ratigan's throne room. Thugs mingled around the walls, waiting to see what their cruel leader would do to us. Ratigan seated himself on the throne, grinning gleefully at our defenseless position.

I closed my eyes, hoping that this nightmare would all disappear. But when I opened them again I was more disappointed than before.

"Miss Sarentis, you seem angry. Any particular reason why?" he said in mock concern.

I felt my face grow hot. "You despicable man! You know exactly why I'm angry!"

"Yes, why don't you just leave us all alone?" Isabelle added, as furious as I was.

"Or does that sound too reasonable for you?" I said sarcastically.

Ratigan's grin widened. "You know what would sound reasonable to me?" he asked. I decided that this was a rhetorical question and did not response. "What would sound reasonable to me would be if you, Megana, saved yourself all of this trouble and joined with my side."

I wanted to shout "NO!" but the words would not come out of my mouth. I began to think rapidly as Isabelle shot back, "Why would she join with low-life criminals like you? You're all rotten, stupid, immoral, low-life demons!"

The thugs started to mutter to themselves, fingering weapons and glaring at Isabelle.

I meant to whisper, "Isabelle, shut up!" but it came out as a sort of half-shout, so everyone in the room heard it.

Isabelle glared at me. "Are you taking their side?" she demanded.

"Girls…" Mrs. Judson began.

"I am not taking their side!" I interrupted.

"Oh yes you are!"

"Girls!" Mrs. Judson reprimanded in a low voice. "Stop fighting. We need to stick together."

"Women," one of the thugs laughed. "They are sure feisty."

Isabelle and I blushed. We looked abashedly at each other.

"What are we going to do?" Isabelle asked softly.

"I don't know. It's almost useless to do anything. They have the upper hand."

"There's nothing we can do?"

"Can't we try to reason with him?" Mrs. Judson asked, motioning to Ratigan.

"Reason with the most diabolical mind in the world?" I scoffed. "I'm sorry Mrs. Judson. It would never work."

"Well, he did not lock us up right away. Isn't that a good sign?" she persisted.

I shot a glance at him, and my insides boiled. I just wanted to slap that smug smile off his face. "He's toying with us..."

"Professor Ratigan," Mrs. Judson said, placing her hands on her hips, "I demand that you let us go right now!"

The thugs guffawed at her show of bravado. "Let you go? But you just got here!" the criminal mastermind chuckled.

"Professor Ratigan," I said in the calmest voice I could muster, "why do you have to pick on defenseless women and adolescent girls? Is Basil becoming too much of a challenge for you?"

There was a hushed silence. All eyes were upon Ratigan. He appeared quite composed. He rose from the throne and started towards me, a mad gleam in his eyes.

"On the contrary, my dear…" he said, "…you are all exactly how I am going to finally defeat Basil."

"How?" Olivia asked, steeping out in front.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Ratigan's attention was diverted away from me.

"Patience, you little brat," he said, his eyes narrowing at her. "You will soon see. It is absolutely marvelous!"

Rafael ran in. "Professor, Igor escaped!"

"WHAT?" Ratigan yelled. He bounded out of the room, screaming, "HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?"

A majority of the thugs followed their leader. I looked to my companions. Isabelle nudged me, whispering, "Perhaps they'll forget us!"

That was too hopeful a wish. Several thugs were left to us. They grabbed each of us and dragged us out of the throne room and threw us into a small, dank cell.

Basil felt the ashes of the fire. "They had to have been taken a few hours ago. Ashes are cold." He went throughout the room, inspecting every square inch of the room. "Besides the missing bell, no traces of anything out of the ordinary."

"How are we going to find them?" Flaversham asked cautiously.

"He will drop clues as we go along, luring us into some sort of trap. Then we will be quite helpless. That is why I need you, Liang, and you, Flaversham, to stay out of this. The trap is meant for me, not for either of you."

They nodded, but Flaversham shook his head, as if agreeing against his better judgment.

"Liang, call Mouseland Yard. They may know something, but I doubt it. Dawson, come with me."

The duo went to the passage to Upper 221B. They climbed through the mouse hole, Basil softly calling to Toby. A high-pitched whimper emitted from the next room over.

"Dawson, over here!"

They heard a scratching and a clawing from behind the door to the Master's bedroom, followed by another whimper.

Basil pulled himself to a bookshelf next to the door, then jumped to the doorknob and turned it. The door cracked open. Basil dropped to the floor, and pushed open the door enough for Dawson and himself to enter.

Toby had been muzzled and leashed, the leash tied to the bedpost. He pulled and whined when he saw Basil.

The two mice worked to free the poor dog. "Ratigan's behind this!" Basil said furiously. "I will hunt that vile, disgusting sewer rat if it takes the rest of my days!"

Rahle had been thrown out of a small pub for trying to woo the landlord's pretty daughter. Now, nursing a wounded ego, he started to make his way back to his flat.

A dark figure made its way down the street in the opposite direction, looking over its shoulder every few feet. Rahle did not notice it until they both ran into each other.

"Ah! Imbecile!" the French mouse barked.

The other mouse grabbed him and looked him in the face. "Jean-Paul Rahle?" he said in a thick accent.

From the mouse's East European accent, Rahle thought it was a Romanov. He began to fight from the mouse grasp. "Get away from me! I have a gun!"

"Rahle, Rahle, it's me! It's Christopher Igor!"

"Igor?" Rahle moved to a streetlamp, to reveal a Transylvanian mouse with black fur. "What are you doing in this country?"

"I fell in with bad company. Rahle, you've got to hide me!"

"The Romanovs aren't after you too, mon ami?"

Igor was confused. "No. Ever heard of Professor Ratigan?"

Rahle gasped. "Did you not know that he was one of my clients?"

"Was?"

"Bad business deal. Haven't done business with him since."

"Oh. Rahle, hide me from him!"

"Why don't you go to the police?"

"He'll get me there!"

"I will take you to Basil of Baker Street."

"No!" the Transylvanian protested. "He'll arrest me too!"

"You have a point." Rahle looked around anxiously. "Fine, come with me. But you owe me!"

Meg: Sorry for all that dark figurative mumbo jumbo at the beginning of the chapter. I was in a really funny mood while writing it. Same with the name 'Igor.'

JWJ: Aren't you always in a funny mood when writing these stupid things?

Meg: I'll funny mood you! (runs after him)

RAEB: Meg, you're insane.

Meg: I know! (laughs insanely)

RAEB: Oh God...