Chapter Five

Lizz: Meg is too tired to say anything. So we'll comment on the chapter!

JWJ: Why us?

Lizz: Because she trusts us.

JWJ: Hah! Stupidity runs in her family. First the car incident, now this! Okay, so where do we begin? Ah, we all mourn the death of Ronald Reagan. Condolences to his family.

Everyone: Agreed.

JWJ: Second of all, I want to elaborate on the importance of George W. Bush as this nation's leader.

Everyone: (groan)

Emma: JWJ, shut up! This is not a place for politics!

JWJ: Any place is a good place for politics.

Emma: Lizz, quick, post the next chapter!

Lizz: Coming!

I yawned, feeling well rested. Then I sat up with a start, on the cot in the cold, empty cell in Ratigan's lair. How much time had passed? Had the others made it to safety?

I wondered where Basil and Dawson were. Were they still looking for me?

The door of the cell opened, light flooding into the cell. The silhouette of a large rodent blocked the entrance. "Good evening Megana," a familiar voice said pleasantly.

I shivered and pulled the black cape more closely around me. Remembering who the cape belonged to, I quickly took it off and handed it to him. "Thank you," I whispered.

He handed me a red silk bundle. "Get dressed." He left the room, slamming the door behind him.

I quickly took off my damp clothes and put on the red dress he had given me and sat down on the cot.

A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. "Are you done?" the professor asked.

"Yes, I'm done," I said quietly.

He entered the room again. "Come with me."

I followed him silently, wondering what he was up to. I took deep breaths, trying to calm down as we entered the throne room. There was no one in sight.

It was empty of any living thing. A golden cage had been hung from the ceiling, a little to the left of the throne.

"Meg, do you know what humans sometimes do to birds?" Ratigan asked, leading me toward the throne.

"Birds? They eat them."

"No. I meant birds like canaries and doves."

"They... imprison them."

Ratigan threw open the door of the cage. Knowing what he was about to do, I took off in the opposite direction. He grabbed the back of my dress. I kicked at him. "Let me go! Let me go!"

"Yes Meg!" he shouted, struggling with my wriggling body. "They imprison them in small cages, so they can stare at them all day long, and listen to them sing." He heaved me into the cage and slammed the door shut. He locked it, and giving me a look of triumph, continued, "You will be my pet bird, girl. You will stay in there, and must stay in there, and witness all that goes on in this room. And how my henchmen will receive you!"

He started to laugh, a sickening, malicious laugh. I felt completely powerless and helpless. "Oh Meg, but you will beg to get out; make no mistake about that. But my pretty bird must stay where she is, or else she will take flight like the rest of those wretches!"

I pressed my face against the bars of the cage. "Professor, this isn't funny! Let me out!"

He went up to me and stroked my face. I pulled my face away. "See Meg, you cannot get away from me now. There is not enough room to hide. No, there's not enough room to do anything!" He laughed hilariously. "Oh, I love this! What a sight!"

"You're insane!"

"Why I prefer to call it 'cleverness.'"

"Professor! Please!"

But Ratigan turned and headed out of the room. "Have fun while I'm gone!" he said, waving the key.

I listened to his footsteps trail away into the distance. I buried my face in my hands, fresh tears wetting the red silk.

The next morning's light brought Basil and Dawson bolting through the front door, of Lower 221B Baker Street, Dawson holding a newspaper by which they found out that four of the five kidnapped women had returned.

"Mrs. Judson!" Basil called. "Mrs. Judson!"

The landlady and Isabelle came into the room.

"David!" Isabelle cried, running to Dawson and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Are you both all right?" Basil asked.

"Yes," said Mrs. Judson.

"Oh, I am so glad to see you again!" Isabelle exclaimed, holding tightly to Dawson. He rubbed her back with his right hand, his eyes closed, looking as if a great weight had been released from his shoulders.

Basil sighed. He motioned to Mrs. Judson, and they moved to the other end of the room, so as to give Dawson and Isabelle some privacy. "Li Yan and Olivia are all right as well?" the detective asked.

"Yes. They're with their guardians."

"No news of Meg?"

Mrs. Judson trembled. "How did you know that we were even safe and sound? No one knew where you were or how to find you and tell you."

"I read about your reappearance in this morning's newspaper." The landlady looked pale. "Sit down, Mrs. Judson," Basil said kindly, leading her to his armchair.

"That man, Mr. Igor, he tried to tell the police, but they wouldn't listen."

"Wouldn't listen to what? Who is this Igor fellow?"

"Mr. Rahle and Mr. Igor, they came and rescued us. But Mr. Igor said that Meg went back as Professor Ratigan was pursuing us."

"She went back? Mrs. Judson, is this true?"

She started to tear up. "I don't know, I don't know! Mr. Igor said she was trying to create a diversion. But Mr. Basil, both he and Mr. Rahle are being held at Mouseland Yard!"

"Why?"

"Because they thought that they had kidnapped us."

Basil sat down. "Isabelle, come here. Mrs. Judson and Miss Fremly, please tell us, from the beginning, all that happened to you when you were in Ratigan's clutches."

They related their experience. When they were done, Basil got up. "I suppose neither of you remember the way back to Ratigan's lair." They shook their heads. Basil sighed again. He turned to Dawson. "I am sorry old chap for shortening your reunion, but I am afraid we either have to question both Rahle and this Igor, or somehow get Vole to release them."

One of Basil's many skills was his ability to quick-talk his way to get exactly what he wanted. At Mouseland Yard Basil managed to get Dawson and himself into a small room with the Transylvanian. As soon as Basil saw Igor he gave a small, knowing smile.

"Oh yes, we have had a few run-ins before, haven't we?"

Igor sat down. "I do not know what you are talking about," he said firmly, glancing nervously at the guard.

Basil turned to the guard who had led him in. "I wish to speak to this man in private."

"I am sorry Mr. Basil; I have strict orders from Vole to remain here."

Basil wrote something down on a piece of paper. After folding it up, he handed it to the guard. "Get someone to give that to Vole; I expect a reply."

The guard handed it to another guard who relayed it to Vole. In less than five minutes the guard was asked to leave the room by another policeman. As he closed the door the guard shook his head, saying, "I don't know how you do it, Mr. Basil."

Basil waited for the door to close before speaking. "Christopher Igor. So you finally gave up on crime?"

"Mr. Basil, I tried to stop your secretary, but she would not listen! I did not hand her over to Ratigan!"

"I never said you did. I just want to know one thing: why the change from Ratigan's side to ours?"

Igor repeated his story. Dawson turned to Basil. "I believe we can trust him."

"Well, there's Rahle to back up the story anyhow. Igor, what happened yesterday?"

Igor explained the events of the escape from Ratigan's lair. When he was done, Basil asked, "So what is this route through the sewers?"

Igor shook his head. "I only know the way when I am there. But when I am not..." he shrugged. "I cannot remember a thing."

"You cannot show us the way on a map?" Dawson asked. "Nothing?"

"No. I am truly sorry."

Basil stood up. "That leaves us with two choices. We must either try to get you out legally or break you out."

"You can't be serious!" Dawson exclaimed. "We'll get arrested, and then there will be no one to help Meg."

The detective pressed his lips together in determination. "We must! Time is of the essence now more than ever!"

No one realizes to the fullest extent the humiliation of being caged until it happens to them.

Henchmen came and went as they pleased. Each thug's first reaction to seeing me caged was to ask another henchman why I was there, then to go up to the cage and push it, swinging me around. It was extremely annoying. Some of them threw bottles and food at me. Others would spit at me or poke me.

I thought it would get better whenever Ratigan entered the room, but I overestimated Ratigan's compassion for me. He seemed to be amused by his henchmen's antics, and encouraged them.

By the end of the first day, I was sick of sitting on display for all the henchmen to see, with no privacy, no escape.

Ratigan sat down on his throne, and in front of all of his thugs, said, "Sing for me, Meg."

I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. But I was afraid of more torture.

"What shall I sing?" I asked softly.

"Anything at all."

I thought for a few moments. Then I cleared my throat and began:

"Follow me to meadows of green

Past rolling hills and fast flowing streams

Follow me to a place of old

This heartland I call home.

To a forest glen, unknown to men

There I shall take thee

Where rowan and oak reveal to me

Their sweet melodies.

The dawn's early glow sings to me so

As the breeze kisses the sea

You've taken a part of my heart

Darling, do not leave."

I swallowed hard to get rid of the lump in my throat. The thugs glanced at each other, abashed. Some bowed their heads as if in shame for their behavior towards me earlier. I think I made the pity me.

That night Basil and Dawson returned to the Yard. "I cannot believe we are doing this!" Dawson said in a low voice.

"They wouldn't release Igor, so now we must do it."

Once again Basil asked to see Igor, but this time at his cell. A guard showed them the way. Basil, ignoring the other inmates' jests, found Igor whimpering in a corner of his cell.

"I need to ask you another question regarding your travel through the sewers," Basil said nonchalantly to Igor. "Come here."

The mouse did not move.

"Come man, I can make your trial easier!"

Reluctantly Igor crawled to the bars. Basil held up a map. "Can you tell me the path you took?" In the meantime he slipped Igor a few sticks of dynamite and a few matches. The Transylvanian almost dropped them, but the guard appeared not to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"Just leave me alone!" Igor snapped at Basil. "I do not remember."

"We'll be back tomorrow." With that, he and Dawson left.

They took positions outside the Yard. "Now we wait here, until Big Ben strikes midnight. Then Igor will light the explosives."

They waited. The clock struck eleven thirty, then eleven forty-five. Finally it struck twelve. Basil waited with bated breath. The expected blast did not come. They waited another quarter of an hour to no avail.

"Damn him, what has happened?" Basil began to head towards the Yard.

"Basil, stop!" Dawson said. 'What if Igor betrayed us?"

Basil's nerves had reached the breaking point. "A dead end! And one that is wasting valuable time! Why was she the only one that didn't make it back? What has she done to deserve this?"

The doctor shook his head, speechless.

"Dawson, I will never forgive myself if anything bad happens to her. What are we going to do?" Basil turned to him imploringly. "I don't know what to do anymore!"

"What else can we do but try again?" Dawson said, trying to sound reassuring. "Try again tomorrow night. There is no other way."

The detective clenched his hands into fists and stormed off. "Basil, where are you going?" Dawson called out after him.

"To the sewers. I must find her!"

"But that is miles upon miles of tunnels and passages! Our chances of finding her by random search are slim. And what if Ratigan is alerted to your presence long before you reach Meg? Who will save her after you've been captured?"

Basil stopped, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I can't sit around and do nothing!"

"Yes you can. Go home. Eat and sleep. Be prepared to face Ratigan tomorrow."

Dawson knew this touched a sensitive spot for the great mouse detective, who was so like the Master that he even skipped meals and sleep during a case. This was no ordinary case, however; it was a battle between two great minds. Only when Dawson reminded Basil that Ratigan was eating and sleeping plenty that Basil finally relented.

Dawson patted his friend's back comfortingly as they walked back to Toby. "All we can do for Meg now is pray."

Late that night when the last of the thugs had trickled to their homes or to their various duties for the Napoleon of Crime, Ratigan sat on his throne and watched me as an enraptured child would watch a yellow canary fluttering about its cage.

"Well, how is my pretty bird today?"

If looks could kill I am sure Ratigan would have dropped over dead at that instant. But he continued to sit there, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Ah, so you want another day at it?" he asked teasingly.

"Please let me go! I give up. You win. You win. There, I've said it. Now let me out of this cage!"

"Hmmmm…" Ratigan said in mock deliberation. "No. I think I enjoy this more. My own prize, on display for everyone to see!"

I shook the bars of the cage in fury, causing the entire cage to swing back and forth. "You're demented. You're sick and evil and...demented!"

Ratigan laughed. "You would not listen to me the first time. Why should I let you out the first time you ask me to?"

"But I asked you yesterday!"

"Keep on asking. I will not let you out until I feel like it. That could be tonight or one thousand nights from now."

I worked at the door frantically. Ratigan laughed once again at my efforts, infuriating me even more. "Professor, let me out this instant!"

"No."

"What do I have to do to be let out of here?"

"So I trap not only the body, but the spirit as well." Ratigan got up and stood before me, completely satisfied with himself. I wanted to hurt him. "Oh, how marvelous it all is!"

I turned around in the cage, placing my back to him. Ratigan walked over until he was facing me once more. I turned away from him yet again. Finally he spun the cage around so that we were facing each other.

"I gave you a chance to join me a long time ago; almost two years ago, in fact." It was October 1902; the first we met was in November 1900. "You would not then, and you would not yesterday. But now you give in, unconditionally? I don't trust you. You're a witch. You enchant ignorant people with your songs and charm. But it is all for me now. And I will not let it out until I am sure it has been entirely tamed."

Meg: The song Meg sings is mine. I wrote it, therefore I own it. Whoever dares take it from me will have to face the consequences!

JWJ: Such as?

Meg: Living with you for a day. Then they will be hung by their toes from the ceiling. On a serious note: don't take it. Good poetry may be hard to write, but the type of poetry I write does not involve a lot of skill. You can write something like it too if you try.