"So this Ratcliph," said April, "Thinks there are only three turtles?" Dr. Cartagan nodded, her wide eyes still watching Splinter.
"And he certainly doesn't know about you."
"This leaves us with the advantage," said Donatello. "They're preparing a trap for two turtles and possibly April..."
"And they're gunna get a lot more than they bargained for!" cried Casey, pumping his fist in the air.
"We have to find a way to destroy those pictures too," Leo pointed out.
"But what happens afterward?" askedCartagan . "Ratcliph knows where we all live; he could track down any one of us easily."
"No big," said Casey. "We'll take him to my Grandma's old place in the country. They'll never find us there."
"And being out of the city will do Mikey a lot of good," Donnie agreed. "We can stay there until he gets better."
No one brought up the fact that Michelangelo might not get better. It simply wasn't said.
"Dr. Cartagan," said Master Splinter. "Will you come with us? Michelangelo will need a Doctor's care."
"Of course I will," Cartagan replied. "I'll do whatever I can to help him."
"We are very grateful for your help."
"Anytime."
"So," said Leo, "Here's the plan..."
April smoothed her shirt and prepared to knock on the door. She took a deep breath. Knowing that they would see through whatever spiel she tried to give them, that they would recognize her face immediately, was somewhat comforting, but with so much at stake her nerves were running high. She knocked.
"Yes?" A scrawny man in black answered the door. His mouth twitched when he saw her face; April's heart pounded.
"Hi," she said calmly. "My name is June O'Rielly, and I'm looking for a Sir Ratcliph."
"Yes, of course," said the man. "Right this way."
He led her inside.
Raph and Leo remounted the roof, this time not bothering to remain silent. A loud chorus of yells and cheers from inside, however, suggested that they were not heard. Mikey hadn't moved.
Raphael was the first to jump down. He scrutinized the edges of the courtyard – they couldn't seem too oblivious – and crept towards his little brother. Leonardo followed.
"Michelangelo," Leo whispered, his fingers stroking a cold green cheek. His little brother didn't make a sound, save the rattling noises in his chest every time he took a breath. "Mikey, it's us. It's Leo and Raph. Can you hear me?" No response. "He's freezing," Leonardo muttered.
"Hang in there, Mikey," Raph whispered, "We're gunna get you outa here." The two brothers looked at each other and, as gently as they could, flipped Michelangelo onto his back. His face twitched, and he let out a soft moan but didn't wake up. Leo stroked his forehead.
Much more silently, Casey, Don and Master Splinter climbed to the rooftop. All three of them froze at the sight of the turtles in the courtyard.
Oh, Michelangelo, thought Splinter, his heart turning to ice. He was careful to mask his grief. No one knew how much it hurt him to watch his sons in discomfort, that seeing any of them suffering pained him almost as much as watching his master die had. Splinter, however, said nothing, as getting his youngest out of here safely was his only concern right now.
"Oh, Mikey," Donatello groaned. His face fell as his fingers gripped the top of the roof. Splinter patted his hand.
Casey clenched his teeth in fury. How dare they do this to him? He almost leapt down, but Don and Splinter held him back.
"Easy, Casey," said Don. "We can't blow our cover yet."
"But – "
"Hush," Splinter whispered. "Look carefully. They have been spotted. Be silent."
If Leo and Raph noticed the group of men in black, led by a burly man holding a pistol, creeping out the door, they didn't show it. They seemed too busy paying attention to their unconscious brother to see them until they were completely surrounded.
"Freeze," said the leader. Leo and Raph recognized the voice as the same one that had spoken to Dr. Cartagan before. He was pointing his pistol at Leonardo.
"I don' want no funny business," he said gruffly. "Stand up. Right now."
The turtles obeyed.
The hallway through which the scrawny man was leading April was eerily familiar. The white walls and tiled floor and beautiful paintings were more vivid now, but exactly the same as they had been when she watched the screen in the truck. She made sure to keep behind the messanger at least two steps, lest he should think she knew where they were going.
Sure enough, he led her into the same office that Jeanie had entered. This time, however, it was empty. With a sly sneer and a nod, he left her alone with the promise that Sir Ratcliph would be with her in a moment.
There was a tense silence. April looked around the room, wondering if the photos were here. She looked at his desk, made of brown, highly polished wood. Suddenly, she felt very brave.
April made sure not to touch the surface of the wood, as a single fingerprint would stick out like a neon sign. There was nothing on top (she hadn't been expecting it to be easy), so she opened the top drawer.
She drew back in surprise. There, lying on top of small stacks of papers and folders was a large brown envelope with the word 'CONFIDENTIAL' stamped to the top in black lettering. Was this another trap? It seemed too easy.
Sure enough, there was a bunch of photographs. There were two of Leo, Raph and Don (she recognized all three because she knew them well, but Leo was the only one whose headband color was visible); two of her, Leo, Raph and Don, (none of the headbands were visible); one of the warehouse and one of her apartment.
"So that's how they found us," she whispered, looking in shock at the familiar building. She took a peek in the rest of the envelope. Several strips of negatives lay at the bottom.
April bit her lip. While part of her was relieved that she had found what she was looking for, another part was still wary that she had had no trouble. If Ratcliph knew she was coming, why wouldn't he bother to hide it more effectively?
Why would he leave me alone in the room with it? she wondered, unless...
"You know, Miss O'Reilly," said a deep British voice behind her. April gasped and spun around. Sir Ratcliph, with a smug smile on his face, stood in the doorway. The scrawny man was behind him. "In England, the word 'confidential' means 'secret' or 'not to be known by persons outside the entrusted group.' I must say that I am rather disappointed with the lack of decorum found in you Americans. The envelope, if you please?"
April scowled, gripping her prize tightly. "You don't know what you're dealing with," she told him.
"Don't I?" he asked, raising an amused eyebrow. "I must admit that neither you nor your... unusual... friends frighten me in the slightest."
"Why can't you leave them alone?" April cried. "They didn't do anything to you."
"Give me the envelope, Miss O'Reilly, and I will not harm them. Your sick friend may or may not survive anyway, but the fate of his... are they brothers? Friends? Family?... is still in question. I am assuming, of course, that they went straight to him, in which case, Mr. Miller's little friends will take care of them." He stared at the ceiling thoughtfully, "It really is too bad Mr. Miller could not be here to see this... he had a promising job offering back home and... but I digress." He smiled at April. "I can make them stop. Give me the envelope, do not give us any reason to harm you, and I can make sure at least two of your little green friends survive."
April scowled.
Sir Ratcliph sighed. "I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I had really hoped, but oh well... what must be done, must be done..."
"You," said the gruff-voiced man, pointing at Leonardo. "Drop your swords. Put 'em on the ground where I can see 'em. And you," he pointed to Raphael. "You carry weapons. I see 'em. Put 'em down next to his."
Raph was seething, his fists clenching and unclenching without touching his sais, but Leo gripped the hilts of both of his swords and began to pull them out. Almost half of these men had pistols. If a stray shot hit Mikey...
Guys, Leo thought, where are you?
"What are we waitin' for?" Casey demanded. "They need us, right now. We gotta stop these freaks before they do somethin' to 'em."
"Not yet," said Splinter calmly. Even Don looked anxious by now. "We must wait until we are sure it is time. Have patience."
"Patience is somethin' I don' got," Casey snapped. "Those guys need us."
"Easy, Casey," said Don, sounding more confident than he felt. "Just a little longer."
Slowly, very slowly, Leo lifted his katanas from their sheaths. The men glared at him.
"Come on," the ringleader snapped, "How 'bout ya do it sometime this month? I'm growin' old here."
Clearly, the guys weren't coming yet. Leo let his swords fall to the ground. The noise made Mikey flinch in his sleep. He groaned.
Oh, my son, thought Splinter, watching Michelangelo stir. It was taking every ounce of willpower he possessed not to jump down to the young turtle's side right now. No matter how strong his sons grew, no matter how able they were to take care of themselves, he would always be the one ultimately responsible for their safety. Always. .
He had searched for over four hours that night six years ago. He knew the sewers better than his wayward son, and unlike poor Raphael, knew exactly where he had been every step of the way. It had only been a matter of guesswork and luck to find where the young turtle had gone. But he hadn't given up. Not ever. And he wouldn't now.
Oh, my son, he thought, as his sharp rat ears picked up something unusual in the sounds of the water. It sounded as though something, around the corner, was blocking it's path. Something larger than a simple piece of litter. Splinter's heart took a leap.
There he was, panting, exhausted, on the brink of unconsciousness, lying in the middle of the frigid sewer water. Raphael was soaked to the bone, lying on his shell and gasping for breath. He looked like he could not hold on much longer.
"Raphael," whispered Splinter, kneeling by the boy's side and scooping him out of the water. "Raphael. Answer me, my son."
Raphael's eyes, exhausted and blinking behind a drenched red bandana, tried to focus on the figure in front of him as Splinter did his best to warm the young turtle with his body.
"S-s-s-en-ssss... sssssennn..." he slurred. Splinter hushed him. Raphael's chest heaved as he gave a feeble cough. That he was too weak to cough more deeply than that was not a good sign. The effort alone seemed to hurt. He winced, groaned, attempted to cough again and only succeeded in gasping for breath. Splinter held him close.
"Relax, my son," he murmured, starting towards the lair at a run. "You will be home soon. You are safe now, my son. You will be all right."
Raphael hadn't heard him. His form grew limp as he fell into a deep but restless slumber.
"What are we waiting for, Sensei?" asked Don as Raphael, growling in fury, dropped his sais.
"They can survive without their weapons," Splinter explained, pushing the memories from his head. "I would like to see what has happened to Miss O'Neil before we reveal ourselves. The aim is not to give them any element of surprise."
Donatello nodded.
They didn't have long to wait. Raphael, never having been a turtle of self- control, suddenly decided that he didn't care about the pistols and attacked. The ringleader dropped his gun in surprise, and Leo saw his chance.
The brawl was not very long, for a couple minutes later, three people appeared in the doorway. One was the man in the light-colored suit Dr. Cartagan had identified as Sir Ratcliph; he was holding a manilla envelope in one hand. Another was a scrawny man dressed in black with a knife in one hand and an evil smirk on his pale face. The third was April.
"Stop this foolishness now," Ratcliph ordered. Everyone stopped. "Now," he said calmly, "you will all..."
Exactly what they were all going to do was never learned, for Casey chose that exact moment to lose his temper. With one, well-aimed leap, he knocked the knife out of the scrawny man's hand and sent him tumbling into a patch of snow.
"Leave 'er alone," he ordered Ratcliph, looking especially menacing behind his mask. Ratcliph gaped.
Don and Master Splinter looked at each other. Splinter nodded.
They jumped down.
Dr. Cartagan's role was to travel to her appartment (she only lived two blocks away) and gather anything she could find to help Mikey. This kind of tense situation had never been her forte, but she managed to keep her cool. Blankets, a cold water bottle, some rags, a thermos of hot water, a thermometer and a pillow found their way into the back of the truck.
Thankfully, as no one under Sir Ratcliph's supervision knew of her friendship with April, she had not been followed. Her heart leapt with a kind of novel excitement as she arranged the blankets on the floor. They just might pull this off.
But all Cartagan could do now was wait. Sit on the blankets, listen to the sounds of the street and wait…