Chapter Twelve

Meg: I just got a hold of an old book by National Geographic called Discovering Britain and Ireland. It gives me a whole entire map of the streets and important sites of London, so now I can try to place characters in different places and know what the heck I'm talking about!

Emma: How old is the book?

Meg: About twenty years.

JWJ: (skeptical) Don't you need a book that was written in the late 1800s?

Meg: No.

JWJ: But your information could be inaccurate!

Meg: Since when do you care?

JWJ: Some author you are, screwing up your own information!

Rose returned to work the next morning expecting her situation in Ratigan's lair to have considerably changed. She was not sure exactly what she was expecting, but she knew that it would be something different.

She was wrong. She hardly saw Ratigan at all, and when she did see him, he did not acknowledge her presence, as was his custom.

The second day, Ratigan did speak with her, demanding to know why she was not wearing the locket he had given her. She had not worn the locket as a matter of principle; she felt that she did not deserve such a trinket for helping to destroy forty lives. But explaining this principle to Ratigan was a different matter. He listened attentively, but when she had finished explaining her views he told her that she was going to get a beating she would not forget unless she wore that locket. Needless to say, she went back up to her flat, returning some time later with the locket around her neck.

Despite that outbreak, Ratigan treated her no differently than he had before. Rose went about her work as before, showing no outward change as well. Inside, however, she felt both overjoyed and disappointed. Perhaps he had no more diabolical plans in store for her. There was also the possibility that he thought her useless, an idea that rubbed her pride the wrong way.

Everything normal once again, Rose began to wonder if all that had happened were not just some dream she had had. But then she would remember the locket. No. No dream. No more fantasies about leaping into the dark waters of the Thames.

Perhaps it was better this way.

Two weeks had passed since Rose had helped Ratigan write the letters. Drunken singing wafted up from the pub downstairs as she prepared for bed. She hummed along, thanking God that she no longer worked in the pub.

Rose blew out her candle and crawled into bed. She leaned against the wall, staring at the foggy night outside. It was chilly for a mid-July evening. She wrapped her blanket around her, thinking of poor Scarlet, out there on the streets, looking for customers.

The stairs creaked as someone ascended them. It was strange how much noise there was around her. In her home in Exeter, there had hardly ever been any noise after ten o'clock, but here she was lucky if they quieted down by midnight.

There was a loud banging on her door that caused her to jump. Grabbing a robe and wrapping it around herself, she called out, "Who is it?"

"It-it's Fidget, Miz Rose."

Rose lit her candle. "What do you want, Fidget?"

"Can I come in?" She heard him violently jiggle the doorknob.

"No."

"I go-got a request from the Professor."

Rose raised an eyebrow. He had dared call him 'the Professor' above the sewers?

Rose unbolted the door and cracked it open an inch. "What does he want?" she hissed.

The bat looked slightly dazed. "He wants you to come with me. You got somethin' black to wear?"

"Where does he want me to go?"

"He didn't say."

"Fidget, it's a little late. I just got into bed."

"He told me that I wasn't supposed to take any sass from you, Miz. He says, "Get the girl, even if you have to drag her by the hair. Don't make this harder for me, Miz Rose."

Rose felt like a ton of lead had just been dropped into her stomach. She had almost promised herself that she would not aide Ratigan again. Almost. But Rose was not a strong person, and she knew that it would be hard to refuse another request of Ratigan's.

She had run away from home to prove to her family and herself that she was strong enough to stand up for what she believed in. Now, she was too weak to stand up for her morals. She was too weak to disobey Ratigan.

Where would it lead her next?

"He wants me to wear something black?" Rose asked cautiously.

An hour later, she found herself in a dark alleyway near the Houses of Parliament. She wrapped her cloak around her, feeling the chill of the night. She was wearing an old, ragged black dress, the only one Giovanni had left her when he had returned her carpetbag so long ago. Only an hour before she had pitied Scarlet for working on this inclement night!

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Take a walk with me," she heard the Professor say in a low voice. She said nothing, and only allowed him to guide her with his gloved hand in the direction of his choice.

They walked past Parliament to the end of the street. Taking a left turn, they continued down the perpendicular street until they reached a solitary corner illuminated by one streetlight, where Whitehall and Birdcage Walk joined.

"A constable will be here in a few minutes. You are going to distract him while we get our job done. Understand?"

"How am I supposed to distract him?" she asked softly.

Ratigan lit a cigarette. "Get creative. I can't think of everything."

"But what if I botch it up?"

"Well, you better not botch it up," he growled. Rose wished he would go away. She did not want him around; he was scaring her. "Now stay here. When he comes along, approach him. Try to divert his attention as long as possible. We'll take care of the rest."

"What am I supposed to do after that?"

"Meet back at the alley. Don't fail me, Rose." With that, Ratigan disappeared into the fog.

Rose shivered. London was a noisy and busy place during the day, but at this time of night it was lonely and abandoned. She suddenly yearned for Ratigan's presence. Why had he not sent one of his own thugs to take care of distracting the constable?

Maybe he considered her one of his thugs. She frowned at the thought. She was only the cleaning woman, right?

She heard footsteps echo off the sidewalk. Someone was headed towards the corner of Whitehall and Birdcage Walk. She headed towards the footsteps.

She was almost to the streetlamp when it occurred to her that those footsteps might not belong to the constable at all. She backtracked a few paces, just out of the light of the lamp. Then she saw a uniformed man enter the light of the streetlamp. He stopped; she stopped.

"Who's there?" he called out. The voice seemed to echo in the empty, foggy street.

Rose held her breath, but she was sure he could hear her pounding heart.

"Who's there?" the constable repeated, in a firmer voice. "Come out now, and no funny business!"

Rose knew she would have to talk to him. She slowly stepped into the light of the lamp. "Please, sir, I meant no harm by it."

He regarded her. "What are you doing out so late at night, young lady?"

"I… I'm looking for… for… King's Cross, sir."

"King's Cross? That's clear on the north side. You've got quite a walk. What're doing going to King's Cross at quarter past eleven in the evening?"

"It's Mr. Hartsford, sir. He promised that he'd meet me there."

"Mr. Hartsford? Who's that?"

"Why, he's the man that told me that he found Pap and Gram and Marybeth and Lisele."

"What?"

"I left for the city some time ago, sir. Pap and Gram, they had no idea I was going. I was seeking my fortune, y'see."

"Yes, but-"

"And I thought, well, I'll make 'em proud of me, and come back with a great, big fortune, show them what a witty little thing they'd brung up, and they'd be so happy to finally see me."

"Where do they live?"

"Hertfordshire."

"So where are Pap and… well, your… relations? Wait, start back at the beginning."

Rose sighed impatiently. "You weren't even listening!"

"Of course, I was, but…. Young lady, this is preposterous! I can hardly make sense of what you're saying. What does this have to do with going to King's Cross?"

"I was getting to that! Well, the city is no place for me, and I take all I earned, which weren't much, you see, and by the next ticket to Meryton. Well, I get there, and find out they're not even there anymore! No one knows where they've run off to, none of the neighbors, and… and…" Rose somehow managed to force her a few tears out.

The constable looked embarrassed. He looked around, as if people were accusing him of causing her to cry. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to her. "There, there, don't cry… we'll get this all straightened out. First carriage that comes by can take you to King's Cross… but… but why are you going there, so late?"

"Because Mr. Hartsford told me that he had found them!"

"Found them? Where?"

"In Edinburgh!"

"That's a long stretch from Hertfordshire. What were they doing there?"

"Because Mrs. LaPresti had taken with the yellow fever, and left this here world to meet her Creator."

"Oh, I'm so sorry…"

"We weren't sorry none. Gram hated her with a passion."

"What?" the constable exclaimed, staggering back a few steps. Rose could tell he was thoroughly baffled by now. "But… then why did they go to the funeral?"

"Who said anything about a funeral? They only went on account of the fact that Gram had a share in the will."

"But she still hated Mrs. LaPresti?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't after what Mrs. LaPresti had done to her?"

"What did Mrs. LaPresti do to her?"

"She had a weak constitution."

The constable waited for her to respond. When she failed to, he added, "And?"

"And what? That's it."

"You mean to tell me that your grandmother hated Mrs. LaPresti because she had a weak constitution?"

"Oh, yes! Gram was awfully jealous of the attentions Mrs. LaPresti got, from being so sick and pampered all the time."

"So the whole family goes for the reading of the will…"

"No'm. Just Gram."

"Where's the rest of the family?"

"In Eastbourne."

"What? Why in Eastbourne?"

"Why, where else do you go on holiday?"

"But I thought you said that all of them went to Edinburgh?"

"I said they, they being Gram and Sylvester. And Sylvester doesn't count as one of the family."

"Why not?"

"Because he's only a chimney sweep."

"Why did he go with your grandmother if he's not even part of the family?"

"What, and leave Gram all alone?"

The constable looked flabbergasted. "Now look here, young lady, I have no time for this. Edinburgh, Eastbourne, wills and chimney sweeps, one can't help but lose his head!"

"Well, if you're not going to help me…" Rose sniffled a few times for effect.

"Now, now, don't cry Miss… Miss… what's your name?"

"Abby Williams."

"Abby. Yes, now, let's try to get you to-"

Rose began to cry harder.

"You don't care about all I've been through!" she wailed.

The poor constable looked so distressed. "Please, Miss Williams, of course I care! Now, please, let's try to get you some help… don't cry!"

Professor Ratigan chuckled to himself as he witnessed the scene. "I underestimated her," he said to Gerald, who was standing next to him. "They've started?"

"Yes, Professor. They're right on it!"

"Good. Stay here, and make sure she doesn't slip up."

As Big Ben struck midnight nearby, Rose wondered how much time Ratigan needed. She had been there with the constable for over half an hour. He had actually called a cab for her, but she begged him to go with her. The constable looked like he wanted to get rid of her as soon as possible.

"Come on, Miss Williams, the driver will take you to King's Cross."

"But what if Mr. Hartsford isn't there? Please, don't leave me alone!"

"I can't, I have rounds to make."

"Sir, don't leave me alone!"

And then, a sort of low rumbling, followed by a loud crack, like a gunshot, caused both of them to jump. Rose saw something like a ball of fire rise into the air, in the direction of the Houses of Parliament.

"What the…" the constable trailed off. He glanced worriedly at Rose. "Go, or walk the rest of the way!" he said, running off in the direction of the blast.

Rose dismissed the carriage and followed him, thinking only that Ratigan had, for some reason known only to his twisted mind, blown up the Houses of Parliament.

But when she got there, she only saw that a hefty hole had been created in the side of the building. Thugs were running everywhere, trying to pile as many of the items as they could on Ratigan's cat, Felicia. The constable immediately whistled for backup, attracting the attention of several of the thugs. They pulled out their pistols.

Rose looked away as they went off. She ran in the opposite direction, right into Ratigan.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?" he yelled, shoving her roughly aside and running to Fidget.

"We, ah, sort of ha-had an accident, Professor."

Rose heard the whistle again. The constable was on the ground, injured but not dead. She heard more whistles respond.

"Damn you! You muttonheads!" Ratigan barked. "Get as much as you can, and then Kilburn and Tom, take Felicia back to the sewers." Rose jumped and shrieked as one last gunshot silenced the constable's whistle. "The rest of you, back to the sewers on your own! This is what you get for ruining the original plan!"

Rose did not know what to do. She decided that it would be a good time for her to head back to The Rat Trap. She headed off in the direction of the river for about a block, only to see more policemen running in her direction. She ran back, where Felicia was just being sent off. She bumped into Fidget.

"Fidget! The police!"

"Where's the Professor?" the bat asked.

"Right here," a voice behind Rose said coldly. She turned around to find herself face-to-face with Ratigan.

"Fidget, how did that explosion happen?"

"No-no idea."

Ratigan clenched his fists and seemed to hold something like an explosion within him. Then Rose saw a change in his expression. One minute he looked like he wanted to murder someone, the next he looked as if someone had just made him King. "You know where the dirigible is?" he asked Fidget.

"Ye-yeah!"

Ratigan rubbed his hands eagerly. He began to mutter instructions to the bat, who started to laugh in his almost maniacal way.

Rose looked around her. Most of the thugs were running away from the police, who fortunately had not taken notice of the three of them standing there.

"Rose!" Ratigan said, looking up sharply, as if he was surprised to see her there. "Where's Gerald?"

"I don't know sir."

"He just left you here?"

"He was supposed to do something different?"

Ratigan swore under his breath. "No one listens to me anymore. Rose, go with Fidget."

"Yes, sir," she whispered as she followed Fidget, leaving the professor behind her.

They were halfway across the street when she heard exclamations of "Ratigan!" She glanced back. She saw Ratigan bow to none other than Basil of Baker Street

"Why, Basil! Didn't expect to see you here! Lovely evening, isn't it?"

She heard assorted shouts and gunshots, as policemen ran past them, completely unaware that they were there. Fidget led Rose away to a small alley, where they ran into another problem: more policemen.

"RUN!" Fidget called out in a hoarse voice as they broke through the group.

She felt like she was going to die from all this running. She was not used to such exercise. But she knew that she would probably end up in jail, or even on the gallows, if she stopped. She knew it in her heart. She did not want to go there, to face that. What would her family think if they ever found out? She was too young to die, and in such a horrible way! Already she could feel the rope tightening around her neck…

Stop that! she told herself sternly. Just keep running.

She was surprised to glance back and realize that they had lost the police. But when she looked ahead again, she realized that Fidget was nowhere in sight.

Rose ran ahead, to the end of the street she had been on. She looked both ways, but could see no sign of Fidget. She had no idea where he was going.

She ran to the right, knowing that it would take her closer to the river, and to The Rat Trap. She could hear the police in the distance, as they pursued her.

She had a horrible side stitch. It felt like her stomach was about to rip open. She knew she could not go on much longer.

She ran down an alleyway, and threw herself into an old sock. She scrambled to the back of the sock, trying to calm her breathing. She heard voice say, "They must've gone this way!"

She was breathing heavily, and was already starting to gag on the foot odors from the sock. She was going to be sick, she was certain of it.

She heard footsteps, voices, objects as they were moved around, calls of "Nothing here," more muffled talk. She was hot and sweaty and dizzy, and she was about to throw up her supper.

No! Not until they leave! Oh God… I can't wait. Why now? Why now? Why-

She vomited. There was a terrible silence. Then she heard footsteps surround the sock.

"Come out, or we'll shoot!"

Basil had followed Ratigan into Parliament, through the hallways, and up the famous clock tower known as Big Ben. He found Ratigan on the ledge on the outside, with nowhere else to go.

"Give it up Ratigan! You're trapped!"

Ratigan shook his head sadly. "The game is up, I suppose," he said dramatically. "You have finally beaten me!"

He turned and leaped off the side of the building just as some Mouseland Yard officials came onto the ledge.

Basil looked over the edge. The rat had disappeared into the fog; he was nowhere in sight.

Then he saw the dirigible slowly rise up from the fog, Fidget pedaling as Ratigan smiled smugly at the mice on the ledge.

"So sorry I could not stay longer, gentlemen, but I really must fly!" he said mockingly. "I've got to plan another marvelous surprise for you all!"

Basil stared stupidly the rat as he slowly flew out of sight, consumed with thoughts of the undeniable fact that Ratigan had outsmarted him once again.

(Meg, Leigh, Emma, Luke, Lizz, RAEB, and JWJ approach Meg's car, where Ratigan is still listening to Disturbed. RAEB knocks on the window.)

RAEB: Hey, you know that's angry music you're listening to. Apparently it's teenage garbage.

Ratigan: (rolls down window) I know. I'm trying to disturb your neighbors.

Luke: Hey, that's funny! Disturbing the neighbors while listening to Disturbed…

(Everyone glares at him)

Luke: (trailing off) Oh, never mind. None of you have a sense of humor!

Leigh: Can I have my CD back?

Ratigan: No.

Meg: More importantly, can I have my car back?

Ratigan: No.

Meg: Oh, come on! What do you want with it anyway? It's twelve years old, and ready to kick the bucket! Besides, I just put a whole tank of gas in there! Gas costs an arm and a leg now, y'know!

JWJ: Stupid Iraqi war…

Emma: STUPID REPUBLICANS FOR FAVORING THEIR BIG BUSINESS BUDDIES OVER US!

JWJ: You (censored)! You don't know about any of this!

Lizz: Guys, this is the author's notes for a story. Maybe we should talk about the story?

Everyone else: NO!

Lizz: Ok, how come no one listens to me?

Meg: Because you have the most sense in you. No one wants to listen to anyone with common sense.

Lizz: I resent this! I'm leaving! (storms off)

Meg: (to Ratigan) Look, now Lizz is actually mad for once!

Ratigan: About time too. Her inability to lose her temper was grating on my nerves.

Meg: NO ONE CARES ABOUT YOUR NERVES!

Ratigan: Oh, really? (starts up car, removes parking and emergency brakes)

Luke: Should we-

(Ratigan floors the gas.)

Everyone: AHHHHHH!