Chapter Thirteen
Meg: I apologize for the previous chapter, especially since it sounds a lot like the ending of "The Great Mouse Detective." I'm blaming it on my poor creativity level and the fact that the writers of the song "The World's Greatest Criminal Mind" mention "The Big Ben Caper." How the heck does Big Ben get involved with a crime in the first place anyway? It's a clock, for crying out loud! Please enlighten me if someone has a better idea for a "Big Ben Caper."
It was unheard of: Mouseland Yard, and even Basil of Baker Street himself, cornering a criminal, and letting him slip from their grasp! It was more amazing than the elaborate plan that they discovered afterwards, how Professor Ratigan had gained entry into the Houses of Parliament. He had broke in through a side entrance, and then again into a few, well-locked offices within the government buildings.
Parliament was closed for a month afterwards, giving no doubt that something important had, indeed, been stolen. Rose, and the rest of the mouse world, would never learn what exactly was taken on account of the vague accounts given by Mouseland Yard to the press.
But by the next morning, all the newspapers were hailing the heist as "The Big Ben Caper"—a crime of mysterious proportions, with unknown documents apparently missing, an explosion from an unknown substance in the wall, especially since the criminals had made another, less noticeable entrance into the building, and Ratigan's escape from Big Ben in his flying contraption. It was a crime that captured the hearts and minds of all London. What better way to firmly establish Professor Ratigan's reputation as the Napoleon of Crime than with this crime, this 'Caper?'
The reports were exaggerated. Some claimed that Ratigan had killed a few politicians who were trying to steal the same articles he was after, while others said that he had not one, not two, but a score of cats and dirigibles at his command! Such reports threw the city into a panic. If there were so many flying machines around, what could not prevent him from flying into other government buildings and homes undetected and murder all good, law-abiding Londoners in their beds? Some called for Mouseland Yard to immediately start construction on identical machines to fight the menace. Others claimed that the cats Ratigan had somehow tamed for his own foul purposes would show up soon with wings, and devour them all in their beds!
The Yard tried its best to cool such rumors, but to no avail. As far as anyone was concerned, the official force had failed them. It was an embarrassing and trying time for Yard officials and authorities as they tried to control the sudden assault on their efficiency as city guardians. It took many months before the city calmed down again. Neither Mouseland Yard nor Basil of Baker Street forgot the sting Ratigan's feat had caused.
Professor Ratigan strode into the throne room, Fidget hobbling close behind. The thugs cheered as soon as he entered the room. Their shouts of joy quickly trailed off, however, when they saw the expression on his face. It was more of a mock expression of joy rather than the usual, conceited triumph he showed after the successful execution of a crime.
He walked up to the throne, then turned around and faced his henchmen.
"Someone please explain to me how that explosion occurred," he said in as calm a voice as he could muster.
There was a dreadful silence as the thugs gave each other uneasy looks.
"Well?" Ratigan said with less patience than before.
Silence.
"IF SOMEONE DOESN'T EXPLAIN IT TO ME IN THE NEXT FIVE SECONDS, I AM GOING TO TAKE THE FIRST IDIOT WHO MAKES A WRONG MOVE AND-" Ratigan pulled out the bell.
The point was made. A dozen of the thugs began to talk and gesture at the same time.
"Chester needed a smoke, and you see-"
"We tried to follow directions, but he-"
"No one knew there was gunpowder in Parliament!"
"We did everything else all right, Professor!"
"Nothing else went wrong-"
"One mistake-"
"SILENCE!" Ratigan yelled. "One person, explain it to me!"
Kilburn stepped forward and pointed to Chester. "He wanted a smoke, sir, and seeing as we were ahead of schedule and all, he took one, and then threw the match away."
"I did not!" the mouse, a big, burly fellow, exclaimed.
"We all saw him do it," Bartholomew piped up.
"The match must of hit some crates of gunpowder," Kilburn continued.
"Chester? Is this true?" Ratigan asked, annoyed.
"No!"
"Yes!" ten other voices chorused.
"No one knew those crates were there!" Chester said defensively.
Ratigan sighed. "Thank you, Chester. You have caused me to lose important information, forced me to make a clumsy escape, and gotten a girl arrested who will most likely betray all of us to Mouseland Yard!"
The thug looked terrified. "I didn't mean to, honest!"
Ratigan rang the bell.
After fussing over Felicia, Ratigan turned back to the thugs, who were standing mournfully at the entrance to the throne room. "Gerald, I would like to speak to you," Ratigan said in an overly friendly voice.
Gerald gulped. He knew what he had done. Would Ratigan forgive him, or serve him as Felicia's dessert?
He stepped up to the rat. "Yes, Professor?"
"I gave you two simple jobs. What were they?"
"To make sure Rose didn't mess up."
"That's one. And the other one?"
"To… to get her out of there."
"Exactly! Now why didn't you take care of job number two?"
"Because… she disappeared, and the police were coming, and I couldn't look for her without risking my own hide."
Ratigan laughed dangerously. "Gerald, Rose is a rather impressionable girl. She listens to me, but pressure from the Yard might affect her loyalty to me. She doesn't know what's good for her yet. But you do, don't you?"
"Ye-yes…"
"Look at this from my point of view. What is more important: keeping a girl who doesn't know how to keep her mouth shut out of trouble, or keeping someone who knows how to shut up out of that same trouble?"
"The girl, Professor…"
"Exactly!" Ratigan looked pleased in a sort of demonic way. He pulled out the bell. Felicia looked up hungrily as the other thugs around the doorway gasped.
Ratigan examined the bell in a way as if he was deciding on what color h should paint its handle. Beads of sweat broke out over Gerald's face, and Ratigan's callousness only made the suspense worse.
Finally the rat lowered the bell. "You might be lucky, Gerald. Rose might give the Yard a convincing enough story to save both her skin and yours. If she does, you are to make sure that she gets back here without leading some thickheaded official to this lair. But if that girl disappoints me in any way, you are to alert me of anyone approaching The Rat Trap who shouldn't be. After you have done that, you are going to kill Rose. Fail to fulfill any of these orders, and…" Ratigan gestured with the bell towards Felicia. The obese cat was practically drooling. "You'll be joining Chester."
Gerald gulped again. "Right, Professor. I won't let you down."
"So let me get this straight," Inspector Daniels said with impatience. "You're homeless, you've been living out on the streets for months, and you were living in that sock before my men came across you?"
Rose nodded, too weary to give a verbal answer. She felt nauseous again.
"Answer me, Miss Williams."
Even though the constable she had distracted was dead, she decided to use "Abigail Williams" as an alias anyway. She could not reveal her real name to them; not when it could possibly be traced back to The Rat Trap and Ratigan's hideout.
She made the decision within the first minute of interrogation by the police to remain loyal to Ratigan, even if it meant lying to the police or giving up her values. She tried to find a reason for her loyalty. Perhaps it came from his threats on her life if she ever betrayed him, although she felt that the answer was not as simple as that. It was true that she was afraid of him, but it came from his presence, from his power over her, his ability to make her do things she would have never even considered before, not a fear of him when he was not there.
"Yes, sir. That sock has been my home for a few nights now. I have nowhere else to go." She was now glad that she was wearing her ragged black dress; it made her look more impoverished than she could have planned.
"Nowhere?" The Inspector raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you vomit?"
"Because I'm not in the best of health!" Rose said sharply back. She had been questioned for over an hour. Now they were at the point of repeating their questions. "You don't know what it's like, being out in the streets all the time, worried that a cat is going to attack you, or a human step on you, or that you'll be attacked in the night by tramps like those who you are looking for right now! It does something to the nerves, to one's health. Experience what I have been through, and then come back and tell me that I shouldn't have been sick!" This statement was said with such conviction that Rose surprised even herself.
The Inspector looked slightly embarrassed, but he was trying his hardest not to show it. "Well, then why didn't you go to a shelter?"
Rose raised an eyebrow. "There are shelters in London? I've never seen one."
"I know there's one run by a Methodist church in Whitechapel that only accepts women and children… you have to get there early, before they run out of room."
"I'll have to go there," Rose said quietly. She wished that she had known about this shelter over four months ago.
"So you deny any involvement in the incident that occurred at the Houses of Parliament earlier tonight?"
"I don't even know what you are talking about! I was blocks away from Parliament! What happened?"
The Inspector sighed.
Another man came into the room. "Inspector Daniels, Mr. Basil would like to speak with you."
"In a minute." Daniels turned back to Rose. "Miss Williams, we're going to have to detain you for the night."
"Why? What did I do?" Rose asked, a question she had often repeated in the course of this interrogation.
"Don't worry about that. You'll have a place to sleep for the night, at least."
"But… but I want to know what I did!"
"You're not in any trouble. This is only a matter of procedure."
Rose gave up. She did not want to make too much of a fuss; it might look too suspicious.
She was taken down a long hallway filled with cells while prisoners yelled obscene comments directed at her. She ignored them; it was no different from a busy night at The Rat Trap, except that these mice directed their comments solely at her rather than disbursing them. The guard put her in a cell at the end of the hallway and, after pointing out the whereabouts of everything within the small cell, he locked the door behind him.
She sat down on the cot and leaned against the wall. It was somewhere around two in the morning. It was so strange; only four hours ago she had been in bed at her own flat, and now here she was in jail.
Now that she had no one to answer to, her nerves failed her. She lay down on the bed and wrapped the blanket around her in a poor attempt to get rid of the empty feeling that had been growth in her stomach all night. Why had Fidget left her? Was Ratigan angry with her? Did the Yard know more about her than she was aware? Were they onto her? If she ever got out of here, would Ratigan kill her?
She clamped her eyes tight, only wanting to vanish, to feel nothing, to be nothing.
Save yourself, turn them all in! You know it's wrong.
I can't!
Yes! You must!
No! I can't betray him, not after all those threats!
It's not the threats that are holding you back. It's the attention.
Attention?
You know that he wouldn't even look twice at you unless he thought you useful. You want to feel wanted, needed. That's why you went tonight. You like the attention he gives you when you obey his orders.
What? That's ridiculous! I am not like that! I didn't even want to help him!
Are you sure of that?
There are times when the mind plays tricks on you. You think you're innocent, but then something tells you that you are guilty. At first you brush the thought aside. But if it is persistent enough, it will keep nagging at the corner of your mind until you have finally convinced yourself that you are guilty as sin.
Of course, this does not happen to everyone or all the time for that matter. But there are some people who blame themselves for everything, from someone else's failure to make it to the theater on time to someone else losing their wallet to even another person's death. It is called a guilt-complex.
Rose had a guilt-complex. She had blamed herself for the murder of those men on The Scottsdale, because she had assisted in it. She also blamed herself for those other crimes plotted in Ratigan's throne room, the ones she had been aware of, because she had failed to stop them. She blamed herself for Elaine McGeady's attempt at strangling Jessica, only because she had not been there to prevent it. If Gerald or any of the other thugs had been arrested instead of her, she would have blamed herself. Even though she did not do what Ratigan told her to do for attention, she began to believe that to be the real motive behind her helping him out. Even as she lay there, she began to wonder if she had somehow caused the explosion that had brought the untimely arrival of the police, before the turning of a lock in her door caused her to jump up out of the cot.
A bright light filled the room; it was the guard bringing a lantern. "Here you are, Mr. Basil."
Rose froze. Basil? Basil of Baker Street?
She saw Inspector Daniels and Basil enter the room. "Sorry to disturb you, Miss Williams, but this gentleman here would like to ask you a few questions."
Rose tried to look away, but Basil had already seen her. He smiled in a… satisfied way, as if he had found something amusing?
"Miss Williams, explain to me what happened this evening," Basil said.
Maybe he did not recognize her! She cleared her throat, and began the story she had made up. She was an orphan, had been homeless for months, could not find work, ate food from the garbage or stole into humans' homes, trying to get a bite to eat. She just happened to be in that sock when she heard the police come by this evening; afraid that they were ruffians, she had burrowed further into the sock, hoping they'd pass. But she did not feel well, and had thrown up as they were passing.
Basil nodded. He began to ask questions about her family; she decided that she would lie, slightly. Her father had been a drunk and had abused her. She had no other family.
"Interesting tale, Miss McGeady," he said, grinning.
Rose stopped and stared at him. Daniels looked sharply at the detective.
"There's no need to hide anymore," Basil said.
She sighed, knowing the game was up. "I'm sorry," she muttered.
"What is this?" Daniels asked.
"My name is not Abigail Williams," Rose said reluctantly. "It's Rose McGeady."
"Rose McGeady? But you told us your name was Abigail Williams!"
Rose glanced at Basil. He looked a little… gleeful? Triumphant? She wanted to strangle him.
"I lied."
"You what?"
"I lied to you, sir."
"That's a very serious matter, young lady. Do you think this is a game?"
"No, sir."
"But why?"
Rose stared at Basil. "I ran away from home over four months ago. My mother and I got into a stupid, silly fight, and I decided I was going to be an immature little know-it-all and run away, just to show her. When I got here, however, all my money and possessions were stolen. Too ashamed to go back home, I tried to find work. I truly did. But no one would have me. I have been forced to live in the streets, barely getting by each day. I was still too proud to come back home.
"Then, one day, I met a friend of mine from Exeter, Greg Rogers, in the street. He was a law student here in London, and kept a correspondence with my older sister. He was shocked to see me, because…" Rose looked meaningfully at Basil. He looked a bit nervous. "Everyone in Exeter thought I was dead, had died in London. My family left Exeter for America, all but my mother, after Father and Mother had a falling out. This was two months ago that I learned this, sir." Basil seemed to relax.
"Ever since then, I've had no care for myself. My true family is gone; I hate my mother, and will not go back to Exeter to be with her. If you inform her that I am still alive, she'll act as sweet as sugar to you and to me until we are in together in private. Then she will rip into me and make me wish I were dead. I don't want to go through that."
No one said anything at first. Finally Daniels said, "I believe we should contact your mother."
(Meg, Leigh, JWJ, RAEB, Luke, and Emma are sitting in a tree. Meg's car has crashed into the trunk, where it is still blasting out Disturbed.)
RAEB: Is he gone?
JWJ: Anyone want to see?
Everyone: NO!
JWJ: You're all pathetic.
Meg: Why don't you go check, O knight in shining armour?
JWJ: And almost get run over by a car again? How stupid do you think I am?
Leigh: How can he run you over? The car's already been trashed.
JWJ: Hey, if he could get a hold of a car, then he definitely could get a hold of something else, like maybe an AK-47!
Luke: Well, then sitting in a tree isn't going to protect us from that. All he has to do is aim and shoot.
Emma: (sarcastically) Thanks. You've all just made me feel so much better!