Chapter VI: The Lion's Den

Gadget rode alongside Fat Cat in silence.

Girl, what were you thinking? she wondered to herself.

"You look reflective, my dear," the crimelord purred. "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, raising her face toward him with one paw. She suddenly slapped it away, and Fat Cat yelped in pain. He looked at her hand, where her engagement ring glowed softly.

"And what's this?"
"Souvenir," she said casually. "Picked it up in the last robbery I was in on."

"A very rigid souvenir," he commented darkly, rubbing his paw. "I should eat you for that."

"I'd give ya sour stomach, pussycat. Bet on it."

The chief of the city's feline underworld sat back, becoming lost in thought. He had never been one to be beguiled by a pretty face before. But something about this girl's mind intrigued him. At was almost as if…he had met her before. But he couldn't put his paw on it.

"So what's with all the leaning you'se been puttin' on Saint Nick lately?"

He stared.

"You're very, very observant, to even connect me with those crimes. I'm not sure I exactly feel…safe, telling you anything more. Something's bothering me. Let us hope you are not the cause of it. I take betrayal very badly."

"So do I, kitty. Last creep what tried to put somethin' over on me is takin' up residence at the bottom of the bay."

She didn't tell him, of course, that this creep was a clam she had KO'd for getting fresh.

"Come now, Poison, let us not get preoccupied by our suspicions. I'm actually pleased that you decided to seek employment within my organization. Your talents could be quite useful, if they are what you say they are."
"Don't you'se worry, Fat Cat. I'm all I've said and more."

If he only knew the half of it, she thought.

"Ah, here we are. Home sweet home," the gangster boss declared a few moments later. As the taxi paused at a stoplight, he jumped down, taking his passenger with him.

"Pier Twelve. Home of the miscreants and lawbreakers of half the seven seas. Perfect place to set up an operation, wouldn't you say?"

She had to agree. Fat Cat had taken over the old saloon where the Rangers had first met Cheddarhead Charlie, turning it into a sumptuously appointed business office and casino.

"Welcome back, boss," Wart said. "How went the job?"
"Ruined by the new kids of those fool Rescue Rangers," Fat Cat replied bitterly. "It appears I now have a new group of them to dispose of."

Snout whistled lowly.
"Wowwwee, boss, who's the dame?"

A smile crossed the big cat's face.

"Gentlemen, our latest catch. A moll of considerable ability and class, with a flair for the painful. Wouldn't you agree that that's an accurate description, Miss Poison…or should I say, 'Miss Hackwrench'?"

Gadget gasped involuntarily. She'd been found out.

"Your act is a little rusty. That, and the fact that I remembered having a discussion with Rat Capone about your little caper a short while back was enough to bring to mind where I had seen you before."

His claws snaked out of his right paw. He eased one gently under her chin, making her tilt her head toward him.

"Now then, you escaped the free fall, obviously. What's your mission here, dear girl?"

"What do you think, fur face? To shut you down. That's what the Rangers do every time we run into you. Can't you take a hint?"

The claw dug in a little harder.
"Wrong answer, my pretty. Were we followed? Or were you expected to contact your fellow troublemakers once inside?"

"We weren't followed," she said honestly. "As for contact, I took it on myself to come out here. I didn't discuss it with the others before I left."
"Well then, I am presented with a unique opportunity. You get to experience the first strike of my master plan, and will draw the rest of your miserable lot to their doom as well."

"You expect me to help you?"
"I expect that you have no choice," he laughed, walking toward his office. "Find our friend some accommodations, boys."

Sneering and enjoying themselves thoroughly, Wart and Snout picked Gadget up bodily off of the floor, and threw her into a barred room.

"Pleasant dreams, toots," Wart snickered.

"I hope somebody makes a suitcase out of you," she returned with considerable venom.

As the baddies left, Gadget looked around the small room. Fat Cat had obviously intended on keeping prisoners in his new establishment. Only a cot and a small barred window were in evidence.

"Well, Gadget, you've gotten yourself into it good this time," she said aloud to herself.

"Where is she?" Chip worried. "Gadget should have checked in by now."

"Take it easy, Chip," Dale said. "She's got an IQ that would make Einstein cry. I doubt she got herself into somethin' she can't handle."

"True enough," Monty interjected. "But this is Fat Cat we're talkin' about, mates. Not just some everyday tubby tabby. E's a smart cookie, that one."

"Smart's putting it mildly," Sparky commented. "We've got to find her."

"But where to look?" Chip asked. "Zipper lost them a block down the waterfront."

"Say Zip," Monty inquired, "where on the waterfront did ya lose 'em?"

Zipper buzzed a few quick words.

"Near Pier Twelve, eh? That neighborhood would suit 'ol bushel britches just roight, wouldn't it? That narrows our search down some, mates."

"Some, but not near enough," Chip said dejectedly. "This is just great. The first mission I team up with my wife on, and I let her get captured by Ranger enemy number one."

"Steady on, lad. Gadget knew the risks when she put on that costume. She's a Rescue Ranger just like us, y'know. Our job's to find 'er afore Fat Cat has 'is fun with 'er."

"Right," Sparky exclaimed. "So where do we start?"
"First thing we do is do an aerial survey," Tammy put in. "I've recharged the batteries in the Rangerwing and the Screaming Eagle. I'd advise leaving the Rangerplane behind for this one. We need speed and stealth, and the Rangerplane doesn't have either one. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go check over the 'Wing's engines before we leave. Gadget had to bypass and patch them together like a Christmas tree, and I need to make sure they're gonna hold."

As Tammy exited to the hangar, the rest of the Rangers began their preflight duties as usual. But the nagging thought remained: what had become of Gadget?"

At that moment, the inventor in question was doing her best to escape captivity. Bracing her elbows against the windowsill, she strained against the bars. While her mechanical activities and a daily exercise regimen had built her strength to a prodigious level for a mouse, she was not quite back to par from Lawainie's assault, and she still wasn't anywhere near Monterey Jack's class, even at her peak. She gave up trying to force any of the bars after a while, and then started to think logically.

"I wonder if I can pick the cell lock with my tail?"

Going to all fours, she eased the aforementioned appendage through the door's bars, and carefully inserted the tip into the large padlock that kept her imprisoned.

"Easy now," she said, concentrating. She probed through the various tumblers and catches. One by one they gave way, until the final one was within her grasp.

KKKKKTTCHHHHHH!

Electricity arced from the lock through her body, sending her flying across the room.

"C-c-confounded b-booby t-t-traps," she said dazedly as she got slowly to her feet. She shook her head and smoothed down her frizzled hair.
"Whew, that one was a doozy!"
"Indeed, my dear, and I wouldn't recommend trying it again. The voltage increases with each attempt."

Fat Cat padded softly into the outer room, taking time to brush the sea salt out of his fur.

"You know, Miss Hackwrench…"
"It's Mrs. Maplewood now, you overgrown…"
"Careful, dear girl! I tolerate insults upon my person only to a point!"

He sharpened a claw idly against a file he carried.

"Relax, madam, relax! Even your 'righteous indignation' can't prevail against iron bars. And besides, I want you in a cool state of mind to witness the pinnacle of my plot. Bring it out, boys!"

Wart and Mole rolled a small, tabletop diorama into the room. It was a layout of the city. At the center stood the Gold Reserve.

"At midnight tomorrow night, the Rockefeller tree will be delivered to it's normal place of residence. My minions will set it up on it's pedestal. However, it will not remain there. When it is tipped over, it's trunk will take the doors of the Gold Reserve with it. I clean out the city's money supply, and the citizenry gets one more bad taste of Christmas in their mouth."
He grinned savagely.

"And as a bonus, I get to keep the hauls from robbing the two largest toy stores in the city! Quite a tidy sum, I assure you."
"Why do you hate Christmas so much?" Gadget asked. "You owe us at least an explanation."
He stopped for a moment, and then looked back at her.

"This holiday is the biggest time of fellowship of the year. There's so much goodwill, so much…giving! The entire spirit of it goes against my grain. Even my business associates suspend their activities until after the holidays. But with this year's celebration so hopelessly ruined, it will cast a cloud over the event so dark that no one will be able to resist skipping over it next year. My profit margin will triple with business continuing throughout December."
"So this is all about money to you!"
"My dear Ranger, what else is there?"
She smiled.

"There's so much more than you realize. Christmas isn't about the trees and the gifts, the trimmings and trappings, or even money. It's simply a celebration. A celebration of the night when one child made a difference. You're proceeding under a false presumption, Fat Cat."

Glowing, hate filled eyes bored through her. The criminal mastermind turned back to his lackeys.

"Start getting the tree ready. I want to be able to move it out precisely on time."