Chapter IV: To Catch the Culprit

At the starting line, the announcer was getting antsy.

"We're still waitin' for the zero-one car, but they only got a few seconds left!"

The crowd looked around in expectation. No one wanted Team Moss's entry to be disqualified!

A loud rumble dispelled the notion, and the spectators went wild as the Rangerbolt pulled up to it's place.

"Well, ladies 'n gents, it looks like we gonna get a good race after all. Drivers, start yer engines!"
Tammy and Gadget waved to the crowd, while waiting anxiously for the starter's pistol. Which happened to be a human sized pistol, sitting on the sidelines, a blank in the chamber and a mouse lying on his back, foot on the trigger. He shifted his foot, and stuck his fingers in his ears.

BANG!

Every car leaped into action, vying for position.

"Yes, folks, we're a racin' now!"

From the stands, Chip and Dale watched the contest carefully. In spite of their vigilance, they hadn't seen anyone come near the vehicles as they were being tested, or while they were heading to the starting point.

"This is one of the strangest cases I've been on," Chip commented. "We've watched and watched, and haven't seen anybody! But we know these aren't just coincidences. The Rangerbolt had it's brake line cut, as plain as day. What are we missing?"

"I too must admit to being puzzled," Reguba mused from his seat. "My warrior instincts warn me that there is danger afoot, but it refuses to show itself. It is…unnerving."

"What he said," Dale shuddered. "An' Gadget and Tammy are out there in the middle of it!"
"An' they wouldn't have it any othah way, mate. Trust ol' Monty on that one! Gadget's like 'er old Dad in more ways than she knows. Never can pass up a chance at adventure, the wily liddle sheila!"

Sparky shook his head.
"Wily she is, but I'm still worried. Like Chip said, what are we missing?"

"Maybe they're invisible!" Dale suggested, earning himself a bonk on the head.

"Nobody's invisible, nut-brain!"
"Are too!"
"Are not!"
"Are too, and I can prove it!"
"How?"
Dale made his voice sound guttural and mysterious.

"Who knows what evil, lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows!"
"I was talking about real people, dummy!"

"Oh…well that's no fun!"
Chip pulled his fedora down over his eyes, groaning.

"Well, we've proven they're not invisible. It's almost like they're popping up from underground."

The rest of the Rangers fell silent at this observation.

"Popping up…from underground…" Chip repeated, tipping his hat back. "I don't believe it…that's got to be it!"

"Wot's it, pally?"

"The saboteurs must be moles or something! They're getting at the cars from underground! Don't you remember, the scratching sound everybody's heard right before their rides go haywire?"

"I do believe our fearless leader has hit upon the key," Reguba grinned, slapping Chip on the back. "Brilliant bit of deduction, sir!"

"Thanks, guys. But how do we catch them if they're tunneling below ground?"
"Maybe Gadget can rig something up after this race is over," Sparky offered up.

"That is, if she doesn't wreck the car again," Dale snickered.

"I think the Rangerbolt will be in safe hands, with my lady at the wheel," Reguba said, reminding that Tammy was driving this time. Monty patted the squirrel on the shoulder.

"Sorry to bust your bubble, mate, but that doesn't exactly make me an 'ole lot more confident."

While Reguba mulled that one over, Chip made his way to the hidden Rangerwing, and turned on it's onboard radio. Sighing, he lapsed into the CB code that Gadget had recommended.

"Breaker one, breaker one. Sureluck Jones calling the Terrible Twosome. Come in."

There was a crackle of static for a moment, and Gadget's voice answered.

"We're all ears, sugah. What's the word?"

"The word is, be careful. We're onto something. Keep your eyes open, and your trigger finger ready, because I know you've got some surprises built into that car somewhere."

A muffled laugh came from the other end of the line.

"We'll be watchin'. From ahead, that is. We're in first place!"
"Well, don't get too caught up in the moment and lose your head."

"Now, when have ya'll ever known little 'ol me to do that?"
"And why are you talking like that, when it's just me?"
"Cause this ain't a secure line, sweet thing."

The realization hit Chip just as Gadget pointed it out, and he thanked his lucky stars for marrying a genius.

"Got it. Watch yourself out there. Over and out."

"Ten-four."

As he walked back to the others, Chip started running various plans through his brain. None of them were particularly good, so he kept working on it.

"They're ready out on the track," he informed the Rangers. "So let's do a little snooping in the pit area until the race is over. I want to see if we can stumble onto these tunnels."
"Foinally, some action!" Monty grinned, rubbing his hands together.

Out on the track, Tammy was driving like a pro, weaving in and out, doing her best to hold the lead position.

"Got any tricks up your sleeve to keep us at the head of the pack?" she asked her copilot.

"Unfortunately, I didn't have time to build an overdrive unit for the Rangerbolt. You'll just have to depend on it's own merit for now."

From the rear, there was a loud thump, as another vehicle crashed into the bumper.

"Golly!" Tammy said. She wilted a little at Gadget's expression.

"Sorry, didn't mean to steal your expletive."

"It's not an expletive! Or an invective, for that matter! Keep your mind on driving, so I can keep my mind on clinging to this seat!"

Reaching upward, Gadget tightened her harness straps, as the Rangerbolt skidded over bumps in the uneven track.

They were coming into the fourth lap, when Tammy made a startled sound.

"Uh-oh."
"Tam, that is not what I need to hear right now."
"Sorry, Gadget. The clutch plate's going to go. It's getting squirrelly on me already."

"Just baby it as much as you can. Hopefully it'll last through this final lap."

Last it did, and General Lee squealed to a stop shortly across the finish line. Gadget and Tammy climbed out, waving to the crowd in a victorious manner, and accepting handshakes from the race officials.

"You two ladies have done exceptionally well for Team Moss," one of them said. "We hope you'll do equally well on the cross-country race tomorrow."
"Cross country?" both Rangers asked, sharing a collective gulp.

"Yes. You know, cross-country. Off road."

"Um, yeah, we know," Gadget said. "We'll be ready."

"Good, good! Best o' luck!"

The two friends got back into the car, and drove slowly toward their pit stall.

"Cross country?" Tammy asked. "Are they serious?"
"As a heart-attack, it would seem," Gadget said, shakily. "I think I'd better spend this evening beefing up the suspension."

"I better spend the evening doing something to beef up my nerves," Tammy said, not relishing the prospecting of bouncing through the backwoods, hanging on for dear life.

"You and me both. Hey, there's Dale, what's going on?"
The chipmunk was making shushing motions with his hands, and beckoned for Tammy and Gadget to come over, where Chip and Reguba were peering with interest into a small hole.

"Blimey, it's dark as pitch down heah!" Monty's voice said, drifting upward.

"What's Monterey doing down there?" Gadget asked, her natural curiosity taking over as she peered past Chip's shoulder.
"We think this is how whoever it is has been getting at the racing vehicles," he said in a low voice. "They must be moles or something."
Looking doubtfully at the contours of the hole's edges, Gadget spoke quietly.
"Sorry, Chip, but I don't think we're looking for moles. I learned enough about tunnel construction from Foremole to know that we're looking for an entirely different animal. We're probably just supposed to think its moles."

"But who else could be doing this?"
"Anybody with the proper equipment. Even Fat Cat's goons could pull it off given the right circumstances."

"We'll have to be doubly on our guard. See anything, Monty?" Chip called down.

Zipper's buzzing drifted back up to his ears.
"Say again, Zip? You're a little distant."

The fly responded back a little louder, and Chip rocked back on his heels, an interested look on his face.

"They found a lot of discarded tools and parts…looks like whoever was there left in a hurry. They must have been pushing the deadline when they sabotaged the Rangerbolt."

"And when Gadget and Tammy got ready to leave, they were forced to leave their materials and cover their tracks, lest they be discovered," Reguba added.

Sparky nodded.

"Makes sense. It still doesn't clue us in on who did it, though."

At that moment, the ground under Sparky's feet trembled, and he was tossed back onto his posterior as a small miner's helmet popped up through a hole. The helmet was followed by a face, one that was obviously puzzled.

"Ssssay, strange place to put a car show," the new arrival said, his voice whistling through his teeth.

Gadget helped Sparky to his feet, looking over at this curious visitor.

"Hello there, can we help you, mister…"
"No mister to it, young lady. Name's Gopher. My card."
He handed her a small business card, and looked up at Chip, seeming to scrutinize his features.

"Just what neck of the woods am I in, sssssonny?"

"Lower Tennessee. Are you lost?"
"Lost? Me? I never get lost. Just needed to make a right turn, that's all. Been on vacation, an' I'm wantin' to get back to the Wood before too long."

"Um, Gopher?" Gadget said. "Can you help us with something? We've got a tunnel here, and we don't know what dug it. You look like someone with…underground experience, can you tell us anything about it?"

"Be glad to!" he replied, waddling along the ground toward her. "Just where is this hole aaaaaaaaaatttttttt?"

Not watching where he was going, he fell feet first into the tunnel, eliciting a grunt from Monterey Jack as their bodies collided down below.

"Hey now, least I fell on somethin' soft this time! Oops, sorry about that, friend."
The Rangers were rather glad they couldn't hear Monty's acidic reply.

Gopher began to methodically examine the scratches in the earth, where the tunnel had obviously been begun.

"Hmmm, very strange, that."

Mumbling to himself, he wandered around the small cavern, making mental notes, and giving an occasional "Aha!".

He walked back over to the entrance, and climbed carefully out, dusting himself off.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but no animal dug this. It's man-made. Or machine made, rather."

"You mean, there's no evidence of animals employing claws or any other method?" Gadget asked.

"That's puttin' it in fancy words, but yep."

He looked around, making sure of his directions before starting to tunnel home.

"Well, it's been fun chattin' with you kids, but time's a wastin'! I've gotta get home before the summer celebration partyyyyyyyyy!"

Once again, he fell into his own tunnel. His voice echoed back to the Rangers distantly.

"If you need me, lemme know. You've got my card, I'm not in the book y'know!"

"What an odd character," Gadget observed, putting the card into her back pocket. "Well, at least we found out that no person dug this. But who would have the resources to bring in a machine like that, barring Fat Cat or someone of his ilk?"

"And who would have the motive?" Tammy asked. "This is a real puzzler." She wound her arms around Reguba. "Sorry we're not being of any more help than we have been."

"You two have been a great help doing just what you're doing," Chip replied. "Your being in the races helps keep our cover in place, which is vital to what we're doing. You've just got to hang on until we find out what's going on…"

"And win if possible!" Rob said with a grin, walking up. "Ever'body's really impressed with th' two of ya. Ya'll and th' General are takin' these races to th' cleaners!"
"Aren't they though?" Reguba said, pulling Tammy a little closer. "I never knew my lady was such a fine driver!"
"Neither did I," Gadget said. "I don't know whose suspension suffered more, the car's or mine!"

Tammy looked more than mildly insulted.

"Well, I don't think you need to worry about injuring your suspension. It's padded plenty well enough!"

"Wait just a—just what are you implying!"
"If the size eight-tenths coveralls fit, wear 'em, that's all I'm saying!"

"Why you…"

"Girls!" Chip said in exasperation. "We're on a case, remember?"

Tammy and Gadget looked at each other through slitted eyes. Then, to Chip's surprise, they started laughing.

"Oh gee, we are getting uptight," Tammy giggled. "Sorry about that, Gadget."

"No prob. Case tension gets everybody now and then. Let's go see what we can do about getting the Rangerbolt ready for tomorrow."

The two walked off together, chattering in technobabble about various automotive concepts. Chip scratched his head, looking curiously at Reguba.
"If I live a hundred years, I'll never completely figure those two out."

The warrior squirrel laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.

"Neither shall I, good sir. Neither shall I. Now then, if we're to be about our casework, I suggest we find what our good friend Monty would term…the local watering hole."

"Where most of the drivers will be hanging out this evening. Good logic."

"That, and I am fairly well parched to a crisp."
"Can't argue with that logic," Sparky grinned. "Come on gang. Let's go rattle some bushes."

"Rattle some bushes?" Dale mouthed, puzzled. Chip shrugged and indicated that they should follow the electric Ranger, and try to scare up some more leads.

Deep underground, beyond the tunnel the Rangers had just investigated, two pairs of eyes glanced around in the darkness.

"Do you think that they saw us?"
"No, we were too far away. The boss would be most unpleased if we had been caught."

"Yes, this I know. Do we continue our work tonight?"
"Yes, but we must be careful. We will have to begin a new shaft."

"Most unfortunate. We will have to up our work schedule to meet the deadline."
"Yes. Come, we must finish repairs on our equipment."

The voice faded away into the dark, and there was the faint, scratchy sound of machinery cranking up.

In the nearby shed, one of many provided for each pit crew, Gadget lay flat on her back on a rolling dolly, which was scooted up under the Rangerbolt. The heavy-duty parts that she'd brought from home had come in handy, just as she'd felt they would. With the modifications she was making to the suspension system, the car would be able to take pretty much anything the terrain could throw at it. Well, almost anything, that is, if there was too big a jump, or maybe sharp rocks…

She shook her head and turned her concentration back to her work. Above, Tammy was bent under the hood, adjusting the tiny spark plugs that Gadget had crafted for the vehicle. They had been the most difficult parts for the inventor to fabricate, and they required maintenance at least every week to keep them in prime working order. In this case, it was more than every week, given the punishment the little Charger was going through. She took her eyes away from the engine for a moment, letting them roam over one side of the car's body. The fender was straight, but it had a slightly rumpled look to it that came from too much bodywork in a short span of time.

"You know, Gadget, when this case is over, we might want to see if someone around here can make us a new set of fenders. I think these have about had it."

"Yeah, I know, but they'll have to last a while yet. Right now, we have to keep our minds focused on keeping things running, until the case is actually done with. Hand me that biggest socket wrench, will you?"

Tammy handed the tool down, and went back to work. A moment later, there was a clinking sound as the wrench slipped off of a bolt, and bare skin hit metal. Gadget's muffled voice came out boiling hot from under the frame.

"Gadget? Your pilot's vocabulary is showing again."

"Ooops. Sorry, Tam. That one just hurt more than the last seven or eight times I've done it, for some reason."

"Maybe we should take a break. We've been at this for a couple of hours nonstop, you know."
"Maybe you're right. I do need a rest…my caffeine's running out."

"You are such a coffee nut."
"Hey, what can I say? It's what keeps me going those long nights in the workshop."

"Speaking of which, there's an all night eatery just down the street from here. Well, what passes for a street."
Gadget brightened a bit.

"How'd you like to take a little road trip, Tammy?"
"I think it sounds marvelous!"

The two mechanics closed down the hood, and managed to lever their tired bodies through the windows. Moments later, the small orange Charger was kicking up dirt as they sped across the parking area, and toward the trail that led onto the main highway.

"Where'd you say this place is?" Gadget asked, scanning a row of darkened, mouse-sized buildings.

"It should be here, somewhere...wait! There it is!"

Gadget's heart sank. The little run down café wasn't exactly where she envisioned savoring an evening cup of joe. But then, as Monty was fond of saying, any port in a storm.

As they climbed out of the Rangerbolt, Gadget self-consciously pulled down the short T-shirt she was wearing.

"I'll be glad when this undercover bit is done with," she muttered. "These outfits make me feel like a…a…"

"Tramp?" Tammy supplied.

"Thank you for illustrating," Gadget seethed.

Much to her surprise, the inside of the establishment made a lie of the outside. The walls were white and clean, and the counter well scrubbed. The tables and chairs scattered around various points of the room were shabby, but clean and patched.

"Hmm. Maybe I was wrong, Tam. This doesn't seem like such a bad idea, after all."

Seating themselves at the counter, the two were shortly attended by an elderly mouse in a gingham apron.

"What'll it be, youngins?"

"Coffee, as black as you got it."
"Same here."

A moment later, two fine looking cups on matching saucers were served to them, filled to the brim with steaming liquid. Gadget picked hers up, lifted it in salute to Tammy, and turned it up. Her eyes shot open wide, and she stood straight up from the stool.

"Wow, cough, that's not cough bad."
Tammy, meanwhile, had suffered the same reaction.

"It packs cough, splutter a mule-sized punch, I know that!"

The old mouse behind the counter chuckled.

"You two must be new 'uns around here. That there's milk compared t'what most of 'em get what comes in here."

She looked past the two incognito Rangers, and winced.

"Oh Lordy, here comes trouble."

Two disreputable looking rats shuffled in, taking a seat in the corner. A moment later, they were joined by a tall lizard, who kept his collar turned up, in an effort to hide his face. Gadget felt a jolt of recognition.

"Tammy, keep your head down!" she hissed.

"What?"
"That's Sugar Ray Lizard!"

Indeed it was. The gangland thug had changed little in the time since the Rangers had encountered Rat Capone, and if anything, he looked meaner than ever. Gadget and Tammy strained their ears to hear what was being said.

"Now lissen up, you'se two. We got big plans goin' down, see? Dem races gotta be outta here on time, or da boss ain't gonna be pleased wit you'se. An' this fella ain't near as understandin' as Capone used ta be."
The two rats gulped, and nodded vigorously.

"Shore thang, man! We'll tell them diggers to speed it up triple-time, if'n we have to!"

"Keep yer voice down!" Sugar Ray snapped. "We ain't da only ones in here, see!"

"Aw, they's just a coupla broads, whatta they know?" one rat asked.

Downing the rest of her coffee, Gadget decided that now would be an excellent time to depart, with all due haste. Thanking the waitress, she and Tammy moved quietly for the door.

"Hey, dollfaces. Leavin' so soon?"
Sugar Ray whipped his tail from side to side, grinning in a malign manner. Gadget could see that he didn't recognize her, and she wasn't taking any chances.

"Sorry 'bout that, sugah," she said, allowing her voice to wax syrupy and low. "We got jobs t' do early in the mornin', an' gotta get our beauty sleep. Maybe we'll run inta ya'll another time."

"Yeh…maybe," he said, casting a leery eye over them. Shooting a look at Tammy, Gadget pulled her the rest of the way out the door, escaping while the getting was good. Once outside, she turned around, a serious look on her face.

"This isn't good, Tam. Even if he's not working for Capone anymore, Sugar Ray is bad news. We didn't get much information, but we got a little. Come on, we've gotta get back to the track and warn the others."

Moments later, they were skidding across the dirt road, the Rangerbolt's rear end sliding this way and that as Gadget floored the gas. Back inside the café, Sugar Ray was deep in thought.

"Hunh. Coulda swore I seen that dame before somewhere. Ah well, it'll come ta me."

Meanwhile, back at the track, Chip and company were knee-deep in their own question asking. The local watering hole, as it turned out, was housed in the base of an old hollow tree near the pit area. Sporting a glow in the dark sign that read 'The Twilight Club', it was a pretty rough spot. Racers and locals alike sat around the counter, trading jokes and insults, and on occasion, a few blows. Monty, dressed like a huge biker mouse, was trying to extract information from a waiter.

"So, when did all this start, mate?"

"Few weeks ago, when th' first round o' qualifyin' heats came around. You ask a whole lotta questions, mister."

Chip wasn't have much better luck. His target, a tall, brunette ground squirrel, put up with his curiosity for about five minutes, before asking a question of her own.

"What's with th' twenty questions, bub?"

"Oh nothin', I was just curious."
"Yeah? Well curiosity killed th' cat, ya know."

Swallowing hard, he moved on to another patron. Of all the Rangers, Reguba seemed to be doing the best. Sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall, feet up on the table, he chatted amiably with a gorgeous, red-haired chipmunk. He tossed back the remainder of his glass of pecan ale, and nodded to her, before returning to join the rest of the group.

"Any luck?" Chip asked.

"A bit. My contact," he said, smiling over at the radiant female driver, "seems to remember seeing some questionable characters lurking about, acting almost as if they were...surveying the track site, I believe she said. Most odd."

"Sounds like it plain out stinks to me," Dale said sourly. "Does any of this stuff qualify as a clue?" he asked Chip.

"Yes and no. We need to get back to Gadget and Tammy, and see if they've heard anything from the other mechanics."
Stepping outside into the fresh air, they were greeted with the squeal of brakes as the Rangerbolt slid to a stop before them. Gadget eased out, and sat in the window.

"Guys, follow us back to the pit area. Something tells me that this isn't just a local job."