Chapter VII: Flat Out

Something had been bothering Chip ever since talking to Frieda. Something about this entire case just...just smelled rotten. That was the only way he knew how to put it.

"There's more going on here than just somebody trying to sabotage a racetrack."
Monty looked up from the Rangerwing's wheel.

"Wot else could it be, Chippah? Somebody's got a grudge against th' tradition, it looks loik t'me."

"That can't be all of it, Monty. It just doesn't make sense. There's been too much careful planning…too much stealth and subterfuge. And for another thing, there's been too much injury and danger caused by this thing. I doubt that anyone around here would try to actually kill people they've raced with for years, just because of a competitive grudge. I haven't seen any evidence of that. There's something else here…I just can't put my finger on it."

"Well I hope you figure it out fast," Dale complained. "I'm tired of not havin' any fun."

"Now Dale, me lad, you know that casework isn't all fun an' games, roight pally? Sometimes, there's gotta be some work."

"I guess so. Doesn't mean I have to like workin', though."
Chip rolled his eyes.

"When did you ever?"

"You take that back!"

"Will not!"
"'Ere we go again," the elder Ranger grumbled.

"Gadget, have you noticed that car behind us?"
"Hmm? Oh, you mean number seventy-two? Now that you mention it, she has been running a little close for the last mile or two."

"A little too close, if you ask me. This is making me nervous."

Gadget glanced into rearview mirror, her eyes narrowing.

"You're right…something's up."

She looked up ahead, calculating the road's contours and vectors mentally.

"How far is it to that cutoff you were talking about?"

"It's just ahead on the right."

"Good. Let's see just how serious our problem is."

As the road forked, Gadget floored the gas, twisting the Rangerbolt's steering wheel sharply. The tires kicked up geysers of dirt and small rocks onto the car behind them, as the Charger veered off onto the opposite road.

In the pursuing vehicle, the air inside the cabin was turning blue.

"They wanna play cat and mouse, huh? Well, two can play at that game."

The hit-driver's car was a modified roller skate, with a roll cage built over top, and various hidden technology installed along the bottom. Part of that technology was the obvious missile that was protruding from underneath, ready to release as soon as the Charger was in range.

"Gadget, they're getting closer!" Tammy said, sounding a bit frantic.

"I know, I know! I'm working on it."

The mouse dodged around a fallen tree, and into another, more dense piece of forestland. In the distance, a canebrake was coming up fast. With a devious smile on her face, Gadget shifted down, and headed straight for the obstruction.
"What are you doing!"
"Just watch. I want to see them get through this."

The Rangerbolt plowed into the cane, it's front ram snapping stalks of the tall plant like twigs. The outside world rushed by in a blur, as the speedometer inched upward…eighty…ninety…one hundred…

Behind, their pursuer was getting more than a little bit agitated.

"Okay, no more miss nice-guy."
She tripped a switch under her dashboard, triggering an ignition beneath the car.

Gadget clung to the wheel for dear life as an explosion erupted near the Rangerbolt's right side; the Charger bucked like an angry horse, the right wheels slightly leaving the ground.

"I don't know if I can avoid many of those."

Both Rangers cringed as another rocket blew away several stalks of cane ahead of them, raining the burning bits down on their roof. They burst from the cane grove in a cloud of engine exhaust and burning wood chips, the skate hot on the 'Bolt's rear bumper.

Gadget looked ahead. The main road would be coming up in less than a mile. If they got back to the straight gravel, they'd have no chance…and be sitting ducks.

"What are we gonna do?" Tammy asked. She was a pretty cool head normally, but the squirrel was very plainly scared by this point.

"I—I don't know! They're sticking like glue!"

Tammy glanced around them, looking for any escape. Normally, Gadget was the one who came up with the plans. In the heat of the situation, though, it was the youngest Ranger who came up with one.

"How good are you with your fists, Gadget?"
The inventor wasn't amused by the inquiry, dodging another explosion.

"What kind of question is that? We can't even get near them without getting blown to smithereens!"
"I have an idea. Can you turn this thing over nice and easy?"

"What! Are you crazy, we're trying to--"

"Flip it over! Just don't kill us!"

With a sigh, Gadget aimed the right-side wheels at a rising embankment.

Back in the skate, the driver's companion pointed ahead.

"Look at that!" she yelled. "They're out of control!"

In front of them, the orange stock car crunched against the roadbank, and tottered onto two wheels, flipping onto it's side.

"Now we've got 'em!"

The two would-be assassins pulled off of the road, climbing clear of the protective cage that wrapped around their vehicle.

"Say, Rhonda, you think the job might've gotten done for us?"
"I dunno, Trixie. Let's see what we've got."
The Rangerbolt lay perched on it's side, the left wheels still spinning in the air. On the ground, a mouse and a squirrel lay slumped against the grass, where they'd obviously crawled through the window, and collapsed.

Rhonda looked at her companion with a crafty smile.

"Don't look good, does it? Still, we'd best check."
Teeming with happiness at her good fortune, the tall mouse began to bend over toward her intended victims, while her friend did the same.

In a flash, the situation reversed itself.

"Now, Gadget!"

The two Rangers opened their eyes, and launched themselves from the ground at their attackers.

Gadget was about evenly matched against Rhonda, but Tammy was having a little trouble with Trixie, who neatly flipped the squirrel over her shoulder.

"Oh boy, this is going to be fun," the younger crimefighter groaned.

Rhonda threw a rather expert punch that caught Gadget off guard, staggering her back against the car. The mouse mechanic rubbed her jaw, wincing.

"Golly, you're stronger than you look."
"You have no idea. Never underestimate yer adversary."
"I could tell you the same thing!"
She lashed out with her foot, catching the other mouse in the knee. As Rhonda went down, trying to regain her balance, Gadget balled her fists together, and brought them down as hard as she could at the base of her neck. The bigger mouse dropped like a rock.

"So much for that," she panted. "Tammy, how are you doing?"
"Tell you…in a…minute!" was the reply. The squirrel was on her back, trying to pry a set of determined paws from around her neck. Gadget's question distracted the other fighter for just enough time, and Tammy brought her hands together against Trixie's ears with a resounding POP! The mouse's eyes crossed, and she passed out cold.

"Now I'm fine."

"Good work there. I didn't know you could do that to a mouse."
"Neither did I, but it was the only thing I could come up with."
She looked down at the two female thugs.
"So, what do we do with these two?"

"First things first, we've gotta get the car back on four wheels. Give me a hand."

With Gadget pushing against the hood, and Tammy against the roof, the Rangerbolt slowly tipped back onto the ground. Gadget, worried about the car's mechanical aspects, reached through the window, and turned the key.

The engine coughed, and began to rumble, roughly but steadily.

"Geez, you can't kill this thing," Tammy laughed. "Right, so now what do we do with the Pointer Sisters here?"

Reaching behind the driver's seat, her friend pulled out a bundle of bungee cords, and threw a handful to Tammy.

"Watch and learn."

Several minutes later, they dashed onto the main road, their shortcut having earned them a place near the front of the pack, in spite of being harassed by the two hired-hoods. Gadget was obviously disappointed; it was clear that they weren't going to win by any stretch of the imagination.

"Look at it this way, Gadge. At least we might come in third."

"That's not like first."
"Well, you can't be first at everything you know."
"No, but I can sure try. Dad always said to do your best at everything possible."
"Wise man, your Dad."
"You don't know the half of it."

Gadget kept the gas floored for the rest of the race, driving the best she knew how. And ultimately, when the Rangerbolt crossed the finish line, it was indeed in third place. The two tired and battered racers climbed wearily from the windows, to receive the small cup that went along with the position.

The overseer of the races, an old graybeard groundhog, presented the girls with the small silver trophy.
"You ladies did real well," he smiled. "Congrats! Third place for one race ain't bad, even with the winning streak you've had."

"Well thank ya'll," Gadget drawled demurely. "We're just glad we placed, y'know. Didn't figure this little streak here'd last this long."

"Well, you two'll do better in the final laps on Friday. I know ya will."

Tammy leaned over and kissed the oldster on the cheek.

"Thank y' kindly, sir."

"Well—well now, I gotta be getting 'bout my duties! Racin' official an' all, ya know! Good luck!"

As the embarrassed 'hog waddled away, Gadget gave Tammy a reproving look.

"You're getting so far into character, you're almost underground."
"So? It gives me a chance to practice for auditions to the park's playhouse next month."

"Why Tammy! I never knew you were an aspiring actress."

"Aspiring is right. But you know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

"Too true. Come on, we'd better get to our campsite. I've got to get Rob to help me go over the 'Bolt, we took some hard knocks out there. We'll catch up with the guys when they get back."

"Sounds like a plan. When's Deputy Redbark supposed to be here to pick up the…um, package?"

From inside the trunk, loud yelling and thumping could be plainly heard. Gadget slammed her fist down on the decklid.

"Quiet in there!"

The shouting continued, and Tammy rolled her eyes upward.

"Think we ought to let them get a little air? Maybe ask a question or two of our own?"
"Sounds like a winner to me!"
She cleared her throat and reached up, mussing the front of her hair so that it stood out wildly. Tammy shot her a curious glance.

"What are you doing?"
"Getting ready for my tough-guy routine. I've watched Chip and Monty all these years…I just hope it's paid off!"

"Oh please…"

"Just you watch. Throw me the keys."

With a flourish and a practiced scowl, Gadget threw the trunk open, taking in the rumpled figures and malevolent scowls that were inside.

"So, you wanna get out? Well come on. Out!"

"How can we get out when you've got us trussed up like turkeys! Cut these cords loose!"

"Nothin' doin', ladies. Now then, how's about we talk a spell about who hired you…an' where ya got the fancy machinery."

Rhonda and Trixie stared up coldly.

"No way, sister. We got paid well enough. No way we're gonna turn in th' hand that feeds us."

Gadget was silent, twirling the keys on her forefinger.

"Hmm. Well, maybe you'll talk to the RAS special agents when they get here. They have ways, ya know."

Trixie gulped, looking over at her partner.

"Hey, uh, Rhonda…maybe we oughta tell somethin'. I've heard stuff about them 'special agents'."
"Shut up, Trix! They ain't gonna call in nobody like that. They're just a coupla country gals like us, out to profit off this."

"Oh, are we? Do you two wanna take that chance?"

Rhonda began to look nervous, glancing around at the gathering crowds.

"Are those…RAS fellas already here?"

Gadget chuckled evilly.

"You never know with PI's…they can be anywhere."

"Come on Rhonda, we gotta give 'em somethin'!"

The tall, brunette mouse shifted uneasily in her seat.
"All right. What do we get if we tell ya what we know?"
"A promise of a fair trail for what ya did out there today. I dunno what else you've got on your record, but that just goes for me."
Rhonda nodded.

"Fair 'nough."

The story that developed over the next few minutes surprised Gadget. More to the point, it flat out scared her. Rhonda didn't know exactly who she'd been working for, but from the description of his appearance and speech, she knew in mere seconds.

After Redbark had led the two handcuffed mice away, Gadget walked alongside Tammy toward the pit area.

"I don't get it. What does a spy want with a racetrack?"

"Beats me," the squirrel Ranger replied. "When are Chip and the guys due back?"
"Should be any time now. If it really is Francis, then we'll have to lay plans, and be extra careful!"

"No kidding. Didn't he almost fry you guys with a laser the last time you met up?"

"Don't remind me. I had split ends for a month after that. Not to mention the time it took to wash off all that stupid eye shadow."

"I still say you look good with a little foundation and blush."

"Tammy, let's not go there again."

"Tam!"
The overjoyed cry came from the campsite, and a furry missile shot from one of the tents. Tammy found herself swept up into a tight embrace, and a kiss that made her head spin.

"Reg…for heaven's sake…let me breathe!" she laughed.

The warrior of Redwall colored slightly.
"Sorry, Tammy. I was just so worried…we heard about what happened during the race. I wish I'd have been there."
"We're okay, Reg. Really, we are."
"Are you sure?"
She brushed a finger against his lips, shushing his mothering manner.

"I'm fine, Reguba. Trust me."
"I do, Tam. I do. But when all of this is over, I need to talk to you."

Gadget watched the exchange with suppressed emotions. If Reguba wanted to talk about what she thought he wanted to talk about…

"Golly, we're gonna need a bigger tree," she muttered as the Rangerbolt was rolled under it's shed.

From a perch high in the emptying stands, a mysterious figure in an oversized trenchcoat peered down at the undercover critters.

"Curses. The girls let them get away…and they got caught! But I think I finally know where I've seen these two before. And when the final piece of my plan falls into place, there won't be enough left of the Rescue Rangers to fill a thimble!"