Chapter Eighty-Six
Gray

Beneath the snow and the concrete earth of Tundratown, in a hidden basement beneath the city street, a wolf lay upon his back on a hard table. The figure of an onager stood over him, his face covered by a mask. "This most difficult stage, Wulfey," he said, quietly, reaching towards Wulf with a claw-like device in his. "The damaged eye is having to be remove, though."

The oriental donkey closed towards the wolf's face with the claw-like device at the eye Jack had slashed, which was rather pussy and closed. The quack reached out his other hoof, and pulled the closed lids of the damaged eye open with his fingers. The sight within was of fluids and blood, and the stomach-churning sight of the torn eye within.

The claw-like device had a spike in the center if it. Slvelt pushed forwards, and the two-inch needle sank into the eye. The wolf's body tensed, but did not move. A pained, almost disheartened expression on the onager's face, he turned a dial on the device in his hoof, and the clamps of the device lowered.

With a small amount of pulling and adjusting the device, the claws slipped in behind the eyelid and tightened around the eye. Pulled slowly, the eye eventually came loose, the red and bloody chord attaching it to the open empty eye socket, while pulling taut behind it.

His breaths uneasy, Slvelt reached around to the back of the removed eye and tugged sharply. The chord slid from the eye, and a low snarl of discomfort escaped the wolf's throat. "Almost, Wulfey. Almost make good."

The donkey put down the claw-like device — the split eye still clamped into place, its juices running down the stainless steel and onto his white glove. The device resting on a small table, Slvelt picked up a small box with fluid inside and opened the lid. The fluid smelt like disinfectant and was of an unpleasant yellowish color. He reached in with a pair of specially shaped tongs, and picked up the single item which sat inside, all the while looking at him.

His other hoof still holding the eye-less chord, the orient donkey moved the new eye towards it, lowering himself down to be more at eye-level; lining up the back of the eye with the chord. He bit down on his tongue. He pushed hard. There was a moment of tension; then, with a sickening squelching sound, the chord sank into the back of the eye.

Moving swiftly, Slvelt lowered the eye towards the empty socket, pushing with his gloved hoof and guiding it with the tongs as he forced the eye into its new home. With a wet hiss of escaping air, the eye slid into place. With a pair of tweezers, the onager helped move the eyelids back around the eye until it was safely secure and held in place.

He breathed slowly, lowering the last of the tools back down on the table. He slipped off one of his gloves and, with a click, undid the strap holding the wolf's head flat against the table. His head twisted towards the donkey, Wulf turned slowly towards him, the primordial slit pupils of both eyes adjusting to the light.

A smile grew across the mad doc's face. "There's my pup."

…

"So, who are you? What do you know of Wilde?"

Finnick's disinterested aura turned to one of curiosity, looking towards the chief of police as he sat forwards on the interrogation room table. "What you talkin' about?"

"The two of you have a history, you can't deny that," Bogo said.

"Oh yeah? Whad if ah've never met him before?"

The Chief grunted, leaning back in his chair. "When I came down here and found Wilde was about to beat you, before that… what did you talk about?"

"Oh nothin', diss an' dat."

"You talked about your involvement in the drug operations; the crimes you're guilty of." Finnick's ears pricked up, not yet motivated to react, but doubt growing in his mind about what Nick might've said to Bogo. "He tried to extract information out of you, you tried to dodge answering with threats of telling me about his past connection with The Firm—"

"Hay, wah—"

"— you told him about the real identity of the murder victim at Ladders, Jacques, who enlisted you, the acquisition of Erkin—"

"Nh— Nick really sold me out? Even dough it put him in der shi—"

"Wilde hasn't said a thing. He… 'neglected' to turn off the video recording equipment after my brief interrogation with you; it was all recorded."

"Den… what're you here to do? I told Nick all whad I know." Realizing the shock had made him open up, the fennec's cynical side kicked back into work. "Lookin' for a confession, Misder Fuzz?"

"No. Cooperation." Sighing resolutely, the Chief posed the question he deeply wished he wouldn't have to ask. "Are you still intending to inform me of Wilde's prior involvement with The Firm?"

"What you talkin' 'bout? You already bin told Nick's…" A thought suddenly striking him, the fennec's head tilted and his expression became a squint. "Just what the heck you plannin' here?"

Bogo's face remained neutral, his body language being perfectly professional. "Perhaps I found out about it when I was off duty."

"Dis some kinda trick?"

"It's a matter of hats, Mister Depesdo. I found out about Wilde's Firm involvement while wearing my 'civilian' hat, but not while wearing my 'police chief' hat. I'm not breaking any rules by feigning ignorance, I'm just treating my 'on duty' and 'off duty' self as two different people. It's exactly the same."

Finnick's disbelieving expression didn't change. He opened his mouth as though to talk, paused and closed it again, his paws crossing over his chest. "However, if you were to tell me about that now, while I'm wearing my police chief's hat, I would have no choice but to look into it. Which is something… neither of us want to happen."

The fox regarded him carefully. "So, you knows Nicky is guilty of—" Bogo's expression hardened; Finnick reworded his sentence, "So you're aware Nicky may-or-may-not-but-very-probably-ain't an ex-member of 'some criminal thing' or other… but you wan' him kept in d' clear?"

Bogo nodded, solemnly.

Only now starting to trust the buffalo's intentions, Finnick clicked his tongue between his teeth. "Sooo… wha's in it for me? How you gonna be sure I don't spill what I knows or doesn't know? You gonna… 'drop' your keys?"

"Fox, you are a murderer and a coercer, and I cannot simply allow you walk out of this building. The same principles apply to me as they do to Wilde; if you want out, I need something more from you."

"An' if I was to threaten you with telling everyone about—"

"Then there would be no hope of escape from Blackheath, and I would make damn sure your sentence was as long and unconfutable as it would be possible for me to make!"

Finnick considered this promise, watching the heavily breathing buffalo before him. "But I don't know nothin' more than what I've already told Wilde. I don't know nothin' about the structure of the organization, who's at the top, where they come from… nothin'."

"Who would? Who would know the location of the other Hives? That kangaroo you mentioned, Jacques, who recruited you. Would he know?"

"Would'a thought so. Guy knew his stuff, an' seemed to be pretty high up with how he was going about the place making orders."

"Yes… yes, and if he had permission to put you in charge of one of their Hives without outside authority, that's another indicator of his status."

"Like ah says, though: Don't know where he'd be at right now."

Turning down towards him, the buffalo fixed a stern gaze upon him. "And if you were free? How would you then get in contact with him?"

"Wh— how'd you mean?"

"What I'm saying is… if you'd slipped the net at the raid last evening. Huh, for all I know, maybe you did. Would you then be able to get back in contact with Jacques or someone in affiliation with him?"

"Arh, maybe… I guess? I know where I could hang 'round and probably get spotted by him or someone who looks out for him. There's a couple of streets where things are a bit rougher than normal on the east side of the precinct. I get spotted, someone's bound to let him know or go up an' talk to me."

"Interesting. That is, very, interesting."

"You wan' me to do a double-cross, yeah?"

The directness of the statement caught the Chief off guard for the most fleeting of moments. He sat forwards once again on his desk, his hoofs clasping before him. "You don't strike me as a mammle who believes in 'loyalty'. You're in it for Finnick, and always for Finnick. Am I correct?"

"Money's my god. I'll do anythin' for him, even be loyal or take a job managing a load of foreign drug-runners. But if the cash-flow stops, so'es too do I. If it'll keep me outta jail. It's hard to earn a livin' in there, not impossible, but tricky as heck, sure. I won't think twice 'bout double-dealing some Southerner for the cops." Bogo nodded, it almost felt legal.

How could Bogo make Finnick unable to slip through the net, without having his existence on the police records? "Uh, gonna be a hell of a pain in the bitch to have to be working with der fuzz," Finnick grunted. "Ah take it givin' my name out to the public's gonna be just as much part of the deal as my not tellin' Nick's?"

"That is the case. It's important we limit your contact with the police force as much as possible to avoid arousing suspicion. I think… hm. We both have to be sensible about this. Stay here and keep quiet for now. I have a few things to set up before you're released from here."

"An' if someone tries to come in here?"

"I very much doubt that's going to happen. Everyone who was in the cells before is now being transported to vans to be delivered to Blackheath. "Now, if you'll excuse me," Bogo concluded, his face a stony mask as he rose from his seat and made to the door. He paused in the doorway and checked in on the small fox, grimaced for just an instant and pushed the metal barrier closed, locking it behind him.

Finnick stared at the door, trying to process if what had just happened was real or wishful thinking. "Nicky, you sly son of a Todd," the fox cackled, "I knew you'd pull through in the end."

…

Surveyor Director Evie Wright of the Department of State Security sat — her back straight and her posture perfectly conforming to health and safety regulations — at the chief of police's desk. She had pushed aside the paperwork, pens and Bogo's other assorted belongings into untidiness at the edge the desk, and had placed two tall stacks of perfectly aligned paperwork in its center.

Reaching up with a hoof, the deer took down one of the paper-clipped documents of paper and opened it to the first page, reading through every line of information within.

Shuck Black sat opposite of her, leaning back in the small chair, his legs crossed casually before him as he watched the red deer with an air of disinterest. He knew her type — could smell the superiority complex a mile off — and knew it wouldn't be worth trying to speak with her.

The door opened; the tall frame of a buffalo paced in and pulled the door shut behind him. His gaze moved across the room, spotted Shuck and the deer sat at his desk. "Miss Wright?"

"Do you think you're being amusing or something?" she said, not looking up from her paperwork. Bogo waited through a pause. "This paperwork information on toilet cleaners and janitors. I trust you've given me such as some kind of completely unprofessional and inappropriate joke."

"I—"

"Because I sincerely hope it's for a joke and not some kind of stalling tactic. It would be a terrible shame if you were to be so stupid as to hoof me psychological evidence that you are trying to hide something."

"Director Wright," Bogo huffed, trying to reassert his authority, "you instructed me to give you information on the activities of all staff over the past forty-eight hours, and that is what I have given you."

"Hmm." Miss Wright said nothing more, but turned the page of her piece of paperwork and started reading up about the next instalment of toilet roll this member of staff had made.

"Mister Black," Bogo said, his voice a tone calmer as he turned to Shuck, "thank you for coming up here and I'm sorry for you night in the cells. We—"

"S'alright," Shuck interjected, "ah quite understand."

"— we just need to ask you some questions and talk about what happened last night. I don't believe you're in any real danger of facing legal prosecution. So long as you haven't killed anyone, I mean," Bogo added in a slight chuckle, which he started regretting as the dog fixed a glass-eyed stare upon him. "A run-down on last night's activities, Mister Black, if you please."

Shuck nodded, a hint of innate suspiciousness about his demeanour. "Well… I were in me house, bin drinking a few ales and stuff. Went out for a little walk 'bout and got this clobberin' on me head. I woke up later, was sat in my house again, this goat beside me, an—"

"A goat?" Bogo asked sharply. "Victor Nyilas?"

"Eye, that were his name. We got talking, him sayin' about his family bein' held hostage an' doubting he'd be getting out of things alive."

"He wasn't a willing participant?"

"Like buggery he weren't. He made a deal with a certain mammle in power to make an archy'logical dig 'round the area. At the same time, his wife and kids were kidnapped by this same mammle-in-power. When Nyilas found out, they told him he were to go back to Zootopia an carry on his teachin', but that he were to oversee some drug operations 'round that part oh the city for a time."

"You mean he was put in charge of one of the Hives?"

"Nah, nah. From what he say, sounds to me like all the Hives got one boss, George the coyote were in charge of importing drugs. This Nyilas were put in to kinda generally manage making sure they got to their individual Hives okay. Though I don't think he were really much more than a somewhat-respectable bloke, who weren't likely to get suspicionized upon bein' used as a skape goat, really."

"They was pretty well organized from what I get of it. Lot of divisions, separate bosses and overseers and workers and worker-managers in every department. All managed by this autocratic mammle-in-power at der top." Realizing only now he was still stood up, the dog's words having had distracted him from noticing, while the Chief pulled over and lowered himself into a chair. Even Evie Wright had paused reading paperwork to pay closer attention.

"You know their name? The person at the top?"

"I do. Won't believe me, though."

"Just tell us."

"Malvern Zafearov."

Wright raised a brow; Bogo scowled in confusion. "I take it you don't mean—"

"Principal Governor Zafearov of Zistopia, yes," Shuck stated. "Or," he grunted, "to give 'im his proper title, 'Lord', though you wouldn't know him by that name 'round here."

A long moment of silence passed. Wright scoffed, "Stupid mutt," she muttered, turning back to her paperwork. Bogo's eyes squinted almost to a close.

"There's some mistake," Bogo included with lack of belief.

"Nor mistake. Got it on good authority. Nyilas talked a lot oh times with him; even has a little piece of rock from side his tower."

"Well, erm… we'll certainly look into this, Mister Black. Thank you fo—"

"Don't encourage him, Harold, he's clearly a buffoon. Too much ale and tobacco."

"But Miss Wright, if he's—"

"No, Harold. Aside from the lack of any evidence, means or motivation of Principal Governor Zafearov's involvement, think of the political repercussions if Zootopia were to accuse him of illegal activities."

"If we have a lead, Miss Wright," Bogo advised, impatiently patient, "it is our legal duty to investigate it."

"If you insist on wasting your time, so be it. For now, I'll hear what your Murder Investigation officers have postulated."

Turning back towards the dog, Bogo said, "I think it would be an idea to have Mister Black present when Leopold and Jefferson give their reports."

"To cross examine his story," Wright mentioned, "yes."

The Chief grunted, "I was going to say t—"

"I'm sorry?" Wright's gaze held Bogo's, her hooves resting on the desk's top. The Chief grumbled to himself and backed down — not because he felt 'belittled' by the pompous and overconfident femammle, but just because he knew arguing his point would be more effort than it was worth.

"So. As long as it'll be okay with you, Director Wright… I'll give Officer Leopold a buzz." Evie didn't respond, just tuned back down to her paperwork, turning the page to the next set of lightbulb changes the janitor had reported. "Leopold, Jefferson," the Chief urged, his radio to his mouth, "we're ready for you. I want to see you in my office A-SAP."

"At once, Chief," came the sound of Leopold's reply. "Officer Jefferson currently out pursuing a lead, but I can be with you directly."

Quiet minutes passed between the hound, the buffalo and the deer. A quiet minute of each of them quietly ignoring the other and silently wishing they were on their own. Shortly, there was a knock on the door, and the head and long, gray mane of H. Leopold appeared inside.

A few short words of greetings and introductions later, the lion began his report of the findings of the investigation at the harbour. "It's been an interesting investigation… with some expected and fairly standard results and a few minor details of quite strong interest. The investigation started, as it often does," the lion began, pulling out his customary collection of photographs, to which Jefferson sighed and Bogo's hoof raised to his face in dull impatience…

"With an investigation of the structure, direction and proceedings of the activities of the evening via an examination of the footprints. We more-or-less accurately traced the movements of the criminals as they moved about the harbour and then returned onto the boat. We found your footprints, Mister Black, the tracks of Officer Hopps and another rabbit, whom we don't know the identity of, and the tracks of what appeared to be a large wolf-like creature."

"Wolf-'like'?" repeated Bogo.

"The footprints were larger than we would rationally expect those of a wolf to be. Assuming his body conforms to the standard ratio of foot-size to body-height, this wolf, if indeed he was a wolf, must have been at least a foot or so taller than even the largest of his species."

"Wilde did say something about a wolf. A large, muscled wolf with… which reminds me, have you been able to trace the tracking device Officer Hopps fired?"

"We have, Sir."

"And?"

"It appears, who or whatever the dart was fired at, did remain attached to its target."

"It's not at the harbour anymore?"

"It's not even in Precinct One. It's in Tundratown, Sir. In, as far as we can tell from this range, a small car-park clearing in a lesser-populated area of the industrial estate."

"Great work. Who would be available to get coverage over in that area and investigate the source?"

"If I've been overly presumptuous I apologise, Chief, but I have already taken the liberty of sending Officer Jefferson to investigate, not to try to enter or to make any arrests. Just simply to observe from a distance and see if there's any movement or signs of life."

"Well done, Leopold," Bogo praised, a genuine smile crossing his features. With all the stress that'd been piled on his shoulders the last few days, it was a great relief to find that at least one officer was thinking for themselves; acting appropriately without needing everything checked over by him.

"Thank you, Chief. He should be calling in within the next ten minutes or so."

"What else did your investigating find?"

"Miss Hopps and the other rabbit appear to have attempted to sneak into proximity of where the shipping vessel apparently was, via the north side of the harbour, while using the concealment of the large crates in that area to approach: presumably trying to get close enough to attach a tracking device from their track gun to the side of the ship's hull."

"I would expect that to be the case, it's a useful, but fairly low-range device. What then?"

"Well, it's possible they were then spotted by the criminals in the central clearing, or, more likely, the large-wolf-assailant then struck them from behind. They then seem to have tried to flee via the way Hopps and the other rabbit entered by. Judging by the distance between their footsteps, it clearly shows they were sprinting, and then it circles back to the opening inside."

"They must have been in some considerable panic when they left, Sir. The size difference and contrast in their strengths must have been enormous, beside which I should've though rabbits were biologically in predisposition towards fearing predator-mammals such as he. I believe either Hopps or the other rabbit fired off several wild shots towards the assailant as they re-entered the clearing, as I discovered a number of bullets lodged inside the crates close by. One of these shots at least wounded the wolf, as I discovered spats of blood around there and following his footsteps from then on. I immediately sent Jefferson, with a sample of the blood, to the laboratory. However, they are yet to get back to me with their findings."

"Good work so far, Leopold," Bogo said. "I think I can assume the rest. Hopps and the… 'other rabbit' fled towards the safety of the discontinued boatbuilders' yard. The 'other' was caught and badly injured, and then he went to Officer Hopps in—"

"If I could just stop you there, Sir, that's not completely what happened. A number of oddities were found around that area. First of all, a pistol with a 3D-printed muzzle had been crushed by some force, which gives suspicion the other rabbit had attempted to use in the moments before their 'downfall'. There also was a discharged, highly concentrated tranquillizer round. Thirdly, and perhaps most interestingly, was that very Ruger SR ME which, as we discussed before, was the weapon used to murder the fennec fox at Ladders and Ladders and Co."

"Thé Ruger?"

"If you remember, Sir, there's only one in existence. The exact specifications of the model are not quite comprehensive, but this weapon matches what we do know about it in such exactness, there can be no doubt about its identity."

"I see," Bogo said, slowly.

"From what I can reasonably assume, Sir, the wolf was armed with the Ruger, but was disarmed by either Hopps or the other rabbit. The other rabbit then attempted to use the 3D-printed gun, which was rendered inoperable before he could use it. The tranquillizer round was then used against him, leaving him crippled and unable to defend himself."

Bogo nodded, taking in every word. "I see," he said again, his mind more caught up on trying to figure out the ins and outs of what had passed, too focused from finding something 'constructive' to say.

"We'll know more once Miss Hopps is able to answer our questions."

"Of course, yes. Were there any more finds?"

"A few signs of fighting between the tree of them, Sir, and… three dead bodies, also." The Chief inclined his head with interest; the lion went on. "Two of them, Sir, were apparently burnt to death. The fire appeared to have started suddenly — with use of an oil-based accelerator — within the confines of the small shack—"

"That's my home you're talking about," Shuck cut in. "Nice a place as ever I lived in."

After processing that the 'shack': the pile of loose, corrugated metal with the torn and faded armchair and the ancient coal fire, was the home of the black dog, who had been sat silent since Leopold had come in, the lion hastily adopted a sympathetic air. "I'm sorry for your misfortune, Mister…" The dog didn't give his name. Leopold cleared his throat, returned his attention to the Chief, and continued.

"The fire appeared to have started suddenly within the confines of the small, erm… building. The two memmle fled, but were unable to extinguish themselves, owing to the oil-based accelerant which their clothes and coats were coated with."

"Anything to do with you?" Miss Wright asked sharply to the hound.

Shuck grinned, but the sight of his barbed teeth only achieved a slight flinch from the deer. "Nothin' at all," Shuck said, his bad breath achieving little more than a slight flinch. "They just were takin' use of my oil light, usin' it to light 'emselves a smoke, when one of them backed into my fire. He yelped, dropped the lantern, and 'dey all went up like a puff oh smoke. Black smoke, heh."

Leopold looked carefully between Black and Wright. He could feel their intrinsic dislike for each other from there. "What about the third body?" Bogo asked, holding no interest for the interrelationship of the two.

"Him, I found, just outside the front of Shuck's domicile. The polar bear was armed with a small assault rifle, and had what appeared to be a deep knife wound in the side of his neck."

"He got into an argument with another mammle," Shuck said before Evie had time to raise her suspicions. "Heard them arguing from in me house, heard them talking about who should get to have the rifle with 'em. Came to blows not long after, then I heard what must've been his throat being cut by the other."

Wright chuckled, dryly, as though she'd just won. "If they were arguing about who got the rifle, 'Mister' Shuck, then why was it left in the polar bear's paws after he was killed?"

"Hmmm," said Shuck, making an over-theatrical display of thinking about it. "Well, maybe my Russian ain't as good as I thought it was. Guess they must've been arguing about who got the bigger cut of cash when the job were done or something."

Wright's face tightened, but she had looked back to her paperwork before letting it show. Shuck grinned, turning back to Leopold. "You was sayin'?"

"I was done, actually," the lion said. "It would be gross speculation on my part to try to say exactly who caused the deaths, but this is certainly something we can investigate more with additional time. Though, I must add, it is unlikely further evidence will become apparent on the matter."

"Good work, Leopold," Bogo finalized, glancing over to Shuck and Director Wright. "Let me know when the laboratory are finished with the blood samples, and tell Jefferson to report directly to me with an update as soon as he's trailed down the source of the tracking device."

"It will be done, Sir."

Bogo nodded and the door closed with Leopold on the other side.

Author's notes:

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