Chapter XV.
"Good morning, welcome to Rescue Aid Society Medical Complex I. May I have your appointment ID number, please?"
"I'm afraid I may have left it in my other skirt."
"I'm sorry Miss, but no one is permitted care or consultation at RAS Medical without a proper appointment ID. Have you spoken to somewhere here ahead of time?"
"Actually I have-I've spoken to Dr. Mariposa on several occasions-I'm here for a followup."
"Oh I'm terribly sorry. Dr. Mariposa no longer sees patients on an ordinary schedule. As the head of RAS Medical-"
The chipper young mouse paused in mid-presentation and gulped as Acorna Ableheart leaned down over her desk, and gave her a predatory smile.
"Tell her there's someone here to see her with a gift from Judge Byrock."
"A...gift?"
"Oh yes. A very finely crafted one, at that."
"I-I, I'll see what I can do."
"Oh good! Don't mind me, I'll wait."
The receptionmouse looked slightly green as she padded softly back into the rear offices, seeking out her superior's workspace. Acorna knew that she had played a straight up gamble, but she hoped it would appeal to Mariposa's vanity, and bring her out into the open. If the prosecutor was any judge of character, and she did indeed consider herself to be, the good doctor would put in an appearance soon, if for no other reason than to slake her curiosity.
"All right, Acorna old girl-now we wait."
Just as she'd figured, it wasn't a long wait. A few minutes' time brought the fussing, bustling tones of a creature accustomed to being in charge to her ears, and Miss Ableheart smiled widely. Today was definitely her day.
"Cherry, if I've told you once I've told you a dozen times, if it's a contribution then come and get me at once. Don't beat about the proverbial bush."
"Y-yes ma'am, but this-"
"Judge Byrock is a respected supporter of the arts and sciences, and whatever contribution he wishes to make will be welcome!"
We'll see about that, Acorna thought to herself. I haven't done a surprise delivery in quite a while. We'll see if I've still got it.
Dr. Mariposa was still in mid-tirade as she strode into the lobby, her captive audience firmly in tow. This was the type situation that the prosecutor loved-when an unsuspecting witness was fully geared up and ready to be hit for information without even realizing they'd been hit. It made the task that she was about to engage in that much easier to manage.
"Now then, Judge Byrock's messenger?"
"In the corner Doctor, by the flower boxes. She seems rather intense about the errand, I'd advise-"
"Cherry, you are the office clerk. The office clerk. I don't pay you to advise."
Ableheart cringed inwardly.
Even I'm not that rude.
"Now then, you were pointing out the messenger?"
"That won't be necessary, Doctor-the messenger can point out herself."
Mariposa's face went white as Acorna stepped into view, her best courtroom mask firmly in place. This was the element to which she was accustomed-being in command of the situation, not riding behind it. She was the predator now, a hawk scanning the horizon with keen eyes, in search of prey. And the prey she had sighted this particular morning was one Dr. Maribel H. Mariposa.
"Miss...Ableheart, I think it was? This is indeed unexpected. If you needed a checkup I'm afraid you'll have to make an appointment like everyone else."
"You know, funny you should mention checkups. I was just thinking about a checkup over the last few weeks, a followup really-to your official deposition? I have a few questions that I'd like answered to my satisfaction."
"I...see."
Doing her best to muster her official face, the doctor held out her hands.
"Well as you see Madam Prosecutor, my time is quite limited-running RAS Medical is a busy thing. If you'll just consult with Cherry here, I'm sure we can easily find you an appoint-"
Acorna didn't wait for the statement to finish. Jerking the manila folder out of her attache bag, she slapped it against Mariposa's chest, bringing a satisfying gulp from the backpedaling doctor as she clutched the papers instinctively.
"I believe I just did."
"Miss Ableheart, this is most irregular, I must insist that you-"
Dr. Mariposa's eyes bulged as she pulled the packet of papers from their envelope. While her fur hid much of her underlying flush, it was very evident that the prospects of what she was reading were quite unpleasant.
"You...are issuing me...a subpoena?"
"That's what it says, Doctor. If you'd cooperated with me in the first place this might not have been necessary, but under the circumstances...there are two choices available to you. One, we do this here, in the comfy confines of your office. Two...we do it in Judge Byrock's chambers, under guard. The choice is entirely yours."
The bespectacled eyes narrowed, and Dr. Mariposa realized she had underestimated her opponent. Acorna had been beaten badly by Peregrine Mason, and she was now a much more cunning and careful version of the prosecutor who had come to the case some weeks before. No stone would be left unturned, and nothing taken for granted. This version of Acorna Ableheart was the crafty, devilish one that so many feared, and much to the doctor's chagrin she realized she was shaking.
"All right. My office. And make it brief, Miss Prosecutor-I have things to do."
"I'll be as brief as I can make it. Cooperate with me and we'll both escape with a minimum of pain."
"Oh believe me, Miss Ableheart. When I'm done with your career, you'll know something about pain."
"Don't bother threatening me-I pour promises like that over my pancakes in the morning. Just get moving."
Weaving their way through the finely appointed waiting areas, prosecutor and witness made for the rearmost corridor of the complex, where resided Doctor Mariposa's retreat, a large knothole office on the corner, shielded by a heavy oaken door.
"Come in, Counselor, if you're going to. Take a seat and let's be somewhat comfortable."
It was Acorna's considered opinion that her quarry had been far too comfortable already, for someone in her position. The office was cavernous, lofty an spacious, and it was furnished lavishly in antique Edwardian dollhouse furniture, any number of which pieces would have been worth thousands in human currency. The desk itself was a masterwork, having been crafted by a skilled human artisan's hands over a century in the past; this was no repurposed cigar box, or anything of its' like, and Ableheart had the sudden revelation that she had allowed herself to be lured into the cornered animal's lair. Now more than ever, she would need to be doubly sharp and thrice as attentive.
"I know you might find it a bit pretentious," Mariposa stated, "but as hard as I've worked for this position, I've always believed it entitles me to at least a few of the perks of the office."
She unlocked a small cabinet behind the desk, and pulled out a miniature crystal decanter, and two glasses.
"The finest pistachio essence produced in the state. Won't you join me?"
"No thank you-I don't drink."
"Suit yourself."
Pouring a hefty splash into one of the glasses, the doctor sat down on the richly embroidered settee and sipped quietly, appraising Acorna with the eye that only a physician can.
"Now then...I believe you had questions for me."
"A few, yes. I will expect full and truthful answers."
"But of course."
"Yes...of course."
At this juncture there was nothing for it but diving in, and the prosecutor already knew it would be expected. Still, the matter had to be answered, and no one else was going to take the risk.
"Would you state for the record, the events of some weeks ago when you had an interview with Dr. Tammy Reguba?"**
"I wouldn't exactly call it an interview," Mariposa smirked.
"Doctor...only the facts, please."
"Fine, fine. Doctor Reguba approached me with a wild, out of this world story about children being subjected to mind control through the Central Park VirtualCade. She had in her possession documents, diagrams and other material which could only have been obtained by espionage."
"That's a strong word, Doctor. Did you ever undertake to investigate her claims?"
"Of course not. It was obvious the good doctor had suffered a breakdown of some kind, and playing to her delusions would be counterproductive."
"I see. Did Doctor Reguba persist in her claims?"
"She did, even going so far as to claim that the VirtualCade proprieter, Mr. Banastre, was complicit in her friend Gadget Maplewood's death. I was moved by the unbalanced state of her mind, but I was not in a position to help."
Acorna scribbled busily at her report, but under the surface she noted an ugly feeling growing at the front of her mind. Yes, Tammy Reguba was now part of the fugitive band of Rescue Rangers who had stubbornly resisted her net, but before the fact she had been a respected member of the medical community, and one known for her strong feelings when it came to the care of children. Doctor Mariposa's crass dismissal seemed out of place for a medical professional, and it only made that tickling sensation she felt in her brain all the stronger. She had felt it many times in the courtroom, and it was a feeling that only ever provoked anger in the Counselor.
I get the feeling I'm being lied to.
The realization caused her some shock. Even though Mariposa's attitude was somewhat smarmy, the same could be said of many who served in public office. She was still a highly ranked official within the Rescue Aid Society, and the idea that she might be somehow complicit in some illegality not only surprised the stalwart Miss Ableheart, it brought heat boiling into her blood.
If Mariposa can't be trusted, she thought to herself, how many others may have committed perjury? And for what reason?
"Have you ever had any interaction with Mr. Banastre himself? I understand he is a popular figure."
The doctor didn't flinch.
"Miss Ableheart, who I see or do not see is not the concern of you or your office. I would stick to investigating the criminals you already have, rather than inventing new ones."
"Doctor, I would remind you that asking questions is my business. I have been tasked to protect the RAS's interests, as well as those of the people, and sometimes that requires asking hard questions indeed. If you have nothing to hide then it hurts nothing to answer."
The chief surgeon sat back in her seat, and sipped the drink she'd poured. To others she might have looked completely at ease, relaxing over the chat Miss Ableheart had brought to her door. To the seasoned prosecutor however...her body language told a much more sordid tale. Acorna watched as if with x-ray vision, as Mariposa shifted on the cushions, her nervous nature revealing itself to experienced eyes. She clutched at the glass in her hands, as if to draw strength from the pale liquid inside.
"Very well. I have met Mr. Banastre at certain charitable events. He is most generous to RAS Medical, providing grants to many of our programs, our fundraising drives, and to our scholarship applicants. To accuse this creature of wrongdoing is simply ludicrous."
"I understand your feelings. Have you had occasion to have dealings with Chip Maplewood, at any point?"
"Only during court appearances generally, when he or one of his Rescue Rangers would bring testimony or present evidence. They have always seemed somewhat capable, but woefully old fashioned. Not at all suited to law enforcement in this day and age."
"Yet they captured some of the most infamous criminals in our history."
The doctor snorted.
"History, yes. But we are a great long way from history now, are we not?"
"I suppose so. Have you seen any evidence to support Doctor Reguba's claims of ill effect against younger users of the VirtualCade technology?"
"Certainly not. The ravings of a crackpot and a pariah, nothing more."
Acorna eyed her witness carefully. This interview had introduced more curiosities in her mind than it had answered, and gradually a plan of action was forming.
"Well, I do believe that's all I had at the moment. I thank you for your cooperation Doctor, we shouldn't need to speak again."
"I should hope not. I am already mentally drafting my letter of protest to your superior, Mr. Limburger."
"Be that as it may, thank you for the chat anyway."
The two rose as Mariposa drained her glass and returned the decanter to its' place-allowing the counselor to see that the cut glass bottle was nearly empty, only a few dregs swimming in the bottom-someone had been pouring their courage from within for quite some time now. Acorna made a mental note to add to her growing list of oddities about the good doctor, and searching her thoughts, she realized that the list was getting quite long.
"Oh, um-just, just one more thing."
Dr. Mariposa looked up warily, her eyes not moving over the edge of her glass. Feigning personal interest, Acorna rested her hand on the miniature-scale armchair sitting proudly before the room's bookcases.
"Who's your importer? I have a spot in my bungalow that's just dying for something from the Federal period."
The head of RAS Medical considered a moment, and shrugged.
"Stones & Zaslove, off of Twenty-First Street. There's a couple of packrats who've operated out of there for years, and their eye is quite good. I doubt you'd find them to your price range, but anything's worth a try once."
She picked up a pen and a stack of medical forms, looking very busy and rushed.
"Thank you, and no worries, I don't think I'll need anything else. Good day, Doctor."
"Hmm? Oh yes, good day, Miss Ableheart."
The prosecutor stashed her notes in her attache bag and headed back the way she had come in. It took several minutes to wade through the sea of offices and classrooms and exam labs, and the opportunity to look back never presented itself. If it had, she might have spied Mariposa standing in her open door, watching her visitor every step it took to leave the building, observing with her now empty decanter in her hand and a look of abject terror on her features. It was well deserved, for in her mind the clever little counselor was already charging ahead with her investigation, a new twist to consider.
"Stones & Zaslove, hmm? All right Doctor, let's go see just how much money you've spent...and if I can figure out where it came from."
"Corky dahling-it's vonderful to see you!"
"Likewise I'm sure, Bianca-it's been a long, long time since the Special Operations days."
Corkscrew Hackwrench couldn't resist a soppy grin, leaning into the deep hug his host insisted upon. Bianca Moskevitz might be a bit more advanced in age than he, but she was still as sharp as broken glass-just a lot more loveable.
"Come, sit! It has been a long time since you came to visit me here, even in the old days! Vhat is the trouble?"
He chuckled lightly.
"Haven't lost your touch, have you ma'am."
"I vas General Secretary for sixteen years, my dear-you never stop looking for the angle."
She gestured toward an armchair by the fireplace, and reached for the small silver platter before them as he sat.
"Would you care for tea?"
"I will if it comes with Miss Bianca's famous chestnut walleroos."
Bianca winked conspiratorially, lifting a cloth from a small plate nearby the teapot, and taking no small amount of amusement as she watched Corky breathe in the aroma of the fresh baking.
"You never do disappoint."
"I do my best dahling, with vhat I have. Of course you know in the old country we made them vith valrus nail clippings, but they are so hard to come by here."
He stopped abruptly, cookie midway to his mouth as his ears wilted.
"D'you mean Monterey Jack was achally telling the truth about that?"
The older mouse burst out laughing, putting a comforting hand on his arm.
"Of course not, dear boy. I vas hoping I might be able to lighten your mood before ve talk. You vere always such a serious little boy."
Corkscrew shrugged, but bit into the walleroo with relish.
"I guess I felt like I had to be, sometimes. Gadget took care of me so much, I kinda felt like I owed it to try an' take care of her. When she'd let me," he remembered fondly, thinking of far-off days when more often than not, his sister had rescued him from himself when he'd tried to intervene in grown-up matters. "She always said t'me, 'Fly high Corky, and don't worry about the landing-I'll be here to catch you'. And she always was."
"Until now, yes?"
"Yes-until now."
He sighed.
"It's getting dark out there Bianca, an' I don't mean from an evening shower. Chip and the rest are in real trouble, and I've used up almost everything at my disposal as far as influence, already. I hate to put anything more on your shoulders or Bernard's-you've always been so good to us."
His hostess shook her head, frowning.
"No, no, no. You do not think of it that vay, Corkscrew Hackwrench. You have been family to us, all of you-and if I may now help pull you out of this difficulty, then I vish to do so. Ve have been through too much together to think of tallying scores."
"It's true, no doubt about that."
He sat down his teacup, leaning forward suddenly.
"Is this place secure? I mean, it's never been..."
"If you mean am I bugged, then no, you need not vorry. It has been tried, but I have my vays," she replied with a small smile. "I did not make it this far by not being careful-I know that the climate of things is not as friendly as it once vas."
"That's saying a mouthful. If this conspiracy foolishness wasn't bad enough, now we have another problem."
"The Bakerstreets."
"Now I should ask if you have me bugged," he replied tartly, his humor returning a bit.
"Not quite, but I did promise your dear mother I would keep an eye on you as often as I could spare it, and I have done so vith all my heart."
Reaching into a pile of correspondence near her chair, Bianca handed Corkscrew a large, yellow envelope.
"This is the daily traffic from our communications station outside London. Nothing is redacted, not even the daily intelligence reports."
"How did you manage this?"
"As I said, I have my vays. Bernard stays involved as he may, and so do I, even though the powers that be may not always be avare of it. I keep my old friends close, and I make new ones vherever I can. It keeps me in a position to move things, on occasion."
"That's one thing I was hoping," Corky replied quietly, scanning the reports just enough to pick up the surface facts. "Bianca...is there anything you can do? To derail this whole mess, I mean."
Sighing, the old mouse reached over, and squeezed his hand.
"I am sorry my dear. Even though I still vield no small influence over things here at home...I am not so powerful as I once vas. If it had been only a few years ago, I could have squashed this matter for you like a chef making pate. But things are no longer as they vere, and I merely watch ,and vait."
"You've suspected corruption before now, then?"
"Why do you suppose I sent for you, dear boy? Ve have seen a few things, you and I. I always knew that anywhere a situation might arise, if I sent you I could trust it vould disappear shortly. You vere always my best operative."
"And I always knew you had my back."
Pushing the documents aside, Corky took her hands in his.
"Send me in the right direction, Bianca. Like you, I might not have authority on paper anymore, but it's not gonna stop me getting to the bottom of this."
"I expected nothing less."
Reaching into the stack of paperwork, she drew out several photographs, and several more reports from British RAS assets.
"Ve know that Lord Bakerstreet possesses considerable political and social influence-inside the Society, there are many who vould bow to his will. It vas not simply Banastre's summons which brought him to New York at this time, you know. The hour of the Trifecta is upon us-the three year term of our officers in government is expiring."
She looked into the fireplace, her troubled eyes alight in the flames.
"Ve believe he seeks the premiership of the Society itself."
Corky's cup clattered to the table, all thoughts of tea and niceties forgotten.
"He wants to be Secretary General?"
"My sources believe so. It vas for this reason that he accepted Banastre's invitation so easily-with the villain's own influence behind him, he might vield power enough to achieve the vote. They are two playing the other...although both may be playing the fool, if I am right."
"But why now? What possible reason would would a Bakerstreet have for taking control of the Rescue Aid Society? They've always been concerned with politics, but more often society image it seems like, these days."
A small smile crossed Bianca's face, and she shook her head.
"Corky my boy, you have been places of vhich I have only dreamed, carried out missions that ve in the older guard would have never dared consider-but yet still, sometimes still-I see the naivety of Geegaw Hackwrench's little boy, who I knew so long ago."
"You're talking in riddles, Bianca. You know I hate that."
"Yes, but sometimes riddles lead us to the truth in ways that let us learn from the journey."
She chuckled lightly, and sipped her tea as she gathered her thoughts. This would not be an easy task for her old friend, and she did not envy him.
"I believe that Banastre, D'Allure and Bakerstreet are each taking advantage of the other, yes, each seeking the goals of their own ends by exploitation. They do not like each other I think, for in his heart Lord Bakerstreet still feels a twinge of the moral code set by his forebear, Basil. Even as he provides them the capital and resources they need, and they the influence and mobility that he needs, each player vill seek to outmaneuver the other, and our society shall be caught in between the machinations. One goal they have in common, however."
"That being?"
"The destruction of your family, vhat you stand for, and ultimately you, yourself. However, the question remains...can ve throw the proverbial monkey wrench into their plan? Something to challenge the power that Lord Bakerstreet brings to their scheme?"
Corky considered this, for a moment...and a crooked smile spread over his face, a crafty glint sparkling in his blue eyes.
"What about a Hackwrench?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing Bianca...just the beginnings of a plan. A wild, woolly plan no less-but if I'm successful it might buy us the time we need."
He pushed back his chair and stood up, gathering his flight jacket and the intel she had provided him. Bianca held up a warning hand.
"Vhatever you are planning...do not take for granted the presence of Miss D'Allure. There is the mystery of her part in this fiasco, and though I am familiar with her past her present is cloudy to me, and vhat resources I still have. Until she reappeared as Mr. Banastre's associate, she had vanished from our sight for some years."
Shouldering into his jacket, Corky planted a kiss on each of Bianca's cheeks in old world, genteel style, and gave a quick squeeze around her shoulders.
"Don't worry about me, my friend. You know what a careful fellow I am."
"That is partly vhat concerns me."
Peeking out the door, he looked back to her over his shoulder.
"I need to return Chip's girls to him, some way...and get myself the rest of this picture in the process. Can Bernard get them together?"
"It will be difficult...and risky. So many vays are vatched-but ve shall try."
"What'd we say in the old days-risk is our business, ya know."
Brightening, Bianca felt her own spirits lifting, and a note of confidence grew in her heart.
"Good mouse! A stout heart is something that vill stand you in good stead during all of this."
"I do my best."
"And so shall I. Return to your bolt-hole, and vait for Bernard. He vill attend to the girls if he can."
"Thank you Bianca-I can always count on you."
"May it ever be so."
Watching as he ducked out into the deepening dark, clinging to the shadows and making himself generally as invisible as possible, Bianca held a hand to her heart and remembered all the times she had sent this brave one and so many like him into danger, to protect what was good and decent in the world. The weight of it felt quite heavy on her shoulders, tonight.
"Your mother vould be so proud of you. Of you all."
Easing her door shut, she bolted the locks and leaned back against it, contemplating the fire as her mind wandered across the myriad angles of the danger she now found herself, and all of her friends a part of.
"Forgive me, dear Britt," she said softly, watching the glowing embers spark and twinkle against the hearth. "I pray I have done the right thing, sending him on this journey. But he is needed-just as his sister was needed, at the end. Oh merciful Creator, may he not find the same fate."
**(Time Waits For No Ranger [2022])