Sawdust, Secrets and Symmetry
Chapter Three
Note: I have never had so few views on a fic before. It's actually weirdly refreshing. I feel like that gif of Homer laughing in the cinema full of skeletons. This is great craic. Enjoy!
…..
Macavity looked exactly like the kind of cat that would disembowel you for speaking out of turn, but his voice and overall tone was so cordial that they relaxed in his presence (though not completely, never completely.)
The 'interview' was taking place in what looked like a human's actual office, if the furniture had been made out of old tyres and wooden crates. It was remarkably clean, and he even offered them a chunk of salmon before asking any questions. (Mungojerrie gulped it down in half a minute, Rumpleteazer halfheartedly nibbled hers and pushed it towards Jerrie.)
"So, you two specialize in food hauls, I see," Macavity said, removing their latest pilferings from the cloth they kept them in. "With a bit of trinket thieving on the side. What's your cut?"
They looked at each other, then back to Macavity, wordless.
"Hm," he purred. "Let me put it this way...who have you been working for?"
"...well, we ain't been working for no-one here," Jerrie began.
"Not since the circus," Teazer added.
"So, you just stole these for yourselves?" Macavity prodded.
Two nods.
"Then the food I understand, pickings are slim around here unless you have guts," he continued. "But why the trinkets? What use have you for them?"
"None, really," Jerrie mumbled sheepishly.
"They just looked nice, is all," Teazer whispered.
Macavity chuckled, shaking his head. That was human logic if ever he'd heard it, but they were kittens. They didn't have to make sense.
"'Nice' is an understatement," he said, holding up a lavaliere so that the inset gems sparkled in the dim light. "I estimate this piece to be about five thousand pounds, more or less."
"Oh," Teazer muttered. "Should...should I give it back, then?"
Macavity barked out a laugh that made both kittens jump. It was a raspy, not unpleasant noise that nevertheless held a hint of menace.
"No, I think not," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "Let me ask you, how did the person you took this from react when you stole it?"
"Lots of bad words," Rumpleteazer answered. "And screaming."
"She hit me with a broom, but by then Teazer was out the window," Mungojerrie added.
"And then she broke the window."
"Am I to understand she thought the two of you were just one cat?" Macavity asked, winding the chain of the lavaliere around his paw.
"That's the idea," Jerrie said with a shrug. "Teazer gets in first, gets the thingy and then hides while I distract the mark."
"And once I get out, I distract the mark again so Jerrie can get out," Teazer added.
"And we break a load of stuff on the way out to keep them busy," Jerrie piped in.
"Very clever," Macavity mused. "But still, I have to wonder...if the two of you have been doing this for as long as you claim, why have I not heard of you before?"
"We ain't been in London that long," Jerrie answered.
They jumped (again) when Macavity barked out his husky laugh, that faded into raspy chuckles as they stared at him blankly.
"You're having me on, aren't you?" he said incredulously. "Not been in London that long? The two of you sound more cockney than a Pearly King on Guy Fawkes night."
They looked at each other, prompting more laughter from Macavity.
"I dunno what that is, but it's the truth," Mungojerrie said, shrinking behind the crate a little.
"The bloke that raised us in the circus, he was from London," Rumpleteazer explained. "He was always banging on about how great it was, we thought we'd give it a try. Guess we picked up something from him."
"I'll say," Macavity said. "You sound more London than cats who've lived here their entire lives. Well, no matter. I am quite satisfied I have work for you, if you're willing."
They both nodded. They hadn't been around long enough to hear the stories of Macavity's dealings, and they had nothing to lose.
"Work hard for me, and you will reap the rewards," Macavity explained. "A safe place to live, protection from other cat colonies and from humans, not to mention the dogs. Not the guard dogs, of course, you'll have to take your chances with them...food, catnip, queens..."
Rumpleteazer stiffened a little when she heard that last part, her hackles raised imperceptibly, but Mungojerrie didn't notice.
"...and anything you take that's not asked for, you keep. Sound good?"
Mungojerrie nodded, as did Rumpleteazer (but a little more hesitant.)
"Excellent," Macavity purred. "But before I induct you into my ranks, I need you to pass a small test."
…..
Macavity's 'test' was, to the kittens, ridiculously easy. He wanted them to break into some sort of human medical building and steal some clear pungent liquid in a small glass vial. The difficulties they encountered were easily overcome; Rumpleteazer ran across the telegraph line and slipped down the chimney as Mungojerrie distracted the Alsatians guarding the place, then she opened a window to let him in.
The building was deserted, and the only other problem they had was being told not to break any of the other vials of liquid while getting the one they needed. That was simple; they had been trained to handle all sorts of objects with care while preparing for their acrobatics shows.
Macavity was impressed, and let it slip that a previous underling of his had died in that same place when he shattered a vial. After that, he was confident in giving both of them the most complicated jobs he had going.
Along with the pettier things he wanted them to steal, food to stockpile and money and jewels Macavity traded and bribed with, he had them break into strange places to pick up things they'd never heard of and couldn't begin to guess why he needed them. Each location he sent them to necessitated a different approach and, over time, it seemed like there wasn't a building in London they couldn't get inside.
He sent them to police stations to grab folders and files, to publishing houses to steal notes from journalists. To hospitals and pharmacies for drugs and bandages, as the rest of his cohorts were prone to injury. Into science labs for mysterious chemicals and the natural history museum for ancient bones. On one unforgettable night he sent them into a West African community during one of their old rituals to collect blood from the sacrificed animal and a symbol on a piece of wood. What he intended to do with these things was his business and his alone.
Still, he left them ample time to fill their den with things they stole for themselves.
…..
"...if I'd known this place had no food I would've stocked up."
Stuck on the highest shelf they could manage to get to, waiting for the night watchman to stop poking around with his torch, Mungojerrie's stomach strongly disapproved of their situation.
"We can stop by the Evening Primrose on the way back," Rumpleteazer said, distractedly batting at a bottle of gelatinous liquid. "They've always got something left."
"Right, but if this bloke gives up some time in the next hour, and it's twenty minutes to the Primrose...what am I supposed to do until then?" Jerrie moaned.
They crouched as the torch flashed over the shelving unit they were hiding in. They blended in quite well with the brown and amber glass bottles, but you could never be too sure of a hiding place.
"I don't know," she whispered. "Take your chances with some of this stuff, if you want?"
She pushed a bottle towards him, and he sniffed it gingerly.
"Not bad, actually..." he mumbled. "Sort of sweet, it is..."
He pried off the cork and spilled a little onto the shelf.
"I was joking," Teazer hissed. "That could be anything, don't touch it!"
"What's the harm? Humans take this stuff all the time, else it wouldn't be here, would it?"
He took a small experimental lick and grimaced, immediately trying to wipe the taste off on his fur.
"Well?" Teazer asked. "What's it like?"
"Blimey, it's like a bunch of old socks soaked in jam!" he coughed. "Bloody awful."
Rumpleteazer sniffed the sticky puddle delicately and sputtered.
"That's worse than the old chicken blood," she groaned.
"What do you reckon it's for?" Jerrie asked, moving away from the puddle as far as he could.
"Who knows?" she shrugged, already losing interest.
Jerrie moved back just a little too far, and two bottles tumbled off of the shelf to smash on the floor. They both crouched, but it seemed like the night watchman had moved on. Curiously, they peered over the edge of the shelf to the smashed bottles.
"Isn't that the stuff we were sent to grab?"
The bottle they had been ordered to bring back was safely wrapped in a handkerchief around Mungojerrie's neck, fastidiously secured with three sailor's knots. The broken one on the floor was identical, except for having released its powdery contents all over the bottom two shelves.
Rumpleteazer hopped down, followed a moment later by Mungojerrie. She sniffed at the powder from a good distance away, and Jerrie couldn't resist the urge to dip his paw in the stuff, admiring the way the little white flakes floated away from his fur when he lifted the paw.
"Doesn't smell as bad as the other one," Teazer said. "Kind of bitter though..."
They made their escape shortly after, and once the bottle was delivered they promptly forgot all about the building, the night watchman, the disgusting liquid and the powder.
At least, up until the skin on the paw that Jerrie had dipped in the powder developed angry red sores that plagued him for days.
…..
By the time they realized that they needed to get out, it was too late.
Macavity, as he did with almost all of his recruits, had gradually eased them in and implicated them in so many of his plans that they were practically sleepwalking into the riskiest of jobs. They were excellent thieves, but Macavity had turned them into full-blown criminals without them even noticing.
(And yet, how were they to know? The circus had been chaotic and the road to London even more so; they simply didn't know any better.)
They were almost fully grown now, and noticing things they hadn't before. Like how Macavity's right hand cat changed on such a regular basis they might have only met the cat once before he was gone. How often cats just vanished and were never spoken of again. How the very few queens Macavity had under his control were kept locked away, and on those rare occasions when they were out of their dens they all looked like the life had been sucked out of them. Even Macavity's supposed favourite, a biscuit-coloured queen with long silky fur named Prunella, had that beaten-down expression.
Over half of the cats under Macavity's command had holes in their ears, missing teeth and scars all inflicted by Macavity himself, including the queens. Occasionally one of them would do something Macavity objected to, and the next time that cat was seen they could be missing an eye or a limb. They never heard Macavity raise his voice, but the whole colony could tell when he was angry; a tension hung in the air, and it was much too quiet.
Rumpleteazer was the one queen who was allowed to walk around freely, and only because she was still a kitten. That didn't stop some of the more aggressive toms from cornering her in hallways or trying to drag her into dark corners. Mungojerrie wouldn't let her out of his sight, but the fact that they felt free to try it on right in front of him was a huge red flag. At all times, unless they were on a job, she barricaded herself in their den.
She was overgrooming again, and plucking out her whiskers with stress, but wouldn't talk about it, even to ask Macavity to put a stop to it. When Mungojerrie confronted one of the more forward toms, he got a punch in the jaw and a threat to his life for his trouble. The only thing keeping them away from her was how useful she (and by that extension, Jerrie) was to Macavity's plans, and that Macavity himself disapproved of grown toms mating with kittens.
It was only a matter of time.
…..
"...decent cut on these emeralds, tarnish on some of these lockets, and the chains are cheap but only if you look closely...not a bad haul, all things considered," Macavity said, inspecting the jewelery Jerrie had handed over.
Jerrie said nothing. A particularly forceful tom had been lingering near the entryway to the main lair and Rumpleteazer spun on her heel at the sight of him to go back to the den, leaving Mungojerrie to hand over the goods by himself. He didn't like being separated from her under any circumstances, it made him irritable.
Not to mention it soured the good feeling of pulling off a jewelry store robbery as quickly and efficiently as they had.
"Did you run into any trouble?" Macavity asked with a conversational air, inspecting a handful of rings.
"They had some dogs guarding the front door, but Teazer lead them on a chase and I snuck in the back," Jerrie answered. "She broke a load of them glass cabinets, I reckon if I came in on the back of a horse they wouldn't have noticed..."
Macavity chuckled. He liked to hear about them destroying property on their jobs. Possibly because he himself was such a meticulous criminal that he knew one of their robberies couldn't be pinned on him. He turned back to his inspections, and for a few moments the only sound was the clack of claw on jewel.
"This shouldn't be in here," he said suddenly, pulling out a string of pearls.
"Why not?" Jerrie asked. He'd grabbed whatever was in easy reach, more or less...
"These are fake. Too identical to be real pearls," Macavity scoffed, swinging them carelessly on his claw. "They call them 'Woolworth pearls', anyone who shops at Woolworth's can afford them. They're cheap."
"Oh. Sorry," Jerrie said, directing his gaze to the floor.
"No matter, almost everything else here is top drawer," Macavity shrugged. "One dud in the bag isn't the end of the world..."
"Erm, if you don't have any use for them, you mind if I keep them?"
"Knock yourself out."
The pearls were tossed in Jerrie's general direction, and he was dismissed.
When he made his way back to the den, to the undiscerning eye it looked like Rumpleteazer wasn't there, but he knew exactly where she was. An old unused heating pipe bolted to the ceiling and covered by a wicker fan was her preferred hiding place when she was in the lair alone.
"S'only me," Jerrie called. "I got something."
The fan crinkled and her head poked out of the pipe.
"What kind of something?" she asked.
"Come down and see," he answered.
Their game was more important than ever now. They needed the distraction to keep the never-ending fear at bay, and you could never tell when one of the many objects they'd taken for the game would come in useful. So far, the most useful thing either had found was the fan that covered the pipe. The den was stuffed with trinkets from all over London and beyond.
When she clambered down and settled in the old curtain they used as a hammock, he dropped the pearls into her open palm. She held them up to the light, examining them as carefully as Macavity had the far more expensive jewels.
"You got these today?" she asked.
"Of course," Jerrie shrugged, hopping into the hammock beside her.
"Right, so somewhere near the back..." she mused, turning the individual pearls on the string. "Fourth cabinet?"
"No, you broke that one."
"Oh yeah," she muttered. "That one with the padlock on it?"
"No, but close," he hinted.
"What, that barrel near the back door?"
"Yes," he said, annoyed that she'd figured it out so soon.
"That's where they put all the costume jewelry. Is that why Macavity let you keep it?"
"Well, I'm not a blimmin' jewelry expert, am I? He called them 'Woolworth pearls', says its because they're cheap."
"Who cares? Still pretty," she said, winding the string of pearls around her neck and tying them in a knot, the way she'd seen humans do.
The pearls ended up being more useful than either of them anticipated. Rumpleteazer developed a habit of turning the beads when she was anxious or upset, and stopped pulling out her whiskers and grooming bald patches into her fur. She even seemed to sleep more easily with them on.