Chapter 65

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Walking down into the enclosed rear loading bay of Precinct One, Officer Wolford narrowed his eyes as he looked over the mammals assembled. Six squad cars, three armoured prisoner transport vans and, hovering overhead, a helicopter.

All for one very particular individual. A harsh buzz rang out in warning, all eyes glancing over at the solid metal elephant-proof door in one corner of the yard. With a solid clang it was unlocked, swinging open to reveal Officers Pennington and Trunkaby, escorting out a cuffed-up orange goat.

"In he goes," the wolf said, gesturing to one of the three waiting vans.

All as the assembled mammals looked around, waiting…

He pulled up a small remote control in his paw, pressing a finger into the receiver in his ear. "Anything on the thermal camera?" he asked.

"Negative," a voice spoke back, the wolf nodding and keeping his eyes, ears and nose primed and ready. Just because the cameras couldn't see any bats didn't mean there weren't any up there, spying on what was going on. Waiting for the moment to strike.

If Rattigan knew about the transfer, if he believed one of his lieutenants was about to tell them all in return for a deal… Well, his report from those who'd gone east to repatriate Duke Weaselton spoke volumes enough. There Rattigan's hench-bat had smuggled himself onboard a motorbike, carried a tracking device and led the larger, heavier, enforcers to the site. To be honest, he might have already succeeded in getting such a device to the goat, a promise that they'd come to rescue him whenever he was moved coming through. The hour or so they'd spent scanning the annoying caprid for anything hopefully meant that wasn't the case, but still… Looking up at the clear plastic sheeting covering the loading bay, stopping any winged mammal getting in too close, he just hoped this stupid gamble paid off or something.

He couldn't help but growl though… He was a Police Officer, his job was to see and do, NOT play the villains games back at them. Still, with a wife being slandered as a lunatic vigilante by the previous district attorney and NOW his adopted son getting caught up in this lunacy at work? Well, if the villains started the game, he supposed he was going to end it for them. One way or another.

The rear axle of the van jolted as the elephant and hippo led the orange furred mammal in and Wolford pushed the button. Immediately his ears went down and he gritted his teeth, a drilling high pitch scream coming in and out of his audial range, boring in. Other officers able to pick it up too hissed and grumbled, glares going over to the megafauna mammals as they leaned into the vehicle, their charge fussing about before they pulled out, slammed the door shut, and then marched out.

As they left the yard, Wolford and the other drivers stepped up and into the vehicles, closing the doors and breathing a sigh of relief. The bulletproof metal shell helped somewhat and, as they started up the engines and the three identical transport vans, complete with removed licence plates, began circling around, the wolf felt fit to turn off the speaker system.

Any bat that had been looking in and trying to spy on them would hopefully have been too traumatised by the pitched-raised recording of Wilde's 'Greatest Hits' to have been able to focus. They saw the goat go into one of the trucks, but which one? Well, they'd have to find out.

And with that a rumble rang out as the heavy metal gates to the yard began opening and, lights all switched on and sirens screaming, the convoy pushed out.

It didn't take long for them to pick up speed, the cars and trucks pushing along the route. Push east out of Savanna Central, cut through Tundratown and in through one of the tunnels in the climate wall. And then, over to Little Vostok.

If he were a betting wolf, he'd wager that it'd be the journey between the last two districts where they'd try anything if they were going to. Only a few pinch points in which they could wait and spring a trap.

That would be how he'd do it. Wait up or plant something nasty. And, from what he'd heard of these mammals' reputation and how they'd very much been holding back with what they truly could do, he was hoping that those mice were just making up tall tales to make them take that egocentric rat with some level of urgency.

Coming up to a set of traffic lights he saw them turn green, the cruisers at the front slowing somewhat before pushing out into the intersection and halting where they stood, keeping the route through clear. On the convoy pushed, the vehicles gliding through unopposed, the squad cars at the back then picking up once more.

Glancing around, keeping an eye out for any trouble, Wolford saw the next intersection turn green and the process repeated.

Pushing on, keeping the speed up, all as he knew other mammals were checking the Jam-Cams, the helicopter up in the air an omnipresent eye in the sky, especially with a thermal camera as one of its tools. If they were going to pull a mass attack of polar bears again then…

The scream of a horn snapped his attention down and left, his paws instinctively turning the wheel the other way, his transport van pulled away from the side street and the car that had raced out as if it were his right of way.

The wolf couldn't quite get his or her licence plate number, annoyingly.

Regardless, on they travelled, the towers of Savanna central thinning somewhat, the buildings getting shorter as the skyline of Saharra Square began to make itself visible through the gaps in the buildings.

A grey paw came up to the walkie talkie, pulling it up to his mouth. "Any trouble, over?"

"No," came a variety of voices, rounded off by the helicopter stating that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. "All clear."

He just nodded, not quite trusting it.

Still, he was glad they were getting out of the built up areas and into open country soon. On hearing that he would be part of a prisoner transport convoy cutting through the main city, complete with a helicopter escort, his youngest son had stated that it sounded very like that scene from whichever famous superhero movie it was where the main villain was that hyena in clown makeup, attacking such a convoy with a big rig and having his crew snare up and crash the police helicopter with snares wires. He'd then been advised by the little thirteen year old boy that it was a relatively bad idea to fly the helicopter below roof level…

Something he hadn't needed to pass on to the pilots, but still…

He was glad that he was out of the inner city.

He snorted, shaking his head. He was glad that his wife wouldn't have to 'don that superhero uniform of mine and run out onto the street on my super-bike to face off the bad guys mammal to mammal,' either.

Well, he did marry her for her sense of humour, and regardless…

Out of the urban area meant fewer mammals to get hurt if something did go…

He rested his foot on the brakes, slowing himself down with the rest of the cars as the silhouette of a flock of flying foxes made themselves known up in the air. While the flying mammals this far out from their usual rainforest haunts and this late didn't necessarily mean anything…

His paw held up the radio again and he spoke in. "We got four, five, megabats south east of us, I'd say a few blocks in from the district boundary… -They're circling right now, do you see it?"

A few calls in affirmation came in over the radio, followed by a longer one, spoken over the sound of beating rotors. "Confirmed, they tracked down along the border river but are holding near your position, approximately one or two blocks away from the Pictus bridge, I'd say at…"

The wolf bared his teeth, that was the crossing they were planning on. "Do we have any nearby bat units to intercept or…"

"-Negative, most of bat command is busy over in the Rainforest at the moment…"

Wolford's claws dug into the wheel at that. "What's the state of the bridge?"

There was a pause before a report came in. "Current traffic flowing normally, can't see anything amiss, other than…"

"-Other than?" he pressed.

"The track that follows the river goes under it, and there's a big rig parked up there… Very recently by the look of the engine through the thermal…"

"Right then," Wolford spoke, closing his eyes and recalling the layout of the city roads. "There's a much smaller bridge a few blocks upstream, correct?"

"Correct, and the big rig is facing away from it."

"Right," the wolf said, holding his radio tight. "All units, we're diverting to a different route. Lead mammals, take us off left up ahead and then cross at the nearest bridge. All other mammals, follow. Overwatch, keep an eye on that big rig and the bats. -And scan the dirt track for any other items that might pose a threat. Over."

"-Confirmed and over," the mammal spoke, all as Wolford turned the wheel, sharply taking himself off the main road and pushing on.

Eye on the road, eye on the surroundings, eyes on those bats, still circling…

Thankfully his paws could work on muscle memory as they typed in a new code on his communicator. "Clawhauser?"

"-Uh, yes Officer. Shall I inform…"

"-Tell bomb squad we have a potential suspect big rig under the Pictus Bridge. Get in contact with Overwatch, tell them to relay if anything happens with it. Over."

"-Oh okay, over," came the response, as Wolford put the recorder down and turned right again, the convoy picking up speed as they approached the small metal truss bridge spanning the gap.

If he was right about what they'd been planning… Well, it was certainly one way to silence a witness… At the cost of who knew how many innocent lives.

He growled before pausing, looking over the bridge ahead of him. His paw pulled up his communicator. "Those behind slow down a little, we go one at a time over the bridge, copy?"

"-You mean every vehicle?" someone asked.

"-No, just the busses," he clarified, putting it down and shaking his head. Really? Every single vehicle one at a time? Then again, he noted, pushing down on the accelerator and looking up at the orange flecked trusses as they passed by, all of the convoy passing over this bridge all at once might be too much for it to bear.

Regardless, over he went, stating so and then watching through his mirror as the second bus passed over. His foot off the accelerator, he let himself coast down a little, eyes turning up to the circling bats.

Only now they were pulling out of their formation, turning towards them in a line.

His paw shot out to his radio just as the call came in. "Bats turning towards you…"

"-I see," he said, growling a little. "Units…" He glanced out his side window for a second, registering the cars he could see. "Four, two and eight, keep an eye on the bats. Be ready to stop, get out, and wave them down if they keep on approaching any closer. Copy?"

"-Copy," came the reports, as he turned with the road, guiding himself onward, free of obstructions, mentally working out the bestway back to the main road and..,

A sudden flashing of red lights caught his eyes and snapped his head back to the front, paw hitting the brake and slowing his vehicle down to a halt, just in front of the newly closed railway crossing boom. "Of all the…" he began to rant, only for a voice to cut in over the radio.

"-We can't see any trains!"

Wolford's eyes widened and he began to shift his feet around, only to flinch back as a set of dull whumps set off around the vehicle. Sand and gravel peppeppered the bonnet of the van and the reinforced windscreen, a cloud of dust billowing out and clouding the road ahead.

Deep within them, a set of orange glows just about made themselves visible through the brown fog, like coal embers through smoke.

And then it all burst into flames.

The engine squealed as the wolf's feet hit both the accelerator and brake at the same time, the canine throwing himself back into his seat, arms up to shield his eyes as the brilliant flash of light burned around him, the cabin suddenly radiating with heat like the inside of a furnace and the air outside roaring with flames as the kicked up dust burned off. There was a slam as the van behind him smashed into his rear, jolting him forward hard against the belt, arms thrown forward and muzzle almost sent divebombing into the hard dash.

Wolford coughed as the air was thrown out of him, coughing and choking a little from shock before looking up.

The raging flames had gone, the dust explosion now burning off into the air… He was okay, they were okay… The radio was screaming with confusion, but it had failed

"-Bats incoming, bats incoming!"

Eyes widening, he grabbed the wheel and tried to find the pedals with his feet. Head over shoulder, trying to spot the enemy, he pulled up the radio and yelled… "Full thro…" He coughed.

He coughed again, a sudden awful burning scalding his eyes as if chilli oil had been thrown onto them. Swearing and cursing, blind as his paws began to reach for the shift, he coughed and sputtered as a bitter, acrid, smokey paw raked down his throat and began shredding his insides. He could feel it coming in, he could no longer smell it, his nose tubes felt like molten lead was pouring out of it as his foot paw slammed down and he felt the vehicle push forward, push him into the back of his seat, smash through the tampered gate of the railway crossing and take him onward. The wheels rattled over the tracks and the vehicle shook from side to side, the belt cutting into him and squeezing more of the breathable air out of him.

He could already feel his scorched lungs begging for fresh air, but he couldn't… The smoke was hell… He wouldn't take another lungful in, not now, get away from that stuff… Get… The van shook, the ride suddenly juddering and shaking as he went off road. He turned the wheel to where he thought the road was going, hoping it would take him on the route again and away from…

The entire vehicle bucked, tossing him to the side as he hit something. Rock? Hole? Tenderly he tried to open his eyes only to wince back as the smoke branded them once again, another stream of futile tears pouring out of them as…

A bang tore through the vehicle, the whole thing jerking back as a gun like sound burst in front of the wolf, piercing his ears as he was thrown forward and his muzzle, the hellfire source of pain glued to his face, was smashed in by what felt like the worlds hardest pillow.

Limbs thrown forward, seat straps like a boa constrictor, every last drop of air was rung out of him, his body taking over and forcing him to suck in a lungfull to replenish it all.

He didn't scream, he couldn't, he was drowning in fire, his throat was melting, his paws waved about and he somehow felt the handle and pulled, trying to throw himself out only for the rock hard grip of the belt to keep him firmly in place.

Paw bashing, prodding, desperately trying to find it, he was saved by the ring of the seat belt coming undone and launched himself out and onto the floor, his body armour and gear only partly shielding him from the impact of the rocks and stones and cacti that pierced into his exposed limbs.

They might as well not have been there though as his body scrambled and kicked itself away, swimming across the rock pile and finally, blissfully, into a small area of sandy scrubland beyond.

Another explosion ripped through the air, not that he could see the bright flash. Instead, somewhat away from the toxic smoke he curled up into a foetal position, slowly drawing in a trickle of breath of clean air… Still like a cheesegrater going down his throat and back out again…

He couldn't see it but other offices were even less lucky, the second armoured prisoner transport driving straight into one of the posts of the railway crossing, the other police cars piling up behind them, sealing them in as they tried to escape the still lingering smoke, choking where they were.

All until the heavy beating of a helicopter came in close, the aircraft tilting itself and letting its wash clear away the hellish miasma.

Up in the aircraft, the mammals were desperately relaying what they'd seen. The convoy had halted at a tampered railway crossing, then a set of small explosions had kicked up some kind of flammable dust from underground bins or something. Dust that had ignited, burning… At first they thought that was it, their comrades were dead. Then they heard and saw they were fine, then the screaming had started. Wolford's truck had charged across the crossing, gone off the road and blindly crashed into a telephone poll, the wolf crawling out. All as the bats that had distracted them had shot forward, face down and tail up, at a speed not even the fastest freetails could hope to meet, racing over the van and righting themselves, hovering unnaturally over the top of the vehicle and then exploded, cleaving the prisoner hold into two.

The second truck was stuck, hit by the same fate.

The third?

Glancing to the side the pilot saw it and a few of the squad cars reversing out as fast as they could. He'd been looking at the 'bats' when the explosion went off, but he thought that they'd missed it. But he couldn't be sure, some of them looked unsteady, wavering… And two black figures were hovering over, ready to make sure that if they were transporting their prisoner, he would not survive.

Glancing down, thinking he'd cleared the air enough, the pilot turned away, racing over the bridge and then letting the helicopter tilt like a pendulum, its wash catching the 'bats' and the cars with a gale force wind. One of the flying enemies caught a bridge truss and spiralled out of control, hitting the road on its side and bouncing around, bits and pieces flying off. The other struggled, skidding along the ground until a few shots from one of the T-U-S-K officers, the boar holding his nose and wincing, shot it to pieces.

The pig, through blurry red eyes, glared down at it. Bits of fabric blowing in the breeze, a fake bat face rolling across the tarmac like a tumbleweed, the shattered circuitry of a drone and little wing-flapping actuators spilled out on the ground.

There was a bang, a blast of dust and a crater left where it had been.

A boar and a few other mammals picked up what few respirators they had and began moving in to rescue their comrades.

All as the van called up. "Overwatch," the ram in the driver's seat yelled. "Orders, over? We are the hot potato, repeat, we are…"

"Report to the nearest ZPD Precinct on the Savannah side, over. We don't know how many bridges are boobytrapped, over!"

"Affirmative," the driver said, blinking a little as his eyes watered… Doing a sharp turn around, he and a few other vehicles began pushing back to safety. Alone, the sheep hit the wheel and swore, glaring back at the prisoner compartment behind him. "You know I really wish you had been in there," he snarled, turning back and onto the road.

Already the calls and chatter, cries and orders were relaying across the radio. They were soon spread to other ZPD units and forces too, vying against the cries and demands for help from the Rainforest District, struggling for space on the airwaves.

Both reports made their way to Clawhauser, the cheetah panicking and worrying, but nevertheless doing his best to relay them to where they needed to go. A call to the Chief here, the coastguard there, to the nearest hospital to the attack site to let them know to be prepared for chemical agents… And one plain as facts relay to Basil and Dave, via Oates' phone.

They needed to know.

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"Good god," Dave shivered, face etched with a sombre dread.

Across the horse's shoulder though, Basil had a firm look carved into stone in his face. A strange mix of anger and pride.

"Well, if you're looking for something with a unique taste as well…" came a voice, a large pig walking out of the back of the flower shop, a large jar held in his trotters. He paused, looking at them as they looked back. "Is… Anything the matter?" he asked.

The three mammals turned to face him, Basil taking the lead. "We just got told that a prisoner convoy was attacked by some kind of chemical weapon," he said.

"Oh my…" he gasped, hooves coming up to his chubby cheeks and holding them in. He glanced around, half frantically, before turning down to some of the jars he'd brought. "I might need some of these to calm myself after that, please…" He spun the lid off and tilted it forward, offering the bits of dried root to the mammals. "On the house…"

"No, no…" Basil waved off, "relaxants are the last thing we need right now." His brow furrowed and he turned to Dave and Oates. "We need that edge of desperation and terror to drive us on, today of all days."

"I… Well in that case if I legally could I'd offer you some coca flowers," the pig said, shrugging as he put the jar away. "But I mean if there's anything I can do…"

"No, no," Basil waved off, holding his paw up high. "We are quite talented enough to solve this evil little enigma all by ourselves, thank you very much. In fact I think that some of your plant based remedies might be a little bit of a hindrance in that regard."

Glancing down at the jar, the pig nodded. "Well, you wouldn't want any officers on catnip or catmint right now, wouldn't you?" With that he slipped the mason jar back onto his desk and picked up a small spray bottle, moving over to a potted plant to give it a little watering. His trotter pulled back on the lever, a squirt firing right into the base of the stem. A second and a third followed, the pig pausing to look back at the three cops, still standing in the storefront. "I… Are you sure there's no way I can help you?"

Basil looked up at him for a few seconds, their eyes meeting before the mouse looked up and around. "You know, it's hard to believe that this is where this whole mess started…"

"Really?," the pig asked, moving on to another plant. "-Oh right, that bat, sneaking in, swapping out my old nighthowler bulbs from under my nose. And before that the weasel back in the nighthowler case…"

"Quite, quite," Basil nodded. "We found out at least one true miscreant not long after, that mob operating out of the Rainforest district. Not the sharpest tools in the shed I must say, for our benefit. Though by the time we shut down that small group of goons, whoever was orchestrating it had grabbed another. We've now got all of Mr Big's unemployed gangsters working against us, employed by the mammal we presume set up the old shrew with a fake tax evasion report. Didn't matter it was bogus, it opened a hole in his organisation's walls and, once in, the legal system took him for all it was worth."

"-Well, at least we know what the aim of bringing down Mr Big was," Dave said.

"Indeed, indeed," Basil nodded, pacing along Oates' elbow. "Recruit his forces. But, and here is the tricky part, what about all the other things? Trying to keep an innocent fox kit in prison, manipulating the legal system and public opinion. Why? Framing other mammals for smuggling howlers. Why? Sending one of his goons in to expose our whacky DA, jumping off an active ZPD undercover investigation while doing so… -And for that matter using a body double of a civilian to infiltrate ZNN earlier today… Why? Why!? -And more to the point… -How!?"

"I… I don't know, I just own a flower shop," the pig shrugged, pointing his trotters, spray bottle still held in them, back at himself. "Sounds like you have that bat spy listening in and all…"

"I mean that's the logical reason," Basil nodded, groaning. "But do you know how much we've thrown at it!? We've scanned the damn ZPD for bugs, we've sealed up every damn nook and cranny we can, we've employed mammals to crawl through the vents, hunting for spying rodents. And I mean I personally know how devious little ones like us can be, but can't…" He stomped his foot on the horse underneath him. "-We…" Stomp. "Just…" Stomp. "Find…" Stomp. "Something…" He bared his teeth, almost growling, before marching around, throwing his arms about. "And to top it off, our comrades, our mammals, were brutally attacked today. Because somehow the bad guys were able to listen in, again. Somehow, because of what we've done, they got that information and came and attacked us."

"-I'm so sorry…" The pig said, shaking his head. "Again, I don't know how I could…"

Basil let out a huff, holding up a paw. "Maybe… Maybe if you're just there, to listen. I don't know. You seem kind, considerate, always have." He gave a shrug. "You know… If you rule out all the obvious solutions, however rational… Then the least obvious solution, however irrational, must be it… So, after throwing everything at stopping them spying on us at the ZPD… Well, where else could they be doing it?" Head up, he rubbed his chin, musing about. "Let's see. What did they hear about…"

"Mr Fox going to ZNN," Dave pointed out.

"-Indeed, and him going over to get Duke Weaselton."

"What about Jack Savage's undercover op," Oates asked.

Basil clicked his fingers. "Another good one. And what didn't they overhear?"

Dave paused, smiling. "Well, what about the attack we did on the docks at the Rainforest District. We worked that out, gathered everyone in, and the first they knew about it was when we turned up."

Basil looked over, nodding. "And they were unprepared, they had to burn off most of their howlers, maybe hoping the smoke would turn the mammals in the Rainforest District savage."

"Not that it could, thankfully," Dave agreed.

"Yes, yes, about the best fate for those things," Basil nodded. "And I mean, if they'd had the same fore-warning there… Then they would have evacuated out their mammals, removed all their expensive gear and resources, and probably burnt down the place before we arrived. No, they obviously hadn't set up their network then. -Either that or the one room we were in when we found that out wasn't bugged, but still… That news was batted around all the ZPD Precincts. They'd have found out if they were listening in to the ZPD… Ergo… logically, they weren't…"

The mouse slowly turned, looking at the pig. "Don't you see?" he asked softly. "We've scoured the ZPD for bugs and spies repeatedly and found nothing. So, either we've been missing them after all this time OR we've been looking in the wrong place. Ergo, the question is, where is the right place?"

"...Clever, I see it," the pig nodded. "But I'm just a florist and…"

"Right, right," Basil waved off. "A humble forgettable non-important profession. Or at least it was until one of your colleagues in the Lutrinae family realised a botanical that was suddenly being purchased up on the regular had some disturbing side effects if refined correctly. Strange how those things happen. Strange too that a lot of the operations that were preyed upon had nothing to do with the ZPD. Honestly, that's the biggest thing we missed. It's mind numbingly obvious that the bug wasn't there, given that it was picking up on the planning and operations of a group of concerned civilians. Mr Fox, going to the ZNN building. He and his comrades going to grab that weasel out east. Heck! Though we planned it in the ZPD building, I'm sure that the civilian we sent undercover to deal with Kurt Wassermaim told them at least something about it."

"So in that case…" the pig pondered, his eyes going wide. "One of them could be your spy!"

"A possibility," Basil said, a finger flicking up. "But… But… Unlikely. Indeed, as we looked through the options, none of them had any real motivation to do so. So, it was more likely they were being spied upon. But how, why? I mean, maybe they'd sent a bat in to listen on. After all, a bat stowaway on a motorbike led the bad guys to them in the wilderness. However, most of these mammals were foxes, including a police trained one." The mouse tapped his nose. "Chances were they could smell something."

"So the bat left a bug?"

"Someone did," Basil said, eyes turning to the porcine proprietor. "So, when revealing all these moments, we put them in time order. When was the first time that the bad guys tagged along. Discounting any unknown occasions of course. And the answer to that was when a vixen, hare and fennec fox travelled to the east for the first time to Predford city, trying to track down Duke Weaselton's cousin and then, finding a lead, heading on further inland… Up until one of them clocked that they were being followed. Followed by a car they'd seen right back in Zootopia. But how, why then? What had changed? This was after the big protest outside city hall, after the fake picture of the young Anonymous Vulpine had been released, tripping up the political attempts to close the loophole used to send him away. It was after Judy Hopps visited your store for a little pick-me up or something, you offered her a shoulder to rest on, maybe a few quite inquiring questions… And then kindly offered to send a bouquet of flowers to the affected family. Flowers that the wife of the house then proudly displayed in a vase, in the main room, where all their plans were being discussed."

The very faint sound of two tiny paws clapping rang out, Basil staring intently at the pig, a worried look on his face. "I… I…" he stuttered. "You're saying I bugged the flowers!? I mean, that's ludicrous, that's…"

"-The only possibility we had left after ruling all the others im-possibilities," Basil said coldly. Dave stood by his side, Oates stood tall, one hoof going down and clipping into a truncheon and the other holding his phone, opened up with a voice-to-text transcriber currently running. "And I must say, it was genius. Wouldn't work in the ZPD, or anywhere with a lot of herbivores mind you… Too risky. But a family of foxes? Fantastic bit of planning there. Indeed, no need to worry about replacing a battery or anything. Just send in a new set when the old one had died, their disguise wilted and thrown on the compost heap. And doing that you listened to all their plans. You heard about the journeys east and followed them, you heard about the plan for Jack Savage to infiltrate City Hall to try and uncover Wassermaim's potential links to Bellwether's old network and sent your goat, Petey, in to bug our own bugging operation."

Arms folded, the mouse quirked an eyebrow. "You heard Mr Fox mention going to the ZNN building or something and, using your foxy doppleganger, infiltrated it too. -Ah and one other one we just heard about. You heard a discussion about a certain polar bear arriving at a religious facility up in the Rainforest District. The mammals in the Fox family all dismissed it as a moody teenager making highly exaggerated claims, but you? Oh no, for whatever reason you wanted, you needed that bear. And how fortuitousness that that coincidence landed in your favour!"

"That… That's all this is, coincidences…"

"Cut the act, Napoleon."

The pig paused, the look of terror slowly fading from his face, replaced with a hard firm implacable expression.

Basil smiled. "Oh, is it a relief you no longer have to carry on the act? It was very good, mind you. Nobody suspected a thing. All of us were duped. You didn't have a bat stealing your night howlers and swapping them with similar corms… Or rather, you didn't have that going on without your knowledge. Who knows how many you could have offloaded, were it not for Bellwether discovering and popularising their use first and then a city audit being announced. A city audit that might dig a little too deep if they discovered what you were up to. Which was why you got in ahead. Phoned us, made yourself look like an innocent flower shop owner who'd been robbed again, from the first moment you got us into viewing you as a poor innocent bystander. Oh, the first impression bias, you played us like a psychological fiddle, didn't you? Like all those victims before us. Who would have ever thunk it, of you! And, more to the point, how could we ever confirm it."

He coldly glared at the pig. "We would have thought Napoleon dead with his cult, were it not for our little tip off and discovering how howlers and other items at the site were harvested. -That could be anyone, you might say. Indeed, it might. But on reviewing it all, we had an idea. One pig standing out, a certain gnawing possibility. But how could we ever prove it, huh? Well, what about if our enemies learnt something that could have only come through you. Remember that prisoner transfer, huh? That goat, from Precinct One to Little Vostok. I suppose that Rattigan might be pleased to find that he was loyal all this time, in fact he's still in Precinct One. Sleight of paw, or rather trunk. He still hasn't confessed a thing. Judy Hopps just faked hearing that he had. Right here, in this shop."

The pig just looked on, a smile growing on his face. "Well, I suppose we at least made your crew pay for that dirty little trick. I myself played a very large hoof in that," he smirked.

"Let me guess," Basil waved off. "You sanded down a limb of a manchineel tree and then put the toxic sawdust into a set of hidden gas cannons at certain locations. The convoy moves along, the sawdust gets blasted out and with a heat source…"

"-Fwoomp," Napoleon smiled. "If the flames won't get you, the toxic smoke will."

Basil bared his teeth, but it was Oates who spoke, raising up his weapon. "Hooves where I can see them, Squad B, move in in case he tries anything…

The pig twitched one of his hooves under the counter and the sudden rattle of the metal shutters rang out. "Oh no you…" the horse began, leaning forward and raising his club, eyes wide with feral fury as he swung it down.

And saw the water squirt bottle in the pigs hoof move up and squeeze.

He slammed his eyes shut, knowing just what was going to be in there, hissing as the edges of his eyelids suddenly flashed in pain, flaring up with each puff until the slam of his club on the pig's head rang out.

Basil and Dave gripped on for dear life, holding on to the horse's shirt as he bucked and shook, their eyes closed too to protect them from the caustic mist. Dave though, paw up to shield him, cautiously opened his eyes and saw Napoleon, a sudden gash opened up on his head, stumbled to the side and dodge a few wild swings from the blinded horse before thrusting his arm out and pumping more of the tainted water right up his nose.

A terrified winnie rang out in the small store, the horse rearing up, arms wild and the mice thrown clean off to the floor. They landed hard, Dave shaking as he rose before his eyes widened, a paw around Basil and yanking him away as Oates' foot stomped down at where he'd just been. The thinner mouse, slowly getting to his feet, began to run along with Dave, out of the danger zone, all as the metal shutter was banged and attacked from the outside.

"Get face and nose protection on!" Basil yelled.

"He's got an acid spray bottle," Dave cried out, quickly turning to Basil before he could speak. "-Easier to explain."

A rhino pushed his arm underneath the metal shutters, starting to force them up, as a hissing and squinting Napoleon stumbled forwards and reached out, grabbing Oates' phone and tearing it from the Detective's hoof-grip. The horse swung down his club, the pig jumping back to avoid it but getting a bone crunching downswipe to his snout. A loud squeal rang out in the room as the first wolf officer, wearing a pair of oversized glasses and with a handkerchief over his nose, slipped in beneath the barrier.

All as Napoleon pulled himself through a back door, locking it shut behind him.

"We've got the backroute covered," Basil said, as more forces moved in, leading the blinded Oates out and smashing the door down.

-Only to then kick out into the back alley and see the rear team there, waiting.

They looked around, went back into the building, and paused as a few of them began smelling something… Painful.

In one of the corners, they found it.

A metal hatch, locked shut, not that they would want to open it with the acidic fumes starting to leak out.

"He must have a tunnel somewhere… Sewers or something," Basil began saying. "Someone, get Clawhauser on the line. Get every squad you can at the sewer entrances, get them hunting through…"

One of the officers began doing that, not that it was easy with the airwaves still crowded out by the desperate calls and yells from the attacked convoy and the forces at the Rainforest dock.

The larger mammals began running around, trying to do things, trying to find their escaped mammal.

Down in a corner, Basil's ears went down, the blood draining from them. "No… He can't just get away. He… He just can't!"