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The Fire Triangle

Part Two:

Oxidizer

Chapter 9: Conor's Story
(Continued…Part 11)

"I don't like your little games
Don't like your tilted stage
The role you made me play of the fool
No, I don't like you

I don't like your perfect crime
How you laugh when you lie
You said the gun was mine
Isn't cool, no, I don't like you (oh!)

But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time
Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time
I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined
I check it once, then I check it twice, oh!"

Taylor Swift Fox - Look What You Made Me Do

"What I mean is this, kid." Vern Rodenberg was on his feet and staring up at Conor with steely eyes and flashing incisors. "You've got exactly ONE MINUTE to start telling me what really happened with that escape…or else you can go find yourself another lawyer."

For a hint of a second, time stopped in its tracks. Erin was stunned, barely able to comprehend what she had just heard. Had he really just hit Conor with an ultimatum?

Yes, he had.

"Mr. Rodenberg, I…" Forgetting himself for a moment, the agitated young silver fox tried to swing himself off of the makeshift bed. Again, the sheets fell away, and again Erin yelped and hid her eyes. This time, however, it wasn't necessary; he caught the bedclothes in the nick of time. "Mr. Rodenberg, I swear…"

The grey rat only looked at his watch. "Now, you've got 50 seconds."

"There's nothing more to tell you." Conor spread his paws insistently.

"45 seconds…"

"I…CAN'T," Now he was practically on his knees, "I'll be breaking my word to Danny if I…"

"35 seconds…"

"Didn't you hear me? A fox never breaks his word…"

"30 seconds…better hurry."

"Listen, it doesn't make any difference. If it did, I'd have told you already."

"20 seconds….19…18…17…"

Another fox might have folded right then—but Erin Hopps knew Conor better than that,

And sure enough, instead of throwing in his cards, he doubled down.

"Okay, then…whatever." His ears had turned backwards and his lip was quivering upwards, exposing a fang. "If that's what's gonna happen, then go ahead and walk; I don't…"

"WAIT!" Erin's outburst was so sudden, so unexpected, it surprised even her—and shocked both of her companions into stunned silence. Taking swift advantage, the young doe-bunny hopped off her chair and went quickly to Conor, taking him by the paw, and mentally crossing her fingers.

"Can I ask you this, at least?" she said, giving it a little squeeze, "Can you…can you tell me why Danny swore you to secrecy like that?"

He responded by turning away; chewing so hard on his lower lip, it was a wonder that he didn't draw blood.

And then finally he looked at her again, "Because…if The Mister had ever found out what Danny said to me, him and Kieran would have been dead meat—and so would I, and so would prolly a whole bunch of other guys."

Erin tried to respond to this, but was cut off by a high-pitched groan and a smacking sound from behind her.

"Oy! In case it escaped your attention, kid…"

Nuh-uh, not this time. "Mr. Rodenberg, please…let me," she insisted, looking hurriedly over her shoulder. And then she turned back to Conor again.

Even so, she came that close to following the grey rat's lead; pointing out the obvious to the stubborn young silver fox. Ding-dong, The Mister's gone…so there's no longer any reason for you to keep your silence. That was what Erin almost said, except—somehow, she sensed that Conor's reticence came from a deeper source than any promises made to one of his own..

And so, she tried a different tack.

"Then you need to ask yourself a question, 'kay? If Danny was here, in this room right now, would he want you to say what really happened?"

The young silver fox said nothing to this, but the way his body sagged told the Erin that her point had hit the mark. After many long seconds, his gaze met hers again.

"Okay," he conceded, glancing over her shoulder at the rat on the tray-table behind her. "But you're not going to like this—or me."

He pulled himself back up onto the exam-table-bed, while Erin and Mr. Rodenberg returned to their seats. He spent several more seconds chewing on his lip again and then at last began to speak.

"Everything I told you happened just the way I said—that is, until the part where I took Wez to the edge of the roof. I didn't make him look down because I wanted him to see the drones…I did it to scare the snot out of him; I stuck a thumb under his jaw and forced him to look. And then, while he beat that retreat, Danny came on in my headset and said, 'Laser-pointer…NOW!'"

"I pulled it out, flicked the cap off the end, and with my other paw, reached out and grabbed Wez under the arm. And then I yanked him to his feet, stuck it against his side and pressed the button. I felt a jolt and heard a chuffing noise—and when I pulled the pointer away, he had a tranq dart stuck in him."

"You…You…? WHY?" Erin's eyes were wide and her ears were limp; she could feel her nose twitching anxiously. Conor wouldn't do a thing like that, he…couldn't have.

But his voice—and his eyes—said differently. Though she couldn't possibly be aware of it, he looked almost like a smaller version of Nick, when he'd upbraided her sister in the wake of that press-conference debacle.

"You wanna know why I did that, Snowdrop? Okay, here's one good reason. Next, I was supposed to go to the edge of the roof and jump." His ears were flat and now both fangs were exposed. The fire in his eyes was so intense that Erin could almost feel the heat. "Only that's not what I did; that punk had fooled around, and now he was gonna find out. I grabbed him by the cheeks, pulled him in close, until our muzzles almost touching, and let him have it.

"'I know it was you, Wez. You broke my face; you broke my face!' And then I pushed him away, went to the edge of the roof and stepped off."

He stopped, glaring from the bunny to the rat and back again. He seemed to be carrying an invisible chip on his shoulder, as if daring either one of them to raise an objection. It was enough to make Erin want to bolt out the door again.

Vern Rodenberg's expression, on the other paw, was entirely grim.

"May I assume that's something Tipperin told you in your final briefing?" He was folding his arms with an air of mild disdain, "the briefing you didn't want to talk about?"

"That's part of it," the young silver fox admitted, regarding the rat with an air of mild contempt. "I didn't believe him at first, but then he showed me the security footage of the…incident. And even then, it wasn't until I finished puking my guts out in the toilet that I knew the truth. Ever since I'd landed at The Point, I'd been obsessed over who was the jerk that wrecked my face—and guess what? All along, it had been Wez McCrodon, a guy I'd thought was my friend, a kid I'd practically worshiped for a while."

Erin felt her own ears laying backwards. Maybe Mr. Rodenberg was ready to believe this, but she remained unconvinced. Like a shipwreck survivor, clinging to a spar of wood, she refused to let go of her skepticism.

"Hold on…where did Kieran ever get…?"

"That video?" Conor finished for her. "No problem. The data he hacked out of Jack La Peigne's cellphone was enough to give him access to a lot more than just the Point's security system; he had nearly the entire AKER database in his pocket. According to something else Danny told me, getting hold of that footage of…what happened to me was a cakewalk for him. And before you ask…that video wasn't a deep-fake, either. I didn't know it then—heck, I didn't even know what a deep-fake was—but I know it now; that bad boy was the real thing." He waved a paw to his right. "Bring me my backpack and I'll show you."

Erin didn't want to; she didn't want to go anywhere near that thing. Even so, she slipped off her chair and went to fetch it. In her current state of mind, she would have doused herself with lighter fluid and struck a match, if the fugitive young silver fox had given the order.

She knew what he wanted that backpack for. And sure enough, the instant he had it in his paws, he pulled back the zipper and extracted his laptop—a contrivance the young white-furred bunny was beginning to think of as a tool of The Devil.

Several minutes of typing and scrolling followed…and then Conor turned the laptop around so the screen was facing her and Mr. Rodenberg.

"Now watch," he said.

Again, Erin didn't want to look—but again, she couldn't help herself.

What she saw was the screen split into four separate windows, each one showing a slightly fuzzy, black-and-white image, all from different angles.

In all four of them, a pair of young mammals were visible; a coati and a canine of some kind. At the moment, they were engaged in a fight with an animal barely discernible as a silver fox—smaller than either of his opponents.

Was that…Conor? It didn't look like him…or did it? Sweet Cheez n' crackers…so young, almost still a kit. But yes…yes, that was him. If Erin's eyes weren't so certain, her instincts harbored no doubt whatsoever.

Now, as she watched, one of the fox-kid's adversaries leaped to the attack…and missed, landing on his partner by mistake. At once, they forgot all about their opponent, instead engaging in a shoving match with each other. It wasn't exactly the way Conor had described it earlier, but there was nothing here that a minor lapse of memory couldn't explain.

But then, she saw it, a long, lanky figure, coming out of the cell behind him, moving fast, on all fours. And as the newcomer rose up on his hind legs, she could see something long and gray, in his paw. Now, he raised it sideways, preparing to strike. Erin wanted to shout a warning, but then, as the interloper's face became visible in each of the four windows, the playback went into freeze-frame, revealing an expression of unbridled fury.

It was a mustelid of some kind; no, definitely a mink. Had it not been for his size, Erin would have instantly recognized his species; he was at least twice as big as any mink she'd ever seen. Other than that, she had no idea who he was.

But, Mr. Rodenberg did.

"That's him," he intoned, pointing gravely at the screen, "That's Wez McCrodon."

"Right," Conor nodded and pressed a key, shrinking the image to a pinpoint and then darkness. "I'll spare you the trauma of having to see what he did next."

Erin strongly suspected that he was actually sparing himself the experience, but quickly decided to leave that thought unspoken.

"So—does that look like a deepfake to you?" the young fox concluded, folding his arms like a dare.

It was Mr. Rodenberg who answered him.

"I'm a lawyer kid, not a cyberpunk," he answered, lifting a wry brow. "But, may I assume that if I were to show that footage to an expert, the verdict would come back, 'genuine'?"

Conor took that as a challenge

"I can burn you a copy if you like," he said, rummaging in his backpack a second time.

The grey rat instantly raised a paw. "That won't be necessary kid, I believe you." To Erin it was clear that his threat to drop the young silver fox as a client was at last dead and buried…this time with a stake through the heart.

But then something else occurred to her; no, it hit her like a runaway freight-train. She shrank away from Conor, unable to stop herself.

"Y-You mean," she sniffed, in a stammering, cracking voice. "You did that…ou-out of…revenge?" She could feel something hot and salty, trickling from her eyes.

"No," Conor was completely unmoved by her tears. "The revenge was only bonus points. It was mostly a pre-emptive strike. That backstabbing punk only brought me along as a decoy—to keep the officers busy while HE got away." His eyes shifted in Mr. Rodenberg's direction. "That's another thing Danny told me in my last briefing—and something else I refused to believe, until he showed me that video you just saw." The chip on his shoulder seemed to have grown to the size of a railroad-tie. "And not only that, sticking it to me had been Wez's idea…HIS idea! I know, coz later on Kieran played me a recording of one of their conversations. 'Once we get yer off that roof we're gonna need a distraction.' And then Wez told him, 'I know JUST the guy.'"

He closed his eyes and fists, and took four deep breaths, attempting to calm himself.

And then, he said simply, "Only one of us was making it out of The Point that night…and it wasn't gonna be me; that was the plan." His lip curled upwards in a feral sneer, "Or…that's what Crazy Wez thought was the plan."

"So…Danny and Kieran were the ones behind leaving him to get caught?" Erin was also trying to maintain control.

"That's about it." the young silver fox answered flatly, "They'd had that double-cross in the works even before their boss gave the order to break him out of the Point. Kieran later told me, 'I knew that was comin' from the minute I breached AKER's database.'" There was more but just then, his story went into another holding pattern. He had gotten himself worked up again and needed some another cool-down period before he could continue. Erin didn't know whether to feel scared or sympathetic. How long had Conor been keeping that memory bottled up inside himself?

Opening his eyes again he resumed his recollection, this time speaking more calmly,

"You oughta know, though…him and Danny T. weren't the only ones in on that plan to sabotage Wez's escape. The Mister's brothers both knew…and they were 100% in favor. Like I told you before, nobody except for that guy wanted his punk nephew in The Company. The last part of our escape was one big hustle—with him as the mark. Danny and Kieran had it all planned out, all the way down to the last little detail."

"How do you mean?" Vern Rodenberg was leaning back in his chair with his paws folded across his midsection. He seemed to have figured out the gist of the plot, but wanted to hear the specifics.

And he soon got them. At last relieved of the burden of his promise, Conor was more than willing to explain.

"For starters, that tranq dart I stuck into Wez was the same kind the Granite Point patrol drones carried—except it was loaded with a slow-acting compound instead of the usual quick-burn stuff. That way, he'd still be standing when the lights came on."

"Ohhh-kay, but why?" The grey rat's whiskers were twitching again.

"Kieran expected Wez to get hit with another tranq-dart when the alarm sounded," the young silver fox informed him, "but just in case that didn't happen, he wanted to make sure his cousin would be out of it when the guards grabbed him." He clenched his fists again. "No one had even the slightest doubt—that two-faced jerk was gonna spill everything he knew, once he realized he'd been had." He let out a small derisive growl. "And he did, too—but not 'til something like 48 hours later. Turned out he got hit by three more tranq darts, and nearly died from it."

Erin swallowed hard as she listened. Conor was grinning from ear to ear, and the way he spoke, he seemed to be almost savoring the memory of Wez McCrodon's last stand.

"And what about the power outage?" Vern Rodenberg aske, not even a little bit bothered by what he'd just heard. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but that wasn't really just a coincidence, am I right?"

This time, there was no hesitation on his client's part

"Yep," his young client admitted, scratching at an ear, "Kieran DID cause that blackout. And, as soon as we were rolling, he turned the power back on again." Seeming to anticipate another inquiry, he added quickly, with a coy expression. "And by the way, there was never any worry about the security systems reverting to manual; same thing with the patrol drones…although they weren't exactly behaving like normal, not with their control program hacked." He let out a dark snigger, "Oh yeah, one of 'em was one hovering over that first extraction point—except it wasn't any guard that put it there."

"So…Danny and Kieran lied about the drones, too?" Erin just had to ask it.

Conor's ears, and his mouth, went in two different directions

"Not…exactly. I mean…those bad boys WOULD have reverted to manual control if The Point really had lost power. Only they never did over coz the power was never interrupted. Kieran had the emergency generator running way before the blackout went down. Oh, he turned out the rooftop lights, and the CCTV cameras, and stuff…but everything downstairs was working just fine."

Vern Rodenberg's finger shot upwards again

"Ahhhh, but because the surrounding countryside was dark, the guard in the tower would have assumed it was just because of the blackout—and so, no need to worry—or sound the alarm." There was an unmistakable note of admiration in his voice. It made Erin feel more unsettled than ever…and why, for carrot's sakes, did she feel this way?

"Exactly," his young-fox client answered, cocking a finger, "And that 'alternate' extraction point?' From day one, that was always the real pick-up spot."

Erin felt she should know the reason for that deception, but with her mind in such a whirl, it was impossible for her to grasp. "But…why?' she finally blurted.

Conor answered her with a raised ear and eyebrow. "Haven't you figured it out already?" She didn't answer and he waved a paw. "Everybody has an Achilles heel, bunny-girl. Mine is being grabbed from behind—thanks Wez, you backstabbing jerk!" Erin winced at this, but he didn't seem to notice, although his anger was already beginning to ebb. "And his was that he couldn't handle heights. It was his deepest, darkest secret; something he never shared with anybody."

"Not surprising, that," Vern Rodenberg interjected. "A kid in his position would absolutely not want anyone to know he had a weak spot."

"Right again," the young fox nodded, aiming another finger, "And even Wez didn't know he had that problem—not until when the cops finally caught up with him." His head tilted sideways for a second. "Ahhh, you familiar with that story, Counselor?"

"I am." The rat replied, looking somber. "It happened off of Cape Mane, Zoo Jersey. Wez was trapped, with the law closing in, and decided to throw a Hail Mary; stole an ultralight airplane and tried to fly it across Delahare Bay. He didn't make it even halfway to Cape Harelopen before he went down in drink and had to be rescued by the Coast Guard."

Conor cocked another finger, this time with a wicked smirk.

"Ahhh, but he might have made it if he hadn't looked down. THAT'S what caused him to lose control—and it's the part of the story almost nobody knows." He sat back looking almost smug. "And that's also why Kieran set up the extraction the way he did, so that Wez would have to look down if he wanted to get off that roof."

"No!" Erin hissed with her ears laid back, the kernel of her disquiet at last becoming clear to her. "He didn't have to look down, you grabbed his head and MADE him look down!"

And there it was, at last she had her finger on it. She had known since last night that Conor could be vengeful, but never in a thousand years could she have imagined that he was capable of out-and-out cruelty. It was like something out of one of those dreadful SAW movies.

And as if that wasn't bad enough, her outcry left the young silver fox entirely unfazed. In fact, it seemed only to trigger him.

"Darn right I did, Snowdrop!" he snarled, glaring at her with eyes like coals in a forge. "I wanted that punk to feel what I felt—every time I saw a stinkin' mirror!" One fang appeared, and then the other. "And I'd do it again, in a Zoo York second!"

Before either young mammal could say anything more, Vern Rodenberg quickly intervened. "There's one thing I don't understand kid," he said, speaking to Conor, "Why did Wez McCrodon do that number on your face?" It was a trick he often employed when dealing with mob clients, deflecting their anger by changing the subject.

And besides…why HAD the McCrodon kid done that to his client?

As it turned out, his gambit was successful. The young silver fox's anger began to dampen almost at once. In fact, his mood seemed to be turning almost wistful.

"Just plain bad luck," he finally said, speaking in a near murmur—and then immediately waved a paw. "No, make that a perfect, stinkin', storm of bad luck…and bad choices." He fell silent for a moment, looking upward, with clasped paws and a furrowed brow. It reminded Erin of the way she had looked in a picture that her mother had taken…of her, trying to figure out a math problem.

And then, finally, the young silver fox spoke again. "It began with those kids who jumped me in the holding cell. I found out later that they'd been acting under orders; The Enforcers weren't The Mammal's only minions. The idea was that they were supposed to pick a fight with me, and get me sent to Granite Point…which would have happened anyway, even without Crazy Wez's 'help.'" He sighed and stroked the bridge of his muzzle. "And Wez had no idea what those punks were up to; he wasn't even supposed to be there at the time. He'd have been on his way back to The Point right then…except the car coming to get him broke down on the highway."

"I see," Vern Rodenberg seemed to be taking mental notes. "And he'd been there at the Johnstone Campus in the first place because…?" He concluded the query with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm glad you asked, Counselor." Conor answered at once, no longer at a loss for words. "He was just back from court. His mom had died and he'd gone there to file a petition for compassionate leave, so he could attend her funeral." He winced for a second and growled, "which the stupid state turned down, on the grounds that he was a flight risk."

"Which he was," the grey rat reminded him sardonically. His client only shrugged.

"Maybe so, but Wez still took it hard when his plea was rejected. For all the troubles he'd had with his mother…she was still his mom. He had wanted to say good-bye to her real bad."

"You sound…almost sympathetic," Erin observed, immediately wondering if she shouldn't have just kept quiet.

But the fugitive young silver-fox only offered another shrug.

"How could I not be? I know what it's like to lose my mother. I found out about her from Danny, but if Wez had ever told me the story himself, I prolly would have hugged him." A sardonic smile sliced up along his muzzle, "And then I prolly would have gotten my tail kicked. But the thing is," He was serious again. "When Wez got back to the Johnstone campus, after having his petition vetoed, he was in a seriously bad mood. You follow what I'm bringing out?"

"Oh yeah, I get it," Mr. Rodenberg answered, obviously speaking from experience. Erin understood him as well, although she did not like where this conversation seemed to be going.

"But getting back to those jerks who tried to ambush me." Conor's face was a mask of flint, "Turned out that coatimundi-kid knew Wez from the street. When he went over to say hello, he got blown off…no big shock. 'Hey, get lost, huh? I'm not in the mood; my ma just died, okay?'

He clapped himself between the ears and groaned.

"Whoa boy…just my luck; only an hour earlier, him and his partner had been briefed by The Mammal about me having lost my mother."

This time both of his companions were perplexed.

"Wha…why?"

"What for…?"

Conor coughed into a fist before answering.

"So, uhm…so they could use it to try and goad me into throwing the first punch… Don't say it; I know, I KNOW!" he was raising his paws as if trying to hold back the tide. And then he lowered them again, "Only now they couldn't use it, coz if they did, it might bring Wez into the fight—on MY side." He growled and his neck hair stood up for a second. "Coati-boy could have just left it at that, and walked away… but nooooo, he just had to make sure. And so, he said, 'Aw dude, sorry to hear that…but listen; there's this fox-kid coming that we gotta take down, a snitch. He's gonna be here any minute.'"

"Wez just stared at him with his fangs showing. When he did that, you couldn't tell what the heck he was thinking, and so the coati kid went on to say, 'He's OUR problem, so stay out of it, okay?' The only answer he got was a grunt and a nod, which he took for a yes…and on any regular day, he would have been right." Conor growled again; a growl that turned into a snarl. "But that was not an average day for Crazy Wez, and, well…you know what happened next."

"Is that why he 'took care' of those other two kids?" Mr. Rodenberg asked him, "For falsely accusing you of being a snitch?"

Again, the young fox's answer was yes and no.

"For that, yeah…but mostly for trying to blame the whole thing on him. The Mammal was plenty sore at those jerks. 'You were supposed to provoke that fox kid, not KILL him!' and then they were all, 'Hey, it wasn't us…' Wez nearly got sent to The Clinic for what he did to me and so, when he ran into those kids that second time, he pretended at first like he'd forgot all about what happened—and then as soon as their guard was down, WHAMMO!" for emphasis, he punched a fist into a paw.

"Is…?" Erin cleared her throat. "Did that have anything to do with why he brought you into The Enforcers?"

Conor answered her with a tilted smile.

"No, bunny-girl…it had everything to do with it. There was just one thing guaranteed to ring that sea-mink's guilt bell…finding out that a 'snitch' he'd laid hurt on was totally innocent. So yeah, that was why he invited…excuse me, Shanghaied me into his crew."

"And yet," Erin's nose was twitching. "Wez almost jumped at using you for his fall-guy."

"Yeah, that's right." the smile had vanished from the silver fox's face, replaced by a gaze like magma. "And knowing what I know now, I'm not even a little bit surprised. Would you believe I wasn't the first guy that jerk tried to use for a patsy? Yeah, that's right; he pulled the same stunt at least twice, during his Bearfoot Bandit phase, setting up his partner take a pinch so that he could get away."

He paused, looking from her to the rat, and back again.

"And like I said before, you never knew where you stood with that sea-mink. He could be your best bud one moment and ready to whack you the next…and like I also told you, his actions didn't always make sense."

"Did he really have an opening in The Enforcers?" It was Mr. Rodenberg. "Or did he make that up, too?"

"No," the young fox answered, a little surprised by the memory, "They actually did have a slot open…and the kid I replaced really was another fox and really had gotten sent to The Clinic."

"Go fig," the rat replied, lifting his paws in a throwaway shrug.

"I know, right?" Conor was wearing that bitter smile again, "But no way did that make it up to me for getting my muzzle bent sideways." Erin tried to respond but the fox got there first, "Especially after Wez decided to use me for a sacrifice fly. As far as I'm concerned, that punk got exactly what was coming to him. And I wasn't the only one who thought so. After he got sent off to The Clinic, the general attitude among the other kids was, 'Good-bye, and good RIDDANCE.'"

"Oh yeah, that's something I've seen a few times." Vern Rodenberg offered a brief, sage nod. "With Crazy Wez out of the picture, they were free to say what they really thought of him."

"But what about you, Conor?" Erin asked him with her nose twitching, "what did they think of you…after you escaped?"

He reached up to scratch at another ear.

"Ahhh, pretty much like Mr. Rodenberg said, a mixed-bag thing. At first, they were mostly mad at me. The day after the breakout, AKER tightened the screws, and I mean really tight. The Point was locked down for two whole weeks, all commissary, mail, shower, and visitor privileges were suspended, and everyone had their cells tossed. And I'm not talking any casual search, either; the guards left every single one of 'em looking like a tornado had blown through. And woe to the fool who got busted harboring any kind of contraband. 'I hope you like The Hole, kid, coz you're gonna be staying there a long, long, time.' The library and the gym were placed off limits, and the lights were kept on 24/7—it was almost as bad as after the riot." Another wicked grin flashed across his muzzle. "And not just for the detainees. The guards who'd failed to show up for work that day all got canned, and Lurch and Blackbird both got letters of reprimand, even though they hadn't been on duty at the time. Puma-boy was so ticked-off he quit without notice. I got no idea where he is now."

"And…after things went back to normal, then what?" The young doe bunny just had to know.

To her considerable surprise, Conor fidgeted for a second, looking elsewhere.

"Ahhh…well…that's when I finally became a hero to some of the kids…though, uh, not all of them," His eyes finally found hers again. "But lemme tell you, I sure as heck didn't feel like any kind of hero. I didn't break out of The Point to give any of the other guys hope or whatever, I did it for me, myself, and nobody else…and it was Danny and Kieran that did all the heavy lifting. Honestly, I was mostly just along for the ride."

Erin doubted that, but before she could say so, Mr. Rodenberg broke in again.

"Listen kid…nobody escapes from the joint without some serious help on the outside—nobody. That's one of the cardinal rules of a prison break." His eyebrow went up again, "And rest of The Enforcers…what happened to them?"

"Oh," Conor looked as if he'd just walked in on a surprise birthday party. "If I'd only known… Once The Mammal figured out that they hadn't been in on the escape plan—or even known it was happening—they got let off pretty easy. They were all sent to the Hole of course, and then The Mammal broke up the crew as soon as they came out—not that much of a deal, really; there weren't enough of them left. But, except for Crazy Wez, nobody got shipped off to The Clinic…thank God." He threw up a paw, half in amusement, half in disgust. "The only guy who came out badly was Hitch…and it was his own, dumb fault. He was so mad about not being included in the breakout he went and told The Mammal everything he knew about it."

His eyes rolled sideways, along with a corner of his mouth.

"Stupid panther kid; he didn't know much of anything of course, but it was still enough to get him branded as a snitch…and even without Wez around that was not a label you wanted in Granite Point. As for me, none of the other guys ever learned what really happened on that rooftop—although they found out pretty quick that Wez had only brought me along as a distraction. Someone overheard Lurch and the Warden talking about it, and by the end of the day, everybody knew. Most guys figured it was just plain, dumb luck that I made it out instead of him…or else they didn't care. Either way, trying to shaft me like he did cost that sea-punk a whole, stinkin' truckload of respect. Nobody likes a backstabber."

"Yeah-h-h, but," Erin's nose was twitching fiercely, "if Crazy Wez was so scared of heights, why'd he ever agree to a rooftop pick-up in the first place? And if it was such a deep, dark secret, how did Danny and Kieran ever find out?"

"Oh, that first part's easy," the young fox told her, settling back against his pillow, "Like I said before, Wez was cool with heights as long as he didn't look down—and in the original plan he wouldn't have had to; we were supposed to be taken off near the center of the roof." He sat up again with a frown on his face. "As for your second question…I don't know. Danny and Kieran never told me how they found out he couldn't deal with heights; didn't even want me asking about it."

"Oh, I can tell you about that, kid. They got it from me."

"Huh?"

"WHAT!"

Both Conor and Erin were staring at Mr. Rodenberg.

"Yeah, that's right," he said, standing up and stretching his back before turning to speak to his client. "Your, uh, 'Not-Girlfriend' knows about this, Conor…"

"Har, har, har!"

"…but I don't think I ever told you. When I went in to interview Wez, I told him his best bet was an NGI plea...Not Guilty by reason of Insanity."

"Oh my God," Conor slapped his head as if a horsefly had landed on it, "How the heck are you still alive, big guy?"

"Tell me about it, I almost wasn't," the grey rat admitted without batting an eye. "But, before I could even think about making that pitch, I had to be sure it was workable…and that's why I had a psych evaluation done on the kid."

"Behind…The Mister's back?" Now the young fox looked as if his fur was about to turn parchment white.

Rodenberg's paws went straight to his hips and his incisors began working again.

"Of course not, do I look that stupid to you? No, McCrodon agreed to it—very reluctantly, but he agreed to it."

"How were you able to manage it?" It was Erin again, "With Wez, I mean. Would he at least have needed to be interviewed by a psychologist?" It was a fair question, she thought. If that sea-mink kid had been ready to end Mr. Rodenberg, for suggesting an insanity plea, it was a slam-dunk he wouldn't agree to be questioned by a shrink.

"He was," the grey rat answered simply, "Only he never knew that the animal sent in to talk to him was a psychiatrist; she identified herself only as a social worker. And she was a lioness; even Crazy Wez McCrodon was going to think twice before tangling with an apex predator."

"I-I-I wouldn't be too sure about that, Counselor," Conor cut in, capping his words with a toothy grin. The rat ignored him.

"We also had a ton of other material to go on; police reports, tapes and transcripts from his police interrogations, eyewitness accounts—to say nothing of what Kieran was able to lift off the net. We even talked to the Coast Guard crew that pulled Wez out of the water. Among other things, the final report said, 'Strong indication of hypsophobia'—that's the extreme form of acrophobia—'triggered by exposure to a downward perspective. The subject's condition is believed to have first manifested during his attempted escape from Cape May Zoo Jersey, and is believed to have led to his ultimate apprehension. See paragraph…' Ahhh, whatever paragraph that was; I forget."

"Hold it, Time OUT!" Erin Hopps was making a 'T' with her paws. Another thunderbolt had just hit her.

"All right Snowdrop, what is it now?" Conor was lifting his eyes up towards the ceiling again.

But she'd been talking to Mr. Rodenberg, not him.

"If that's true, then you knew Wez was scared of heights before Conor told you just now. Isn't that right?

The rat only gave her a shrug and a quizzical look. "Of course I did, kiddo." And then he shifted his gaze to the other young mammal in the room, "How do you think I knew you were lying to me, huh? There's only ONE reason you would have made that mink-kid look down the way you did." He lifted his nose and sniffed. "The minute I heard you say that, I had a pretty darn good idea of what really happened, up on that rooftop." He said this and pointed with a quivering finger. "And don't you ever try to put one over on me again, kid—I mean it." Clearly, he had been saving this tidbit for just the right moment.

"I won't Mr. Rodenberg, I promise," Conor answered him, raising a paw and looking suitably chastised. And this time Erin could tell that he meant it.

"Better not," the grey rat fired off a parting shot, and then sat down again, folding his paws. "The Mister never saw that report—he didn't want to see it—and after my one-and-only 'conversation' with Crazy Wez, he ordered Kieran to destroy it. I'm guessing he either disobeyed or made a copy first."

"Ahhh, maybe not, Counselor," Conor rubbed at the back of his neck, speaking cautiously, "That sea-mink has like a super total-recall. He can glance at a page of code for maybe half a second—and have it memorized to the last character before he sets it down again; I've seen him do it."

"Sheesh," Rodenberg sat up impressed, "So, The Mister wasn't exaggerating when he talked about that guy."

"Yeah, I know; he did that a lot," Conor nodded in agreement, and then grimaced. "Didn't stop him from treating Kieran like dirt all the time, though."

"Even though the kid was also his nephew," the grey rat mused, polishing his muzzle with his paws, "Makes me wonder how Wez would have been treated if he had been brought into The Company."

"Prolly the same as me," the young silver fox conjectured, lowering his voice to gutter level, 'Shut up and do as yer told…or else it's straight back to The Point with ya.' Of course," he added, looking suitably sly. "Wez would have tried to burn his uncle's house down, the first time anyone made that threat to HIM."

"Probably," Rodenberg agreed with a nod, "according to that psych report I commissioned, there were three things guaranteed to light his fuse—being snitched on, someone leaning on him, or being shown up by another kid."

His last five words were pregnant with meaning, and Conor picked up on it immediately.

"Yeah-h-h…I see what you did there. And nope, Wez never did get over the way I handled that tiger kid while he was in The Hole. Ahhh, he might have…if it hadn't been for me rescuing La Peigne's cell phone. Remember when I said how he tried to claim credit for it—and The Company didn't buy it? Well, what I didn't know at the time was that it stinkin' backfired on him. Kieran reamed him out good for that little song-and-dance; said if he ever pulled something like that again, he could kiss his care packages buh-BYE. Even worse—for him I mean—was that was the thing that put me on Kieran's radar. And once he learned my story, he had nothing but good things to say about me. So now, I'd not only shown up his kid cousin, I'd embarrassed him. No way was he gonna stand for THAT."

"But," Erin's paws were raised in protest, "you didn't grab that phone to make him look bad. You were only trying to help out your crew."

"Riiiight," a bitter, sardonic grimace crossed the young fox's face as he cocked another finger, "Now you're beginning to understand the way his head worked. And that wasn't the only reason I was on his list. There was also that blackmail thing he tried to run on Lurch…the one that didn't work out in the long run. Remember that rumor I told you about, that The Mammal was thinking about removing him as head of The Enforcers? Well guess what, it was more than just a rumor. Wez would have been gone already if it hadn't been for who his uncle was—and if there'd been anyone suitable to replace him."

"Huh?" Erin's nose was twitching again. "What about you, Conor?" it seemed so obvious after all he'd said.

Not quite.

"Nope," the fox shrugged, lifting up his paws. "I was the youngest guy in that crew, don't forget. The Mammal was never gonna let a kid my age be put in charge of The Enforcers." He let out a short, rumbling noise, "But just try telling that to Crazy Wez. The day after his confrontation with Blackbird—the one where he took up for the Mearns brothers—the Warden called him into his office and read him the riot act. 'One more…Just ONE more stunt like that McCrodon and you're done…and don't think you're indispensable to keeping the peace in this facility, because you're not.'"

"Oy-VEY!" Vern Rodenberg was giving himself another face-palm. "Knowing that little shmendrik, it would have been enough to convince him that you were scheming with the guards to replace him as Enforcer boss." He fell back in his chair, shaking his head. "No wonder he tried to set you up as his patsy."

"Whoa, you really did know the guy," Conor nodded, impressed. "Yeah, another thing I heard later was that he'd been griping nonstop to Kieran about me, practically from the minute I got let back into The Enforcers …and it only got worse after he hit Lurch with that strike threat. I hadn't been as good I thought, at keeping my feelings hidden about that thing."

Erin's ears went up towards the ceiling. "Hold on…that means he had a tablet even before you snagged that cell phone."

"He did," the young fox admitted with a shrug, "He had it smuggled in while I was locked up in The Clinic. I don't know if any of the other guys knew he had it—if they did, they'd have for sure been told to keep quiet about it. He used it mostly for setting up shipments on contraband electronics, and keeping in touch with Kieran about the guards. I was right about that, too; The Company had been blackmailing some of them." He rubbed at the bridge of his muzzle. "But let me tell you, Kieran was as mad as a scalded hornet when he found out his kid cousin had tried to pull an extortion on Lurch without consulting him. Even months later, he was grousing about it, 'Oi, an' just who'd that little idiot think he was?'"

"Don't tell me, let me guess," Vern Rodenberg had his paws up again, "When Kieran found out about that visit to the Warden's office, he ripped Wez another new one…and then HE took it out on you."

Conor laughed and clapped his paws together

"Give the rat a wheel of cheddar; that's exactly what happened." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Not out in the open, though; he was always too smart for that. But that was when he really started laying all those dirty jobs on me." The corners of his mouth turned downward. "He didn't try to hide his feelings from his cousin though; I think he knew he couldn't. When Kieran threw out the idea of an escape decoy, he was so eager to nominate me, he never once stopped to think—was a diversion even necessary?"

"Yeahhhhh," Rodenberg's look was even more devious than his client's, "I was wondering about that, kinda. Seems to me The Company could have easily gotten the both of you out of there if they'd wanted."

"Probably," the young silver fox admitted, "But you already know why they didn't."

"How did Kieran know that Wez was going to offer you up as a diversion?" It was Erin again.

"He didn't," Conor acknowledged, "But he knew his kid cousin would go for it. He later told me that setting me up to take the fall would have been his suggestion if Wez hadn't saved him the trouble. That dude is one seriously good judge of character."

"Not surprising," Vern Rodenberg concurred with a knowing nod, "what with him being such a hack-meister,"

"Huh?" Erin stared at him with another twitching nose, "What's that got to do with anything?"

In response, the rat looked over at his client. "You want to explain it, or shall I?"

"I'll tell her." The young silver fox replied, and then warmed quickly to his subject. "Forget what you think you know about hackers, bunny-girl, they don't spend all their time hunched over laptops in basements. The real deal knows how to work the street as much as the web, looking for code, passwords and whatever." He sat up, winked, and raised a thumb, "And believe me, nobody works the street like Kieran McCrodon; that guy can sell sand to a camel or make a grizzly bear beg his forgiveness. No kidding; when he leaves the room, better check your watch and wallet, ASAP."

A playful smirk crossed Erin's features.

"Like a certain Charcoal-Boy I know." It was just too good to resist.

Conor only waved her off. "Nahhh, I could never be as good as him," he said, refusing to rise to the bait. And then he got serious again. "It took me a long time to realize that Danny T. had been manipulating me, the same way Kieran had been playing puppet with Crazy Wez. But, by then, I was ready to accept it."

"Not that you were in any sort of position to do otherwise," Vern Rodenberg observed cynically.

"True enough," His young fox-client conceded, allowing his muzzle to dip earthward for a second. "But I would have let it pass, even if I'd had a choice. Whatever their motives, Danny and Kieran had gotten me out of Granite Point." His expression skewed sideways again. "The only questions were, for how long…and even if I didn't get sent back, what the heck was going to happen to me?"

Danny had just six words for me, as the van started moving

"Shut up and stay outta sight," which I did.

I had no idea where we were going, except for a vague notion that we were headed north somewhere. After maybe 20 minutes, the tension in the air seemed to noticeably slacken. I wasn't allowed to come out of hiding—they'd thrown a blanket over me and told me to stay there—but Kieran even cranked up the sound system. He was partial to any kind of Celtic rock; The Pigues, The Dropkick Furries, Shearing Molly, or, when he wanted something a little more upbeat, The Otterboys.

The reason for the lightening of the mood was very simple. We had crossed back into the state of Zoo York, where The Company had a lot more clout than they did in Zoo Jersey. No cops or troopers were going to pull us over up here—or if they did, they'd let us go, no questions asked. Though I didn't know it at the time, we were taking the 'scenic route' for just that purpose. We detoured all the way up to the Bear Mountain Bridge, just to keep plenty of distance between us and Zoo Jersey.

I remember that right before sunrise, we pulled into a diner. I had no idea where we were, and the place was closed. But when Danny went up to the door, it opened before he even had time to knock. He returned shortly with a huge breakfast of scrambled eggs and waffles, which the three of us scarfed in record time. It was the best meal I'd had in months.

We weren't there just to eat, though; we had also stopped to change vehicles—and for my rescuers to brief me on how to behave when they brought me to see The Mister.

It went without saying that he wasn't going to be thrilled to meet me. I could almost hear him already; "What the heck is THIS; where's my nephew?"

To give you the short version, I was told to keep my mouth shut and let them do the talking.

"Unless me uncle asks yer a direct question," Kieran said to me, cocking a finger, "In that case, go ahead and answer 'im, but play dumb—like ye don't know anythin', just a victim o' circumstance."

"And keep your voice down and don't look him in the eye," Danny T. advised, "And above all else, make sure to address him as either 'Sir' or Mister McCrodon—not anything else."

"Amen," Kieran put in, nodding dourly, "Nobody's allowed t' call him by any other name, boyo…not even 'is own brothers."

Even after we changed cars; to an SUV this time, I still had to keep my head down. And so, I had no idea where we were going.

When we finally stopped, it was somewhere near a waterfront, and the air was dense with a chill fog. In the distance I could hear the bass-fiddle wail of a ship's horn, and the slosh of waves against pilings. I remember that the air was ripe with the pungent odor of seaweed and, from behind me, I could hear the drone of traffic and the occasional car-horn.

And then I felt Danny's paw on my shoulder, "This way, kid." He said, and directed me towards this ginormous, blocky building of some kind. It was harder than heck to make out through the fog, what with having a whitewashed exterior.

But then, when I got close enough, I saw that I was wrong. The place wasn't done up in white paint, it was finished in white glaze. What the FOX…?

I turned back to Danny and Kieran.

"What's this, the world's biggest White Castle?"

I had no idea why, but they both nearly fell over, laughing.

But as soon as they recovered, they got very serious.

"Whatever, you do, kid, don't say that in front of The Mister," Danny told me, giving my shoulder a squeeze to emphasize the point. "Now, come on…we don't want to be late on top of everything else."

Yep, that's right—we were at Finagles; my very first look at the place.

They brought me in through the front door, past these two Kodiak bears who looked like a pair of walking bank vaults. I remember that the entrance was flanked by these two roughcut stone monoliths which—it was claimed—were actual Irish counterparts of the Stonehenge columns. I don't know if that was true, but it pretty much summed up the atmosphere of the place. I'll tell you more about that in a minute.

From the lobby I was taken to a private, glass-fronted elevator, like the kind you see in hotels, and brought up to an office overlooking the dance floor—where me and my companions were made to wait outside until we were called. That, I later learned, was how The Mister always rolled. No matter how bad he wanted to see you, he always put you on hold for a while; his way of letting you know who was in charge.

With nothing else to do, I turned and looked over the railing at the dance floor below.

…And let out a low whistle; even at that age, I could tell that this was one seriously tony establishment. The dance-floor was easily as big as a ZBA basketball court, with a translucent, parquet floor, in the design of a ginormous Celtic knot. That in fact, was the theme of the place. All of the support columns were hexagonal in shape—in homage to this Irish rock formation, the Giant's Causeway. Even the DJ's pulpit fit the atmosphere; fashioned from a single massive piece of bog oak. I remember thinking, if this is how cool the place looks during the day…

And that was as far as my train of thought was able to get. Right then, the door to the office banged open, and another sea-mink appeared, not as tall as Kieran, but thickly muscled, and wearing a pinstripe, three-piece suit. Not The Mister, but his older brother, Gerald.

By way of greeting he snarled, "All right, you three, get in here!" at the same time, thrusting a finger in the direction of the office behind him. But as Kieran passed him by, I saw Gerry clutch his elbow for a second and receive a small nod in return. It was my first clue that the plan to keep Crazy Wez out of The Company ran deeper than I'd thought.

When we got inside the office…whoa, I'll never forget my first look at The Mister; a fat, stinkin', train-wreck. Ahhh, Mr. Rodenberg…you ever heard that name his enemies used to call him.

Riiiight, Jabba, the Mink; that should give you some idea how enormous he was, bunny girl. And that was just the opener, his head-fur was falling out in clumps, and he didn't smell too good either…even for his species.

I remember he was sitting behind this huge desk with nothing on it, no computer screen, no telephone, not even a pen, nothing…and that he was wearing a pair of dark blue coveralls embroidered with the logo of the jolly roger—except with a mustelid skull, and pair of crossed fishing gaffs in place of the bones. There was something written underneath, but most of it was hidden below the desk…which he slapped so hard when the door closed, it was a miracle he didn't break it.

"All right…what the heck happened?"

It was Kieran who answered him, holding his cap in his paw while he spoke.

"I-I'm sorry Mister McCrodon, but Wez didn't make it. We did our…"

His uncle hit the table again, this time with a fist.

"I already know that, you idiot! Why wouldn't I know…huh? What I don't know is WHY he didn't make it! WHAT? HAPPENED?"

Ohhhhh, foxtrot…he was looking right at me. I swallowed hard and tried to remember my instructions. And then I lowered my gaze and also my voice.

"I…don't know, Mr. McCrodon. Everything was going fine until the lights went out and we had to change pick-up points." I had to assume he knew about that too, "But then…I dunno why, but Wez froze up on me. I—I couldn't get him to move, no matter what I did." Aghhh, grrrrr…why hadn't Danny or Kieran told me whether or not I should lie to this guy? All I could do was cherry-pick my words and pray that he'd buy what I was selling.

He did, but that didn't mean he was satisfied.

"And then what happened, fox-kid? And who the heck told you to go first?"

Ohhhhh, NO! Now I was really in a bind. I could either lie again and maybe get myself iced, or else tell the truth and be a snitch.

As things turned out. I didn't have to make that choice.

"I told him," Danny cut in, stepping forward with his chest out.

"You…did WHAT, Tipperin?" the Mister almost shrieked, swinging his gaze like a searchlight.

"I told him, sir." Danny said again, speaking with an almost icy calm. "We were running out of time and I thought if Alan went first, then Wez might see it was safe, and it might be enough to snap him it out of it."

It was a good defense, but it only served to propel the Mister out of his chair and into a tirade.

"WHAT GOOD WOULD THAT HAVE DONE WHEN…?"

His rant ended in a sudden cough, and I knew then that he'd been in on the plan to leave me as a diversion. I also knew that if I somehow made it out of this office in one piece, I should never, ever trust this blob of a sea-mink.

In the meantime, the ball was in Danny and Kieran's court.

It was Kieran who fielded it…and whoo, what a smoothie.

"Perhaps nothing, Mister McCrodon…but anythin' was better than just sitting there, waitin' fer Wesley t' move on his own. Truth be told, I was hopin' that if he thought he was gonna be left behind, it'd wake him up, an' then I could send th' drones back and switch loads."

Whoa, how obvious could you get? I saw the Mister turn and give me a scrutinizing look. Again, I could almost hear his thoughts. Did this fox kid realize what his nephew had just said…that HE was supposed to be the one who got left behind? I just sat there looking stupid, remembering my instructions. After a moment, McCrodon seemed satisfied and returned his attention to his nephew.

"Only you didn't have time, didja?"

"No," Kieran admitted, but then amended, "The power came back on its own, like I was 'fraid it might…and the rest of it ye know."

It was the second fib he'd told since entering the office…and would his uncle see through it? I tensed, waiting for what might happen…not just to me but to the other guys.

Though I didn't know it at the time, the only guy I needed to worry about getting iced right then was me. Danny and Kieran might get a beating out of this, but they were far too valuable to whack, especially Kieran, who was virtually irreplaceable—and knew it.

"In any event," he went on, "Would y' even want a boy who lost his bottle like that as part of The Company?"

That really set his uncle off.

"You know there's more to it than THAT!" He screamed, hitting the desk so hard that this time, I felt the floor shake. He was so worked up, I could see redness in his cheeks, right through his facial fur.

And that was when he finally reached the tipping point. He fell back into his chair with his head tossing up and down like a bobble-doll—at last coming to rest with the chin against his Adam's Apple. He was breathing like he was trying to blow up a beach-ball, and for a second there, I wondered if he was going to make it. So did Danny, who tried to go to him but was immediately waved back. "Get away from me, punk!"

We spent the next…I don't how long, just standing there, watching The Mister recover. When he finally sat up again, he had his wind back, but most of the steam was gone. "How come you didn't plan for that power outage?" he demanded—in a civil tone for once, but it was still a pointed question.

This time it was Danny who answered him, "Like I mentioned many times before, Mr. McCrodon, there's always some things you can't plan for." As he said this, I had the distinct feeling that he had warned his boss about the possibility of a power failure—and that McCrodon had either forgotten about it or was pretending that he hadn't heard. In any case, it was a tough point to argue with, and he knew better than to try.

But then…a mink in his position didn't have to argue over much of anything.

"All right, I've heard enough," he said, leaning forward and gripping the desktop with a pair of gnarled paws. "Tell you what, I'm gonna check out your story…and you better have been telling the truth, or else…Ahhhhh, I'll think of something."

Yeah, I know…it sounded lame to me too, at the time. But when I looked over at Danny and Kieran, I saw both of them trying not to shudder. Eventually, I would find out they had a very good reason for their reaction.

As for me…

"As for this fox-kid, throw him in the basement—somewhere he won't get away. I'll decide what to do with him later."

And with that, the three of us were dismissed.