Disclaimer: Zootopia stories, characters, settings, and properties belong to the Walt Disney Co. This story is written under Fair Use Copyright laws.
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The Fire Triangle
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Part Two:
Oxidizer
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Chapter 1—A Rock and a Hard Place
(Continued... Part 5)
Before anyone had even said a word to her, Judy knew something important was going on. The realization hit her as she was passing through the front door of Precinct-1. As usual, there was Benjamin Clawhauser, seated behind his wraparound desk. What wasn't so typical was that the moment he spotted her, he cut short his phone conversation and almost frantically waved her over.
"What's up?" she asked, almost forgetting to stand far enough away from the desk to be visible over the rim. There must have been a worried expression on her face, because the plus-size cheetah moved quickly to reassure her.
"No trouble Judy, but Chief Bogo wants you to go straight to his office."
She felt her nose begin to twitch. "Okay, but first I need to..."
"He said don't bother changing into your uniform, just go straight up there."
"Ohhh-kay."
When Judy entered Bogo's private sanctum a moment later, she found him talking on his desktop intercom. His reaction upon seeing her was as instantaneous as Clawhauser's had been; a glance in her direction, and then another one at the squawk-box.
"Never mind, she's just walked in; get up here."
"On my way," said a voice the doe-bunny recognized as Lieutenant Saw.
"Chief, what's up?" she asked, shutting the door cautiously behind her.
"Change of plans, Hopps." Bogo's chair squeaked like a rusty windmill as he swiveled to face her. "Y' won't be going t' interview the Rafaj Brothers today."
Judy felt her face drop halfway to the floor. What the...? Why would he take that away from...? Dangit, that was HER gig; she was the one who had gotten those jackals to crack.
"Uhm, what for, Chief?" she asked, fighting hard to contain her anger.
He folded his arms and leaned forward.
"We've just heard back from Mr. Rodenberg. The Red Pig's agreed to meet with you."
Feeling her anger give way to confusion, Judy stared at him with a foot that was trying to thump. Okay, fine, but then why pull her off the Rafaj Brothers interrogation?
"Wha...when?" she all but blurted out.
"Right NOW," the big Cape Buffalo forcefully replied, jabbing his desktop with a finger for emphasis, "Or not at all; those were Peccari's exact words according to his attorney."
And with that, the doe-bunny's confusion gave way to contrition. The Chief hadn't taken the Rafaj brothers away from her after all; he had only put them on hold. "Should have known he wouldn't—DUMB bunny," her inner voice chided. She banished it by offering up a theory to the Chief. "Sounds to me as if The Red Pig's trying to sabotage this meeting before it even starts—just like Mr. Big did, when he more or less dumped it in my lap. He doesn't want to meet with me, but he can't say so without making himself look bad. And so he's giving himself an out by offering to see me only on very short notice." She cleared her throat, putting on her best underworld snarl. "Hey-y-y, I TRIED, it ain't my fault the cops wuz asleep at the switch."
Bogo snorted and then snerked.
"That's actually not bad, Hopps," he said, "And yes, I think you're right; it'd be just like that javelina, wouldn't it?"
"Yep," the doe-bunny agreed...even though had practically no idea of what 'that javelina' was like, outside of his volatile temper. But then she remembered something else; after two years on the force, she knew better than just to assume that a certain couple of jackals were still hers to interrogate. "What about the Rafaj Brothers, sir?"
Bogo sat back in his chair again.
"I'd much prefer not to delay their questioning any longer, Hopps—but you're the one who finally got them to cooperate. Do you want to hold off and talk to them y'self, or shall I assign someone else to the job?
Judy's ears shot up as if spring-loaded; this was the one response she'd never have expected from the big Cape buffalo.
Even more surprising was her answer.
"Give it to Nick Wilde, sir." Holy carrot sticks; where the heck had THAT come from?
Chief Bogo seemed to be wondering the same thing, sitting up fast and staring at her wide-eyed, "WHAT, then?"
"Whoa boy, think fast Jude," she told herself and then launched into an impromptu sales-pitch, having no idea where to go with it.
"Chief if you recall, Officer Wilde and I worked that blood-diamond sting together; he knows the case at least as well as I do..."
"To a point," Bogo countered with a bobbing finger, "he doesn't know that Rocco Peccari is the Rafaj Brothers' silent partner—or that he's got a contract out on them. That rather changes the scenario I shouldn't wonder."
Judy only shrugged.
"It'll take all of two minutes to bring him up to speed on that sir. And if there's any animal I know who won't be surprised by the news, it's that fox." To her surprise, she found she was warming to her presentation. "And beside that, he's got something I don't, Chief."
Bogo flicked an ear and peered more closely. "What's that, then?"
Judy clapped her paws together
"Empathy sir; Officer Wilde and the Rafaj Brothers are not only fellow predators, all three of them are members of a stereotyped species. Foxes are supposed to be shifty and untrustworthy; jackals are supposedly thieving and cowardly. I've already seen Nick...errrr, Officer Wilde use it to gain their trust at least once." She leaned forward, putting elbows on her knees, "And I don't think I need to tell you how good he is at questioning suspects sir; look at the way he played Duke Weaselton when we were pumping him for information about The Phantom." Actually it had been the two of them together, but the fox had certainly done his part—and Chief Bogo knew it.
He flicked an ear and sat back again, this time with half a smile.
"Huh, I'm hanged if you don't make a case Hopps." He said this, and looked at her closely, almost entirely with his right eye, "But...are y' sure you want to give them to Officer Wilde? Once they're his, they're his."
"Yes sir, I am," Judy nodded...and she was, even though she knew that it might cost her in the long run. After making that unauthorized call on Mr. Big, she needed all the 'attabunnies' she could get.
And yet...
It had never felt quite right to her, being brought back on duty while her former partner continued to languish in administrative limbo. Dangit, that fox was a good officer; he deserved better than to be left out of the loop while she was back in the thick of it.
And besides, the doe-bunny realized with a smile, whatever her reasons for making that pitch, everything she'd said just now was 100% true. Her former partner really WAS the perfect fox for the job.
"Very well Hopps," Bogo reached for his intercom again. "Clawhauser? Get hold of Officer Wilde and have him report to me ASAP."
"Uh, right away Chief." The cheetah responded, his feline curiosity audible even through the tinny speaker. Hearing him, Judy could only hope she'd made the right decision, "Please fox; don't let me down."
Oops, Bogo was speaking to her again.
"Actually, there's another reason Wilde should be a good fit for interviewing the Rafaj Brothers; we've just had them moved to the Precinct 7 detention facility.
Judy's ears went up and her nose began to twitch. "Not Precinct 9, sir?" The last she'd heard, the jackals had been transferred to the Outback Island jail.
"No, that's only the cover story," the Chief informed her.
"All right, yes," Judy understood, but she was still a little confused, "but why the Nocturnal District?"
Bogo smiled knowingly. "Well, think about it Hopps; the Red Pig's enforcers are all wild boar aren't they? Even in daylight, their vision's not the best; at night, it's practically negligible. And because of that, you hardly ever see their species in the Nocturnal District. They'll be spotted much more easily there than elsewhere in the city."
"Ohhh, I get it." Judy answered with a nod, at last understanding the Chief's reasoning. And there was more; both Nick and the Rafaj brothers had excellent night vision. In the dimness of the Nocturnal District they would find even greater rapprochement than if they were meeting in the full light of day.
"Precinct 7 only gives minor advantage, to be sure," Bogo said, returning to the main reason for the transfer. "Even with such poor night vision, wild boar are hardly incapable of operating in darkness—especially the Razorbacks." His expression turned flinty, "But after two of them actually DID turn up at the Savanna Central Correctional Center, we've decided to take no chances."
"Yes sir," Judy nodded. There had been no question of not reporting that incident and she was glad now that she'd done it. She had suffered no repercussions, and it had helped spur the ZPD to facilitate the transfer immediately—even though it might not have been necessary. Lieutenant Saw had been of the opinion that the pigs she'd spotted outside of SC3 had only been there to observe and report.
"If Peccari had really been planning to hit the Rafaj Brothers, you wouldn't have seen a thing—not until it was too late."
That conversation had been two days ago. And... say, where the heck was that sun-bear anyway? He should have been here by now.
Chief Bogo's expression, meanwhile, had become an ironic S-curve.
"And of course, we must do everything possible to assure our 'guests' that we're looking out for their safety," he said, capping the statement with a caustic snort.
That reminded Judy of something else and she felt her nose begin to twitch again.
"Sir, there's something I'd like to know. Before the other night, did the ZPD have any idea that the Rafaj Brothers were under the Red Pig's thumb?" In hindsight, it all seemed glaringly obvious, but at the time...well, back when they'd been running the sting, it hadn't been an issue. The important thing then had been to gather evidence that the jackals were dealing in conflict diamonds. Whether or not they'd been carrying a (legitimate) partner in the background had not yet figured into the scheme of things.
Bogo let out a small grunt.
"Mmm, we've...had our suspicions, actually; it's mentioned in the police report."
"Really?" the doe-bunny asked, ears standing halfway at attention. She didn't remember seeing anything like that when she'd read the report.
"Yes," Bogo laced hooves on the desktop, "buried in the back, but it's there all right." he lifted a hoof and waved it. "Nothing concrete you understand; only speculation and circumstantial evidence."
Judy's ears were up even further; this was fascinating. "What sort of evidence, sir?" she asked.
"Well," the Chief shrugged, "An upscale jeweler in Sahara Square; you'd best believe Rocco Peccari would find that a tempting target for a bit of usury, and also..." he looked uncomfortable for a second. "Well, the Rafaj Brothers are jackals aren't they?"
That statement made Judy's ears go rigid and caused her nostrils to flare—as Bogo's words from a night in the Rainforest District came back to haunt her. "Maybe ANY aggressive predator looks savage to you rabbits," and also, "You think I'm gonna believe a fox?"
Had he ever really shed those prejudices? Most animals with that mindset never completely lost it.
But then he raised both hooves; the doe-bunny's shift in body-language had not evaded his notice.
"Now don't go getting your ears all in a twist. What I meant was, being a denigrated species, the Rafaj Brothers would have found it very difficult, perhaps even impossible, to find a bank willing to underwrite their jeweler's shop—especially when they first opened f' business. Back then, if you lived south of the Climate Wall and y' couldn't manage a loan from a reputable institution, there was only one place you could go to borrow money."
"The Sahara Square mob," Judy puffed out her cheeks in mortification. True for telling and she should have known. Hadn't Nick Wilde's father once found himself in similar straits? And that wasn't even mentioning the elusive loan-shark known as The Phantom, an animal that specialized in lending to species with negative stereotypes.
Someone knocked on the door, and both she and Bogo turned in that direction.
"Come."
It opened silently and Lieutenant Saw entered, eliciting another snort from the big Cape buffalo.
"'Bout time, Lieutenant; where the devil were you?"
"Sorry," the sun-bear answered deadpan, "but I just got a call from Precinct-3. The Red Pig's crew was seen loading fuel and provisions onto his yacht earlier this morning; looks like they're preparing to get under way."
That was more than enough to mollify Bogo and he nodded over a sardonic smile
"Hmmm, so that's where he's holding the meeting, eh?"
"Not really surprising," Lt. Saw replied, flipping his paw in a throwaway gesture, "I would myself, if I were him." And then to Judy he said, "Come on Hopps, let's go." And without waiting for a reaction, from either her or Chief Bogo, he turned and reached for the door again.
Bears are not noted for being able to move quickly—not while standing upright, at least. Down on all fours, however, it's a different story. And so, no sooner did the door swing shut behind him than the Lieutenant dropped down onto his forepaws, loping down the concourse at such a brisk pace that Judy was obliged to follow his example in order to keep up. Hitting the ground floor level, they turned on a direct course for the ZPD motor pool.
It was only after they entered the garage that the sun bear rose up on his hindquarters again. Snatching a shop-towel from a wall dispenser, he scanned around the shop with a frown on his face.
"Couraça!" he called, wiping his paws on the towel. "Couraça, where are you?"
"I'm here Tenente," a sullen voice replied from the other side of a police van. And then a shape moved out from behind the vehicle, revealing itself as a grease-spattered giant armadillo.
"Where...?" Saw started to ask and was answered by a finger pointing lazily through an open door to the parking lot outside. Judy followed where the armadillo was indicating and saw that the space on the end of the first row was occupied by an off-black Mitsubisti Montarpan.
She felt her nose begin to twitch. "That's not one of..."
"No, it's a rental," Lieutenant Saw interrupted, already moving in that direction, "The Red Pig insisted; he knows that all ZPD vehicles are equipped with Lope-Jack, even the ones without radios."
"Oh, I see," Judy said, but now that they were getting closer, she had noticed something else. "Um, isn't that vehicle a little, uh, cramped for your species, sir?" In trying to put it as tactfully as possible, she had just made a whopper of an understatement. The SUV in question was a small mammal vehicle—a bit large for a bunny, but clown-car dimensions for a bear, even a sun-bear.
"Yes, but I won't be riding with you," Saw said, pointing to the vehicle in the next space over, an unmarked police cruiser. "Here's how it will work; I'll lead the way and you'll follow me to the first meet-point. When we get there, you'll pick up Vern Rodenberg and the two of you will continue on without me. He'll direct you to where Red Pig is waiting."
Judy felt her face twist upwards into a pained expression.
"Oh for crying out loud sir, isn't this kind of ridiculous? I mean...we already know where the meeting is taking place."
Saw glanced over shoulder and she was surprised to see him wearing a jocular grin.
"No Hopps, it's completely ridiculous. But Rocco Peccari's the animal calling the shots right now and if this is what he wants, this is what he gets."
"Yes sir," Judy nodded tartly.
On the way to the meet point, Lt. Saw attempted to brief her over the phone. It wasn't easy; she didn't have her blue-fang set and the SUV didn't have a holder for her cell. She was obliged to leave it in the center-console and speak up in order to be heard.
"Rodenberg didn't set up this meeting pro bono," the sun bear explained, "He expects a favor in return, and he'll only tell you what it is." Ahead of them, a light turned yellow. Saw could have made it but Judy couldn't and he pulled to stop so as not to get too far ahead of her. The tone of his voice, when he spoke again, indicated that he didn't like needing to have done that, (or maybe he just didn't like Vern Rodenberg.) "Whatever he asks for Hopps, you're to agree; that's already been decided." His voice was nearly a growl.
"Ummmm, what if he asks for something...ahhh, outrageous?" Dumb-bunny question, but she felt she had to ask it.
"He won't," the sun bear responded tersely, "Rodenberg's a jerk, but he's a smart little jerk. He won't demand anything that he knows we can't give him."
The light turned green and they moved on. After two more blocks it became apparent they were on course for ZTP Airport. Judy didn't need to ask why; the space around any air terminal is always strictly forbidden for unauthorized flights—and that includes police drones and other surveillance aircraft. It's a fact well known to the criminal element...and regularly employed, whenever they wish to avoid being tracked from on high.
They found Vern Rodenberg waiting for them in the Red Economy lot, leaning back on the fender of his beloved vintage Meercury Super-8. While Judy waited in the SUV, Saw parked and exited the cruiser. Seeing him approaching, the diminutive attorney stood up and reached for his briefcase.
"Ahhh, you're a few minutes early Lieutenant," he said, greeting the sun-bear with ersatz bonhomie.
Saw waved impatiently at the vehicle behind him, with Judy at the wheel. From his demeanor, you would have thought it was Rodenberg who had only just now arrived, and that he'd shown up a few minutes late.
"Yes, yes...now, would you please hurry up and get moving?"
"Not so fast there, Booby," the grey rat cocked a thumb backwards at his car. "First, where's my parking validation?"
Flashing his fangs, Saw reached into his jacket, grumbling under his breath. "Only you would...all right, here."
He extracted a tiny envelope, for him the size of a postage stamp, which he passed along to the grey rat. Rodenberg dropped it into his briefcase and then nodded. "Okay, now we can go."
"Not so fast, Counselor," The bear informed him, mocking his earlier tone, "Before you go, there's something I want you to pass along to The Red Pig. The ZPD knows where it is that you're taking Officer Hopps—and we expect to have her back completely unharmed—and also completely dry." He leaned forward, looming over the rat and speaking in a low snarl. "Or else, I'll get a warrant and take that little chantara boat of his apart, spar by spar."
"I understand, Lieutenant," Rodenberg responded quietly—and also without a trace of fear, his whiskers remaining as steady as shards of iron.
He turned headed for where Judy was waiting; he did not look back, or hurry.
The Montarpan was fitted with a rodent-seat and Rodenberg grumbled as he buckled himself into it. "Ahhh, I hate these stupid things; make me feel like a little kid, going out for a ride with mommy and daddy."
Once they were on the road though, his mood lightened up considerably.
"Ohhh-kay Hopps, since the ZPD already knows where we're going, there's no point in giving you the run-around; head straight for the Palm Hotel mooring slip." He seemed to take for granted that she would know where that was, and in fact, she did. "Gotta admit, Nick was right about you," he said as they rounded a corner, "You're one gutsy rabbit."
A heat rose into the base of Judy's ears at the mention of her former partner's name, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Instead she ansered, "I could say the same for you, Counselor. The Red Pig didn't, uh, do anything when you asked him if he'd be willing to meet with me?" By now, she had heard about his earlier conversation with Lieutenant Saw.
Rodenberg just fanned a paw. "Ahhh, he wasn't thrilled about it, I knew that was coming even before I laid the proposition on him—but at the same time, he wasn't gonna hurt me; I'm too valuable to him right now." He turned and flashed a toothy grin. "His insurance company's trying to stonewall him on the IRS recycling fire, and I'm the only guy he's got that can handle those stinkin' bean-counters. No me, no settlement...know what I mean?"
Judy frowned. "Should you be telling me this, Mr. Rodenberg?"
He only shrugged and waved his paw again.
"Ahhh, it's nothing Lieutenant Saw doesn't already know, so why not?" There was acid in his voice as he spoke the sun-bear's name and it did not escape his companion's notice.
"You don't like him very much, do you, Counselor?"
"You don't like him very much, do you, Counselor?"
"No, and the feeling's mutual; Saw doesn't much care for me either." The grey rat answered while working his incisors, a gesture of rodent contempt. "He's the most ambitious cop I ever met; he wants to be Chief or Attorney General someday, maybe even Mayor." He rolled his teeth a second time, but much more thoughtfully than before, "That being said, I respect the guy; he's almost as much of a straight shooter as you are. Much as he'd love to put away The Red Pig and Mr. Big for good, he absolutely won't play dirty to make it happen. In all the time I've known him, he's never once tried to withhold evidence or fib on a police-report—and the same rule applies to everybody working under him." He grimaced and slapped himself on the shoulder. "And you better believe there're cops out there willing to frame a guy; I should know, I got the jailhouse scars to prove it!"
Judy's only response was a soft, "Mmmm." Keeping her eyes on the road, she felt her own jaw tightening. "After all these years, he's still carrying some bitterness over his wrongful conviction."
About more than just that, actually; without warning, the rat's voice became an angry hiss.
"But honest cop or not, Cole Slaw STILL goes too far sometimes." He spat out the sun bear's underworld nickname like a mouthful of lye, "Rousting Fru-Fru and her husband, right in the middle of a lunch date; that was WAY out of line!"
Judy took a short breath and swallowed. While she agreed with Rodenberg about Fru's arrest, she nonetheless felt compelled to point something out to him.
"Excuse me Counselor, but that was Captain Visent's call, not his."
Her passenger remained unmoved, looking stonily up at her, dark eyes frosted with disdain.
"Yeah?" He reached up to touch his Kippah Cap, "Well, where I come from, 'just following orders,' doesn't cut it as an excuse." His whiskers bobbed and she heard his teeth click. "And by the way Hopps, NOBODY told that bear the pinch had to go down in public."
An awkward silence filled the SUV, finally broken when Rodenberg coughed and cleared his throat.
"Okay, now listen up; before you meet with Rocco Peccari, there're a few things you need to know about him. First of all, never, ever bow down to that javelina. Show him respect, but don't show him fear, because he'll play on it and try to break you." His whiskers twitched for a second. "In fact, if I know him, he's probably gonna try to intimidate you right out of Jump Street."
Judy turned to glance at him. "How do you mean, Counselor?"
He lifted a pair of fingers. "Here's how I think it'll happen; when Peccari sees you, he's gonna pretend to recognize you and get mad that the bunny who busted 'his' jewelry story is daring to show her face in his presence. He might even bring up that kiss between you and your partner." Judy felt her ears stiffen, but said nothing. "Just remember," the rat went on, "it's all an act; he pulls that made-to-order outrage shtick on everybody meeting him for the first time."
"Right," Judy nodded over the steering wheel, trying not to think of 'that kiss'.
Rodenberg just continued with his briefing.
"At the same time, don't let yourself become overly aggressive, and for God's sake don't threaten him."
"I wouldn't do that anyway, Counselor," she answered, glancing briefly in his direction once again. "I'm sure you heard about what happened the first time I met Mr. Big."
He just waved her off.
"Ahhhh everybody's gotta learn the hard way, once in a while." He turned and looked straight at her. "But more than anything else, you need to make it abundantly clear—at all times—that this meeting has been sanctioned not only by the Big Shrew, but also by the ZPD. Make sure the Red Pig understands that THIS time it's an officially sanctioned sit-down."
Yet again, Judy was obliged to keep her feelings to herself.
"So he knows I went to see Mr. Big without giving notice." It was hardly surprising but still disconcerting. Sweet cheez n' crackers if this was what Vernon J. Rodenberg was like in a regular conversation, just imagine having to face him as a hostile witness.
"And one last thing," the rat was saying, "Rocco Peccari never refers to Mr. Big by name; it's always 'The Shrimp.' Don't try to correct him when he does, and if he goes off on a rant about 'that little whatever', just sit back and let it pass. In fact, that'll actually be a good thing. I've always found him to be a lot easier to talk to after he's blown off some steam."
"Got it," Judy nodded. This was all very valuable but there was another matter that they needed to discuss...or rather, one that she wanted to get out of the way. "Mr. Rodenberg, before I forget... On our way to meet you, Lieutenant Saw told me that you'd been promised a favor in return for arranging this meeting; what is that you want?"
He just waved his paw again.
"First thing's first; let's see how this sit-down works out. If it's good, we'll talk about it afterwards."
Judy raised an ear and an eyebrow. What, now? The meeting was set; Rodenberg had fulfilled his part of the bargain. Why the heck was he holding off on collecting what he was owed?
He must have read the question in her face because he winked and raised a finger. "Saw told me that I get my quid-pro-quo only if I'm successful...and if you knew him as well as I do, you'd know he didn't mean successful as in successfully setting up this meeting. Unless HE gets something out of it, something that'll help prevent this gang-war from happening, I don't get zip. It's how that bear rolls—whoap, there she is."
The Red Pig's yacht was hard to miss; it literally dwarfed every other vessel tied up to the Palm Hotel quay, a hippo riding herd on a gaggle of otters. Sleek and ultramodern, she boasted three decks and a flying bridge, plus a curiously raked front prow, sloping backwards rather than forwards. Done up in dark silver with an off-white trim, she had a slightly sinister air about her that dovetailed perfectly with her owner's reputation.
For all that...something seemed conspicuous by its absence. It wasn't until she'd found a parking space and killed the engine that Judy realized what it was.
"Hey, there's no name on that boat," she said, pointing to the vessel's stern.
"Peccari never puts names on anything," Vern Rodenberg dryly informed her, "And anyway, that yacht's not actually his...not on paper anyway; helps keep the tax-mammal off his..." He stopped, aiming a finger over her shoulder. "Heads up; we got company coming."
Judy turned and saw a pair of wild boar approaching; dark suits and even darker glasses. As they came closer she was able to see the ends of their tusks had been capped with blades rendered in serrated chromium-steel; Razorbacks.
Strolling up to the SUV on hard, blocky heels, one of them rapped on the doe-bunny's window and made a rolling motion with his hoof.
She eased it down and waited.
"You Hopps?" the first boar asked her in a guttural, throaty voice. He had a jagged scar splitting his snout and an ear that looked like someone had worked it over with a ticket-punch; the legacy of a near-miss with a shotgun, the doe-bunny surmised.
"Yes, that's me." she answered, fighting to keep her voice on an even keel. Dangit, she was already starting to feel apprehensive and she hadn't even boarded the boat yet. What the heck was going to happen when she met The Red Pig face-to-face?
"Awrite, let's go." the scarred boar grunted, jacking a thumb in the direction of the yacht behind him. Before Judy could comply, Vern Rodenberg bounded across her lap and hopped up on the Montarpan's window-sill.
"Before you take off, Mungo...I have a message to pass along from Lieutenant Saw."
The pig's face instantly darkened. Even behind his sunglasses, the blaze in his eyes was impossible to miss.
"Cole Slaw? What the stink does that jerk want?"
"He said to tell you that he knows where this meeting is taking place," the grey rat informed him matter-of-factly, "And that also he expects Officers Hopps back, unharmed and dry; his words not mine." He had omitted the threat of what would happen otherwise, Judy couldn't help but notice.
The pig regarded him crossly for a second then turned on his heel, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on."
She got out of the SUV and hopped after him.
"You're gonna have to be searched before you meet the boss," Mungo grunted, glancing over shoulder. "You got a problem with that?" It was a challenge, not a question.
"Nope...standard procedure, I'd have thought" Judy answered noncommittally, although in truth, she was anything but indifferent to the prospect. Judging by the tone of the boar's voice, it was going to be more than just a cursory inspection—MUCH more. "The things I do for the ZPD," she lamented silently.
One thing you had to give the Red Pig, he knew how to run a tight ship. No sooner did Judy's feet touch the deck than the gangplank was withdrawn and she heard and felt the engines thrumming to life. A second later, there came a slight, sideways lurch as the boat eased away from the dock.
"All right, over here," Mungo directed her to spot beside the swimming pool where two more Razorbacks were waiting. While the first one swept her with a metal-detector wand, the other one moved his nose over and around her, sniffing closely and deeply. Judy bore the indignity stoically, distracting herself with the reminder that they were searching for listening devices rather than weapons.
"As IF..."
Finally, satisfied that their visitor was free of bugs, they stepped back and gave a thumbs-up to Mungo, who pointed behind her to the main cabin door.
"Through there and up the stairs; he's waiting for yas in the upper salon."
To her surprise the pig didn't follow her, and the one guarding the foot of the staircase only sniffed at her as she passed. His indifference only added to the sensation that she was ascending the stairway to the gallows.
At the top of the steps, however...
If there was anything Judy Hopps had learned in the course of her career with the ZPD, it was to expect the unexpected.
Not this time; Rocco 'The Red Pig' Peccari turned out to be exactly the way she'd always pictured him—short, squat, and slightly dumpy, but at the same time thickly muscled and almost radiating power. The enclosure in which he was waiting was light, fresh, and tastefully furnished; fine wood and even finer fabrics. Yet, by his very presence, the Sahara Square mob boss seemed to give everything an air of darkness and menace.
He was dressed for the occasion in a pair of snow-white Bearmuda shorts, with a matching polo shirt and a Pawnama hat with a pair of wrap-around sunglasses perched atop the brim. Around his thick, bristled neck, he wore a gold chain with a heavy, gold medallion and on his left wrist he sported a wide-banded gold watch. The most interesting item of jewelry however was the ring adorning the little finger of his other hoof, also in gold and set with a diamond the size of a table-grape.
...A lavender diamond! Was that his way of sending a message, the doe-bunny had to wonder; 'here's what I think of you and your stinkin' blood-diamond bust!'
She swiftly decided that yes, it was—and that this stone was almost certainly of the manufactured variety. In other words, it was perfectly legal; in your FACE, coppers!
At the moment, Peccari was seated in a lounge chair, flanked by two of his bodyguards. Sipping through a straw, from a glass decorated with a miniature umbrella, he seemed completely unaware of his visitor's presence.
Then his eyes flicked upwards, finding hers. First they narrowed, then they widened—and then the glass he'd been holding banged down hard on the table beside him, while his finger shot out in Judy's direction like a bolt from a crossbow.
"Here it comes," she thought, bracing herself.
"You!" The Red Pig squealed, his ears already acquiring the color from which he had attained his nickname, "You're the bunny who busted my jewelry store...and the godmother to The Shrimp's grandkid!" He sat up and rose halfway out of his seat, flecks of foam whitening the corners of his mouth. "You think the ZPD can insult me by sending you here to talk to me, huh? HUH!"
Making a mental note to thank Vern Rodenberg for his timely warning, Judy took a slow breath and put her paws on her hips.
"Don Rocco, with all due respect..."
"Save your 'Don' for The Shrimp, rabbit," He interrupted her testily. "I ain't got time for that Black Pete garbage. It's Mr. Peccari, you get the drift?"
"Fine, Mr. Peccari, then." Judy answered crisply, hiding her annoyance at such a clumsy attempt to take control of the conversation, "But again, with all due respect, I'm not here at the behest of the ZPD...or, not only the ZPD. Chief Bogo and Lieutenant Saw may have wanted me to be here, but it's Mr. Big who actually gave me the assignment." She sniffed, pausing for effect. "What he didn't give me was a choice; it's either me or nobody who delivers his proposal. He made that very clear to me when last I saw him."
She stopped, waiting. Okay-y-y, the ball was in the Red Pig's court; what would he do with it?
What he did was flip a hoof at the boar standing closest to him.
"Ahhhh, somebody get this dumb bunny a chair!"
Well, at least he was willing to hear her out; so far, so good.
The 'chair' they brought her was little more than an upgraded stool, but it was enough, she'd settle. Sitting herself down, Judy smoothed back her ears and studied her host for a second, deciding how best to proceed.
"Mr. Peccari, I'm sure you know by now why your attorney asked you to meet with me." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "However, what I don't know is how much you're already aware of. So, in order to avoid wasting time—something I think neither one of us wants—it might be best for you to tell me what you've already heard so far about Mr. Big's proposal."
He pursed his lips, looking up and to the side for a moment. Then his eyes found hers again.
"Awrite," he said, also leaning forward. "As I unner'stand it, The Shrimp wants to propose a truce while we try to figure out who else might be the fire-bug torching our properties. That about the size of it, rabbit?"
"Yes, that's it," she told him, nodding. Good... Peccari understood the gist, if not the finer points of Mr. Big's offer.
That did not, however, mean that he was ready to buy into it; he snorted and then grunted.
"Hunh, easy for him to say, HE wasn't the last one to get firebombed." His face seemed to compress into a contemptuous sneer. "Where was The Shrimp with his stinkin' peace-pipe after his limo-stand got torched?"
Judy bit her lip to keep from sighing; this was not getting off to a good start. Looking hard for another opening, she thought she found one.
"You have a point, Mr. Peccari, or you would if Mr. Big was offering to bury the hatchet for good." She leaned forward on her elbows again. "He's not; all he's proposing is a temporary cease-fire—a truce while the two of you try to determine if there might be a third party at work here." She racked her brain for a second. "Look, I'm just a dumb bunny from The Burrow...but even I know that in La Cosa Nostra, payback is payback no matter when it happens; tomorrow or ten years from now. Whatever issues you might have with Mr. Big, you don't have to get even with him right this very second; you can afford to wait and see if it's someone else that's been setting fire to your properties."
Peccari grunted again, but this time with what might have been a grudging air of respect. Now, she was speaking his language.
"Mmmm, ohh-kayy," he said, "Did The Shrimp have any idea who that uh, third party might be?" He seemed genuinely intrigued. Unfortunately for Judy, she didn't have an answer for him.
"No one who's still with us," she admitted. "The only animal he could think of was James 'The Mister' McCrodon."
"Yeah-h-h, thaaat's something The Mister would have done," the Red Pig drawled in agreement. His voice was steady, but...had he actually shuddered at the mention of that name? Judy couldn't be sure, but one of the bodyguards had definitely crossed himself when he heard it. Hol-lee watercress, what kind of a monster had James McCrodon been that his name could strike fear into the heart of these pigs—three years after his death?
Well, maybe that was so, but Peccari had already recovered from whatever dread he'd been experiencing.
"'Cept, as you just pointed out, that sea-mink ain't around no more—good, stinkin' riddance—an' I can't think of nobody else that'd be crazy enough to pull a stunt like that. So...what else you got, rabbit?"
What she had was a change of tack.
"Mr. Peccari, you may not have believed Mr. Big when he said that he didn't burn down any of your properties..."
"Dang, stinkin' RIGHT I didn't!" He was halfway out of his seat again and now not just his ears but his face had turned the color of a fireball candy.
"...but you KNOW you didn't burn down any of his properties," Judy went on smoothly, refusing to be deterred. It was a gamble, talking over him like that, but a chance she was willing to take.
Her ploy turned out not to be a bust—but it didn't pay off either. While the Red Pig didn't take exception, he also wasn't about to be put off course. Sitting up all the way again, he slapped his hooves on his hips.
"Awrite Hopps, I know where yer goin' with this and I'll save you the trouble. I don't just think it was two a' The Shrimp's polar-bears that torched my God-sister's flower shop, I KNOW they did it!"
"What?" Judy somehow forced herself not to reel back, stunned. How the heck could he be so certain?
The answer was quickly forthcoming. Peccari's mouth pulled back in a mirthless smirk
"Yeah that's right. You forgot something din'tcha, bunny? This time, we caught those punks in the act." He folded his arms and sneered triumphantly, "and my guy, Vinnie the Painter, swears that one of them bears was The Shrimp's guy, Raymond."
Judy could only stare—and mentally kick herself for not remembering; unlike all the previous instances, the Flora and Fauna arson attack had been preceded by a close confrontation—one that had caused almost as much damage as the fire itself.
Peccari meanwhile, was on a roll, moving quickly to pre-empt what he assumed would be her next argument.
"Can it, Hopps; I can guess what else you got up your sleeve: 'It was dark in there...us pigs ain't got good eyesight...yas can't be sure...' yadda-yadda-yadda." He patted the side of his snout. "Yeah, well maybe my species don't see too good, but our noses can pick out scents real easy. And Vinnie T says the bear who cold-cocked him didn't just look like Raymond; he SMELLED like him, too."
There was no response to that; Judy tried, but couldn't find one. As Nick had pointed out to her on several occasions, an animal's appearance might change over time, but their scent almost never did. Was it possible...could Mr. Big have been behind that flower-shop blaze after all?
"What, yas don't believe me?" the Red Pig snorted, having mistaken her hesitancy for something else—or maybe he was just enjoying himself. "Wel-l-l okay, if you don't wanna take MY word for it..." He turned to the Razorback on his left. "Tell The Painter to get up here, pronto."
"Sure thing, boss," The boar-pig nodded, and then disappeared down the stairs.
It seemed to take Vinnie 'The Painter' Truffalini forever to comply with his padrone's order, but when he finally appeared, Judy understood at once the reason for the delay. He arrived swathed in bandages and walking with a cane; she suspected he'd had to be helped up the stairs by the Razorback sent to fetch him. What was most obvious about him though, was something else entirely. THIS was the pig she'd seen, sitting behind the wheel of the Clawninental outside the SC3 jail. Oh yes, it was him all right; she had seen him only in silhouette, but there was no doubt at all in the doe-bunny's mind. This boar wasn't just large, he was massive...and now she knew for certain that his boss intended to whack the Rafaj Brothers; maybe not now, but it was going to happen. She would need to pass it along to Lieutenant Saw when she caught up with him.
Peccari, in the meantime, was cocking a finger at the new arrival.
"Vinnie, tell the bunny-cop here what you told me...about that Goombear Raymond."
The Painter was only too happy to comply, speaking a voice even more rough-cut than his boss's—if such a thing were possible. "I didn't know it was him at first...when the store got hit, I mean. I thought he looked kinda familiar, but I couldn't be sure. I mean, everything was happening so stinkin' fast."
Judy listened intently, noting that so far neither he, nor his boss had admitted to anything illegal. And in fact, Truffalini had nothing illegal to admit to; he hadn't broken into that flower shop with the intent of causing mayhem, he'd been LET in for the purpose of protecting it.
But now he dropped the big one.
"When I went to that sit-down at the little guy's place, Raymond was there and I knew," His eyes grew cold and lifeless. "One whiff and I knew—HE was one of the guys who torched that flower shop." He ground his tusks, fixing an iron gaze on the doe-bunny seated before him. "And don't even think about gettin' me to repeat that for the record cutie, coz it's not happening."
Judy's assessment of the oversized boar-pig immediately went down a notch. Did he seriously think she'd be bothered by that? Heh, good luck, big fella! By now she had been called 'cute' so many times, and by so many different perps, the word just rolled right off her back.
"But you're sure it was him, Vinnie?" The Red Pig prompted. He was practically salivating.
"Yeah Boss, I'm sure." The enforcer nodded eagerly, "I'd recognize the smell a' that fur-wash anywhere."
A moment of stillness followed, during which Peccari's eyes widened and his face lengthened—while Judy crossed her legs and sucked on her lower-lip, first to keep her foot from thumping.
...And then to keep herself from giggling.
"Fur...wash?" Peccari finally said, peering closely at the Giant Forest Pig.
"Heck, yeah!" The Painter declared, having somehow missed the shift in his boss's mood, "Can yas believe it? One a' little guy's polar bears uses jasmine scented fur wash...like some pansy schoolgirl!" He concluded with a snorting, guttural laugh.
"Fur wash," Peccari slowly repeated, staring with even greater intensity, "It...wasn't his own scent you smelled?"
Truffalini puckered his nose in disgust. "Are you kiddin' me? That stuff was so strong, I couldn't smell nothin' else, not even... Uhhh, Boss...sump'n wrong?"
Flare? Meet gas-can. The Red Pig was instantly out of his seat again, squealing like a race-tire burning rubber off the starting line.
"You big, fat, load a' STUPID, you! You said nothin' to me about fur-wash before!"
NOW the huge boar finally seemed to realize that he'd stepped in it. Backing hurriedly away from the lounge-chair, he nearly tripped over his own cane. "B-But boss...why would any polar bear wanna...?"
He should have quit while he was behind. At once, Peccari's scream became reminiscent of stripped gears.
"You boob, you sap, you brain-dead MORON! You got ANY idea how much you just embarrassed me? You pinhead, I swear, if there wasn't a COP here...!" He jumped up on his chair, pointing like the Final Judgement, aiming his finger at the stairway to the lower deck. "GET OUTTA MY SIGHT!" His entire body now seemed to have turned bright crimson, while on either side of him the bodyguards looked as if they were preparing to dive for cover. Judy, for her part, would not have been greatly surprised to see the Sahara Square mob boss spontaneously combust. Whoa, if ever a gangster had earned his reputation...
This time Vinnie 'the Painter' Truffalini got the message at once, scrambling for the stairs and quickly disappearing from view. It was amazing how fast he could move, even with his injuries, when properly motivated—although, judging by the sounds he made on the way down, he completed the last third of his descent the hard way.
When the racket from below finally ceased, Peccari threw himself backwards onto the lounge-chair, rewarding himself with a nice, long, lingering, face-hoof.
"I'm surrounded by idjits!"