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 7—The Cascade Effect
(Cont'd...Part 3)
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City of Zootopia
1 Savanna Central Plaza ¨ Zootopia
Citycouncil Zootopia. gov - Emergency Executive Order Declaring an Emergency and Implementing a Temporary Nighttime Curfew and Travel Restrictions in the City of Zootopia
We, the Council of the City of Zootopia, by the authority vested in us by the Charter of the City of Zootopia and applicable code and statutes, issue the following Executive Order: On Monday evening last, Precinct 1 of the Zootopia Police Department was subjected to a cyberattack, carried out by perpetrators unknown. The incident occurred at a time when a large number of young Zootopians were expressing their frustration in a peaceful and constructive manner. The demonstrators were gathered in front of ZPD Precinct 1 to express their opposition to the arrest of four young mammals at Zootopia Academy of the Performing Arts the previous day, an event that led many of the young mammals in the audience to unleash their outrage in a dangerous and unlawful manner; ie., damage to property, and physical violence. Likewise, in response to the cyberattack on ZPD Precinct 1, some individuals chose to engage in further unlawful and dangerous activity, including arson, rioting, looting, and damaging public and private property. These activities threaten the safety of lawful demonstrators, the surrounding communities, peace officers, and first responders. For these reasons, we order as follows:
1. A State of Emergency exists within the City of Zootopia under Zootopia City Code Section 15.04.
2. Nighttime Curfew. A curfew is imposed in all public places within the City of Zootopia during the following times:
· a. Immediately until 6:00 am on Sunday.
· b. From 8:00 this evening, until 6:00 am on Sunday, one week from the incidents described above.
3. Travel Prohibited. During the curfew, all animals must not travel on any public street or in any public place. No privately owned drone aircraft may be operated within the city limits of Zootopia during this time.
4. No unauthorized fursonell will be permitted to enter Savanna Central Plaza, at any hour, during this time. This area to include, City Hall, The Zootopia Museum of Natural History, ZPD Precinct 1, and all businesses fronting directly onto Savanna Central Plaza. Savanna Central Train Station to remain open, but no one will be permitted to exit the facility, except for authorized fursonell.
5. All homeless individuals residing within one-half mile of Savanna Central Plaza will be required to relocate to an area outside of the perimeter. Those animals physically incapable of making such a move may ask for assistance via the City of Zootopia Emergency Help-line
6. Exemptions. All law enforcement, fire, medical personnel, and members of the news media are exempt from the curfew and travel restrictions. Individuals traveling directly to and from work, seeking emergency care, fleeing dangerous circumstances are also exempt.
7. Definitions.
· a. For the purposes of this Executive Order, "travel" includes, without limitation, travel on foot, wing, bicycle, watercraft, skateboard, scooter, motorcycle, automobile, public transit, or any other mode of transporting a mammal from one location to another.
· b. For the purposes of this Executive Order, a "public place" is any place, whether on privately or publicly owned property, accessible to the general public, including but not limited to public streets and roads, alleys, highways, driveways, sidewalks, parks, vacant lots, and unsupervised property.
1 Savanna Central Plaza, Zootopia, Zootopia, Citycouncil
8. Enforcement. We urge all citizens to voluntarily comply with this Executive Order. Pursuant to Zootopia City Code Section 16.03.010, enforcement of this Chapter may be by civil action as provided in ZRS 30.305, or by criminal prosecution. In addition to any other penalty provided by law, refusal to obey an order issued under the authority of ZCC 15.08.020 shall be punishable upon conviction by a fine of not more than $500 per occurrence. Any peace officer may issue a citation for violation of this Section.
Signed, Jacob J. Marahute
Claudia Nizhang
Sven Kristofferson
G. Herbert Sabor
Hillary G. Block
Jose M. De Lampara
Joseph Kiboko
J. Claude Charognard
Ibrahim al-Agrabah
Wayne Pipistrel
Joao Campeiro
Representing the City Council, City of Zootopia
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Private Office of Jack La Peigne, Penthouse Suite, Oswald Tower, Downtown Zootopia, Monday, 10:47 AM, ZST
"I assume that wasn't the only piece of business to come out of that meeting?"
The big bunny steepled his fingers as he asked the question, sitting back in his chair and allowing himself a moment to luxuriate in its embrace.
It was the newest piece of furniture in his office, installed only two days previously and only just now being taken for a shake-down cruise. It was a high-tech contrivance, to say the least; featuring a built-in Alpaxa module, a built-in holographic VR display, and an instantly deployable bullet-proof shield—not that such a thing would be necessary, not while he had a certain wolverine seated in front of his desk,
With its tall back and oversize wings, the chair was a mite too big, even for a rabbit of Jack's size. He didn't care; the black-chrome frame and deep-black cushions gave the chair an almost palpable aura of power; it might almost have been a throne.
It was an effect not lost on the opossum sitting next to Seth Whitepaugh.
"N-No sir," Polly Walters hastily scrolled through her tablet. When she finally looked up, she was barely able to make eye contact with her boss.
"Th-They also came to a number of decisions that haven't been made public...at least as of yet. First of all, they're going to activate the ZPD Police Reserves..."
"Oh, the Police Union's going to love THAT," The wolverine beside her interjected—without so much as a trace of mirth. It was a surprising outburst even for him; but then he'd been even more moody than usual of late.
And that was something not lost on Jack LaPeigne, who immediately waved him to silence before gesturing for Polly to get on with it.
She glanced nervously in Whitepaugh's direction before continuing. It was never a good idea to upstage this wolverine—especially in the presence of their employer.
"As a matter of fact, sir, the Police Union has already agreed to the deployment. Errr, their biggest concern right now is the safety of their officers, and so they're willing to make the concession." She said this as tactfully as possible, but it still drew a baleful glance from the Aker Senior Field Operative.
"What about the City Militia?" It was Jack La Peigne again, "any plans to call them up?"
Polly consulted her tablet again.
"Not at the present time sir, although they have been ordered to stand by in case it becomes necessary." She looked up, once again barely able to make eye contact with the big bunny, an occurrence that had become more and more frequent of late. "The City Council's overall attitude right now seems to be, 'hope for the best; prepare for the worst.'"
"Ah yes," La Peigne nodded, taking note of the venomous look Seth Whitepaugh was sending her way. He could almost imagine the wolverine's thoughts, 'You were called in to deliver that report, not to ANALYZE it.'
Well that was his opinion, and he wasn't the one in charge here. For his part, Jack agreed with Polly's assessment, wholeheartedly.
But now, here was the most difficult part of the conversation. He formed a steeple with his fingers again, allowing his voice to become velvety.
"And...what about us; was there any mention made of bringing Aker Security on board, to help keep order in the wake of the riot?"
For perhaps a third of a second, Polly's eyes glazed over, and she began to fall sideways.
"That's her self-defense mechanism kicking in," Jack smirked at the realization, "she's trying to play dead, and she doesn't even realize it." But then as quickly as it had come, his grin was gone and amusement was giving way to puzzlement. What the heck was going on with Polly these days? She'd had worse news than this to deliver in times past...and with the exception of Seth Whitepaugh, no one had seen him lose it more times than her. Yet never before had she reacted to him this anxiously. What, what was different this time? He hadn't so much as raised his voice since her arrival, not even by little bit.
"Uhm..." Polly was scrolling hurriedly through the tablet again. Jack saw her stop suddenly and go back again—as if she'd missed something.
And there was something else you didn't see every day. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time she'd made that kind of mistake.
"Uhhhh, yes Mr. La Peigne," she said at last. "Councilmember Kiboko was the mammal that made the proposition, suggesting that the City should make a temporary arrangement, asking for our assistance in the event of any further... um, unrest on the part of Zootopia's delinquent youth."
"Don't tell me, let me guess." Seth Whitepaugh was waving his namesake paw as if it had fallen asleep. "Before he could even get started, Claudia Nizhang was up on her feet and raising an objection."
"Uh, that's right sir," Polly pointed at her tablet, "and surprisingly, this time some of the other council members supported her. Mr. Campiero for example was completely against the idea. Quote, 'These are not terrorists, not gangsters, only some angry kids...and you want to call The Aker Security on them?' To which Ms. Block replied, 'Have you looked outside the window recently? If I didn't know better I'd swear that what happened to Savanna Central Plaza WAS the work of a terrorist cell.' And then she said, 'and that's not even mentioning the cyberattack on the ZP...'"
"Yes, yes...I get the picture," Now Jack was the one waving a paw, "Just give me the short version, Polly. What was the council's final decision?"
"A compromise, Mr. La Peigne," she said, scrolling hastily to another page. "They punted on the idea of bringing us in to quell any further street unrest. However," She seemed to be forcing herself not to rush, "They approved the proposal to ask for our help in tracking down the mammals responsible for the cyberattack."
"Right," La Peigne swung his chair to the right, pointing with a pair of fingers in his senior operative's direction, "Let's not wait for their formal request Whitepaugh; get Cyber Security on it now. Every second we wait gives those hackers more time to cover their tracks."
"Right away, sir," the wolverine replied with a brisk, sharp nod. "I'll put every extra mammal we have on it." For the first time in nearly two weeks, he and the big bunny were operating on the same wavelength.
But then La Peigne heard him sniggering, "I'd love to have heard Nizhang try to argue that one down."
Jack moved his paws apart, turning them pawlms up. "I'll bet she didn't...am I right, Walters?"
Polly glanced at the door before answering, as if considering whether or not to make a run for it.
"Uh, th-that's correct, sir. She never objected once."
"Didn't think so," the big rabbit nodded, trying not to look smug. "She knew she couldn't win that point, so she made a tactical retreat. And now, Whitepaugh, I need you to get our mammals cracking on locating those hackers ASAP."
While the wolverine issued the orders via his own tablet—all the while muttering under his breath—Jack turned his attention back to his fursonal assistant.
"Now then, Walters... about the other side of that compromise, the decision not to ask for our help in dealing with the, er...street unrest I believe you called it. How did the council come to that decision? Tell me how it played out; the short version again, if you please."
This time she only almost scrolled past the spot she was looking for.
"Yes Mr. La Peigne. Well after a great deal of discussion, Councilmember Kristofferson rose and said..." The tablet began to tremble in her paws. ""he said..."
"Go on Polly," The big bunny's voice was almost soothing.
She cleared her throat and tried again. "He...suggested that perhaps Councilmember Nizhang had a point, saying..." Her volume went down a tick as she continued. "After all, the riot's over. If we were to bring in Aker security now, well...let's face it, we'd be closing the cage door after the bird has already flown." She coughed and cleared her throat a second time, "He then moved that the proposal to request our help in keeping order in the streets should be tabled for later consideration, citing the fact that the Council had too much else on their plate at the moment to waste time arguing over one, single point. Councilmember al-Agrabah seconded the motion, and it passed without dissent."
She stopped, pushing herself against the back of her chair, as if bracing for impact.
Jack La Peigne only regarded her with a Sphinx-like expression. "Very well Walters, you can go." he said, and then watched as she forced herself not to scamper for the door.
She might well have been right to do so; no sooner did it close behind her than Seth Whitepaugh all but exploded out of his chair.
"That two-faced quisling reindeer Kristofferson; I'll have his head for a hat-rack for this!" He stood like that for a second and then slammed down into his seat again, snarling and hissing like radiator preparing to blow. "I always knew he wasn't an honest politician."
"Meaning the kind that STAYS bought," La Peigne chortled to himself. And then to his senior operative he said, "Actually Whitepaugh—he is. That was exactly what I told him to say."
"Wait, what?" The wolverine was staring in confusion.
By way of response, Jack got up from his desk and went to his private juice bar. It was only after the first two sips of his favorite triple veggie blend that he finally saw fit to explain.
"Nizhang's not the only one who knows how to make a strategic withdrawal," he said, raising his glass as if offering a toast. "I can play that game too. In case you didn't notice, there was no way she could have disputed that motion to table the discussion...not without looking like a spoiler, and she's far too clever for that." He took another sip and raised the glass even higher, "And now she's trapped. The rationale for not bringing Aker on board remains valid only so long as those junior Bullsheviks choose NOT to make any more trouble." A brief smirk crossed his features, "If they do, Kristofferson will be perfectly justified in pulling a 180...and who then will dare to oppose Councilmember Kiboko's proposition; that the city ask for our help in quelling any further street violence?"
For a long moment, Whitepaugh just looked at him. He did not stare, or let his jaw drop open, and his eyes retained their normal size.
At last, he said. "You aren't...planning for us to facilitate any of that violence, I hope."
The answer La Peigne gave him was anything but alarming—but it was also anything but reassuring.
"Mmmm, not at the present time, Whitepaugh; I might consider it as a last resort...but for the moment, no." He folded his paws and leaned forward, with his elbows on the desktop. "But I doubt it will come to that. If there's one thing a budding anarchist can never get enough of, it's attention." He gestured towards the window, as if the Oswald Tower was situated at the edge of Savanna Central Plaza, and the room in which they were seated was located at ground level. "There's more of what happened last night coming—I can feel it in the pit of my gut—and when it does, we'll be ready to capitalize."
"Yes sir," the wolverine answered; his face as blank as an empty sheet of paper.
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Lion's Gate Docks, Savanna Central, Zootopia, Monday, 11:25 Hours, ZST
The rain was back with a vengeance, but nobody was complaining. They'd made it safely inside the tunnel ahead before the worst of the deluge struck, and besides...it was providing some well-needed cover. Visibility was practically nil out there and as for trying to track someone by way of their scent right now—what, are you kidding me?
They'd made good time in getting here—aided, ironically enough, by last night's riot. The construction site next door, which would normally have been a beehive of activity, was instead completely deserted. Oh sure, there'd been security cameras, but most of them were focused on the interior of the site and the rest were an easy dodge. Best of all they'd been only a few yards from the viaduct when the first raindrops hit.
There was, however, a flip side to all this.
Conor's ride should have been here by now; in fact it should have been here more than an hour ago. That was understandable, given the weather conditions...but what if the rain had prompted whoever he'd called to shine on coming to help him, period? Try as she might, Erin couldn't get the thought to leave her alone. It was especially maddening considering that the fugitive young silver fox's condition seemed to be getting worse by the minute. Every little movement he made caused him to whimper with pain and his forehead felt like a heating pad that someone had just now remembered to turn off.
"Come on," Erin silently beseeched, gazing hard in the direction of the tunnel entrance, "Please...GET here!" She had never been so frustrated. Only a short while ago, she had 'borrowed' Conor's cell-phone to try and get hold of...Stripes, was that what Charcoal-Boy had called him? Anyway, it had been an exercise in futility; the phone had turned out to be encrypted, and she could forget about trying to get the password. The only thing this fox was going to give her was moans, whimpers, and gibberish; he was a blind step away from delirium.
"Oh please, GET here!" It had become a prayer by this time. And the answer was nothing—nothing but a rain-drenched void.
For the hundred and zillionth time, the young white-furred bunny considered giving up...borrowing a cell-phone from one of the other kids and dialing 9-1-1. The HECK with all of this sneaking around, Conor might die if he didn't get help soon.
Yeah, fine...except try telling that to any of the others. When they realized who she was calling, they'd snatch away the phone before she could say more than two or three words. And then what might happen next was something Erin didn't want to think about. She didn't know a single one of these kids, but she knew the type—especially that young deer-buck, the one who called himself Eez. His eyes held almost the same kind of polished-steel gleam she'd seen when she'd faced down Craig Guilford—and all of the other young mammals here seemed to be following his lead with the slavish devotion of...of...
Ahhh, what was the word she was looking for? Well, whatever it was, the only member of the group who seemed to be acting with even a smidgen of independence was the young black bear named Root. And even HE didn't seem inclined to stand up to that strutting young deer buck.
With nothing to do but wait, the three of them had at first attempted to distract themselves by recounting their respective experiences from the previous night. Root, it turned out, had been one of the protesters assembled out in front of Precinct-1 when the cyberattack went down; one of the few who'd managed to get away clean when the ZPD closed the ring. Eez had an even more distinguished record—if you could call it that. He'd been busted at the ZAPA auditions the same as Erin...and had been one of the first detainees to make it outside when the doors opened. He seemed especially proud of that fact—and had been equally impressed by the young doe bunny's account of her escape from jail, making it through the door by the skin of her teeth. In recalling that episode, Erin had said nothing about Craig Guilford; she had no idea why, except that it had seemed like an especially unwise move.
But now she could feel an ear sticking up; somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the faint, whispering rumble of a boat motor. It was hard to be certain over the noise of all that pelting rain, but it wasn't just her. Toby Webb, the marsh rabbit, had both of his ears up. Someone was definitely coming.
Slowly, with what seemed like maddening sluggishness, the sound began to creep closer until, at last, it was recognizable as definitely belonging to a boat engine...a very LARGE boat engine. And then a shape began to materialize within the curtain of falling water. At once Erin felt her nose begin to twitch and her haunches trying to tighten up, as if she was preparing her to flee. Hazy or not, there was something ominous about that silhouette; she would not have been surprised to see it coalesce into the form of a hellish gondola, complete with a shrouded, skeletal boatmammal at the tiller.
But then, all at once the vessel was out of the rain and inside the tunnel...and it was a speedboat, not the gondola of Hades, albeit a rather curious looking one—to say the least!
At first glance, it appeared to be a sawed-off, slightly scaled-down ski-boat, in dark wasp-blue with a light-gray trim. But any pretense of normalcy ended then and there. The craft had a short, stout, double roll-bar arcing over the pilot's compartment and a pair of fins sprouting from the back that might have been transplanted from a 50's-vintage muscle-car. There was no lettering on the side, no numbers or even a registration decal.
But the real jaw-dropper was the engine.
"Sweet cheez n' crackers, how did they ever manage to FIT that thing in there—with a shoehorn?"
Erin Hopps was nobody's mechanic but she knew a V-8 when she saw one...and a blown V-8 is hard for anyone to miss. It looked at least two sizes too large for the vessel in which it had been installed, giving the craft the appearance of something out of a cartoon, or maybe an amusement park.
And she was supposed to ride in that thing? It looked like it would go into a death-spin the first time the driver so much as hiccupped.
Yes, and speaking of that driver, he was the one thing about this machine that jived with her initial impression. His face might be hidden by oilskins rather than a coal-black cloak, but it still remained unseen. Not only that; under all those dark layers it was impossible to determine his species.
He said nothing as he eased the craft up to what passed for a quayside, merely flung a rope onto the shore where it was seized and held fast by the young black-bear, Root.
Only then did he peel back his hood.
At once Erin felt her ears standing up again, and this time, her foot joined in with a fast staccato thump.
"Oh my GOD!"
"Well hullo again...er, it's Erin, right?" The Tasmanian tiger from the night before cocked a finger, favoring her with a wide, mischievous grin, "We meet again, eh?"
If she hadn't been so stunned, the young doe-bunny might have been able to offer a response—before Eez stepped forward with his hooves on his hips.
"Where've you been dude?" he demanded, lowering his head to display his antlers, the way deer do when challenging an opponent. "You're like two hours late!"
Erin wanted to scream at him to shut up, but the mammal he was talking to merely took it in stride, leaping from the boat and onto the concrete apron in a single bound.
"Sorry," he said, shaking the water from his coat...and all over Eez; deliberately, the young doe-bunny thought, "Barely able to see where I was goin' out there," By way of explanation the young striped marsupial pointed to the downpour beyond the tunnel entrance, "Oh and the ZPD's been running extra harbor patrols too; lucky I made it a-tall, I reckon."
It was spoken congenially enough, but then he let his jaw fall open...wide open, impossibly wide; his species' threat-gesture of choice.
Erin wanted to jump in between him and Eez, but before she could make a move, the deer-buck laid down his trump card.
"Hey, I'm sorry to be a jerk about this," he said, pointing to the crumpled form parked against the wall beneath a dirty blanket, "But we've got a seriously sick fox over here, 'kay?"
Okay, that worked; the aggression drained from the newcomer's face, as if sucked away by a vacuum. "Cor...I'd no idea...!"
He went rushing over to where the injured young silver fox lay.
"Conor...Conor, I'm here, mate."
Erin expected a response that was nothing but babble. But then, to her considerable surprise—and mild annoyance—his eyes cracked open and he managed a feeble smile. "Billy...knew...you'd make it...Billy."
He reached up with a shaky arm and the two of them clasped paws.
And then the Tasmanian tiger spun rapidly on his heel.
"Right, let's get 'im in the boat. Wait, hold it."
He bounded back into it again, returning with a sheet of tarpaulin. "Here, let's use this as a stretcher. Like this, pair of paws at each corner. Good, right, let's go."
They eased Conor into the boat, while the others watched from above. Glancing upwards for a second, Erin noticed a disapproving frown on Eez's face. She wondered why for a second...until she heard Conor let out a painful whimper, the loudest one yet.
"Can't...can't."
She turned, and saw him propped up in the passenger seat with his arms wide open, vainly trying to stretch out his legs.
She knew instantly what was wrong.
"He can't sit up, is there somewhere else...?"
"Y' can lay 'im out behind the engine there," Billy responded, pointing. "That's right...and put the tarp over 'im to keep the rai—Oi...an' where d'yer think YOU'RE goin', mate?
The young marsh rabbit was also trying to climb into the speedboat.
"There's no room in 'ere for another," the Tasmanian Tiger informed him coldly, "We've got space for Conor in the back and the Sheila-bunny up front, and that's all.
"You're gonna need him dude," It was Eez, speaking from the quay up above. "Toby's the only one who knows how to get where you're headed."
"Ay-rrggggh." Billy, let out an odd, guttural growl and then waved Erin out of the passenger seat. "Sorry Missy, yer'll have to make way." To everyone's amazement, she vacated the position without any sort of fuss. As the other bunny took her place he received a cautionary note from the animal in the driver's seat.. "Sorry, mate...you'll have to tough it out in the rain. I don't have another slicker and the tarp's busy keeping Conor dry."
"I-I'll be okay," Toby answered skittishly, trying to cinch down a safety harness that was way too large for him. "I'm a marsh rabbit, I'm used to water."
"Ohhh-kay." Billy glanced behind the seats to make sure Conor was properly covered and then up at young mammals on makeshift dock again, "Right then...cast off."
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Zoo York City, 13:21 Hours, EST
There had to be any number of eateries closer to Tshonga Kurusu's flat than this one; Nick Wilde reflected upon the fact as he took another bite. Certainly The Village had plenty of home-grown pizza joints.
This one, however, had its own unique charm...for Martin Pennanti at least.
"Back in the day Nicky, Patsy's Pizzeria used to be one of the biggest mob hangouts in the Five Burrows. There've been more deals cut in this joint than at your average Atlambtic City blackjack table." He paused to take a bite from his own slice. "'Bout a dozen or so years ago I busted a hitter who used to pick up his contracts here; he's doin' twenty-five to life, up in Cattica right now."
Nick could only nod over his own pizza. Whatever attraction Patsy's held for the animal sharing his table, he'd at least been as good as his word about not taking them to a spendy spot for lunch.
Besides, the pizza here was pretty darn good, too.
And while they were on that subject, he had a tale of his own to relate.
"Yeah, you know...some of the most popular pizzerias back in Zootopia are owned by a mob boss, Rocco Peccari, aka The Red Pig."
"That guy!" Pennanti spat out the word like a cherry pit. "Whoa, there's a piece of work for ya. Is it true he almost got into a gang war with Mr. Big a little while ago?"
At the mention of the Arctic shrew's name, Nick shifted uneasily in his chair. Was his guide aware that he had once done work for the Tundratown mob? It was entirely possible; this fisher was one perceptive individual.
"Well, yeah," he said, "For the moment, they're cooling their jets, but we're still on alert—at least we were before that riot last night. You know how it is with La Cosa Nostra."
"Tell me about it," Pennanti smirked cynically, "Just when you think everything's hunky-dory, somebody gets their honor insulted and out come the guns again." He popped the last bite of his pizza into his mouth and then rolled his napkin into a ball. "But that's neither here nor there for us, Nicky. We know your fox kid was Company's diamond mule; what we got so far wouldn't hold up in court, but WE know it. What we don't know—and what we need to know—is where he is right now."
Once again, Nick's only viable response was a silent nod. His idea for their next move had been to determine how The Mister had managed to fake Conor's death. In so many words, his guide had just told him that such a course of action would be a waste of time.
And he was right; it wouldn't bring them any closer to finding out where that silver-fox kid had gone to ground, much less help lead them to his invisible partner.
That was when Nick realized something else; there was an issue of even more immediate concern they needed to discuss. He leaned forward across the table.
"Before we can even begin to go there, Martin...there's something else we have to talk about."
The fisher leaned in from his side.
"Okay...what you got?"
"Let's look at the facts for a minute," the red fox told him, "and try to connect the dots, Three years ago, James 'The Mister' McCrodon sent a shipment of blood diamonds to a jeweler in Zootopia, a jeweler that just happened to be in hock to Rocco,' the Red Pig' Peccari."
"Awrite, go on," the fisher nodded. From the tilt of his head Nick was able to discern that he had no idea where this conversation was going.
It didn't matter; the fox knew where he was headed
"Now, it goes without saying that if the Red Pig had found out that diamond exchange was happening, he would have sent the Rafaj Brothers to sleep with the sandworms right then and there."
"Yeah, yeah...what's the point here?" Pennanti was waving an impatient paw.
"The point, Martin," Nick answered him, tapping the table for emphasis as he spoke, "is that if the Lewis kid had been in town when Peccari found out what was happening, he would have sent the Razorbacks after him, too. We, I mean the ZPD, we never thought about it much because, up until now, the possibility that the Company's diamond runner was a kid was vanishingly remote." He tapped the table a second time. "But even then we never imagined that he might be the Lewis kid. Only, what do you know, it WAS him...and that changes everything. Conor Lewis is a tough young fox, and he has the smarts to go with it—nobody knows that better than I do—but he wouldn't last five minutes against the Razorbacks...unless...!" His arm shot up as if spring-loaded, two fingers pointing at the ceiling, "Unless he had some back-up available, and a way to stay safe until it could get to him."
For a moment Pennanti just continued to scrutinize him...but then his eyebrows rose up slowly with what seemed to be the dawning of an understanding.
"Wait a minute, waaaiiit a minute..." He snapped his fingers and pointed. "You're talking about a hideout over here."
"Right, exactly," Nick nodded, "Look, you know the Company better than I do, but everything I've heard about them says they never left anything to chance; there was always a fallback plan."
Pennanti folded his arms and sat back in his chair, pursing his lips and nodding back at the fox.
"Once again, mia volpe rossa, you're saying more than you know. Remember back some years ago, when The Mister thought he was gonna be put away for good—and went running to Mr. Big and The Red Pig looking for help?"
"Oh yeah, I know about that," Nick answered, feeling the corners of his mouth flatten, "and they both turned him down. According to what Mr. Big said to Car...er, my former partner, letting The Mister into your territory was like inviting a vampire into your house."
The fisher laughed and clapped his paws. "Heh, heh...ahhh, don't that little guy have a way with the words? Almost a shame that he works on the wrong side of the fence."
"Yeah really," the fox replied, trying not to sound uncomfortable. Once again, they were veering dangerously close to the subject of his own association with the arctic shrew. "But then Vern Rodenberg showed up to defend him, and he managed to beat the rap."
"Yeah...HIM!" Pennanti snarled, showing both his fangs. It was clear he didn't like the rat attorney any more than Chief Bogo. But then, surprisingly, his expression turned almost sardonic. "I could tell ya a few things about that case Nicky, but that's for another time. What's here and now is that up until that grey rat blew into town, the word on the street was that McCrodon was planning to go on the lam if it looked like he was gonna get convicted—and that he had a hideout all prepared for just such a contingency."
"In...Zootopia?" Nick's ears were up and his tail was twitching...but the fisher only sighed and waved a paw.
"Yeah...and also Pawston, Los Antelopes, Miceami, Las Vegoats, Bearbados, even Ireland; a zillion possibilities and we could never pin it down." He shook his head in frustration, consumed by the memory. "The DA must have tried a thousand times to get that sea-jerk's bail revoked...and the judge always refused to budge; said he wasn't declaring anybody a flight risk on the basis of a rumor."
"Well, it hardly matters anyway, since he ended up walking," the fox replied, hoping to put the conversation back on track. "Look, I hate to make assumptions, but suppose The Mister did have a hideout prepared and it was in Zootopia; WHERE in Zootopia would it have been, do you think?"
Pennanti threw up his paws in a 'W' pattern.
"You tell me, Nicky; it's your town."
"Yes, but The Mister was your guy." the red fox countered, "Would he have had the nerve to set up a hideout in either Tundratown or Sahara Square, even after those other two bosses told him ,'sorry, can't help you'?" It was a fair question, he thought. Mr. Big would never in a million years make a move like that...but the Red Pig? In a mouse's heartbeat!
"Ohhhh," Pennanti was tapping his fingers together, "Ohhhh, I see what you're getting at, paisan, and the answer is no...no, he wouldn't have. Not with the cops already on his tail; that'd be trouble enough for him without bringing La Cosa Nostra into it."
"Right," Nick answered, "so we can eliminate Tundratown and Sahara Square; what does that leave us?"
"Ahhh, McCrodon wouldn't have hid out in Sahara Square anyway, Red Pig or no Red Pig; way too hot for his species." So saying, the fisher spread out a napkin on the table and extracted a pen from his pocket. "But I think the question we aughta be asking here is, if you were The Mister, what would you look for in a hideout, aside from which district you'd choose?"
Nick thought about that for a second.
"Well, first of all, it'd need to be somewhere that doesn't stand out. It would have to look just like any regular place, no different from anything else in the neighborhood."
"A regular place in an area that's popular with newcomers," the fisher amended, "Where new faces don't get a lot of attention...but at the same time, it's not so popular that it gets crowded a lot," He jotted a note and looked up again. "What else?"
This time, Nick didn't hesitate. "You'd need to be able to get in and out without being seen from the street. If it were me, I'd want a place you entered by way of another location; the further away, the better. And you'd also want an emergency exit, just in case."
"Yep," Pennanti made another note, "and as many as possible; mink are like that." He tapped the pen against his teeth for a second, "And with that in mind, he'd also want somewhere close by the waterfront."
"Right, right," Nick nodded; that one was practically a no brainer, "Semi aquatic species and all."
"Well yes, that too," the fisher looked mildly disappointed, "But what I'm thinking here is he'd want that in case he needed to get out of Zootopia pronto."
"Oh, right," Nick gave himself a face pawlm, but not a hard one. In the event that the sea-mink's presence in Zootopia had become known to the ZPD, Chief Bogo would have instantly swung into action. And the first thing he'd have done was assign every officer he could lay his hooves on to watching the airport and the railway station.
But even with their best efforts, there was no way the Department could cover the whole of the city's waterfront. Zootopia Sound was simply way too big and extensive for that. "And he'd also need access to all the basic necessities, Water, sewage, and electricity."
"Especially that last one," Pennanti was pointing with his pen. "Wherever McCrodon decided to hide, he'd have wanted plenty of computing power available...and that takes juice, a lot of it."
"But at the same time, he wouldn't want anyone to know he was using that much electricity," Nick reminded him, pointing back with a finger, "and the only way to pull that off is to steal it from a place that uses so much power anyway, a few extra kilowatts won't be noticed."
"Heyyy, now you're thinkin' Nicky!" the fisher was almost beaming it as he wrote it down.
Over the course of the next hour, a portrait began to emerge of the hidden lair The Mister had possibly built for himself in Zootopia. At one point Martin Pennanti suggested Happytown as the most likely location.
Nick had promptly dropped a downpour on that parade.
"I don't think so, Marty. I grew up in that neighborhood and believe me; nobody's more suspicious of a new face than those folks. Not only that; if they'd thought there was any kind of reward for giving up The Mister to The Law, they'd have been lining up around the block to turn him in."
"Seriously?" Pennanti's eyebrows were crawling up his scalp. "From what I've heard of that place, I'd think the folks who live there would be the last animals to sell a guy out to the cops."
"They are," the fox corrected him, "if you're talking about one of their own. But not an outsider; you'll never visit a neighborhood with more of an 'us-against-the-world attitude' than Happytown." He paused, wagging a finger, "Now, if the Mister had roots there, it'd be a different story—but he doesn't, am I right?"
"That's a big yes, Nicky," the fisher was nodding gravely. "The McCrodons came to Zoo York straight out of New Bedfurred, MA. That's where I always thought The Mister had his hideout; it's one seriously mean community, and they don't like strangers any more than your Happytown homies. Okay, scratch that place."
The next suggestion was the Canal District. At first glance it seemed like the obvious hiding place for a semi-aquatic species.
Beneath the surface however...
"Sea mink are a cold weather species, Nicky," Pennanti reminded him with a frown, "and I visited your canal district once; the water there's about like your average bathtub."
"Well yes," the fox agreed—up to a point, "but the only coldwater neighborhoods in Zootopia are up around the Polar Strait...and that's part of Tundratown, so it'd be warm water or nothing for The Mister if he came to Zootopia. BUT..." he raised a cautionary finger, "There's another reason why he might have wanted to stay away from the Canal District; the Privateers."
"The...WHO?" Pennatni's brows were doing push-ups.
"Biker-gangs...except with speedboats instead of motorcycles. There's at least three of them operating out of the Canal District and the Marshlands. A lot of them work as bounty hunters on the side...when they're not beating up on each other, that is." He stopped, figuring the fisher would be able to figure out the rest for himself.
He was, but he wasn't ready to concede the point.
"I dunno Nicky...this isn't some small-time bank-robber we're talking over here, only the head of the most feared crime family on the east coast. Your...." he looked up, past Nick's shoulder, to where a porcupine waiter was hovering with a frown on his face. "We'll be done in just a few, here. Meantime, can you bring us some coffee?"
"Coming right up," the waiter said, and then shuffled away with an even deeper scowl.
Pennanti watched him go and then picked up where he'd left off. "As I was saying, your privateers would have to be either super desperate of completely nuts to take on a guy like McCrodon."
"A lot of them are," the fox informed him, offering a toothy grimace, "They'd go after The Devil himself if the price was right." The corners of his mouth turned even further downward, "But the point is, a reputation like The Mister's is only as good as how far you're willing to put the word out—that you're the animal nobody wants to cross." He tapped the table again, "And if McCrodon had done THAT, how long do you think it would've taken for the ZPD to get wind of it?"
"Fair point, Nicky," the fisher replied, giving the table an answering tap.
At the end of their deliberations, they had the possible location of The Mister's lair whittled down to three-and-a-half districts, Savanna Central, Outback Island, the Nocturnal District, and one that they considered only a remote prospect. Of these, they thought the third option the most likely; mink are a largely nocturnal species, and Zootopia's underground zone had the coolest temps of the three most likely regions. Granted, there was no direct access to Zootopia Sound from there, but neither would it be an arduous journey. The second most likely location was Outback Island—a place with easy access to the water every which way you looked, but also a location where non-native species stuck out like a sore thumb. Savanna Central brought up the rear. Close to the water and new faces everywhere...but also with the biggest crowds, and the largest police presence in Zootopia. Old Growth City they put down as a long-shot, nearly the ideal climate and environment for a sea-mink...but much too far away from Zootopia Sound to allow for an escape via that route.
The next thing they decided was, district of choice notwithstanding, the Mister would have needed his hideaway to be within an easy reach of a place to obtain provisions, food, medicine, etc. "Preferably walking distance," Martin said to Nick who nodded in quick agreement.
As their musings continued, however, Nick found that he was becoming more and more aware of an elephant in the room—and not a real one. Finally, unable to take it anymore, he called a halt, at the same time making a 'T' with his paws.
"Hold it Martin, hold it. This is all very nice, but it's all just pure speculation. Before I can even think about taking any of this to my chief, I need at least some circumstantial evidence that The Mister had a hideout prepared in Zootopia." He clasped and unclasped his paws a couple of times. "As it is, we don't have proof that such a place exists anywhere."
"Mmmm," Pennanti rubbed at his chin with finger, "Yeah, you're right there, Nicky. I met your Chief Bogo a coupla times. Darn good cop, but he's never been one for working on assumptions. 'Gimme hard evidence—or gimme a break!'"
In spite of himself, Nick snickered. "Yep, that's him all over, Marty."
However that didn't help with their immediate problem.
"But now you see what I'm talking about; before I can go to him, I need something solid...even some evidence that The Mister had plans to hide out in Zootopia would be enough." He waved paw and sighed, "But, like I said, right now, we don't even have that much."
"Oh-kay-y-y, then what do you want to do about it?" Pennanti leaned back in his chair and folded his arms; his way of telling the fox that the ball was in his court.
Nick looked away for a second and chewed his lip. In fact, he knew exactly what he needed to do; the idea had been germinating in his mind from the moment he sat down. Had this discussion been taking place in Zootopia, he would have already outlined his plan.
But he wasn't back in Zootopia, he was in an unfamiliar city thousands of miles from home...and a none-too-friendly town to boot, except for the animal sharing his table.
And besides that...
"I've got an idea, Marty...but I need to know a few things first...about The Mister I mean."
"At your service," the fisher replied, rolling his paw in the air.
"All right, well," Nick wasn't quite sure how to put it, "Well, I don't have to tell you that a lot of mob bosses are considered folk heroes on their home turf. Take Mr. Big for example. He may be one of the ZPD's ten most wanted, but the rodents of Little Rodentia would erect a statue to that shrew if they thought they could et away with it. They love him to death in that district."
"Yeah, John Goatti, same thing," Pennanti nodded sagely, "Even today it's not a good idea to bad mouth that guy around Ozone Park," his mouth cracked open in a sardonic grin, "not unless you really didn't want those teeth anyway."
Nick laughed, but on the inside, he could feel his excitement building. The fisher had just steered their conversation in the exact direction where he wanted it to go. For a moment, he wondered if his tablemate was clairvoyant.
"Right, so what I need to know is...is that the way they remember The Mister in HIS old neighborhood."
Pennanti's smirk became even more feral.
"Lemme put it this way Nicky...every year, on the anniversary of his death; his gravesite gets BURIED in flowers. Seriously, there used to be a stinkin' shrine to that sea-jerk's memory on the old Finagles site...before the city ordered it removed. And whoa...the longshore crews over in Sunset Park were none too happy about THAT then they heard. They called a wildcat strike and we almost had a riot."
"Sunset...Park?" Nick's ears were sticking up in confusion. "I thought McCrodon's home territory was the DUMBO district.
"Nahhh," Pennanti, fanned a pawlm. "The Mister had his headquarters there, but most of The Company's actual business took place in Bay Ridge and around the Sunset Park docks. The guy was a gunrunner, don't forget."
"Right," the red fox nodded.
"Awright, so what do you have in mind, Nicky?" The fisher was leaning across the table regarding him intently. Whoa, he really wouldn't have liked to be questioned by this animal back in his hustling days. Thank God they were on the same side now.
He held up his paws. "Before I can say Martin, I need to know just one more thing. Finagles was where The Mister ran his business. But was there a place where he used to go, when he wanted to hang out with the regular mammals in the neighborhood?"
It was a good bet that such a spot existed; Mr. Big had once owned a nightclub too, The Thaw. But even today, on any given morning, you could find him holding court at Nonna's Café and Bakery, down in Little Rodentia. And unlike The Thaw, that location was open to all comers—if they were small enough to get through the door, that is.
"Uhhhh, yeah he did, actually," Pennanti seemed surprised by the question, "The Wicked Mink Pub, over in Bay Ridge. Ahhhh, they couldn't get enough of him in that place, Nicky. He used to walk in through the door and order clams and oysters for everybody. I don't think I need to tell you how THAT went over; most of the regulars were mustelids, same as him.
"And you," Nick thought but didn't say. He was beginning to grasp the root of his guide's animosity towards the late James 'The Mister' McCrodon. That sea-mink had been the kind of mammal that gave every member of the weasel family a bad name. "And is it still there?" he asked.
Pennanti narrowed his eyes and hissed. "Yeah it's still there, and yeah they still got good memories of him....and yeah, I'm getting irritated over here. So will you please basta con tutta questa confusion, and get to the stinkin' POINT?
Nick puffed out his cheeks before answering. All right, no more stalling; we who are about to suggest something that could end up getting us turned into a throw rug salute you.
"All right Marty, here's my idea..."
For the next few minutes, Pennanti listened patiently as the red fox outlined his plan. When he finished, the fisher had only one small suggestion.
"Got your will made out, paisan? You're gonna need it." And then, seeming to know instinctively that there was no way the fox was going to be talked out of it, he sighed and lifted a pair of fingers. "Okay, there's two things you're gonna want in order to pull this off over here. The first one's gonna be fairly easy to get hold of, the second one—not so much."
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Author's Note:
A brief rundown of the Zootopia City Council as imagined by Your Humble Servant:
Jacob Marahute – Wallaby, Representing Outback island
Claudia Nizhang - Red Panda, Representing Old Growth City
Sven Kristoff - Reindeer. Representing Tundratown
G. Herbert Sabor – Tayra, Representing The Rainforest District
Hillary Block - Chipmunk, Representing Little Rodentia
Jose Lampara - Wild Ass, Representing The Canyonlands
Joe Kiboko – Pygmy Hippopotamus. Representing The Canal District
J. Claude Charognard, Raccoon, Representing The Marshlands
Ibrahim Al Agrabah – Camel, Representing Sahara Square
Wayne Pipistrel – Leaf-Nosed Bat, Representing The Nocturnal District
Joao Campeiro – Pampas Deer, Representing Savanna Central