Love: the Spies of Life
part 1
TaleSpin and its characters are property of Disney. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.
Pearee
Saturday, June 11, 1938
7:00 P.M.
Stained with muted yellows, oranges, and violets, the sky suspended over Pearee intensified the beauty of the historical city by hiding dingy corners and softening harsh outlines in fleeting twilight. Normally, Mother Nature’s pre-nocturnal handiwork was available for brief admiration, forgotten as soon as the stars emerged. This particular sunset, however, was to be forever immortalized due to the efforts of a sidewalk artist.
She, seated on a high stool before her easel, her smock splattered with paint, deftly swirled colors on her pallet together to achieve precisely the right shades. Beneath her brush, the sunset emerged in all its transient glory. Then, interposed upon the sunset was a shadowy skyline consisting of buildings that had seen many years’ worth of sunsets. In the foreground were a row of old-fashioned iron lampposts just beginning to blaze forth with light, illuminating a boulevard lined with pear trees. In the far distance, above the trees and century-old buildings, the lace-like top of the Eyeful Tower stretched towards the sky.
“What do you think of it, Marcel?” the artist asked the mime who had paused on his way into the Jardin de Lucksembourger, one of the city’s major parks, to peek over her shoulder.
Marcel cocked his head to one side, considering the painting. Then, with a broad smile on his white painted face, he applauded enthusiastically.
“Merci. I hope the customers will agree with you,” the artist murmured, darkening a shadow on the canvas.
On the other side of the park, a few blocks from the artist’s perch was a six-story building. Like many buildings in Pearee, the exterior had been preserved exactly as it had been when it was built over a century before. However, the inside had been remodeled to house one of the most modern physics labs in the world - Le Laboratorie d’Atomique.
At this late hour on a Saturday, the building was deserted save for a few scientists and the janitor, who was doing his customary scheduled mopping.
Dr. Bonet, one of the world’s most eminent nuclear physicists, paused in writing in his laboratory notebook when he heard the squeak of the mop bucket entering the room. He peered over his half-moon spectacles, across the room at the janitor, who was stacking stools on top of the lab benches to clear the floor space.
The rhino scientist chuckled good-naturedly. “All right, Georges, I can take a hint.” He closed the notebook, slipped his fountain pen into his lab coat pocket, and rose from his stool.
The heavy-set janitor grunted and started to mop one corner of the room industriously.
After exchanging his lab coat for his jacket, Dr. Bonet said a cheerful, “Bonsoir. See you on Monday,“ and left.
When the scientist’s plodding footfalls had faded away, the janitor plunged the mop into the mop bucket, causing a sudsy spray to hit the tile floor. He made a beeline over to the lab notebooks and started to rummage through them. Every so often, he glanced over his shoulder at the door.
Dr. Bonet popped his head into the room and snagged his fedora from a hook just inside the door. “Me again, Georges. I forgot my...” Dropping his hat, he exclaimed, “Sacre bleu! What are you doing?”
The janitor was tearing a handful of pages out of a notebook.
The physicist was so stunned that he didn’t have time to react before he was knocked out by a single, well-placed blow to the face.
Georges vaulted over Dr. Bonet’s prone body, the notebook pages crumpled in his meaty fist.
At that moment, another scientist entered the room, asking, “Is everything all right in here? I heard a...whoa!” the small rabbit squeaked, crashing to the floor as the janitor tripped him with the mop handle. “Help! Help! Police!”
“Shut up, big mouth,” Georges growled, shoving the mop head in the scientist’s face.
The janitor sprinted down the stairs and out into the street, hastily shoving the papers in his overalls pocket.
When he was halfway down the block, the rabbit scientist emerged from Le Laboratorie d’Atomique, face and hair dripping with soapy water. “Help! Police! Thief!” he yelled, running over to two policemen standing on the street corner. Breathlessly, the scientist squeaked out, “Thief! Stole Dr. Bonet! Knocked down papers! I mean, stole papers. Knocked down Dr. Bonet! Help! Help!”
Officer Marin bent his long giraffe’s neck towards the small scientist, who was bouncing up and down in agitation. “The thief is still inside?”
“Non! There he goes!” he said, pointing at the swiftly, yet calmly, retreating janitor. “Please, catch him!”
Officer Larousse, a poodle with closely-cropped hair, put a whistle to his mouth and blew a loud, shrill note.
Tweeeeeeeet!
Noticing that he was being pursued by the police, Georges the janitor put on a surprising burst of speed despite his hefty bulk and short legs. He tore across the busy park with the cops just behind.
Tweet! Tweet!
Georges roughly pushed his way through a small crowd watching Marcel the mime pretending to climb a mountain near the fountain in the middle of the park. Grabbing Marcel by his arm, the janitor swung him into the path of the oncoming policemen, causing both the mime and Larousse to splash into the fountain.
“Twee...cough, cough!Twee...!” Officer Larousse spluttered as Marcel mimed the motions of a fish for the audience’s amusement.
“Don’t see anything like that in Attlanta, right, Lester?” a hippo tourist drawled.
“No, Elmira dear,” Lester, her crane husband, replied absently, rapidly snapping a succession of photographs.
“Why, even the Pearee police promote the arts,” Elmira said, clasping her pudgy hands in delight as she watched Larousse assist Marcel out of the fountain.
With one policeman still on his tail, George slipped into a crowded stamp fair, dodging and weaving around booths and stamp collectors.
“Pardonez-moi. Excusez-moi. Official police business. Everybody move!” Officer Marin said impatiently, nearly tripping over a little boy holding a bagful of stamps.
When he emerged from the stamp fair, Officer Marin plucked a stamp from his nose. “Zut! Worthless things, stamps.” Standing head and shoulders above most of the park patrons, the giraffe’s sharp eyes scanned the bustling park, which was filled with people of all ages. Finally, he spotted the pea green overalls on the broad back of the janitor bouncing towards the park’s perimeter. Breaking into a run, he shouted, “Stop, thief!”
Seeing that he was still being pursued by the persistent policeman, the janitor emitted a low, menacing growl. He had planned and plotted too long to be caught now. As he ran by the artist putting the final touches on her painting, he snatched the canvas right from under her brush.
“Monsieur, I am not finished with that!” Seeing the policeman approaching, she waved her paint brush. “Officer! Officer!”
Officer Marin hurried over to her. “Oui, mademoiselle?” he said hastily, jogging in place.
“A man ran by and stole my painting and my...”
“A big man? In green overalls?”
“Oui.”
Marin’s black eyes gleamed with excitement. “Which way did he go?”
The artist pointed to her right. Before she had a chance to file a complaint, he was gone. “No one appreciates fine art,” she sighed sadly, gathering up her paints and brushes. “Oh, well. Another day, another sunset.”
Officer Marin sprinted down the sidewalk, past apartment building after apartment building. To his left, he was screened from the street by a row of pear trees.
When he rounded the corner, something hard and wet and smelling of oil paint unexpectedly slammed into his face, stopping him in his tracks. It was the artist’s stolen painting.
Marin batted it aside in time to see the janitor disappear behind a short wall. The officer, his face streaked with every color of the rainbow, scrambled over the wall. Dropping to the ground on the other side, he found himself in a narrow alleyway between two apartment buildings, which was crisscrossed with clotheslines. Between the towels, linens, and unmentionables, he could catch glimpses of the janitor, running towards the other end of the alley.
Drawing his gun, Marin started after him, but found it difficult going. The tall giraffe had to bend nearly over double to duck under the clotheslines.
At the opposite end of the alley, there was another wall. As the janitor was about to scale it, Marin shouted, “Stop! You’re under arrest!”
Georges froze in his tracks with his hands on top of the wall.
Marin approached the thief slowly, cocking his gun. “Now turn around.”
Chuckling sinisterly, Georges said, “As you wish.” He quickly spun around, simultaneously squirting two tubes of paint at the officer’s face.
“Aaaah!” Marin cried out in pain. He furiously clawed at his burning eyes.
“You asked for it,” the janitor muttered with smug complacence. As he ran past the cop, he knocked him into a clothesline.
Marin was still wrestling with the clothesline when he heard the familiar voice of his partner, Larousse, ask, “What happened? What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” Marin snapped.
Larousse unfastened the clothesline from the wall, causing Marin to topple to the ground.
“Did you see the thief? Which way did he go?”
“Je ne sais pas,” Larousse shrugged, stifling a laugh at his partner’s appearance. Marin, his eyes watering, his face smeared with paint, was a frightful sight. “No one is here but us.” He picked up an empty tube of red paint. “Ingénieux.”
“Unfortunately...” Marin muttered morosely, swiping the tube of paint from Larousse. “First criminal I’ve ever lost. Bah!”
“Can you see to walk?”
“Oui,” Marin spat. He crumpled the empty tube and tossed it aside before getting to his feet.
“We must get back to headquarters and fill out a report.”
“He’s probably halfway to Mustgo by now. Zut! I hate art!”
Moments after the policemen had vacated the alley, the thief emerged from a second story window and stepped out onto the fire escape landing. He cautiously listened and looked around before climbing down the creaking, rickety ladder. He then grabbed a blue cloak from the clothesline and draped it over his broad shoulders. Pulling a grey fedora from his overalls pocket, he put it on and pulled it low over his eyes.
He calmly stepped out into the street, the epitome of a respectable citizen and strolled down the block, towards a waiting car. Upon passing the artist toting her easel and painting supplies back home, he politely tipped his hat. When he did, lamplight glinted off a large, gold signet ring on his right hand.
Georges stepped into the car, and it sped off through the peaceful Pearee streets.
A Remote Island Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
Sunday June 12, 1938
Dawn
If there’s such a thing as a tropical paradise, Rebecca thought, this is it.
The petite brown bearess paused in pouring water into the coffee pot to admire the scenery. The palm trees silhouetted darkly against the sunrise. A cluster of cottony pink clouds drifting on the warm breeze. The ocean waves lazily slapping against the shell-studded beach. The serene whoosh of the nearby waterfall. The overlapping chattering of birds. Not to mention the intermittent sightings of the local whale frolicking in the surf.
I have to hand it to Baloo for choosing a romantic place for our honeymoon. Who knew he had it in him?
As she hung the coffeepot over the campfire, Rebecca glanced up at the Sea Duck bobbing on the waves. Through the open back hatch, she could hear the sonorous snores of her new husband.
For once, his snoring didn’t annoy her.
SSSSSNNNNNNNXXXXXXXXZZZZZZZ!
Rebecca cringed.
At least, not much.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, then leaned back in her lawn chair. Mysterious smiles flitted across her face as if she knew a wonderful secret.
Her smile widened when the object of her thoughts - a large grey bear - emerged from the seaplane and lumbered across the beach to her. Despite his rumpled hair and wrinkled shirt, not to mention his uncouth habit of scratching his belly, he’d never looked more handsome to her.
With a shy grin, Baloo sank into the lawn chair beside hers and murmured, “Mornin’, Honey Lips.”
“Good morning, Butterball.” She quickly got another cup out of the picnic basket and filled it with coffee. “Sugar and cream?” she asked more from out of habit than from necessity.
“Mm-hmm, an’ a kiss.”
After sharing a lingering kiss, Baloo draped an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. She, in turn, leaned her head against him. They sat there, sipping coffee and gazing out over the ocean..
Following a long, comfortable pause punctuated by happy sighs, Rebecca said softly, “Baloo, I’ve been thinking.”
Baloo chuckled and tenderly caressed her shoulder. “How’s my Becky gonna get rich this time?”
“Nothing like that.” She looked up at him with mock annoyance. “We have two and a half whole days to ourselves. No kids.”
“No work,” he pointed out, finishing his coffee in one gulp.
“I’d thought it would be nice to go somewhere, just the two of us. Who knows when we’ll have another opportunity like this, and with the Sea Duck we can go anywhere we want.”
“But I was plannin’ on spendin’ our honeymoon here. This is the best fishin’ spot this side of the other side.”
“Please, Baloo, for me?” She batted her eyelashes coquettishly.
After a moment’s consideration, Baloo shrugged. “Oh, all right, sweetheart, but there’s one very important thing we gotta do first.” He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand and gazed deeply into her eyes.
“Yes?” Rebecca whispered expectantly, her heart thumping with wild exultation.
“Eat breakfast,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her nose. “I’m starvin’.”
Exasperated, Rebecca playfully whacked him on the chest. “Oh, Baloo!”
Baloo caught her in his arms with the low laugh of a triumphant lover.
Meanwhile...
Pearee
Mid-Morning
A police car pulled over to the curb in front of Le Laboratorie d’Atomique. From out of the car stepped a stocky canine of medium height. Like all the Pearee police, he wore a navy blue uniform with a double row of brass buttons on the coat. However, his buttons were polished to a perfect sheen. He thoughtfully gazed up at the building, twirling the tip of his thick, luxuriant moustache and sniffing the air. There was the distinct scent of crime. His nose was never wrong.
He plucked a pear from a tree and walked into the building swiftly. As soon as he entered, the policeman who had been examining the floor with magnifying glass stood at attention.
“At ease, Larousse.”
The poodle’s arm dropped to his side and his manner clearly relaxed. “Find anything at the thief’s apartment, Inspector Deuseau?”
“Just three empty rooms and a bath. He didn’t even leave an incriminating fingerprint.”
Astonished, Larousse exclaimed, “What did he do, wear gloves all the time?”
“Apparently.” Deuseau looked the pear over carefully before biting into it. “We’re dealing with no ordinary criminal. The man is absolutely untraceable. As far as we could discover, he had no vehicle registration, no bank accounts, and his landlady said that he always paid his rent in cash. She said that he was very quiet, kept to himself, and, in the three months he lived there, he never had a visitor. He didn’t even have a telephone. If it hadn’t been for the landlady and the fact that he worked here, it would be easy to say that Georges the janitor never existed. In fact, ‘Georges’ is probably an alias. Any developments here?”
Larousse, processing all that he had been told, slowly shook his head. “Nothing, Inspector. Nothing except that scrap of paper.”
“What scrap of paper?” the inspector asked around a bite of pear.
“I believe Marin has it.”
“Marin?” The inspector swallowed and smiled knowingly. “Naturellement. He is eager to make captain. As you were, Larousse.”
“Yes, sir.” Saluting, Larousse returned to inspecting the floor while the inspector went in search of Marin.
Following the sound of voices, Inspector Deuseau quickly found Marin, who was interrogating Dr. Bonet in his office.
As he stood in the doorway, listening, Deuseau had to stifle a chuckle at Marin’s appearance. There were still traces of paint in the fur of the normally impeccable giraffe.
Under the close scrutiny of Officer Marin, Dr. Bonet acted as jumpy as a puppet on a string. “It’s like I told you before. The only thing Georges, the janitor - at least I thought he was a janitor - stole was the top-secret plans.”
Marin flipped through his notebook and nodded. “What were in the top-secret plans?”
The scientist glanced past Marin at Deuseau, who was apparently engrossed in the pear he was eating. “Well...” he stammered, “they’re top-secret. No one is supposed to...”
Frowning with frustration, Marin drew himself up to his full height until the crown of his cap brushed the ceiling. He shouted, “Do you want me to lock you up for the obstruction of police business?”
The rhino scientist shrank in his seat.
Deuseau, who had seen enough, tossed the pear core into a trash can just inside the door. “I’ll handle this, Marin.”
Startled, the giraffe spun around. From his expression, he was obviously surprised and flustered at his superior’s presence. “Inspector Deuseau...I didn’t see you there. I was just...”
Deuseau jerked his head towards the door, gesturing for Marin to leave. As the giraffe sidled past him, the inspector held out his hand. “The scrap of paper, s’il vous plait.”
“Mais oui.” Marin willingly handed over a crumpled half-sheet of paper, saluted, and scurried out the door.
Deuseau studied the clue as he took a seat opposite the scientist. “Curieux.Trés curieux,” he muttered under his breath. Hearing the clatter of the scientist’s spectacles hitting the floor, he looked up and smiled disarmingly. “You say that the thief dropped this, Monsieur...?”
“Dr. Andre Bonet,” the scientist supplied, hurriedly retrieving his glasses from the tile floor. “And, yes, I believe Georges - the thief - dropped that. It certainly isn’t mine. Makes no sense whatsoever.”
“What can you tell me about what was stolen, Dr. Bonet?”
The scientist shook his head. Sotto voce, he said, “Top-secret.”
Deuseau got up, closed the door and drew the blinds. Then, drawing his chair close to Dr. Bonet’s, he whispered, “What if I promise that what you tell me won’t go beyond this room?”
Dr. Bonet, who was nervously fiddling with his glasses, merely shrugged his huge shoulders.
“I’m assuming that the project you were working on was dangerous, non?”
“Oui. Extremely dangerous.”
Leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on the scrap of paper, Deuseau said matter-of-factly, “It will be easier to catch the thief if we knew what he stole. It will help to narrow down what he might have done with your papers. In other words, it will help us to retrieve them.”
After a long pause, Dr. Bonet donned his glasses and hesitantly asked, “You promise that you won’t reveal it to anyone?”
“I promise.” Deuseau leaned forward to catch the scientist’s whispered words.
In a voice barely above a murmur, the scientist said, “I and three others were developing a weapon so terrible that it could completely destroy a city the size of Pearee.”
“Mon Dieu! A force like that must be of massive proportions.”
Once again, Dr. Bonet shook his head. “Non. In fact, it used something minuscule, invisible to the naked eye. The atom.”
“Atom?” Deuseau twirled his moustache as his mind raced to recall his high school science class. “Are there other scientists who knew about this besides you four?”
Dr. Bonet nodded.
Concealing his eagerness, Deuseau asked nonchalantly, “Who? Can you tell me?”
“Some of the finest minds in nuclear physics. I will write their names down for you.”
“Bien.” As Dr. Bonet turned on the lamp and opened a desk drawer to retrieve a pen and paper, Deuseau caught sight of something imprinted on the rhino’s leathery cheek. “That mark! Where did you get it?”
Dr. Bonet put a hand to his face. “This? This was where Georges hit me. It still stings.”
“Come closer to the light.”
Squinting, Deuseau peered at the mark on the physicist’s cheek: a faint, yet distinct, outline of a flyswatter imposed over a circle. Almost imperceptibly, he growled low in his throat. “Swatzis.”
Both the inspector and scientist looked up when there was a knock at door.
“Come in,” Deuseau said.
Larousse stuck his head in the room. “Inspector, two witnesses have just shown up.”
“Who?”
“Tourists who claimed they snapped pictures of the thief as he was making his escape.”
“Bon! Show them in.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Thompson,” Larousse announced. A pudgy hippo dressed in a loud fuchsia dress sprayed with yellow flowers carrying an oversized teal purse barged into the room. Trotting meekly behind her was her husband, a crane in a polo shirt, shorts, knee socks, and penny loafers. Three cameras were slung around his skinny neck.
“Isn’t this exciting, Lester?” the hippo gushed, eagerly taking in her surroundings.
“Yes, dear,” Lester replied.
“We’ve never been inside a real laboratory before, though we’ve seen them in the movies, isn’t that right, Lester?”
“Yes, dear.”
After offering his hand to the tourists, Inspector Deuseau began, “About the photographs...”
“Lester just can’t take enough photographs,” Elmira said, heartily pumping the inspector’s proffered hand. “It’s his hobby, you know. He has five cameras, two with telephoto lenses. Isn’t that right, dear?”
“Yes, dear.” Lester held a camera to his eye and fiddled with the focus.
“We’re tourists from Usland,” Elmira said, shaking the very confused-looking Dr. Bonet’s hand.
Dryly, the inspector said, “I never would have guessed.”
“First time we’ve been in Pearee. It’s so exciting!” In a confidential aside, Elmira murmured, “And so romantic.”
Deuseau quirked his eyebrow. He had a hard time imagining this odd-looking couple being romantic, but to each their own. “Oui, madame. After all, Pearee is the City of Love.”
Elmira squealed with delight and jumped up and down, which sent the inspector and physicist scrambling to find something to hang onto to retain their balances. “He called me madame. How French-i-fied. Say something else.”
Impatiently, Deuseau said, “We really need those photographs of the thief. It is most imperative that we get them developed tout de suite.”
Elmira sighed happily. “Tout de suite. Just like a Moorice Chevalier movie. He’s one of my favorite stars, isn’t he, Lester?”
“Yes, dear,” Lester said, snapping a photograph.
Blinking the spots from his eyes, Inspector Deuseau turned to Lester. “If I could be permitted to have the film? The film with the pictures of the thief.”
“Depends,” Lester drawled, winding the film to the next frame. “Just have to figure out which camera I took those pictures with.”
The ever-helpful Elmira said, “They should be on the same roll with the cute little mime, dear...or was it the roll with the Eyeful Tower?”
The inspector, ready to tear his hair out with frustration, gritted his teeth and said with forced politeness, “Why don’t we develop all the film? That way we will be sure to find them.”
Lester considered for a long time. “Okay.”
“Enfin, if you will come with me. I will personally escort you to police headquarters.”
“We’ve never been in a Pearee police station,” Elmira exclaimed. “How exciting!”
“Yes, dear.”
After Lester and Elmira had left the room, Inspector Deuseau told the physicist quietly, “I will keep you updated on any new information, Dr. Bonet.”
“Oh, Inspector!” Elmira sang. “We’re waiting.”
“Tourists. Bah!” Deuseau muttered under his breath.
The Sea Duck
One Hour Later
With her forehead pressed to the glass, Rebecca stared out the passenger side window at the forest-clad mountain range speeding by below. “There’s the Swizz Yalps, Baloo!” she said excitedly. “Aren’t they pretty?”
Baloo grinned at her enthusiasm as well as the sparkle in her big brown eyes. “Yup. They’re pretty pretty as far as mountains go.”
“And look at that little village down there.” She clasped her hands together and sighed with contentment. “It’s just like a storybook.”
“One storybook village comin’ up,” Baloo said, scanning the terrain for a place to land. Spotting a clearing in the green valley far below, he banked the plane to the left.
Feeling the sea plane descend, Rebecca leaned back in the well-worn, well-padded co-pilot’s seat. She watched her husband’s piloting skills with unconcealed admiration. “Now admit it. My idea was good.”
Baloo flipped the switch to deploy the landing gear, then reached over to give her hand an affectionate squeeze. “This is going to be one heck of a honeymoon, honey.”
End of part 1
Love: the Spies of Life Swizz Yalps The
mid-morning sunshine shone on a quaint alpine village cradled in a
verdant valley between two fir-fringed mountains where Baloo and
Rebecca were ambling, hand-in-hand, down the sidewalk. Everywhere they
went, they were greeted by lederhosen-clad men and women wearing pastel
Swizz muslin dresses. “What a friendly place,” Baloo commented. He winked at a group of little girls waving at them, causing them to giggle. Rebecca
stopped to peer into the window of a little shop. “Look at this lace,
Baloo. Isn’t it exquisite?” She glanced up only to see him gazing down
at her tenderly. “Yeah, exquisite.” She blushed with
pleasure and squeezed his hand as they moved to the next store. “Why do
they call these the Swizz Yalps, anyway?” He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, making her stand still. “Take a listen.” From the surrounding mountains came a chorus of overlapping, off-key voices. “Yodel-a-e-arooooo!” “Lovely,” Rebecca said wryly. “Speakin’
of lovely...” Baloo bought bouquet of edelweiss from vendor and
presented it to her with a flourish and a “For you, milady.” “Why,
thank you.” Rebecca sniffed the flowers appreciatively. “Oh, Baloo,
isn’t this gorgeous? Look at the scenery, smell the crisp mountain
air...Baloo! Where are you going?” “There’s a guy sellin’ hot chocolate an’ pastries over here.” She sighed ruefully and addressed the flowers. “I think he’s still married to his stomach.” Pearee Bathed
in soft, red light, Marin and Larousse stood on either side of
Inspector Deuseau as he dipped the film paper into a fixative solution.
He then pulled the dripping photograph out of the solution and rinsed
it off. “Voila!” “That’s him,” Marin said immediately, pointing at the photograph. “Larousse?” Larousse nodded, inwardly cringing at the sight of himself splashing into the fountain. Inspector
Deuseau handed the print to Marin. “Get copies of this in every post
office, police station, and newspaper in the country.” “Oui, Inspector,” Marin and Larousse said in unison. They saluted and left the room with the pictures. The
inspector used the tongs to fish another print out of the fixative
solution. He rinsed it off and studied the black and white photograph
with a grim smile. “It’s time someone showed those Swatzis that they
can’t everything they want.” Jardin de Lucksembourger Rebecca,
her nose stuck in a Pearee map, wandered through the park without
noticing her surroundings. Baloo followed a few paces behind, loaded
down with shopping bags. Spying an unoccupied bench, Baloo plopped down and let the bags fall from his hands with a sigh of relief. A
half a block later, Rebecca said, “I give up, Baloo. This is one of the
most confusing maps I’ve ever tried to read. Can you make heads or
tails out of...it?” Discovering that her husband wasn’t with her, she
stopped and turned around. “Where did that bear...ah-ha! I should have
known.” She marched towards him, her brow furrowed. “What are you
doing?” “What does it look like I’m doin’? I’m sittin’.” “This is no time to sit. There’s so much more to see.” “We’ve already seen over half of Pearee in the two hours we’ve been here. Ain’t that enough for one day?” Rebecca sat down beside him. “But we’ve only been to the Arch de Triumph, Dotre Name, the Luver, the Opera House...” “Don’t
forget every shop in between,” Baloo muttered, shifting the sacks on
his lap. His eyes wandered around the bustling park. A pair of children
ran by with a boomerang. Carousel music mingled with the laughter of
people watching a Bunch and Cutie puppet show. A canoodling teenaged
couple lingered at the base of a pear tree. An elderly beaver helped
his small grandson float a toy boat in the fountain. In fact, everyone
seemed to be enjoying themselves. That is, everyone but himself. What
he wouldn’t have given right then to be drowsing in a hammock with a
fishing pole dangling between his fingers. “They’re just a few little mementoes.” “Those little mementoes are breakin’ my back.” Baloo grumbled under his breath. Rebecca
reached into one of the sacks, pulled out a paperweight shaped like the
Eyeful Tower, and stowed it in her purse. “Better?” Baloo lifted the sack. It still felt heavy to him. “Oh, sure, heaps,” he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. Rebecca returned her attention to the map. “If we’re at the Jardin, facing north...” “South,” Baloo corrected automatically, looking at the map over her shoulder. Rebecca turned the map around. “Facing south, then the Eyeful Tower is...” Just
then, Baloo spotted the Eyeful Tower peeking over the treetops to their
right. “Uh, Beckers...” He tapped her shoulder. “Becky?” “Just a second. I think I’m getting the hang of this map. We’re here and...” Baloo grabbed the map from her and held it over his head so she couldn’t reach it. “Hey!” Rebecca cried indignantly. “Honey, the only thing I care ‘bout seein’ on this trip is you.” Rebecca’s
peeved expression softened into a smile. She wrapped her arms around
his and snuggled close to him with a happy sigh. “Oh, Baloo...you can
say the most romantic things sometimes. If only you said them a little
more often.” “If ya let me rest a sec, I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said, returning the map to her. Rebecca tossed her head and flashed him a flirtatious smile. “Maybe I will and maybe I won’t. It depends on the secret.” “Will this help ya make up your mind?” He pressed his lips to hers. Marcel, the mime, happened to be walking by. At the sight of the kissing couple, he wistfully murmured, “Le sigh.” “What’s the secret, darling?” Rebecca softly asked after they broke apart. Pointing to their right, he whispered in her ear, “See those trees?” “Mm-hmm.” “Well, the Eyeful Tower’s right through those trees, over yonder.” Before he could brush his lips against her ear, Rebecca had already sprung from the bench. “Well, come on, Baloo.” Baloo groaned, rose reluctantly, and gathered the sacks. “Who knew honeymoons could be so exhaustin’?” Nesqué Café Baloo
and Rebecca were enjoying a late lunch at one of Pearee’s many outdoor
cafés. The couple sat side by side at a white-painted iron table in the
shade of a large umbrella. A warm breeze ruffled the umbrella’s canvas
as well as the leaves of the nearby pear trees. An accordion player,
who wandered around the tables serenading the customers, added to the
ambience. Rebecca dug through one of the many shopping bags. “Do you think the kids will like these berets?” Baloo,
who was poring over the menu, wrinkled his nose in confusion, because
he couldn’t understand a word of it. “Kit an’ Molly’ll flip their lids
over ‘em. What kid wouldn’t want a genuine ber-et direct from the
Eyeful Tower?” “I could have stayed up there all day, just
looking at the scenery.” She sighed dreamily. “It’s no wonder they call
Pearee the City of Love, but I know that when the Big Guy wants to eat,
he wants to eat now.” Baloo frowned. “Very funny. Why don’t ya concentrate on somethin’ more important, like figurin’ out what’s on this eats list?” Rebecca
smiled to herself. That statement was typical of the big bear she had
grown to love. Impulsively, she threw her arms around her husband and
kissed him. “I’m so glad that you’re here and you’re you.” “Well, I’m glad that you’re here and you’re you,” Baloo echoed softly, returning her kiss. After sharing a long, intimate look, the two bears affectionately rubbed noses, then picked up their menus. “Does milady wish to order French fries?” Baloo said in his best imitation of a high-society man. “I
don’t think they have French fries here,” Rebecca replied absently,
trying to decipher the menu using her rusty college French. “What?” Baloo cried, astounded. “We’re in Pearee, ain’t we? Surely they got French fries.” “I’m afraid not.” “Man, what a gyp." He returned to scanning the menu. "What’s es-car-got?” “That’s escargot,” Rebecca corrected. “Snails.” Disgusted, Baloo exclaimed, “You’re tellin’ me that people eat those slimy things?” “Snails and frog legs are considered gourmet delicacies here.” “Amazin’ that they haven’t all croaked. Get it? Frog legs? Croaked?” he guffawed, slapping the table with his palm. “Unfortunately,” she replied, shaking her head. At
that moment, Baloo happened to catch the eye of the Peareesian at the
next table. The man, who had been staring at him with a shocked
expression, looked away quickly. “What in the...?” Then, Baloo noticed
that all over the café, people were doing the same thing. Baloo squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. He leaned towards his wife. “Becky?” “Mmm?” Rebecca murmured, trying to decide between two entrees. “How come everyone’s lookin’ at us?” Rebecca
glanced up from her menu only to see everyone hide behind their
newspapers. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re talking too loudly.” “Me? Loud? Never,” Baloo nearly shouted. “Uh-huh.” Rebecca glanced at the other café patrons out of the corner of her eye. It was true. People were staring at them. When she turned her head, everyone hid behind their newspapers again. “Hmm...” “Hey,
look, honey.” Baloo shoved his menu under her nose. “They got pain.”
Seeing a waiter, he gestured him over to their table. “Gar-con, is this
swift or slow pain?” The waiter seemed startled at the question.
His eyes shifted from the newspaper sitting on a nearby table to Baloo.
He muttered under his breath, “Le voleur!” and hurried into the café. Baloo shrugged. “Musta not understood English.” Meanwhile... Inspector Deuseau was talking on the phone. While he listened to the caller, he eagerly jotted notes on a notepad. “Oui...oui...merci.” He returned the receiver to its cradle and ripped the piece of notepaper off with a satisfied smile. “Got him.” One Hour Later After stopping briefly at the Sea Duckto unload their sacks of souvenirs, Baloo and Rebecca strolled along
the murky Sane River, enjoying the scenery and watching barges filled
with people drift by. Yawning, Baloo patted his stomach with
contentment. “I don’t know what I ate, but it was tasty. These
Peareesans sure know how to live. Long, leisurely lunches followed by a
nice, long snooze.” Rebecca, possessively hanging onto Baloo’s arm, remarked wryly, “We could have stayed home for that.” “But if we had stayed home, we wouldn’t have seen this.” Baloo made a sweeping gesture, as if to include all of Pearee. “You’re right...for once.” “Yeah.” His grin turned to confusion. “Huh?” Rebecca giggled mischievously. Baloo pouted a little. “See if I go along with your next crazy scheme, Becky.” “Crazy? Crazy?” Rebecca bristled with indignation and released his arm. “Yup,”
Baloo replied with an infuriating smirk. He stopped in the middle of
the sidewalk, much to the dismay of the people behind them. “Crazy with
a capital ‘K’.” “I’m not crazy!” she cried, crossing her arms and
turning his back towards him. After a few strained moments, she said
reluctantly, “Well...maybe I’m crazy about one thing.” “What’s that?” He thought that he knew the answer, but wanted to hear her to say it anyway. She gave a backwards glance at him over her shoulder. Her heart was in her eyes. “You.” Baloo beamed and wrapped his arm around her slender waist. They started off down the sidewalk again. “But you’re just as crazy as I am, Baloo,” Rebecca pointed out. “That’s us. A coupla crazies.” He made a funny face. Rebecca laughed and relaxed against him. They were too caught up in each other to notice a figure trailing along behind them at a discreet distance. The Tampered Chef A
large man carrying a briefcase pushed open the door of the modest
store, causing the bell to jingle. Flinging back his cloak, he revealed
a pair of pea green overalls with ‘Georges’ stitched on the left breast
pocket. He gave a disgusted glance about the store. If he had had his
druthers, he would have spent the night somewhere else, but he knew
better than to question the Furor’s orders. The room was filled
with cooking utensils of all kinds: from pots and pans to salt and
pepper shakers. But the cutlery was the most prominent. Razor-sharp
knives of all sizes proudly gleamed in the display cases. Cleavers hung
in bunches from brackets mounted from the ceiling. From a back room came the rhythmic sound of scrape, scrape, scrape of metal against a whetstone. He
carefully picked his way through the innocent-looking, yet deadly,
merchandise until he reached the customer service counter. He snarled
at the sight of the store’s proprietor sitting behind the counter,
tallying receipts. He knew Hans well by reputation. He also knew that
beneath his mild-mannered butler-type demeanor was the heart of a
murderer. Upon seeing the customer, Hans sprang from his stool
and smiled warmly, as if greeting an old and dear friend. “Herr Baldrik
von Bruinwald, welcome to our humble store.” He then called into the
back room, “Helga, come greet our illustrious guest.” The scraping stopped, creating a tension-filled silence. Baldrik’s
muscles tensed as he saw something reflected in a row of
copper-bottomed pots: a plump possum with a large cleaver in her
claw-like hands approaching him, ready to strike. He whirled around swiftly. Helga smiled innocently and hung the cleaver on hook. “Herr Baldrik, we were expecting you later. Were you successful?” Baldrik
snarled, “Drop the act, both of you.” He glared at Hans. “I know what
your father did to my father, the twelfth Baron of Bruinwald.” A
faraway, almost wistful, look came to the racoon’s shady eyes, as if he
was reliving a fond memory. “Ah, yes. It was Father’s favorite story.
As I recall, the shark in the small swimming pool enjoyed a toothsome
meal that day.” Baldrik’s scowl deepened. His hands clenched and unclenched as if longing to wrap them around Hans’ neck. “And I know what you would have done if Mother had not fled with me, her infant son.” Helga
lovingly straightened the knives on the counter. “She hid you so well
that you were impossible to find. We thought you were dead.” “Mother might as well be dead. Thanks to your family’s scare tactics and murder attempts, she went insane.” Hans
shrugged unconcernedly. “Life is cruel to everyone. In fact, Helga and
I probably could have gotten the castle if your grandfather had had
only one child. As it was, Father had to stage two ‘accidents’: your
father’s and your uncle’s.” His forehead creased with puzzlement.
“Father never did understand your Uncle Braun’s foolish obsession with
boogie-woogie music and flying machines. Oh, well. It didn’t matter
since Braun died in that unfortunate crash.” “The von Bruinwalds always were tubs of lard,” Helga snickered. She mimed an airplane crash with a knife. “And
it was such a shame that Braun had to go and have a child before his
death,” Hans added. “Having two heirs to the von Bruinwald estate to
hunt down and murder made it extremely complicated and time-consuming.” Baldrik,
who could no longer stand the blatant disregard for his family’s life,
slammed his fist down on the counter. “The only reason you two ingrates
were released from prison and are still alive is because the Furor
decided that you were cunning enough, yet looked harmless enough, to be
proprietors of a shop serving as a front for Swatzi activity. But if I
had my way...” He cracked his knuckles menacingly. Nervously, Helga said, “Hansy, can’t you see that Herr Baldrik would like to retire?” “Come,
sir. I’ll show you up to your room.” Behind him was a cabinet filled
with merchandise. Reaching around to the right side of it, Hans pushed
a little knob in with a click. The cabinet swung open easily,
revealing a secret staircase that was illuminated by a single, dim
lightbulb. “Right this way, sir.” “You first,” Baldrik growled. “Of course, sir,” Hans replied in his ever-polite, smooth voice. After they had disappeared up the stairs, Helga closed the cabinet. “I like his cousin better.” “Watch your step, sir.” “Any news from the Herr Doktor?” Baldrik asked gruffly. “Yes, sir. A telegram arrived today, saying, ‘Proceed as planned.’” “Gutt.” At
the top of the stairs was a door. And through that door was a room
bustling with secret Swatzi activity. Draped across the shuttered
windows was a large Swatzi flag, prominently displayed. Interposed on
the flag's bright red background was a black flyswatter posed to whack
a white world. On the opposite wall was a map of the world with pins
stuck all over it. A handful of people were conversing in low murmurs
as they quietly and calmly went about their work. When Hans and Baldrik
entered the room, the man tending the telegraph machine briefly glanced
at them, then returned to business. They walked to the far end of the room where Hans unlocked a door. “Here we are, sir.” Baldrik snatched the key from Hans. “Do not disturb me for anything.” He slammed the door in the former butler’s face. “Rest in peace...” The key turned in the lock. “Sir,” Hans concluded with an oily smirk. He turned and went downstairs. Baldrik
pulled a flashlight from his briefcase and clicked it on. He found
himself in a small, interior room furnished with a bed, night stand,
lamp, and full-length mirror. The flashlight’s beam ran over
everything in the room as Baldrik searched for booby traps. As a rule,
he didn’t trust anyone. He especially didn’t trust the last of a long
line of servants that had killed his family off, generation by
generation. It was improbable that Hans and Helga would leave him alone
now, despite the fact that the family estate that should have
rightfully been his no longer belonged to the von Bruinwalds. He
opened the night stand drawer and coolly leapt back as an animal trap
snapped at his fingers. Ripping the trap from the drawer, he tossed it
on the bed, where it sank out of sight. He tore the sheets from the bed
to reveal a box filled with quicksand. “Typical,” he muttered to
himself. Baldrik then turned his attention to the full-length
mirror. He peered into it and around it. Since it seemed to be free of
traps, he removed his cloak and hung it on a hook. He wasn’t much
surprised when the hook tipped forward under the weight of the cloak,
causing the mirror to swing open, as if on hinges. Baldrik jumped to
the side as a sharp scythe swept from out of the recess behind the
mirror. As the scythe made its second sweep through the room, he
grabbed the handle and pulled, thereby snapping the rope and pulley
that it dangled from. “Nice try, Hans, but this is one von Bruinwald
who’s not afraid of your booby traps,” he said as he tossed the scythe
back into the recess and shut the mirror with a sneer of derision. Then,
he approached the one object that hadn’t been examined: the lamp
sitting on the night stand. He ripped off the lampshade. Nothing. He
studied the base. It seemed solid. Satisfied that it was safe, he
clicked it on. He jumped, slightly startled, when the bulb blew. “Darn
lamp,” he growled. By the light of his flashlight, he traded his
street clothes for a nightshirt. He glanced at the overalls in disgust
before wadding them up. He never wanted to mop a floor or scrub a
toilet again. Thanks to the papers concealed in his briefcase, he’d
never have to. Before lying down on the bare, wooden floor, he
caught his reflection in the mirror: a large grey bear with ruggedly
handsome features marred by a cruel expression. The steely eyes glinted
back at him. He settled himself on the floor, pillowing his head on the
overalls and covering himself with the cloak. Baldrik pulled the briefcase close to himself. Only one simple thing left to do, then his mission would be complete. A smile of satisfaction touched his lips as he turned off the flashlight. End of part 2
Love: the Spies of Life Pearee A light, warm summer drizzle was pattering on the Sea Duckbobbing on the Sane River when ten police cars drove up on the nearby
shore. Twenty policemen poured out of the cars and stealthily
approached the seaplane. “Sounds like there is a chainsaw inside,” Marin snickered, his ear to the cargo hold door. Inspector
Deuseau said pointedly, “Inside, there is also a very dangerous, very
crafty criminal.” He pulled a gun out of his vest pocket. Likewise, the other cops drew out their firearms. At the inspector’s signal, Marin wrenched open the Sea Duck’s cargo door and the cops streamed in. “Aah!” Rebecca shrieked, pulling the blanket closer around her. “What’s goin’ on?” Baloo mumbled sleepily. “You are under arrest,” Deuseau said, shining a flashlight in the big bear’s confused face. Baloo, who was still half-asleep, squinted and shielded his eyes from the bright beam with his hand. “Huh? What for?” “For the robbery of Le Laboratorie d’Atomique.” “What?”
Baloo sat straight up in bed, now fully awake. “B-b-b-b-b-b-b-but...!”
he blubbered, watching in helpless confusion as cops ransacked the
seaplane. “Do you mind?” Rebecca snapped, outraged. “This plane is private property!” “Not anymore. It is being confiscated for evidence.” Marin picked up one corner of the blanket as if to examine under it. Rebecca kicked the cop’s hand away. “Baloo, do something!” she whispered frantically, clutching her husband’s arm. Baloo
gave her hand a comforting pat. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m sure this is
all a big misunderstandin’, an’ as soon as we sit down an’ talk about
it, it’ll get worked out.” Then, he angrily raised his voice: “Now, all
of you get outta here so’s we can put some clothes on!” Inspector Deuseau gave Baloo a withering stare. “Very well. We will be waiting outside. If you try to leave, we will follow.” Rebecca, huddled under the blanket up to her chin, said, “Believe me, we won’t!” As if in one accord, the policemen dropped the clothes and souvenirs in a loud crash and headed for the door. After everyone had gone, Baloo and Rebecca looked at each other in astonishment. Rebecca
threw herself into Baloo’s arms. Hot tears of frustration pricked her
eyes. “First, Karnage wrecks our wedding and now this.” “Look on the bright side, Becky,” he murmured, holding her close. She snapped irritably, “There is no bright side!” “Sure there is,” he replied with a confident grin. “Nothin’ worse can happen to us.” Pearee Police Station A little while later, Baloo and Rebecca found themselves handcuffed and seated under a bright interrogation light. “You were saying?” Rebecca said wryly. “Hope
they don’t give me a spellin’ test,” Baloo muttered out of the corner
of his mouth. “I can’t talk their lingo, let alone spell it.” “Silence!” the inspector barked as he entered the room. Baloo and Rebecca jumped, startled. “I am Inspector Deuseau of the Pearee Police.” “Do so, what?” Baloo wondered. “Zip it, Baloo!” Rebecca snapped, kicking her husband’s shin under the table. “As you know, you are charged with the theft that occurred at 7:10 PM on Saturday, June 11th at Le Laboratorie d’Atomique.” “What was stolen, Inspector?” Rebecca asked timidly, quelled by the canine Inspector’s formidable presence. “Plans
for a horrible destructive force. A force so great that it can level an
entire city.” He leaned over the table, his face a few inches from
Baloo’s. He was so close that his luxuriant moustaches brushed against
the big bear’s nose. He peered at the big bear suspiciously. “If it
falls into the wrong hands, I shudder to think what could happen.” Baloo and Rebecca gasped in astonishment. The inspector stood upright and slammed his palm down on the table. “How do you plead?” “Innocent!” Baloo said vehemently. “We’re tourists, not thieves, an’ we’ve never heard of Le Whatsihoosit Whatever.” “We’re on our honeymoon,” Rebecca added quietly. “A likely story.” He pulled two pictures from his uniform pocket and slammed them on the table in front of them. “Can you deny this?” They were the photographs that Lester had taken of Baldrik’s daring escape. “Oh...my!” Rebecca gasped. Baloo was silent as he stared at the incriminating evidence. Inspector Deuseau smiled grimly. He had taken Baloo’s silence for guilt. “I thought so.” “That ain’t me,” Baloo said through clenched teeth. “Impossible, monsieur.” The inspector tapped the picture with his finger. “He looks just like you.” “Yeah, but...” Baloo faltered. He stared at the pictures, incredulous. “Can you provide an alibi?” Immediately, Rebecca piped up. “He was with me all day. A-and night.” “An’ she was with me,” Baloo concluded. Inspector Deuseau threw up his hands. “Bah! That proves nothing. Both of you could be lying.” Baloo crossed his heart, which was a difficult task due to his handcuffed wrists. “I swear on the Sea Duck’s pink slip that I didn’t steal those plans.” Inspector Deuseau peered at Baloo, then turned away with a scoffing noise. “Alors,
if you won’t tell us about the plans, then perhaps you can shed some
light on this.” He slapped a scrap of paper down on the table before
them. The newlyweds looked at the crude, enigmatic symbols drawn
on the crumpled paper. First was a bird with an oval over its head.
Then there were three bells; each bell was encased in an individual
square. Finally, the letters “I” and “Q”. “I.Q.,” Baloo read aloud. “What’s that?” Rebecca smirked. “Nothing you’ll ever have to worry about.” “Very funny, Rebecca,” Baloo replied with a frown. Rebecca shrugged. “Reflex.” “Ya mean, like this?” Baloo playfully nudged her shoulder. She smiled and nudged him back. “We
believe that I.Q. may be the initials of an associate of the thief or a
secret code.” Inspector Deuseau stared suspiciously at Baloo. “Perhaps you know...monsieur.” “How many times do I gotta tell ya that I’m innocent?” The inspector replied coldly, “Until it is proven.” “Here.”
With difficulty, Baloo removed his wallet from his shirt pocket. “Look
at my pilot’s license. This’ll prove once an’ for all who I am.” “They provide you with such excellent ones these days,” Deuseau said with a sneer. “Who do?” Baloo asked, dropping his wallet on the table. “They do. The Swatzis.” “Swatzis?” Rebecca yelped. “Hold the mayo, Inspector! You’ve got it all wrong. We ain’t Swatzis. We’re tourists.” The inspector gave Baloo a hard, calculating look before addressing the guard at the door. “I’ve heard enough. Lock him up.” “What?” Baloo exclaimed. The burly guard roughly yanked Baloo to his feet by the back of his shirt and shoved him towards the door. “No!”
Rebecca cried. She jumped up and hurried around the guard and Baloo to
block the door with her slender body. Her imploring, tear-filled eyes
turned towards the inspector. “You can’t do this! We’ve only
been married two days. We have two children who need their father. A
stupid pirate ruined our wedding. I won’t let you ruin our honeymoon!”
She buried her face in her husband’s chest and sobbed. Inspector Deuseau cocked an eyebrow. “Two children...and you are on your honeymoon?” “They ain’t mine. I mean, they ain’t mine yet. Aw, forget it.” He crooned soothingly, “Easy, Becky, everything’s gonna be fine.” The
inspector started pacing the room, thinking hard. The faster he paced,
the more furiously he twirled the tip of his moustache. Then, he
stopped and studied the couple. Something about them had touched his
heart. He didn't know if it was Rebecca's stormy tears or Baloo’s sad,
scared face as he attempted to comfort his wife. Whatever it was, he
felt sympathy for their predictament, something that he had never
before felt for any criminal. If there was one thing he prided himself
on, besides his moustaches, it was his ability to read people's
characters. And he was getting the sense that they weren't acting. But
then there was all the evidence against them... Truly torn, he sighed
and threw up his hands in defeat. “Absurd!” “Huh?” Baloo said. Rebecca choked back a sob and turned her attention to the inspector. Deuseau
started to pace furiously. He muttered to himself, “After all, I am a
hopeless romantic and there may be some truth in what you are saying...” Baloo nodded. “Every word of it, honest engines.” “Alors, I will give you the chance to clear your name.” “Why, Inspector...” Rebecca said, wiping her eyes. Baloo’s face brightened. “Say, that’s real decent of ya.” Inspector curtly checked their thanks with a “But...” “But?” Baloo and Rebecca echoed. “You
will be carefully overseen at all times. I will give you a warning now:
if you try to escape, I will be merciless in my search for you. I will find you no matter where you hide. Comprendez-vous?” Baloo muttered to Rebecca, “I understood everythin’ but that ‘vous’ part.” After flashing an annoyed look at her husband, Rebecca said, “We understand, Inspector.” He motioned to the guard to unlock their handcuffs. “We start now. This minute.” “What are we gonna do?” Baloo rubbed at his sore wrists. “Decipher this clue,” the inspector replied, frowning at the scrap of paper. Pearee Police Station Inspector
Deuseau mechanically paced the perimeter of the room and twirled his
moustache while listening to Baloo’s and Rebecca’s guesses about the
clue. Rebecca, who sat hunched over the scrap of paper on the table, was saying, “Could this bird be a turkey? A goose, maybe?” Through a yawn, Baloo said, “Our goose’ll be cooked if we can’t figure this out.” “Okay. Let’s forget about the bird and move onto the bells.” “None of this is ringin’ any bells.” Baloo leaned back in his metal chair and propped his feet on the table. Rebecca
frowned and pushed his feet off the table. “Why are they surrounded by
squares? And why do you think that there are three of them?” “‘Cause that little birdy likes to eat three square meals a day?” Baloo said with a weak chuckle. “Baloo...” Rebecca let out an exasperated sigh. “Stop kidding around.” Baloo
slumped in his chair and rubbed his eyes wearily. “Sorry, Becky. We’ve
been workin’ on this for three hours. My brain’s fried.” To himself, he
added, “All I wanted to do was scout out some trout...” “Three
hours?” Rebecca said, her eyes brightening with a thought. “Maybe the
three bells is a code for a meeting time. Is that possible, Inspector?” “Oui. Three o’clock.” As his thoughts sped up, so did his pacing. “C’est possible. If only we knew where...” “This clue istelling us where.” Rebecca eagerly leaned over the paper. She traced
the drawings with her forefinger. “The circle over the bird’s head
could be a halo. Angel Bird? St. Bird? St. Bird...Square?” Through a yawn that was bigger than his previous yawn, Baloo said, “There’s a St. Lark’s Square in Veniece.” Inspector Deuseau stopped pacing to peer at him suspiciously. “How do you know that?” “Look,
I’m a cargo pilot,” Baloo snapped. He balefully stared at the
inspector. “I’ve been to Veniece a time or three. Or is that a crime,
too?” “Inspector, do you think that the thief may have an appointment at St. Lark’s Square?” “C’est possible, madame,” he replied, keeping his eyes trained on Baloo. “Or not. It may be a clever ruse to throw us off the scent.” “What do I gotta do to prove that I’m innocent?” Baloo cried, completely exasperated. “Prove it through this clue,” the inspector said with a shrug. He resumed his pacing. “Okay, fine,” Baloo muttered grumpily as he turned his full attention to the clue. “If the bird and the bells are a meeting place and time...” Rebecca began. “Then I.Q. could be the initials of the guy he’s meetin’,” Baloo concluded. Suddenly, Inspector Deuseau stopped pacing and dug piece of paper out of his pocket with a murmured, “I wonder...” “What’s that?” Rebecca. “A
list Dr. Bonet, the man from whom the plans were stolen, gave me. The
plans are so complicated that only a nuclear physicist would know what
to do with them.” “So the thief would hafta give ‘em to a pharmacist!” Baloo said triumphantly. “That’s physicist,” Rebecca corrected with a smile. “Exactly.” The inspector quickly scanned the list. “There are two names with the initials I.Q.” Baloo groaned. “There would hafta be two.” “Dr. Illian Quark and Dr. Irena Quigley.” “Quark? That’s a quarky name,” Baloo joked weakly. “Which one is it?” Rebecca mused. “Come, we will visit the man who may know.” The inspector paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You mean the thief?” Baloo exclaimed. “No. Dr. Bonet.” Dr. Bonet’s Apartment Ten
minutes later, Inspector Deuseau was knocking on a door in one of
Pearee’s innumerable apartment buildings. He had to knock several times
before Dr. Bonet opened the door. The rhino physicist, dressed in a
nightshirt, squinted into the bright hallway with a sleepily murmured, “Oui?” “Sorry to interrupt your sleep, doctor, but...” the inspector began. When
the physicist saw Baloo standing behind Deuseau, his face grew red with
rage. “You!” In the blink of an eye, Dr. Bonet’s large fist made
contact with Baloo’s jaw, causing the big bear to slam against the
hallway’s opposite wall. “Howdy do to you, too.” Baloo murmured dizzily as he slumped to the floor. “Just returning the compliment, Georges,” Dr. Bonet growled with grim satisfaction. The
inspector looked right and left down the hallway before pushing Dr.
Bonet back into his apartment. “Hush! Before you wake up the building.” As Rebecca helped Baloo to his feet, he said, “I always wanted to be famous, but not like this.” The inspector motioned the two bears inside the apartment, then closed the door behind them. From
the condition of the room, it was clear that the physicist was a
bachelor. There were no knickknacks or frills indicating a woman’s
touch. The furniture was sparse, yet tasteful. Most prominent were the
bookshelves crammed with thick volumes that lined three of the four
walls. The entire room was meticulously clean. Dr. Bonet flipped on another lamp. “Did you bring my plans, Georges?” The inspector interjected, “Unfortunately not.” “Why not?” “This man claims that he is not Georges, the thief. According to him, he is merely an innocent tourist.” A
short, sarcastic laugh escaped the physicist’s lips. “He is lying.” He
clenched his huge hands and advanced upon Baloo with a dangerous gleam
in his eye. To escape the physicist’s physical wrath, Baloo backpedaled, tripped over an ottoman, and went sprawling on the floor. The
inspector stepped between Dr. Bonet and Baloo. “We did not come here
for this. We need more information about two scientists: Dr. Irena
Quigley and Dr. Illian Quark. Where they work, what they’re like.” Dr.
Bonet glared at Baloo before turning to one of the bookshelves. After
searching for a second, he pulled out a photo album and flipped through
it. “Here is the picture taken at last year’s physicist’s convention.”
He waited until everyone had gathered around it before pointing to an
intelligent-looking female elephant. “Dr. Irena Quigley is from
Klopstokia. I’ve worked with her extensively and do not think she is
capable of allying with Swatzi scum.” Here, he paused and glared at
Baloo. “But I ain’t a Swatzi!” Baloo cried indignantly. “Why won’t anybody believe me, Beckers?” Rebecca silently took his hand in hers and gave it a comforting squeeze. Dr.
Bonet pointed to an ugly toad in the picture. “Dr. Illian Quark I’ve
only seen once at this convention. A brilliant mind, though his methods
seemed to be, how do you say...unorthodox. I believe he’s based out of
Veniece.” Simultaneously, Baloo and Rebecca said, “Veniece?” “Merci, Dr. Bonet,” the inspector said crisply. “May I have that photograph?” “Oui.
Anything to facilitate the return of those plans.” Dr. Bonet removed
the picture from the album and handed it to Inspector Deuseau. After pocketing the picture, Deuseau said, “May I ask a favor of you, doctor?” “Anything.” Inspector
Deuseau glanced at Baloo and Rebecca, then led the doctor over to a
corner where they conversed in low tones. Snatches of French floated
towards the newlyweds, who waited anxiously. After a while, Dr. Bonet nodded. “I’ll do that immediately, Inspector.” “Thank you for your time, doctor,” Inspector Deuseau said, ushering Baloo and Rebecca out into the hallway. After Dr. Bonet had closed the door, Baloo asked, “Now what?” “Now, we go to Veniece,” Inspector said simply. “Right now?” Rebecca exclaimed. “Without my Sea Duck?” “If you are cleared, it will be here waiting for you.” “And if I ain’t cleared?” “You won’t have need of it for a long, long time,” Inspector Deuseau said ominously. Baloo gulped. “I had to ask...” On the Train to Veniece A sleek train swiftly snaked its way through the peaceful early morning countryside en route to Veniece. In
one of the private compartments was Inspector Deuseau. Sitting opposite
him were Baloo and Rebecca. The pilot was sound asleep, his head
lolling against the window. Rebecca, exhausted, yet too nervous
to sleep, had wearily rested her head against Baloo’s arm. She was
listlessly looking past the big bear, out the window at the passing
trees, vineyards, and hillsides dotted with grazing cows. The
vegetation, bathed in the cheerful morning sunshine, sparkled with dew.
Everything looked so fresh and clean and calm. However, Rebecca felt anything but calm. They
were on their way to Veniece to confront the unknown and save the world
- not to mention Baloo - from a cruel fate. She didn’t want to think
about what would happen if they failed. Having to sit still was
torture when every nerve in her body longed to take action to exonerate
her husband. Her brain raced with plans, none of which were plausible.
And in the back of her mind, a persistent little imp whispered over and
over, "This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't wanted to go to
Pearee." The way that the inspector was looking at her husband
was making her even more anxious. Ever since they had boarded the
train, the inspector's thoughtful, hawk-like gaze had been trained on
Baloo. Rebecca looked at the inspector, who sat in the seat
across from them. He was absently stroking his moustache, his
expression inscrutable while staring at Baloo. She could almost hear
the inspector's brain tick, "Is he? Isn't he? Is he? Isn't he?" in sync
with the clacking and rocking of the train. Finally, she could
stand it no longer. She had to do something to convince the Deuseau of
Baloo’s innocence, because maybe if she could convince him, others
would be convinced. Rebecca shifted restlessly in her seat. “Inspector?” Inspector Deuseau tore his gaze away from Baloo to look at her, not unkindly. “Oui, madame?” “How much longer until we reach Veniece?” He glanced at his watch. “One and a half hours, madame.” “An hour and a half?” Rebecca echoed, wanting to scream with impatience. “I hope my ears can hold out that long.” He frowned ruefully at Baloo, who was happily snoring. Rebecca tittered nervously. “Baloo can sleep anytime, anywhere, and I mean anywhere.
Once I found him snoozing on a rafter in the warehouse.” She lovingly
looked up at Baloo’s peaceful face and smiled at the memory. Then, her
smile faded into a longing sigh. She wished that they were home. The inspector pitched his voice over the snoring. “You know him well, yes?” Almost angrily, Rebecca retorted, “I know him well enough to know that he didn’t steal those plans, if that’s what you mean.” “But Dr. Bonet positively identified him as the thief.” “Well...maybe Dr. Bonet needs new glasses.” “Photographs rarely lie, madame," Inspector Deuseau persisted. “Neither
does my heart.” She hugged her husband’s arm as if holding him tightly
could keep him from going to jail. Defiantly, she added, “Baloo may be
sloppy, careless, and rude sometimes, but he’s no thief.” The inspector looked at her determined face, then returned his gaze to Baloo. He said skeptically, “We shall see, madame. We shall see...” End of part 3
Love: the Spies of Life Veniece, Italee Like
Pearee, Veniece was a bustling modern city with its roots firmly
planted in the past. However, Veniece was unique in that there were no
roads, and, consequently, no automobiles within the city limits.
Instead, it was crisscrossed with a complex web of canals with the
smaller canals flowing into a main canal that the locals called Il Grande Canale.
All through the day and late into the night, these watery highways
teemed with cargo barges, speedboats, water buses, and, of course,
Veniece’s famous gondolas. At one of the city’s many docks, a long line of vaporetti,
water buses shaded by sun-bleached canopies flapping in the sultry
breeze, patiently took turns loading and unloading passengers. When
their crowded boat pulled up to the dock, Baloo, Rebecca, and Inspector
Deuseau rose from their bench and made their way to the exit. “Ah,
Veniece,” Inspector Deuseau breathed as he disembarked. He briefly
sniffed the briny air, twisting the tip of his moustache as he did so,
before returning his attention to Baloo and Rebecca. “This way, s’il vous plait.” “Well,
Beckers, you said you always wanted to visit Veniece,” Baloo said with
a half-hearted chuckle as he and his wife stepped onto the dock and
followed the inspector down the sidewalk. “Under different
circumstances.” Rebecca looked anything but happy as she glanced around
her. On either side of the narrow waterway, buildings rose like
pastel-colored cliffs, the peaceful, murky waters lapping almost to the
buildings’ doorways. Her frown deepened when she spied a gondola
leisurely drifting up the canal; the gondolier was serenading a
loudly-dressed, rapt-looking hippo and her shutterbug crane husband
with O Solo Mio. She would have given anything to have been able to exchange places with that couple. As
if he read her mind, Baloo gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “As soon
as we clear my name, we’ll take in some sight-seein’.” “What if we don’t clear your name?” Rebecca said, panicking a little. “Don’t go countin’ your troubles before they’re hatched, sweetheart.” “Speaking of trouble, I think we’re in it,” she said wearily. Her eyes had rested on the ‘POLIZIA’ emblazoned on the door that the Inspector was holding open for them. “We’re at the police station.” “Police
station?” Baloo echoed, alarmed. “Say, Inspector, what is this? Did ya
bring us all the way here just to slam me in the slammer?” “No, I
need to pick something up,” the inspector replied enigmatically as they
stepped inside. The dim coolness was a welcome comparison to the
sweltering sunshine outside. “Wait here,” the inspector told them. He then proceeded to the front desk. The
newlyweds stood next to a bulletin board plastered with wanted posters
as the Inspector talked to the two cops behind the desk. The Veniece
policemen kept flashing suspicious glances at Baloo. “I don’t like the way they’re lookin’ at me, Becky,” Baloo muttered, adverting his gaze from the desk. “Makes me feel like I am a low-down, dirty thief, like my mug belongs up here with these guys.” He jerked a thumb at the wanted posters. “But youknow you’re not and that’s all that matters. You’ve never done anything
shady in your life.” A mischievous twinkle came to her eyes as she
started to count off on her fingers. “Except the time you changed all
my calendars to Saturday to get your paycheck a day early, and I’ll
never forget the time you lied about your little excursion to Mars to
get a vacation, not to mention the time you...” Baloo impatiently interrupted, “All right already. But I didn’t steal no papers from no lab.” Reassuringly, Rebecca said, “I know you didn’t.” “Tell that to them,” Baloo said quietly, glancing at the policemen. Inspector Deuseau approached them, saying, “D’accord, we are all set.” “What’s that?” Baloo pointed to manilla envelope the inspector was tucking into his outer jacket pocket. “A little something I want you to give to Dr. Quark. Let’s go,” Deuseau said briskly. “Go where?” Baloo asked as they followed the inspector outside. “We have some shopping to do.” Baloo groaned. An Hour Later The trio exited a men’s clothing store. Rebecca stole admiring glances up at Baloo, who sported a new black suit. However,
Baloo wasn’t so impressed with his new look. “I still don’t get why I
gotta dress up in this fancy-pants zoot suit to meet a doctor who’s
seen folks in their birthday suits.” Sharing an amused smile with the inspector, Rebecca said, “Dr. Quark isn’t that kind of doctor.” “You need to make a good impression on him, monsieur,” Deuseau explained. “After all, you are supposed to be a spy.” “Supposed to be a spy?” Rebecca said hopefully. “Does that mean that you think Baloo is innocent?” The
inspector’s moustaches, drooping from the heat and humidity, comically
flopped from side to side when he shook his head. “I am not sure, madame. Only when all the facts are before me will I be able to decide certainly.” Rebecca’s
smile, which had faltered with the inspector’s not-so-reassuring words,
reappeared as they passed a store window. She abruptly halted,
consequently causing Baloo to jerk backwards with a “Whoa!” “Becky, what gives?” Baloo asked, wrenching his arm from her grasp. Pointing to the window, she gushed, “Isn’t that the darlingest salt and pepper shaker set you’ve ever seen? Inspector, may I please go in and look?” The inspector glanced at his watch. “Oui, madame. We have a little time.” Baloo frowned. “I wouldn’t let her go in there if I were you, Inspector. There ain’t no stoppin’ when that gal starts shoppin’.” “I heard that!” Rebecca retorted as she pushed open the door, causing the chimes to tinkle. Bypassing
the pots and pans and gleaming cutlery, Rebecca made a beeline for the
salt and pepper shaker sets and promptly picked up the pair she had
admired. Painted on the delicate white porcelain of the potbellied pair
were willowy blue letters spelling out ‘Veniece’ as well as a blue
silhouette of a gondola. I’ll show Baloo, Rebecca thought to herself as she wove around the tall shelves and display cases towards the checkout counter. All I have to do is pay for these and we’ll be on our way. What in the...? She had spied something that prompted her to take a step backwards so that she was concealed behind a shelf. A familiar-looking, well-groomed man that she couldn’t quite place was standing behind the counter, conversing with... “Baloo?” she murmured to herself. Confused, Rebecca glanced over her shoulder, out the window. Baloo and the inspector were still standing near the shop door. As
Rebecca’s eyes flitted from Baloo to the Baloo look-alike, then back to
Baloo, she heard snatches of Hans’ and Baldrik’s conversation. “Will you be returning here after your rendezvous, sir?” “Nein,” Baldrik said brusquely. “What
a shame. Helga was so looking forward to preparing another special meal
for you. Speaking of which, you hardly ate anything at lunch. Perhaps I
could interest you in some dessert? Bavarian cupcakes, a von Bruinwald
family favorite?” “I don’t eat poison.” Baldrik glared in the direction from whence came the sound of metal against a whetstone. That’s who that is! Rebecca thought with a gasp. It’s Hans from the von Bruinwald castle. And that other man; he must be the thief! I’ve got to tell Baloo. As
she turned to leave, her cardigan snagged on a saucepan handle. The pan
clattered to the floor with a deafening noise before rolling out into
the aisle. Rebecca quickly picked up the pan and placed it back on the shelf after dusting it off. “Sorry,” she said, blushing. Hans, though displeased by the interruption, said politely, “May I help you, madam?” “N-no,
thank you,” Rebecca stammered, shrinking under Baldrik’s piercing gaze.
It was frightening to see someone who resembled her husband looking at
her with so much hate. “I’ll just be going now,” she said, her voice
unnaturally high. She was almost to the door before she realized that
she still held the salt and pepper shakers. Setting them down on a
random shelf, she rushed outside. “Ol’ Baloo the pack mule reportin’ for duty,” Baloo said wearily, holding out his hand. Breathlessly, Rebecca said, “You have to see this!” “What? The darlingest set of toothpick holders?” Baloo said sarcastically. “No.”
Taking Deuseau by the arm and Baloo by the other, she dragged them
inside. “This,” she said, pointing to where Hans and Baldrik had been
standing. The inspector and Baloo looked around the store, but
there was nothing there besides cooking utensils. The store was silent
except for the far-away scraping of metal against a whetstone. “Madame?” “What’s the deal, Becky?” “B-but,
but...there was a man here who looked just like you, Baloo. I saw him!”
Rebecca scurried down the central aisle, peering around shelves and
display cases. “Mais there is no one here now.” Inspector Deuseau’s shrewd eyes coolly took in every aspect of the store. Baloo
followed Rebecca as she frantically looked under shelves, over display
cases, around towers of baking pans, and through a row of cleavers
danging from the ceiling. “Maybe you’ve been out in the sun too long,
honey. Why don’t we go somewheres to cool down?” “I amcool!” Rebecca said indignantly, whirling around. “And I know what I
saw. You,” she jabbed him in the chest with her finger, “were outside,”
she pointed to the window; “and there was a man over there who looked exactly like you,” she gestured towards the counter, “and he was talking to that butler...” “Butler? What butler?” Baloo asked, scratching his head as he attempted to follow her train of thought. “The one who tried to murder you when you were a baron.” “H-H-Hans?”
Baloo gave a nervous glance around the store, at all the dangerous, not
to mention deadly, cutlery. His whole body tensed, as if he expected
Hans and Helga to swoop out of thin air, bearing down upon him with
their murderous weapons, as if he expected the floor to drop out from
underneath him. Without further delay, he put his paws on Rebecca’s
shoulders and steered her towards the door. “Baloo, we can’t leave!” she protested, digging in her heels. “He’s here! The thief!” “Good,”
Baloo said quietly as he tightened his grip on her squirming shoulders.
His vigilant eyes swept from side to side, expecting a surprise attack.
“Let that brutal butler an’ his weirdo wife douse his lights, not ours. We are outta here!” Baloo
and Rebecca were outside before the inspector made it to the door. Just
as he reached for the doorknob, he heard a faint ‘click’. He turned to
see a man behind the counter where there hadn’t been anyone a second
previously. His eyes narrowed and a hand crept up to his moustache as
he meditatively studied the man, who was rifling through papers on the
counter. When Hans discovered that he was being watched, he
hastily shoved the papers under the counter. In his overly suave voice,
the former butler asked, “May I help you find something, sir?” “Non. Not today.” When Deuseau walked outside, Baloo was saying, “It’s too dangerous, Becky.” “But it’s our chance to clear your name!” “You don’t understand. There’s chances an’ there’s chances. An’ some of ‘em just shouldn’t be took.” Arms
crossed, Rebecca snapped, “I understand perfectly. I understand that
you don’t believe me. You believe me, don’t you, inspector?” “Maybe, madame,” the canine policeman replied absently as he took a notebook out of his jacket pocket and jotted something down. “Ha!” Rebecca retorted, smirking triumphantly. “Or maybe not.” “Ha!” It was Baloo’s turn to smirk. Deuseau slipped the notebook into his pocket. “Mais, I do believe that we have a mission to complete at St. Lark’s Square. Come, we must go.” St. Lark’s Square A little while later, Inspector Deuseau, Baloo, and Rebecca disembarked the vaporetto and stepped into piazza at St. Lark’s Square. “It’s
so big,” Rebecca commented. While keeping an lookout for the Baloo
look-alike, her eyes panned around the buildings bordering the L-shaped
‘square’: the elaborate Doge’s Palace, the towering stone Campanile,
the golden-domed St. Lark’s Basilica, and two of Veniece’s museums. The
piazza was swarming with tourists, pigeons, vendors, and outdoor cafes.
Her head fairly swam with all the activity. “How are we supposed to know where this Dr. Quark is?” Baloo asked. Rebecca caught Baloo’s arm before he could wander over to a nearby gelato stand. “He’s not over there.” “How do you know?” Before
Rebecca could retort, a tour guide walked by with approximately twenty
tourists in tow. In a thick Italeean accent, she said, “The Campanile
was built in 912 A.D., then rebuilt stone by stone a thousand years
later after it toppled to the ground. In the 10th century, the bells
were rung, not only on the hour, but to signify...” “Bells!” Baloo and Rebecca exclaimed, sharing a look. The
inspector discreetly pulled the clue that the thief had dropped at Le
Laboratorie D’Atomique out of his pocket to consult it. The tour
guide continued, “There are hundreds of steps to reach the top of the
325 foot building, but not to worry, there is also an elevator.” A few of the tourists chuckled in relief as they followed the tour guide to their next destination. “If
the clue is correct, Dr. Quark will be at the top of the tower,” the
Inspector remarked. He stowed the scrap of paper in his pocket. “Then
I guess that’s where I’m headed.” Baloo tipped his head back to see the
Campanile. Even though the bell tower was a mere midget compared to
Khan Towers, the pointed peak still appeared to brush the clouds. “You have the envelope?” Deuseau asked peremptorily. “Roger that.” Baloo opened his jacket to reveal the manila envelope stowed in his vest pocket. “Bon. Deliver it to Dr. Quark.” “That’s it?” Baloo nervously tugged at the starched collar of his new shirt. “That’s all I gotta do?” “Oui. That’s it,” Inspector replied with a nod. “I don’t think I need remind you that the fate of the world depends on this.” Baloo gulped. “Then, please don’t.” “After you’ve completed your mission, return here.” His eyes narrowed as he added, “One thing. If you are the thief and attempt a double-cross, remember that when you are caught, years will be added to both of your jail sentences.” His serious gaze fell on Baloo and Rebecca alike. “Why am I going to jail? What did I do?” Rebecca cried. “You are his accomplice.” Fuming, Rebecca sputtered, “But...but...I...you...we...that man...in that store, the one with all the cooking stuff! He’s the real thief!” “Let it go, Becky. Let it go,” Baloo sighed in resignation. He turned to the inspector. “Can I talk to my wife for a sec?” Deuseau glanced at his watch before nodding. “Be quick about it.” Baloo took Rebecca by the arm and led her a few paces away. “Just say ‘I told you so’ and get it over with,” Rebecca said contritely. “If I hadn’t been so...so...” “Pigheaded?” Baloo supplied with a wink. Rebecca
winced. Her scheme to get rich by using a pig to hunt truffles was one
memory she’d like to forget. “I was going to say ‘discontented’.” With
her eyes fixed on the patterned pavement, she murmured, “None of this
would have happened if I hadn’t wanted to come here in the first place.
I-I’m sorry, Baloo.” “I ain’t.” Rebecca looked up at him in surprise. Baloo
gently took her hands in his. “I got to share the past coupla crazy
days with the only gal crazy enough to share ‘em with me.” “We’ll
also get to share prison sentences if this Dr. Quark doesn’t show up.”
Her chin trembling, she continued, “You heard the inspector. He still
doesn’t believe you’re innocent. We’ll be locked away in separate jail
cells and we’ll never see each other again. And who will take care of
the kids and Higher for Hire and...?” “Easy. Easy...” Baloo
crooned, squeezing her hands comfortingly. “We’ll get this mess
straightened out, sweetheart. Besides, who’ll you nag if I ain’t
around?” Looking deeply into his eyes, Rebecca could see the fear
under the bravado. Because she didn’t want to undermine his resolve,
she set her jaw and swallowed her tears. “If you screw this up and land
us both in jail, I’m going to strangle you!” Baloo laughed, a little nervously, as he enfolded her in his warm embrace. “Yes, sir, boss lady.” Just then, the Inspector cleared his throat delicately, yet unmistakably. “It is almost 3:00.” “I’m
just gonna zip in, deliver the package, an’ zip out. What could go
wrong?” Baloo tenderly caressed Rebecca’s cheek before he turned on his
heel and started towards the Campanile. “Everything,” Rebecca whispered as she anxiously watching him disappear into the crowd. The
powerful bell, tolling three times, sounded like a death knell to
Baloo. He walked faster, doggedly, across the piazza, his stomach in a
knot. Upon reaching the Campanile, Baloo squeezed into the
elevator packed with a group of chattering, happy tourists. He wished
that he shared their care-free spirits. “Wait for us!” shouted a
hippo woman racing across the piazza. Running beside her was her crane
husband, his cameras bouncing against his chest with every step. Baloo held the door for them. “Oh, thank you, sir,” Elmira puffed as she and Lester squeezed into the already bulging elevator. “Is this your first time in Veniece?” Elmira asked Baloo as the door shut and the elevator began its ascent. “No, I...” “It is ours, isn’t that right, Lester?” “Yes, dear.” His camera flashed in Baloo’s face. Baloo blinked the spots out of his eyes. “Lester and I just love traveling. It’s been our lifelong dream to see the world. Have you traveled much?” Click! Baloo blinked furiously. “I, uh...” “If you haven’t been to Pearee, I highly recommend it. Very romantic, isn’t it, Lester, dear?” Elmira gushed. “Yes, dear.” Click! “Oh, here we are at the top,” Elmira remarked after the elevator door opened. “Nice talking to you.” “Yeah.”
Dazed, Baloo stumbled out of the elevator and was swept out onto the
observatory room with the tide of tourists eager to see the 360 degree
view of Veniece. He jostled his way through the crowd to an empty
space at one of the huge windows. The breeze whistling through the open
archways cooled his skin, but didn’t cool his nerves. Gazing down over
the piazza, he wondered which of the minuscule figures walking around
below were Rebecca and the inspector. Baloo nearly jumped out of his skin when a low voice beside him said, “Good afternoon, Herr von Bruinwald.” Baloo
turned to see...nobody. Then, he happened to look down. An ugly toad,
his stout figure encased in ugly mustard-brown suit which made his
sickly green skin look even more sallow, was standing there, staring up
at him. Thick spectacles magnified the bulging eyes of Dr. Illian Quark. It’s an illian wind that blows no good, Baloo thought, repulsed by the toad’s appearance. “Did you bring the papers?” Dr. Quark asked, concluding his question with an odd, rasping laugh. Baloo nodded. Silently, he handed the envelope to the toad. Dr.
Quark opened the flap and peeked inside. “Very good.” He closed the
envelope’s flap with a nasty, crooked smile. “Very, very good. A
pleasure doing business with you, Herr...” He was interrupted by a deep, gravelly voice saying, “Gutentag, Dr. Quark.” Oh, man...! His heart sinking, Baloo slowly turned to face a mirror image of himself. Baloo
and Baldrik were identical except for the rings they wore: one had a
gold band, the other, a gold signet ring inscribed with the Swatzi
symbol. I guess Becky was right, Baloo thought, his heart threatening to jump into his throat. There really are two of me, uh, I mean, us. Dr. Quark was visibly agitated. “What? There are twoof you?” His bulging eyes shifted between Baloo and Baldrik, then
between the envelope in Baldrik’s hands to the envelope that he held. “Hello, cousin,” Baldrik said in a low, unpleasant voice as he slipped a meaty hand inside his jacket. “Cousin?” Baloo yelped. “Surely you noticed the family resemblance,” Baldrik said, his voice thick with sarcasm. Baloo gulped and nodded. His eyes were glued to the hand concealed inside Baldrik’s jacket. “I’m going to make you a proposition, cousin. Would you like to hear it?” Baloo licked his lips nervously. “Shoot. Uh, I mean...!” “What is this? What is going on, Baldrik?” Dr. Quark interjected. “A double-cross,” Baldrik snarled. He advanced, forcing Baloo back towards the window ledge. Baloo,
who was now sweating profusely, peeked over his shoulder at the
windowless window. He didn’t like what he saw. It was a straight shot
several stories down to the pavement. All it would take was one step
too many, and he would be street pizza. What a time to be without my Sea Duck. There was only one thing Baloo could think to do. He grabbed both envelopes, pushed past Baldrik, and dashed through the crowd, shouting over his shoulder, “No, this is a double-cross!” Baloo heard Dr. Quark yell, “Stop!” as he barreled through the door marked ‘STAIRS’. “I’ll catch him,” Baldrik said, starting towards the open elevator. “You haveto see this, mister!” Elmira said, grabbing Baldrik by the arm and
leading him towards the window, away from the elevator in the middle of
the room. “Let go!” Baldrik shouted, trying and failing to wrench himself away from her vice-like grasp. “Let go of me, you...you...!” Click! Click! Click! Click! Lester snapped picture after picture right in Baldrik’s face, temporarily blinding him. “He’s getting away! He’s getting away!” Dr. Quark squeaked. He jumped up and down in agitation. “I
know! I know!” Baldrik shouted, livid. Through the spots obstructing
his vision, he saw that the elevator had already begun its descent. He
couldn’t afford to waste time waiting for it to return. “Gestopftes!”
He clawed’s Elmira’s hand away from his arm and stormed towards the
door marked ‘STAIRS’. In his anger, the big bear punched the door,
causing it to splinter at the hinges, and thundered down the stairs.
“You can run, cousin, but you can’t hide!” “Uh-oh! Here comes my
identical kin,” Baloo murmured, hastening his speed as he pelted down
the seemingly never-ending spiral staircase. To make matters worse, Baldrik was firing his gun at him. Why didn’t I take the elevator? Baloo thought, trying to duck and run at the same time. When
Baloo reached the bottom, his legs felt like jelly. Panting and
slightly dizzy, he pushed open the door and was greeted by a blast of
hot summer sun. He sped across the piazza, towards the canals and
a means of escape, paying no attention to the people feeding pigeons,
taking pictures, following tour guides, or sipping beverages at the
cafes. His mind was consumed with another problem. What to do with them papers so’s double-trouble don’t get ‘em if he gets me? Just
then, he spotted café tables that were shaded by bright yellow
umbrellas with flat tops. Without slowing, he tossed both envelopes on
top of an umbrella and continued on towards the canals. “Baloo?” Rebecca said as a grey blur resembling her husband zoomed past her. A moment later, Baldrik ran by. “Baloo?” Incredulously, Inspector Deuseau exclaimed, “Two of them?” “Now do you believe me?” Seeing
Dr. Quark trotting their way in his odd, waddling gait, Rebecca cried,
“Oh, no, you don’t!” and swung her purse at the physicist’s head. The
squat toad fell to the pavement like a ton of bricks. Deuseau was impressed. “If I may ask, madame, what do you have in there?” Rebecca reached into her bag and retrieved a lead paperweight shaped like the Eyeful Tower. “Vive la Pearee,” the inspector chuckled. “Good work,” a voice said behind them. Rebecca and Deuseau spun around in time to see Lester clicking handcuffs on Dr. Quark. “Who...what...?” Rebecca faltered. Their touristy costumes were a stark contrast to their serious expressions. “Agent Thompson. Agent Thompson.” They both flashed their official badges. In a business-like tone, Elmira said, “We’re with the O.S.S.S.” “O.S.S.S?” Inspector Deuseau and Rebecca echoed simultaneously. “The Office of Super Secret Spies,” Lester supplied. “We’ll
explain on the way. Right now, we have a thief to capture.” Elmira
slung the unconscious Dr. Quark over her shoulder and ran towards the
docks with everyone else close behind. She jumped into a speedboat and
unceremoniously plunked the physicist down on the bottom of the boat.
Lester, Rebecca, and the inspector scrambled into the boat moments
before the engine revved up and sped away. Over the noise of the
engine and the rushing wind, Elmira said, “As soon as we’d heard that
Dr. Bonet and his associates were creating an atomic bomb, we knew that
the Swatzis would want to get their greedy hands on it.” “And now
we have the proof we need,” Lester pointed to his cameras; “as well as
the scientific link.” He gestured to Dr. Quark lying unconscious, a
large goose egg growing on his forehead. “Don’t worry, Mrs. von
Bruinwald, we’ll clear your husband’s name.” At Rebecca’s startled
expression, Elmira smiled mysteriously. “Yes, we know who you are.” I only wish that I could know everything that was going on, Rebecca thought. One glance at the inspector and she knew that he was thinking the same thing. Meanwhile... Baloo
was also racing through the canals of Veniece in a speedboat. Glancing
over his shoulder, he noticed that Baldrik, also in a speedboat, was
gaining on him. I can’t shake this guy! Baloo pushed
up the throttle, causing the boat to skim faster over the murky canal,
throwing a bigger wall of water in its wake. His tongue protruded in
concentration as he zigged and zagged around gondolas, vaporetti,
and speedboats. Buildings sped past in a multi-colored blur. Bridges
flashed above him for a second, then were gone in the blink of an eye. When
he dared to glance over his shoulder again, he saw that Baldrik was a
mere boat-length behind. Baloo increased the throttle again, causing
the engine to roar louder. “All I wanted was a nice, relaxin’...” he
made a sharp right turn, thus temporarily throwing Baldrik off his
trail, “--- honeymoon. Get in a little R&R - my two favorite
letters,” he dodged around a gondola; “and here I am bein’ chased by
some evil twin cousin. What else can go wrong?” As if in answer
to his question, the motor coughed and sputtered. “Come on, baby!”
Baloo urged, tapping the gas gauge. “‘E’ means ‘enough’, don’t it?” The boat drifted a little before coming to a stop. “Guess not.” Just then, he heard the sound of an approaching speedboat. “Uh-oh!” Baloo murmured, whirling in his seat. A
big grey bear was flying through the air towards him. Before he had
time to react, Baloo had been tackled, pinned to the speedboat’s deck. “Where are the papers?” Baldrik snarled in Baloo’s ear. “Go fish!” Baloo growled. With a grunt of exertion, he threw Baldrik off of him and into the canal. “Ha!” “He
who laughs last, laughs best, cousin.” Baldrik tipped the boat over,
causing Baloo to fall into the water with a gigantic splash. Before he knew what was happening, Baloo found his head being forced under the water. “Give
me the envelopes!” Baldrik demanded, shoving Baloo’s head underwater
again. When he let his spluttering cousin up, he repeated, “The
envelopes for your life.” “My...cough, cough...my life? Wha...what about all them folks’ lives you’re...cough...you’re gonna rub out with that...gah!...bomb?” Baloo gasped. He clawed at Baldrik’s hand, which was now squeezing his neck. “That should be the least of your worries right now,” Baldrik said coolly, gradually tightening his grip. In
a constricted, scratchy voice, Baloo said, “The only...good
thing...about that bomb...is that it’ll rid the world of all
the...Swatzi scum...like you.” “How dare you, cousin!” Baldrik spluttered, enraged. He put both hands around Baloo’s neck and squeezed as hard as he could. Red
swam before Baloo’s eyes. With every passing second, he felt
consciousness slipping away from him. However, his cousin’s words had
stung him to life. Mustering up the last bit of strength he had, he
aimed a punch at Baldrik. “Don’t.” Punch! “Call.” Punch! “Me.” Punch! “Cousin.” Punch! With the final punch, Baldrik let go his grasp and clutched his stomach, wheezing in pain. Baloo swam towards the shore, gasping out, “As far as I’m concerned, we ain’t related!” The
speedboat with Lester, Elmira, Rebecca, and Inspector Deuseau showed up
just as Baloo crawled out of the canal. Baldrik grabbed his heels in an
attempt to draw him back into the water, but Baloo kicked him off,
causing Baldrik to fly backwards into the canal with an angry, “Aaargh!” The inspector and the two O.S.S.S agents drew their firearms. “No! Don’t shoot!” Rebecca shouted, throwing herself in front of the guns. “You might hit Baloo.” “Which one is he, madame?” said the inspector. Fists
flew as the equally matched, drenched bears were slugging it out on the
slippery shore. Neither of them showed signs of giving up. Her heart pounding, Rebecca watched the fight, looking for a distinguishing characteristic - anything - which would point out which of the two fighting bears was her husband. She only had one chance. Her
eyes lit up with recognition as one bear pulled his opponent’s jacket
over his head, then yanked his opponent’s arms out of his sleeves and
tied them together behind his back, thus creating a sort of a
straightjacket. It was one of the fighting techniques that Baloo had
been teaching Kit - despite her protests. “The one on the right!” “You are sure?” “Yes!” I think... But before they could arrest anyone, Baloo had kicked Baldrik into the canal with a disdainful, “You’re all washed up, cuz.” The ‘cuz’ dispelled all doubts about Baloo’s identity in Rebecca’s mind. “Baloo!” Rebecca said happily, running over to hug him. “The
one an' only,” Baloo said, grinning. “Got a special delivery for ya,
Inspector. ‘Fraid the package is a little on the soggy side, though.” Elmira
dredged a dripping Baldrik out of the canal and Lester clapped
handcuffs on him. As he was led away, Baldrik shouted muffled curses in
German. “I’ll bet ya $23.80 that Baldrik and Dr. Quarky get a nice, long time in jail.” Deuseau said, “I will personally ensure that.” “I’m so proud of you, Baloo. But what happened to the envelopes?” “I
tossed ‘em on top of...of...a-a-a-a-choo! Top of the umbrellas in the
courtyard at St. Lark’s Square. A-a-a-a-a-a-choo!” He sniffled and ran
the back of his sopping arm across his nose. “You wouldn’t happen to
have a souvenir towel on ya, would ya, Becky?” “You want
to buy a souvenir?” Rebecca took off her cardigan and used it to mop
his face. She peered at him with mock-suspicion. “I’m not sure you’re
Baloo, after all.” St. Lark’s Square Baloo,
standing on tiptoe, retrieved the envelopes from atop the umbrella
where he had tossed them and gave them to the inspector. With a
satisfied smile, Deuseau secreted them in his jacket pocket. “What was in my envelope, anyhoo? The one I was supposed to give to Ol’ Quarky?” “I
asked Dr. Bonet to write up a set of plans similar to the ones that he
and his colleagues had developed, but with one crucial element missing
so that the Swatzis wouldn’t realize the bomb wouldn’t work until
they’d spent a lot of time and money on it.” “Hey, that’s what I call usin’ your head.” “Ingénieux!” Rebecca exclaimed. “It was nothing,” he said with a modest shrug. “Monsieur, madame, I thank you. The world thanks you.” He then kissed a very surprised, and disgusted, Baloo on both cheeks. Baloo wiped his face with a frown. “Yuck! Thanks, but no thanks!” After
the inspector had kissed Rebecca on both cheeks, he smiled at her and
said, “How do you say? The old dog is not too old to learn a new trick?
I will follow with my heart as well as with my nose next time. Alors, I will return to Pearee and let you honeymooners get on with your honeymooning. Toujours l’amour.” As a parting gesture, he touched his moustache and winked at them.“Au revoir.” “Adios, to you, too, Inspector.” “Oh,
I almost forgot.” Inspector dug a set of keys out of a pocket and
tossed them to Baloo. “So that your arms are not tired after you fly
home.” Baloo tucked the keys into his pocket. “That joke was a joke.” “Takes one to know one.” Rebecca smirked, prompting a frown of annoyance from Baloo. Rebecca
slipped her arm through her husband’s as they watched the inspector
disappear into the crowd. “After all we had to go through with him
during the past couple of days, the inspector really was a nice man.” Baloo wiped traces of spit from his face. “A bit too French-i-fied if ya ask me.” As they strolled through the crowded piazza towards the docks and a vaporetto, pigeons parted before them. “You know, Baloo, you and Baldrik are alike in more ways than one.” “How’s that?” “You look exactly alike and you’re both thieves.” Baloo exclaimed, “What? I ain’t no thief!” “Sure you are.” She coquettishly glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “You stole my heart.” He grinned and squeezed her hand that was resting on his arm. “Now, that’s a thing worth stealin’.” That Night As Baloo helped Rebecca into a gondola, he said, “There’s been one thing buggin’ me today, Beckers.” “Only one thing?” Rebecca said, gingerly putting one foot into the unsteady gondola. “Ha. Ha. Durin’ the fight, how could ya tell which was me? I mean, me an’ my long-lost cousin Baldrik look exactitutely alike.” “It
was easy,” Rebecca replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she
settled herself on the bench in the back of the boat. “There’s only one
Baloo.” The big bear grinned. Her answer had pleased him
immensely. “You better believe it.” When he stepped into the gondola,
the sudden shift in weight caused it to tip, flipping the gondolier
into the canal with a “Whoooooa!” and a splash. Rebecca giggled. “And it’s a good thing, too.” “Would you have it any other way?” Baloo said softly, drawing her close to him in his embrace. Instead of wasting words, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. For
a few moments, the two love bears were oblivious to the spluttering of
the soaked gondolier as he pulled himself back into the boat, the
distant strains of O Solo Mio, even the beauty of the gibbous moon reflected on the rippling water. The End
part 2
Police Station Darkroom
Two Hours Later
Later That Day
Pearee Police Station
Veniece, Italee
part 3
Monday
Midnight
Three Hours Later
6:00 A.M.
part 4
12:30 P.M.
3:00 PM