Rangers of the Lost Car-park
Chapter 3
By: Stainless Steel Rat
Chip was already acting. “Zipper! The door…” But the fly was already on it, zipping across the kitchen to the door that lead to the loading bay. He landed on the deadbolt, and with a burst of super-insectoid strength, pushed it home a fraction of a second before the handle started rattling.
The rabbit who’d caused the trouble had backed up enough to stick his head out of the duct and apologise, asking if there was anything he could do.
“No, just get your people outta there before the praline brain tries to send in hamsters that way!” Chip called back.
Marion exclaimed, from where she stood with her grandpa. “Are you completely crazy? That’s our only chance to get out of this trap!”
Chip was moving from the doorway into the kitchen, glancing around. “Not completely. There’s always a chance, as long as one can think.”
“Well think fast, because the incredible bulk may not be much use for anything else, but he’s got the mass for a battering ram.” To punctuate her words, there was a thud from the door as something heavy hit it, knocking Zipper off his perch. He came flying back.
“Already done. It’s called contingency planning. You think I was just admiring the view up top? I need your help to set it up though.” He turned to the older mouse, who was walking a bit stiffly. “Mr Ravenwood…”
“Call me Arthur, old chap. Everyone does.”
“… okay, Arthur, could you get over to the far side of the door? We’ll need to move fast…”
“Now wait half a mo’, I may not be at the top of my game, but I want to help!”
Chip paused less than a second before saying, “Very well, you and Zipper, find some twine, anything as long as there’s at least 12 feet of it. And we need one of those trolleys.…” He pointed to where a number of skateboards were parked, with soda can ring-pulls glued on as mouse sized hand holds. “… over there.” Both things had the advantage of being light, or at least easy to move, and essential to his plan.
He started climbing a ladder that lead to a central table. “Marion, I need you up here.”
“Care to explain…”
“No time!”, he was halfway up the ladder by then.
Sugarbottom had been working on something special, a carved chocolate block bust of himself, and there were also several other things, some sort of drying machine run from a nitrogen cylinder that stood on the far side of the table, and a workstation where some of the workers had been dusting chocolates with icing sugar before packing them into boxes.
Marion had followed him up. “So what are we… whoa!”
Chip had the electric carving knife held in both paws like a chainsaw. He saw her pop up, and said, “Don’t worry, just go over and get the sieve, a chocolate mould tray, and one of those boxes of chocolates.”
“All at once?”
“Any way you like.” He’d moved over to where the nitrogen cylinder stood on a wheeled stand. Unlike a scuba cylinder, the valve on it was a simple one-way affair, pushed open when the hose connector was firmly screwed on. The connector fitting had a mini-pressure gauge and a lever that operated the valve. He checked the pressure then used the carving knife as a lever to flick the valve lever to ‘Off’.
Chip checked that Zipper and Arthur were nowhere near then powered it up and hacked away the hose, cutting it just above the fitting on the side facing the exterior door. The residual gas spurted out of the hose, rocking the cylinder, and a final swing with the carving knife severed the hose and tipped the cylinder over to clang to the floor, base facing the door on which Sugarbottom was still banging.
Marion came back pushing the box of chocolates, well half a box, and the other things on top. She wiped a smear of chocolate from her mouth somewhat self consciously under his gaze, and said, “Look, I have a very high metabolic rate, alright? And the box was too heavy as it was…”
“Whatever, there should still be enough.” He looked down to where Arthur was pushing the skateboard into place underneath them, with Zipper directing. A big ball of decorative ribbon sat on it. He called down. “Perfect! Stand well back!”
He waited, until they were out of the way, then pushed the mold and the sieve off the edge. They landed on top of the skateboard. “Okay guys, make sure the sieve is on the skateboard and facing up.”
Marion looked puzzled, “I still don’t see…”
“You will.” He grabbed hold of one end of the box. “Help me tip these over the side, into the sieve.”
The chocolates poured over the edge and, mostly, into the sieve. Zipper, holding onto the handle with Arthur suddenly perked up as he saw what Chip was up to, or at least some of it.
“Okay, we’re coming down.”, Chip called. “Unroll the string and attach one end to the table leg." He looked towards the door, holding up his paws as if framing it. Marion could hear him muttering. “… about seven feet and a pressure of 3000 PSI…”
Under his supervision, a long ribbon was strung between the rear of the skateboard under-carriage and the table leg, and a three foot long ribbon between the front under-carriage and the neck of the cylinder. The sieve was attached to the skateboard as well, tip of the handle to the front grips, base of the handle by some slack ribbon to the middle. Finally the straps that held the cylinder to the frame were released. Sugarbottom had stopped banging, and started thinking, as they heard him tell one of his martial minions to radio some of the troops back.
This took a lot less time than it does to tell, and while they were doing it, Chip gave final instructions. “Arthur, Marion, get over by the far side of the door, and when you see a chance to run to the vehicle bay, do it. The car at the end should have a full charge. Use the mold as a shield if any of the goons have those rifles. I’ll join you as soon as possible.”
“But what about Sugarbottom?” Marion asked as they started to walk.
“He _won’t_ be a problem. Zipper?” The fly zoomed off, first to douse the lights, and then draw back the deadbolt. The noise attracted attention from outside, and after a few seconds the handle turned. Sugarbottom stood framed in the lit doorway, peering into the darkened shop.
Chip turned a handle too, and the gas started jetting out of the nitrogen cylinder, which took off like a rocket aimed straight at the rapacious rotund reprobate. Chip bounded up onto the skateboard just as it started to move, towed by the improvised booster. He hung on to the ribbons, making slight adjustments in course by shifting his weight. The cylinder hit Sugarbottom right in his spare (tractor) tyre and carried him flying backwards.
Chip was meanwhile scanning the ground outside the door for the goons he’d seen. Three were in a group, and one was over by a radio. He shifted to one side and aimed the nose of the skateboard right at the group of hamsters. As it reached the threshold of the door, the rope connecting it to the table went taut and it stopped with a jerk, flipping the sieve up like a catapult and when it reached just short of vertical it was stopped by the restraints, transferring all the momentum to the chocolate assortment it carried.
They sleeted out in a shower, pelting the three high ranking hamsters. One got a hard centre to the head and fell over. Another was hit by a face full of caramel and rolled over as he tried to clear the goo away. The third swallowed a chocolate covered coffee bean and just plain keeled over.
Meanwhile, the cylinder had also pulled up short, letting Sugarbottom fly off the end and land heavily against the far wall. His poundage acted as a natural cushion, but he was still slumped against the far wall, unconscious after his close encounter of the compressed kind.
Chip had unfortunately been thrown off the front of the skateboard when it stopped, and did a tumble off to land prone. The hamster on the radio had seen him, and turned, picking up a gas ring lighter shock prod. He stormed over to the fallen chipmunk. “You will pay for vat you has done!” he yelled, jabbing out with it. Chip frantically rolled to one side, barely evading the wild thrust.
Fortunately, Zipper arrived, buzzing around the guy's head and distracting him. As Chip scrambled up, Marion ran over, and used the metal chocolate mold tray rather differently than it was originally intended. Clang! The radio-operator certainly made an impression, in the tray, that is. As she came back and helped Arthur get to the jeep, Zipper had sped ahead and unplugged it from the charger, slamming closed the boot, which was also the battery compartment.
“Get ready to move!” Chip had picked up the shock prod and used it on the radio antennae of the walkie-talkies, and jammed it in the boot of the other two jeeps, frying the circuits. Now they couldn’t talk, or follow. The other vehicles were heavier, but used the same power train, so they’d never catch up. He jumped into the drivers seat, which Zipper had kept clear. He flew forward to take up the hood ornament position, Marion was in the passenger seat, and Arthur was in the rear instead of a walkie-talkie. Chip gunned the motor and the lightly loaded jeep took off as if its tail were on fire.
Someone, most probably caramel-kopf, got his act together. A bullet pinged off the back of the jeep, cracking the hard plastic. But then they were clear of the loading bay and heading down the service road and through the construction zone..
“Nicely done, old boy!” called out Mr Ravenfur from behind. “That was using the old noggin.”
Chip smirked as he navigated round the construction site to get on the road to the Orange section car park. “Please, call me Chip. It was a simple application of Guttamechs Law of Opposing Forces in Motion…” Actually helping out Gadget in her workshop, and getting to know that part of her life, had resulted in some unexpected benefits.
Marion asked, “Why didn’t you use the ribbon to repair your grapnel rope, and get us out the ventilator?”
“Broken glass. Even if we’d tried to lay a path through that wrecked stuff, we’d have been on foot and limping. What with that, and hauling up you and Arthur one by one, it wouldn’t have been any faster, and we might have met hamsters in the shaft. This was a more complex plan, but offered greater advantages…”
Marion pointed at the rear view mirror. “And do you have a plan for them?”
Chip saw an entire convoy come round a half built raised border from a side road, and shook his head. “Uh huh. In a situation like this, you generally have to improvise.” He could keep ahead of them, but he couldn’t lose them, the jeeps at least, until their power ran down.
He saw what he was sure was the dividing wall between this and the Orange section, a raised border three foot high. From the glimpse he’d gotten going the other way, hanging from the Rangerwing, it was at least eight foot across, and still empty all the way down, having not yet been filled with soil. Not much use… until he saw a plank, clearly a way for them to move wheelbarrows full of soil up to the edge. He skidded round, and drove away from it, pulling into a bootlegger turn.
Marion blanched. “Oh no… You can _not_ be thinking…”
“Oh yes, I am.” Chip said, ramming the speed lever all the way forward and causing the tyres to smoke. “Make sure your seatbelts are secure, and your seat backs and tray tables are in the full, upright position.”
As they went up the ramp, Marion hunched down in her seat, whereas Arthur was grinning like a thief. The convoy reached the base of the ramp just as Chip’s jeep left the top, one of the other jeeps ramming it in an attempt to stop them. All it did was knock the plank down.
Chip’s jeep sailed across the cavity with a long, drawn out squeak from Marion. The rear wheels caught on the rim at the far side, and gave them the last little bit of impulse to arc down onto the tarmac of the Orange section car-park. Chip gave a sigh of relief.
“Well, from the layout, it’ll take them at least 10 minutes to go around, and by that time we’ll be long gone… oh no…” They had clearly managed to replace the plank, and one of the other jeeps could be seen by it’s headlights, arcing over the gap. However, the weight of the radio in the back made it slightly too heavy, and it disappeared below the retaining wall. There was a thump as one of the bricks in it slid half a width outwards. All four occupants of Chip’s jeep winced in unison.
“Ohhh… That’s gonna leave a mark.” Chip exclaimed.
“Looks like it has already old chap… sorry, Chip.” replied Arthur lightly, pointing at the brick.
He drove off at a more leisurely pace, and came to a stop under the sign for the Orange section car-park. He exhaled sharply, and said in a relieved tone. “Whoo! That was a close one. I hope you didn’t mind the rough ride…”
Arthur chipped in, “Nonsense, Chip. I haven’t had such fun in years. An excellent escape, and chauffeur driven too!”
Chip preened a bit at the praise. “It’s what I do.” Zipper buzzed sharply and Chip quickly amended, “…what _we_ do. Sorry Zipper, I couldn’t have done it without you, you know that.”
Marion had been silent the whole drive. Now she spoke. “I still can’t believe we got away with it! _You_ are the craziest chipmunk I ever knew!”
Chip grinned, “So Foxy’s never actually _introduced_ you to Dale…”
She turned to look at him, something glittering in her eyes. “You could have just walked, but you helped me… and got grandfather and all the others out just like you said… and managed to escape…”
“All in a day’s, I mean evening’s work...!” The words were choked off as Marion leaned over, took his face in her paws, and kissed him enthusiastically enough that he could tell she liked chocolate orange cremes. Zipper took one look and rolled over on his back, on the cowling, buzzing with laughter. Chip felt the buzzing in his ears get louder as the kiss went on…
No it wasn’t buzzing, it was the twin rotors of the Rangerwing, in hover mode. The searchlight shone down on the car.
Monty’s voice was welcome. “Hey Chippah! We’re back to collect you!”
Zipper took off from the front cowling and zipped up to Monty’s seat with a glad cry… well buzz, but it meant the same thing. “Zmonty!”
“But if you’re busy, we can come back another time…”, Dale’s voice was less so, especially since Chip’s fellow chipmunk continued, “…you sly dog you!”
Gadget’s voice floated down. “Golly Chip, who are your new friends?”
Marion released him. Chip gave a little sigh, then did something that made all his other feats that night look simple. He smiled.
“This is Miss Marion Ravenfur, a friend of Foxglove’s, and Mr Arthur Ravenfur, her father. Marion, Arthur, I’d like you to meet my friends, the Rescue Rangers.”
&&&
It hadn’t been comfortable, but the Rangerwing had carried them all back to Ranger HQ. It was past 10 when they arrived, but despite the hour, the other three Rangers were eager to hear what their fearless leader and the heroic fly had been up to. They sat around the kitchen table with snacks, a big jug of hot cocoa, and a bunch of Gadget’s insulated thimble mugs. Arthur’s leg had been tended to as soon as they could reach a medical kit.
Chip, with occasional additions from Marion and Zipper told the tale, this time giving credit where it was due. Then Marion explained, at Chip’s request, how she’d gotten involved. It appeared that she’d originally been picked up as part of a random sweep for workers, which explained how she’d ended up in the detention room. However, Sugarbottom might be unscrupulous, and more than a little cracked, but he wasn’t stupid. He quickly noticed her resemblance to Arthur and worked out they were related.
The two of them had been escorted across the road, to a pit that lead down into Wonti’s workshop cellar, and from there to the work area. The room that was supposed to be the resting place of the Ark was buried. Sugarbottom had brought the gob stopper with him, and had held it in front of him, basically threatening Marion, if Arthur didn’t tell him what he was missing.
Arthur had bravely pretended to be on the verge of saying something, then knocked the gob-stopper to Marion, and slammed into a nearby hoist to spill it’s load and make a diversion. That was what had gotten him the injured leg. Marion had played in these tunnels when she was younger, and managed to evade her pursuers. She’d arrived on the surface, and was still getting her bearings when the goons arrived.
Monty was first to speak. “Sounds loike you ‘ad Sugarbottom goin’ in circles even before Chippah got to you. I still can’t believe that Sugarbritches bloke is poking ‘is oversized nose around ‘ere.”
“I can’t believe I’m meeting someone who knew the great Willy Wonti personally!”, exclaimed Dale. He pulled out a neatly folded candy wrapper and proffered it to Arthur. “Couldya autograph this? It’s from that limited edition triple choc Wonkybar.”
As Arthur, slightly bemused, signed his name, Gadget was speaking to Chip. “I liked the bit where you built that rocket catapult. An interesting use of Guttamech’s principle.”
“I owe it all to you.” answered Chip, looking pleased all the same. “I just did what you always described, did what I could with the materials at hand. I figured the gas jet had enough thrust to power it.”
“You might have been able to amplify the force using an aerospike configuration… but I can see you were short on time.”
Marion looked back and forth between them, as they discussed the technical aspects of the escape. She was figuring out that there was a lot there that wasn’t being said. ’I wonder if Foxglove has noticed?’ she thought. Under other circumstances she might have had a go at seeing what else that kiss she gave Chip could lead too, but it was obvious the blonde mouse had a connection with the chipmunk detective that went beyond teaching him.
Arthur chuckled. “I always told Harry that too much sampling the wares would give him gas, but that wasn’t the way I meant it.”
“Don’t you mean Heinrich, mate?”
Arthur shook his head at Monty’s question. “Putting on a fake accent and that ridiculous costume doesn’t make him a great German chocolate-meister, any more than stealing Mr Wonti’s secrets made him a British one. Harry Sugarbottom was originally apprenticed to Mr Sugarbottom back in England. You wouldn’t believe it, but he was a skinny young fellow.
“He wanted the acclaim, and wealth, of being a great candy-man, without actually working too hard for it. He was always pushing Willy to reveal his latest inventions as soon as they were created. But Mr Wonti was a perfectionist, and wouldn’t reveal anything until he’d gotten it absolutely right.
“Eventually, Sugarbottom had enough of waiting, and absconded with half a dozen ideas that Wonti was still testing. He took them to a German company and presented them as his own. He clearly knew enough to fake it, and got a job on the strength of it. Of course, since Mr Wonti wouldn’t reveal a project until it was finished, he had no way to prove they were stolen. Not that it did him any good in the long run.”
Chip nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Down in South America he was going on about how his bosses got fat on the profits, not him.”
He paused for a moment, then went on. “He was saying something about a two day time limit before the tunnel was filled in, and without slave workers he’s going to be at a big disadvantage. And since I wrecked his machine, in the next couple of days, his hamsters will wake up and wonder what the heck they’ve been doing. The question now is, do we go after this Ark ourselves, and deny him access to it, or do we let it be buried?”
Dale was first to pipe up, his eyes shiny. “We gotta go after the Ark! A new flavor of chocolate… Wonti’s last invention…”
Chip put in. “Hold on Dale, Mr Ravenfur has the veto on this. Wonti left him the gob-stopper that supposedly holds the location.”
Arthur spoke up. “He wanted me to find a true candy aficionado, someone he could trust to carry on his legacy. He said only someone like that could find the Ark. But you’re welcome to try. If those tunnels are filled in, it’ll be lost forever. Marion?”
Marion produced a white, smooth gob-stopper and placed it on the table. It had tiny black writing on it.
“From my door,
Go 100 paces, and 100 more.
Turn left and walk,
Until your way splits, then take the left fork.
Find the third door on your right,
You will find the secret inside.”
Everyone contemplated it for a moment, then Gadget said. “Golly, it sounds easy enough. Why haven’t they found it yet?”
Marion shrugged. “The corridor was blocked with rubble, and so was the chamber behind the third door when they got to it. They were digging away at it, but even with moles and toy diggers it was heavy going. Besides, I’m sure that cave-in was recent, and before that it was just an empty chamber. When I was younger… I could be wrong, but I don’t think I am. Not that I was telling Sugarbottom anything.”
Chip paced and pondered, writing the rhyme in his notebook. “Maybe there’s some sort of secret hidden in the words, an acrostic or anagram. Fgtufy… Rekkte… Arthur, was Mr Wonti fond of crosswords, or anything?”
The black rat shook his head. “Not really. Poetry, yes, and puns, but not word games.”
Gadget piped up. “It could be he left some sort of chemical clue in the composition… I can do some analysis work…” She looked back at the table, where the gob-stopper was… had been.
Marion gave out a squeak, then yelled “Put that back at once!” She bounced up to reach across the table, and caught her knee, forcing her to sit down rather suddenly, rubbing it. She was looking at Dale, who’s expression of innocence was rather spoilt by the gob-stopper sized bulge in one cheek pouch.
“Mwut dw yu meam?” he said, somewhat indistinctly.
“The gob-stopper you’ve got in your mouth, you sugar-happy… Dale!” Chip’s first reaction would have been the same as Marion’s, but she’d beaten him to it. He was thinking, ‘Urge to bonk rising… I will not bonk him… I will not bonk him… no matter how much he deserves it…’
He managed to cool down, and managed to bring himself under control, mainly thanks to Marion’s bad example. Then a thought struck him. “Of course! That might be the answer! Dale, I need to see it!”
Dale reluctantly spat the shiny blue gob-stopper into his paw. The original writing had been sucked off with the white outer shell. However, on the inner shell, were more words.
“So you found the secret inside,
This gob-stopper, where it did hide,
Now you’ve had some exercise,
Make your steps go counter-wise,
Back to that fork they lead,
But the right fork is the one you need,
Watch the left wall, for my mark,
Which really will reveal all.”
Chip smacked a balled paw into another. “Why didn’t I see it! What would a true fan of candy do with a gob-stopper? He’d eat it of course, or rather suck it. No wonder the German goober’s… well whatever he is, no wonder he hasn’t found anything, he’s looking in the wrong place!”
Dale tried to look thoughtful, but ended up looking constipated instead. “Uh… I knew it all along!”
There was a massed expression along the lines of, ‘Who does he think he’s fooling?’ Chip shook his head. “Riiight… You just keep telling yourself that…” He wrote the second verse in his notebook.
Dale looked downcast, “Okay… but it’s a Wonti original! And Chip’d made his notes. I just wanted to have a taste! And it was so worth it, it’s one of the best gob-stoppers I’ve ever had!” He made an attempt to dry it off with the cuff of his Hawaiian shirt.
“Honestly Dale, sometimes you’re as bad with sugar as Monty is with cheese.” Said Gadget, sadly.
Monty had been about to make a comment about self-control, but hastily shut up. Zipper noticed, and had a fly sized snicker. Well actually it was a fun-sized Snickers bar from the snacks, but the principle was the same.
“Sorry about that.” Chip apologised to the two rats. “But you have to admit, he did find the clue to the location of the Ark. If you’ll let him carry on, maybe they’ll be other clues.”
Dale brightened, especially when Marion shrugged, and Arthur smiled and said, “Alright. I never would have thought of that myself. Looks like my old friend had some fun with this.”
“Gee thanks!” He put the gob-stopper back in and his face took on a blissful expression.
There weren’t any other messages, but there was some more discussion. They decided to go after the Ark the next day, going in via an exit Marion knew about, and Sugarbottom hopefully didn’t. Beds were quickly made up for Marion and Arthur, and since Gadget was involved, that was literally what happened.
Chip yawned, as he looked around the other Rangers. “We’ve got a busy day tomorrow, so Rescue Rangers, to bed!”