This sixth part of the Untold Ranger Tales takes a brief detour from the primary plotline, but is still in keeping with what's happened before.

       The huge estate of Mr. Josiah Pinkney was a marvel to anyone who passed by. Pinkney was fine with that, as long as they didn’t try to climb his ten-foot-high iron fence and come in to say hello. Someone had done just that, though, making off with several rare antiques from the rich man’s mansion. The police were baffled as usual, and Pinkney was not a man to be kept waiting. He hired his own help, and he hired the best.
       Detective Donald Drake had retired from police work with a modest pension and the desire to spend the rest of his life in the Florida Keys deep-sea fishing. Six months later, he’d realized that his work was his life, so he decided to go back to New York and start his own detective agency. It wasn’t easy at first. He’d had the respect of the entire department, particularly for his role in helping to nab the infamous Aldrin Klordane. In the so-called real world, it took good old elbow grease and legwork to gain the word of mouth needed to succeed. Drake was persistent though, and quickly earned a reputation all his own. Now he was a private investigator that catered to the rich, and Pinkney was typical.
       When he’d interviewed his client, the description of several paintings floating out the window on their own gave him a good idea of who was behind it. Drake had kept up with police cases and remembered a similar caper using flying carpets. He had little doubt that the nefarious thief was none other than Professor Nimnul. The gloating note left behind that said, "I’ll be back for more!" was also typical of the crackpot scientist. Drake folded the note and put it in his pocket, straightening his fedora. His sideburns were graying a little, but he still had as much hair as he’d had the day he retired. He still dressed the same too, though he was wearing a dark trenchcoat at the moment to avoid being seen. Drake crouched down in the shadows, knowing that Nimnul would try again. He scratched the ears of his faithful old dog, Plato, still his partner.
       "I just hope that loony comes again soon, not that Pinkney can’t cover the price. I’m just ready for some action. What do you think, Plato? Still able to put the ‘crime bite’ on a wacko like Nimnul?"
       The eager expression and encouraging bark from Plato assured him that the crime bite was ready for action. Drake patted Plato’s head. "Good boy, but quiet now. Thought I heard something." Man and dog watched intently, but there was nothing but a couple of mice and chipmunks running across the lawn.

       Drake leaned back against the tree trunk he was using for a makeshift chair back. "Whew, guess I’m getting edgy. Can’t let a bunch of animals shake us up. Wait, there he is!" Drake pointed, while holding on to Plato’s collar, in case the dog tried to charge. Nimnul crept through the bushes, and emerged just enough to see if there were any impediments. Finding none, he crept across the yard to a large window.
       Nimnul cackled with fiendish glee. "Hoohoo! Those dumb cops didn’t even leave anyone to keep guard and they only used a six-digit passcode on the security system! That was easy enough to break. As long as those disgusting rodents and that icky fly don’t show up and mess up my plans again, it should be an ‘art’-eriffic night!"
       Drake and Plato looked at each other from the shadows. "Sounds like he’s as crazy as ever. All right, we wait until he opens the window and then we nab him..." The two of them waited, and Drake noticed that Plato seemed restless, like he was looking for something. Drake calmed him, and watched as Nimnul used a device to deactivate the mansion’s internal security system. He laughed confidently, opening the window and stepping in—and the alarm promptly went off.
       "What’s going on?!" Nimnul shouted. "My Deactivatorizer Mark II should’ve worked!" Drake rushed to the window and was astonished to see Nimnul jumping around and flailing his arms. "Yaaah! Get off me, get away from me!"

       Drake thought the crazed professor was hallucinating, but then he noticed that there were some little animals in the room running around. He had to admit, he took a little perverse delight in seeing Nimnul losing his mind. His private entertainment was disrupted when Nimnul began charging toward the open window where he stood. He just barely managed to avoid butting heads when the panicking professor leapt outside.
       "Freeze, turkey! You’re busted!" Drake said, pointing his gun at Nimnul. The frazzled scientist was so startled he fell down and landed at Drake’s feet, staring up at the gun pointed at him. "Detective Drake?! What’re you doing here? I give up already, just keep those rodents and that nasty bug away from me!"
       In his mind, Drake tsked and slapped the handcuffs on Nimnul. "Still seeing things, eh Nimnul? Well, don’t you worry. I’m sure the nice judge’ll find a comfy and quiet padded room for you were the nasty rodents and the icky fly won’t ever get you again." Nimnul looked about nervously. "They’re always after me. They follow me everywhere I go and always thwart me! They never stop! Yes, send me to jail—at least I’ll be safe from them!!!"
        Drake sat Nimnul down on the lawn. "You don’t know how many times I’ve imagined this moment Nimnul, I just wish your pal Klordane was here too. Why didn’t you ever try to go straight? All that stuff you invented for Klordane would’ve brought you a fortune in the real world."
       Nimnul laughed and smirked at the idea. "I’m a mad scientist. I’ve had more court ordered psychiatric evaluations than you’ve had hot meals, Drake. They wouldn’t pay me peanuts." Nimnul gave a lengthy description of his latest mental health diagnosis in psychiatrist-ese. "I love doing what I’m doing, except for being constantly thwarted by those stupid rodents! I even tried using rodents in one of my plots and even they turned against me!"
       Drake smirked and mumbled "wouldn’t surprise me" under his breath. "Even you should’ve learned that crime doesn’t pay. Look at Klordane—the greatest criminal mind of our time. Even he couldn’t stand up to the police force of New York!" Nimnul leaped to his feet in indignation. "Klordane could crush the police like he was stomping on ants with clown shoes! Your buddies on the force were ready to gleefully send you up the river for crimes you didn’t commit and they would’ve done it too, bub. With Klordane’s plans and my brains, we were running rings around you cops! The only thing we didn’t plan on was...them."
       Drake put his hands on his hips. "Them? Them who?"
       Nimnul looked at him like Drake was the nutcase. "Who do you think just thwarted me now, you fool?! Them!!! Didn’t you see those mice and chipmunks running around? How could you possibly miss them? They talk and wear clothing! They’re a little hard to miss!"
       Drake looked over at Mr. Pinkney, who had come out at the commotion and just shook his head at the sad figure in front of them. Drake decided to try reason. "Look Nimnul, it’s one thing to blame your mistakes on little forest animals once, like you did with Klordane that time you lost his ruby. But it’s just plain wimping out to go around blaming mice and chipmunks for every time you blow it. Be a man, and admit you got licked!"
       Nimnul’s face was red with rage. "Maybe I’m so mad because I know what’s really going on! Maybe you’re all the fools living in your own little world, not knowing there’s a whole other world all around you that you can’t see!"
       The police sirens sounded in the distance, coming nearer. "Tell your story to the cops," Drake said. "I’m sure they’ll love it. Maybe you could tell them how you got attacked by the Easter Bunny too!" Drake started to laugh, and it only made Nimnul more determined. "Just you wait. I’ll get them, and then I’ll get you too, Drake! No one thwarts Nimnul more than fifty or sixty times and gets away with it! Look, there!" Nimnul shouted and pointed toward the trees illuminated by the spotlights around the house. Drake turned and saw a flash of white and orange briefly among the trees.
       "It’s just a bird, Nimnul. You really are a loony."
       "I am not a loony! It’s their plane, a bleach bottle held up by a balloon!"
       Kirby had stepped out and watched this last part of the performance. "Would you guys get that crackpot in the car already?" Some officers managed to get Nimnul in a patrol car. Their departure was delayed somewhat by Drake shooting the breeze with old friends on the force and the request that he come to HQ to fill out a statement.

       Drake was only too glad to go, and he and Plato followed the police car, with Plato hanging his head out the window and giving his famous "siren howl". After another hour of hand-shaking and filling out forms, Drake went to see his old office. It was all different of course, but he could remember going in there after a big case and just putting his feet up. Spinelli come over, and put his hand on Drake’s shoulder.
       "We sure missed you when you decided to retire, Don. No one could match your style...or the number of pizzas you billed to the department!"
       Drake laughed good-naturedly. "Those were the good old days, but I sure don’t miss the daily grind. I love being a private eye. I can pick and choose my cases and I’m my own boss. But now the pizza money comes out of my own pocket. It was a blast getting to bust Nimnul, though. Now he can join Klordane up at Riker’s."

       Drake grinned in triumph, then after a few more congratulations he got in his car with Plato and headed home—an apartment on the East Side that allowed dogs. It wasn’t the Waldorf by any means, but respectable. Drake was a man who liked things in their place after a long day, and he found his TV remote right where he left it. The old pro whirled his fedora through the air and rang the hat stand, then settled down into his la-z-guy and Plato settled down by his feet while they watched the fights.
       "You know, Plato, it feels good to be a free man. Nimnul’s in lockup and Klordane’s doing life without parole. Life is good, but this business with Nimnul tonight spooked me, pal. Back then, it was almost me doing the hard time. I came so close, my guardian angel must’ve been looking out for me that day. I still don’t understand how their plan fell apart."
       Drake stood up, his thoughts now absorbed with the old case. "It was insane, but it almost worked. I’ve read the reports, the interrogations and I was at the trials, but what really went wrong? Klordane didn’t take the stand and Nimnul just ranted about rodents messing up his plans."
       Walking to his desk, Drake took out a scrapbook and began leafing through it. It was his entire life in summation—a collection of newspaper clippings and photos collected from a long career in law enforcement. He read the clips that detailed his false arrest, continuing all the way through his vindication and the convictions of Klordane and Nimnul.
       "I guess it’s always been a nagging question, but what went wrong? I hate unanswered questions. And the fact that those guys won’t talk only makes me want to know all the more. What do you think, Plato? Feel up to re-opening the last case of our police career?"
       Plato sat up and looked at his master in only the way a dog who’s known someone for a long time can. He snorted and shook his head. Drake was surprised for a moment, because it appeared that Plato clearly indicated a negative answer. "Uh...well, I guess I’m more tired than I thought. Tomorrow we’ll try looking into it."

       "That Klordane case seems like just yesterday," Spinelli said, starting in on a hoagie. He’d been glad to see Drake return this morning, because crime had been slow for quite some time. "I can remember him coming in, flying through the window and holding up the ruby for the chief to grab and all. And there was Plato, putting the ‘crime bite’ on him! Yeah, his plans sure fizzled on him. I can still remember him babbling on about chipmunks and mice and all. I think it drove the poor guy mad for a while that his plans just fell through."
       Drake nodded. "I remember Klordane ranting about the rodents. Nimnul was yammering on about them, too. He’s a few tacos short of a combination platter if you ask me."
       "Yeah, dose crooks sure do say the craziest things. Well, good to see you again, Don. Say, you gonna settle down and get a wife sometime?"
       Drake gave his old friend a sly grin. "Not until the sultry blonde in the tight red dress and danger in her eyes walks seductively into my office asking me to solve a crime for her. And right now, Nimnul’s more on my mind." Spinelli laughed. "You always did love them old detective novels, Don. Yeah, Nimnul’s a crazy one, all right. The rodent excuse—we must get it every month or so. I figure either it’s mass hysteria or they’re all reading from the same ‘ten lamest excuses for crooks book’. But why so interested in Nimnul now, huh?"
       "Well, the Klutchcoin ruby case has always had some loose ends that bothered me and I’m taking some time to see if I can tie them up. Too many things in this case seem to point to dumb luck and chance, but Klordane was too methodical to have been that careless. Something unexpected disrupted his plans and no one’s ever been able to satisfy me on what that was."
       Spinelli turned to go, laughing more. "According to Nimnul, the rodents were out to get him. Hey, Kirby! What’s Nimnul’s menagerie up to now?" Kirby tipped up his police cap and grinned back. "Three mice, two chipmunks, a bat and a fly."
       "Wow, the animal kingdom must be recruiting," Spinelli said. "It’s funny, but since the Klutchcoin ruby case, a large number of criminals talk about being caught by a bunch of rodents—Ratso Ratskiwatski, Nimnul, that foreign spy they held over before sending back to Russia—lots more. All of ‘em claimed at first their plans were messed up by rodents. I think Nimnul was bitten by a lab rat or something, that’s why he so afraid of animals."
       Drake shook his head. "Well, criminals are a cowardly, superstitious lot. Maybe they’ve picked up on his paranoia that what they’re doing is wrong and even nature itself knows it." Spinelli shrugged. "We’ve got our own rodent problem right here, as it is. They’re so bold they’ll come up on the desk and steal the food right off my plate. I think New York has such a vermin problem that the crooks just see them everywhere." Spinelli paused then continued, "Drake...you know we’re all sorry for busting you in that case. No hard feelin’s or nothing, right?"
       "Right. I would’ve busted you under the same circumstances.
       Spinelli nodded, relieved. "Good, that makes me feel better. Now get out of here before I run you in for loitering."

       After a run by the local newsstand, they returned home. A quick check of the sports section, then Drake caught an episode of ‘JAG’ and then the news before turning off the tube and heading for bed. Plato got up when his master did, and slowly followed him into the room they shared. The faithful dog turned around a few times and settled on the plush rug next to Drake’s bed, and the old detective turned out the light. When dawn shone through the windows, Plato hesitated but knew his duty and licked his master’s hand to wake him up. After the usual morning preparations, they headed for the park.
       Drake enjoyed his walks—they were a way to forget the current problems and let the unconscious mind work for him. "Okay, after a brisk walk around the park we drop in again on the boys in blue. I want to know a little more about Nimnul and what he’s been up to, and why it is he’s never come after me for revenge. He fits the profile, after all. Then we can pay a clandestine visit to his place."
       Drake was thinking all of this over, allowing Plato to choose his own path. The dog headed for the largest oak tree in the park and began barking. Drake was mostly annoyed, and looked up to see what Plato was barking at. "Stop tormenting the park animals, Plato!" For an instant, Drake saw a mouse in the tree. That struck him as odd, but he figured that Plato had scared it up there. "Save the crime bite for the bad guys. We’ve got work to do."

        Plato struggled against the leash, yipping and barking at the mouse. Suddenly it vanished, and then Drake pulled Plato along. Once they left the park, they followed the sidewalk until they reached police headquarters. The on-duty officers were mainly rookies who’d only heard of Drake, but never met him. That left him free to explore for the most part.
       Drake found Spinelli eating, as was his custom. Spinelli grabbed a napkin, and motioned Drake over. "Don, what are you back for? Getting homesick for the station?"
       "Yeah, a little," Drake said, noncommittally. "Say, could I ask a really big favor?"
       "Well, that depends on what you want."
       "I’d like to see the file on Norton Nimnul."
       Spinelli put down his slice of pizza. "Why? He’s nuts and he’s behind bars." Drake thought fast. "I’m...doing some research on him." Spinelli lowered his voice. "You know it’s against the rules to give out that kind of information without the proper forms, Drake. Lemme see what I can do."
       Spinelli walked out of the room for a little while and Drake sat and soaked in the noise and the action of the station. He looked down at Plato, who was sitting at his feet. Periodically, the dog would look up at the ceiling fan and would make grumbling noises at it. Drake glanced up quickly and could have sworn he saw something move, but Spinelli’s return broke his chain of thought.
       "Here it is, but like I said, I can’t give it to you without the proper forms," Spinelli said, dropping it on the desk and turning his back to Drake. "Oh dear, I seem to have misplaced that file on Norton Nimnul! I wonder where ever could it have gone?"
       Drake picked up the file and put it in his coat. "You’re a pal, Spinelli."
       "You’re not thanking me, because I didn’t give you nuthin’, right?"
       "Right."

       Drake headed back to the park and Plato pulled them back to the same tree he had been at earlier and started barking again. Drake ignored him this time, taking out the computer printout that Spinelli had given him. It was Nimnul’s criminal history—needless to say it was a long one, listing Nimnul’s run-ins with the law. Many times it mentioned the dome where he lived and worked. Drake noted the address.
       "Plato! Here, boy! We’ve got more work to do!"
       To Drake’s surprise, Plato followed him right away. They rode by taxi to the former residence of Norton Nimnul—the huge geodesic dome was impressive, and its one and only entrance was locked. Drake looked around to see if anyone was watching, then took out his lock picks, quickly opened the door and crept inside.

       The place was a mess, and to Drake’s further surprise showed signs of recent habitation. He slipped the thong off his gun, and shifted it in the holster in case he needed it quickly. Drake reached a door that led into the dome’s center, where he could hear music and various other noises echoing from within. It opened automatically as he approached, and surprised the person inside.
       It was a young, red-haired, acne-faced and bespectacled boy of fourteen. He had his feet up on a control panel, snacking, when the door whooshed open. He fell to the floor, not seeing who it was at first.
       "I was only kidding, unc!" the boy said, cowering. "I’ll have the place cleaned up in...hey, you’re not my Uncle Norton! How’d you get in here?" Drake could figure that the boy didn’t exactly belong here. "I could ask you the same question kid. Who are you and how did you get in?"
       Jumping to his feet, the youngster sensed the threat of punishment was no longer present. "Hey, if anyone belongs here it’s me! I’m Normie...uh, Norman Nimnul, Norton’s nephew. I sort of look after the place anyway, so when Uncle Norton was jailed I decided to move in. Say, haven’t I seen your picture somewhere before?"
       Drake imagined Norton having his picture on a dartboard, throwing at it. "Yeah, I’m a private detective, Donald Drake. Your uncle helped Aldrin Klordane frame me." Normie..uh Norman spit out the pizza he’d been munching on, quickly finding the floor again. "I didn’t do nothing, I swear! I wasn’t even here then! All I ever did was cheat a little on a science project—well, if you don’t count what I did on the Jersey freeway, or that time I tried to use a radio tower as a lightning rod..."
       "Relax, kid. I ain’t here to arrest you. I was just planning on snooping around, and I didn’t realize that anyone was still here."
       Normie breathed easier and reclaimed the chair and the box of pizza. "Go ahead, see if I care! Most of my uncle’s stuff doesn’t work right anyway." Normie went to the near wall and took a framed newspaper clipping from it, laughing wildly at the sight of it. "I love this one! This is where my uncle tried to use his metamorphicizer to change bodies with a wolf. Worked at first, then the other bracelet got lost in the zoo and he ended up looking like a freak show!"
       Normie laughed harder, showing the picture to Drake. The detective had to admit, it was worth framing. "Yeah, he sure is a nutty guy. I’m surprised he hasn’t blown himself up by now. That’s some dangerous technology he’s got going for him. Wasn’t he afraid he’d mix with something and end up like that guy in ‘The Fly’?"
       "He never thinks ahead, just about the dough he can steal. I can hear him now..." Normie cleared his throat, trying to sound like his uncle. "I’d be a millionaire a hundred times over if not for those foul, stinking rodents! They ruin my brilliant plans every time!"
       Drake smiled a bit at the obvious derision the boy had for his uncle. "Well, he is a bit wacko, so I guess seeing hallucinations of animals attacking him shouldn’t be too unusual. I’ve seen drug addicts and drunks imagining that they were being attacked by animals."
       Normie looked at him curiously. "You mean you’ve never seen them? They kept me from winning the science project I rigged…uh, I mean was cheated out of! They’re mean, despicable little monsters and I still owe them for letting Marvin win the blue ribbon!"
       Drake’s brows lowered. "Seen who? What monsters?"
       Normie’s face drew up into a scowl. "The ones Uncle Norton calls ‘the vermin’! I thought they were some kid’s pets at first, because they wore clothes. I also thought they were little defenseless creatures at the time, but they were mean! They kept me from winning my prize, and then they stopped unc from trashing the city. There were two mice, two chipmunks and a fly. If I ever get my hands on them...!"
       Drake couldn’t believe this. "Is your whole family nuts, kid? Even you’ve seen them. You’ve been watching too many cartoons kid." Normie stuck his tongue out at him. "Have not! Come on, I’ll prove it to you!"
       Normie took Drake to an adjoining room, where he picked up a miniature makeshift harpoon gun, and a motorized skateboard. "Uncle found these after that clod Klordane pushed him from the train and he made a break for it out of the subway. The mouse made them!"
       Drake looked them over. "Is that that same mouse from that Disney cartoon, the one with Ben Franklin? Look kid, you’re starting to scare me." Drake began backing out of the room. "Well, it’s been fun, but I gotta be going. Plato, we’re leaving...right now." Drake turned and saw that Plato was off in a corner, leaning down, looking at something.
       Normie followed Drake’s eyes, and when he saw the spot where he was looking, he literally screamed. "AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!! It’s them! Get them away from me!" Normie began running around in a blind panic. Plato quickly broke off and Drake saw the movement of some small animal where Plato had just been.
       Drake wanted out of there, bad. "Plato we’re leaving, now!" Normie ran for his uncle’s weather machine, or more properly for the lightning ray on top of it. When Drake and Plato got outside, they both stood there and watched Normie turn the geodesic dome into an abstract artist’s rendition of Swiss cheese.
       "Plato, there is definitely some serious mental illness in that family," Drake said, shaking his head. Then he realized he was still holding the items that Normie had handed to him. "Well, I’m not about to go in there and give them back. Come on, boy, let’s go home. Enough dealing with Nimnuls for one day."
       Drake started for the taxi, when his cell phone rang. "Drake Detective Agency, Drake speaking." It was Spinelli. "Hey, Don. I forgot to give you something when you were here. If you want it, we have pictures of Nimnul’s rodents." Drake blinked. "What? You mention they really exist?"
       Spinelli paused for a minute. "Well, sort of. During a bank job Nimnul pulled, a security camera caught some pics of some rodents in the bank too. Look like regular animals to everyone else, but when Nimnul saw the picture he went nuts."
       "Sounds like the ones. All right, I’ll come take a look. Sure there’s nothing special-lookin’ about ‘em, like maybe blowtorches tied to their backs or something?"
       "Nope, but how two chipmunks got into that bank along with a rat, I have no idea."

       Drake and Plato got in the taxi, and when he reached the station, he tied Plato up securely in case he had any thoughts of visiting that oak tree in the park. He found Spinelli practicing his favorite habit with a hoagie, a manila folder on his desk. "It’s all yours, Don. It’s a dead case file, so don’t worry about getting it back. Whenever you’re around."
       After hesitating slightly, Drake took the file and opened it. "Thanks, Spin..." Drake glanced at the picture, and froze. It was a series of black and white stills from a security camera. From the magnified images that were made, it appeared to be two chipmunks and a rat on top of a filing cabinet. And for a moment, he could swear they...
       Drake looked back at the picture again—no, just regular animals. He put the folder under his arm and shook Spinelli’s hand. "Thanks for the pictures, Art."
       "You’re welcome, Don. Like I said, Nimnul had a fit when we showed him those pictures. He actually said the animals were wearing clothes!"
       Drake studied Spinelli’s face for a long moment, making him feel uncomfortable. "Anything wrong, Drake?" Drake covered up immediately. "No. No it’s just something I had on my mind. See you later." Drake left, not quite sure what to think. He tried to convince himself he hadn’t seen anything, but in that glance...he looked back again. No, just animals. "I must’ve put too much sugar in the java this morning." Drake picked up Plato and they started walking. Drake stopped a few blocks away. "Come on, Plato, let’s go to the park. I need to think again."

       Donald Drake was a logical man—a man who dealt in reason and deduction. He turned the issue of the picture and what he’d been told over and over in his mind. He decided to table the issue and his thoughts returned to Nimnul and thus to Klordane.
       "Klordane and Nimnul are the only two who know what happened on that train. Well, Plato was there too, but that doesn’t help me any. Wait, Nimnul wasn’t even on that train at the end! It was just Klordane. He’s the only one who really knows."
       Plato pushed his master’s hand to get him to scratch his ears. Drake responded in kind, then as he looked at Plato’s collar he remembered something else. "Someone cut your chain with a blowtorch when you were chained to that railroad car. But it was only you and Klordane on that train, Plato. He sure wouldn’t have done it. I need to know who that third person was. Maybe we can get Klordane to solve this mystery!"
       The faithful dog looked up at Drake with a worried look and whined some. Drake scratched behind his ear. "I guess even dogs can have traumatic experiences. Well, don’t worry, Plato. I’ll put this mystery to rest." Drake looked at his watch—they still had enough time to make it to Riker’s Island prison for visiting hours.
       "We’re going to pay a visit to an old friend, but I better make it worth his while."

       Drake made a stop to purchase an item, dropped Plato off at his office, then headed to Riker’s Island. After some paperwork, he was admitted to a room with a wide table in the center. He sat down and a short time later two guards led in Aldrin Klordane. He was shackled on the wrists and ankles, and shuffled into the room with guards on each side. They led him to the seat on the opposite side of the table, watching his every move.
       The detective spoke first. "I’m surprised you were willing to see me, Klordane." The criminal genius said nothing at first, studying his old adversary. Then his face shifted to a genial look. "Well, Drake, seeing as how you’re the first person who’s visited me in all the years I’ve been in here, it was the least I could do. So much for friends and family. So, have you come to gloat over your victory?"
       "No, I’m satisfied that justice was served. The reason I’m here is to answer a nagging question. Who disrupted your plans when you were on the train with the gold? It was you, Plato and someone else. Who’s the mystery person?" Klordane appeared reluctant to speak, and was about to rise and call the guards when Drake caught his attention. "I can make it worth your while." Klordane lowered his voice to match Drake’s whisper. "Oh really, and why is that?"
       Drake produced a small jar. Klordane gasped. "Imported Russian caviar! Drake, I’m impressed. I didn’t think you were that clever. Very well, I will answer your question." Klordane leaned in close, almost breathing in Drake’s ear. "You see, I had rivals who were attempting the same feat I was. I beat them to the punch and the gold, but they learned of my plot and sabotaged my train! The third man was one of them. If I ever get out of here, they will pay for their interference."
       The gritty detective wasn’t buying it just yet. "Who are they?" Klordane grinned devilishly. "I’m not at liberty to say. Even here, they could learn if I committed shall we say an indiscretion. Suffice it to say, they have a wide reach." Drake pressed him. "Why did you blame little rodents for your defeat at first, rather than rival criminals?"
       Klordane’s smile was positively wicked now. "Now Drake, you know how the pressures of life can get to a person! After all, but for that one mishap with the train, you’d still be rotting behind bars and I’d be the owner of my own island in paradise!" On a whim, Drake produced one of the bank pictures that Spinelli had given him and handed it to Klordane.
       "Are you sure it wasn’t them?"
       Drake could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he saw the momentary look of horror and rage on Klordane’s normally haughty features. Klordane’s hand was shaking as he handed the picture back to Drake. The criminal quickly regained control and his normal face reappeared.
       "Drake, as much as I wish to see you destroyed, I will step outside of our dispute and give you some advice. You are dangerously close to answers you don’t want to know about. I suggest you dispose of this picture and any like it. End your current line of inquiry and go back to gumshoeing or whatever it is you do these days."
       "Why? Are these little animals the vast criminal empire you’re talking about? Come on Klordane, spill it!"
       Klordane glanced at the security officers. "If you want the truth, perhaps you should talk to a certain madman we both know. Guards!" The guards escorted Klordane back, and Drake asked to see Professor Nimnul. After more paperwork, the cagey professor was brought out in a straightjacket, guards on each side.

       Nimnul was in a bad mood as usual. "Oh, it’s not bad enough that you interrupt my three-dimensional chess game, but did you also have to be a cop? Why can’t someone come who recognizes the genius of Norton Nimnul?!"
       "Nimnul, this is visiting hours and they didn’t force you to come here. I need to talk to you. I just played 20 Questions with your old buddy, Klordane and he said I should talk to you."
       "That ingrate!" Nimnul shouted, wishing his hands were free. "He used my superior intelligence, and then he wouldn’t even let me start my own fruitquake! That balding buffoon got what he deserved!"
       Drake decided to go for the jugular. "Nimnul, it all comes down to this." Drake showed him the picture, and Nimnul instantly went ballistic. "THE VERMIN! They ruined everything! They always ruin everything! That nasty girl mouse and her inventions, the big slobbering one, the despicable fly, the dopey chipmunk and not leaving out that self-righteous leader of theirs. The fly first, but I’d love to get my hands on you, Chip!"
       Nimnul glared at the picture, and Drake could see him concentrating on one of the animals furiously. "What do you see in this picture?" Nimnul suddenly realized that Drake was after him for something. He saw the look of nervousness in Drake’s eyes, and it hit him. "You saw it, didn’t you? Hahaha! That’s why you’re here, isn’t it, Drake? You want someone to say it’s a joke. But you saw the hat, the tacky Hawaiian shirt, and you saw that turncoat Sparky! I taught him everything he knows and he joined them against me!"
       Drake started to sweat. "I don’t see anything in those pictures!"
       Nimnul grinned even more wickedly than Klordane had. "Oh, you saw them all right. They’ll take you and put you in a one-size-fits-none straightjacket, and stick you so far away that no one’ll find you! They’ll give you dollies to play with and make you recite the Periodic Table, from the noble gases backwards! And if somehow you manage to squeak out of here, there’s the vermin. They’re waiting for you, Drake. They’re waiting for you! Hahahahahahahha!"
       Drake threw down the picture, but he was still sweating. "You’re a nutcase, Nimnul! There’s nothing there but normal little animals. Nothing!" Nimnul was beginning to enjoy this—a chance to torment one of his tormentors. "Rationalizing now, are we? Well, I’ve been to their home. Yes, their home! It’s where no one would look, a big oak tree right in the middle of Central Park!
       "I switched bodies with that irrepressible fly, and not only could I see them but I could talk with them! They’re a bunch of meddlers and busybodies. That Gadget mouse thinks she’s so superior, just because she figured out how to fix the problem with the modemizer’s molecular regurgitater before I did! Well, I’ll show her yet!" Drake’s look changed at the mention of the tree, and Nimnul picked up on it. "You’ve been there, haven’t you? You’ve been in the park and seen something!"
       "No! That is, I was walking Plato and he barked at the base of an oak tree. I saw a mouse on a branch, but..."
       "It was her, you idiot! Your dog was probably squealing on you! They saved him, and he’s grateful to the vermin! Don’t let him out of your sight, detective, or you’ll not live to regret it. They’ll come for you in the night, and when they do maybe you’ll end up like I did, with your head stuck on that fly’s body!"
       This was getting too weird for Drake. "That’s enough, Nimnul! I...I see it was a waste of my time talking to you. I better leave." Drake quickly made his way out of the visiting room. Nimnul shouted at him as the guards led him away. "You can’t hide! They’ll find you and by the time you know it, it’ll be too late! Too late!"

       The guards had to physically restrain Nimnul to keep him from pulling away and following the shaken detective. Drake suddenly realized he was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding. He exited through the various security checkpoints, showing the picture to people along the way and asking what they saw—two chipmunks and a rat, that was all.
       Drake fumbled with his keys, getting into his car. He chanced to look down at the picture, and for a split second it happened again. This time the image was sharper, and he winced at the throbbing pain in his head. He was in a daze as he drove back to his apartment. Plato greeted him when he came in, but Drake pushed him away. "Come on, Plato, we’re going back to the park."
       Plato didn’t want to go at first, but Drake was in no mood for fussing now. He got to the park and practically had to force Plato out of the car, securely attaching his leash. "Okay, Plato, show me that tree you like so much, the one that had the mouse in its branches." Plato set his feet and locked his legs in place.
       Drake pulled on the leash. "Come on! You always go rushing for that tree when we come here. What’s wrong with ya?" Drake looked into the dog’s eyes, then stopped pulling and sat down on the grass in front of Plato. What Nimnul said about Plato, could it be true? "What’s going on, Plato? You’re not going to show me, are you..."
       The dog’s eyes searched his master’s face, then Plato looked back at the car and back to him. Drake was too numb to be shocked anymore. He undid the leash and headed back to the car. He didn’t say a single word on the trip home, or at any time the rest of the evening. At bedtime, Drake locked Plato out of the bedroom. He stayed dressed and took out his gun, making sure the windows were securely shut, sitting with his back against the door and eventually fell into a troubled sleep.

       It was about three in the morning when Drake awoke with a start. He’d tried not to sleep, but his resolve had waned and now he sat on the floor, listening. There was nothing at the moment, so he closed his eyes to concentrate and made soft noises like he was asleep. In a few moments, the sounds he thought he’d heard resumed. They were high-pitched, but definitely someone was speaking in the next room. Then a much deeper and gruff voice replied and Drake put his ear to the door.
       "I’m sorry this happened, lads, but there was nothing I could do. He is a detective, after all."
       "Golly, it’s not your fault. But the question is, what do we do about it?"
       "Zowie, maybe he’ll try to trap us and sell us to a circus or something!"
       "Don’t be ridiculous! He can’t chance coming around us. Look what they did to Nimnul and the others who spoke up!"
       "Don’t be so sure, loverboy. Humans are definitely not to be trusted."
       "I’m sure this will all work itself out soon enough, Rangers. Now, you’d best be off in case he wakes up."
       Was Nimnul right again? Had they come for him? Gun up, Drake leaped to his feet and threw open the door. The room was very dark, the only illumination being the moonlight coming through the window. "Okay, who’s in here! Plato, where are you?"
       When the door opened, he heard what sounded like a collective gasp and scurrying feet. Plato was now at the window, and when Drake went over to it, it occurred to him to look out. In his peripheral vision, he saw something flying off toward his right. He craned his head to see, but whatever it was had rounded the building. Drake put his gun away. "Mother of mercy, I think I’ve been at this too long. I hear voices, and all I find is you. Still, someone was in here."
       Holding that thought, Drake turned on the light. He checked the door carefully—no sign of forced entry. He began a deliberate search of the room, even to the point of moving furniture to see if any sign was left. When he returned to the window, he checked the sill and found a peculiar object. It appeared to be a tiny sandwich, smaller than a cracker, with a bite taken out of it. Curiosity overcame him and he sniffed it.
       "PBJ! But who would make a sandwich so..."
       Something else caught his eye—a slip of white paper a little longer and thinner than the sandwich. Drake put the rest of the miniature meal aside and, taking some tweezers, he grabbed the paper and studied it closely. Drake had to force Plato out of the room and closed the door behind him to keep him out of the way. He found a magnifying glass and with patience, dexterity and the pair of tweezers Drake opened the envelope and removed the letter inside. He turned it over to find it was addressed and with some effort he was able to focus in on both the envelope and its contents.

       Returning to his apartment, Drake found the hospital stay had revitalized him some. He once again pulled out the miniature letter that this Eva person had written and re-read it. He’d heard of Madame Medusa from the police records at the time. He was a rookie then, but he’d been there when the Devil’s Eye was turned over and now that he thought on it he did remember the girl named Penny, too. It stuck in his memory because she mentioned—he grabbed the letter and read it again.
       "Rescue Aid Society? That’s what the kid said! I knew it sounded strange at the time, but I figured she was just making up a story. I’d better see if she’s in town tomorrow." Then he looked at the picture again, resting on his desk. The image was there, but stable this time—a chipmunk in a fedora next to a chipmunk in a Hawaiian shirt and a rat in a lab coat. He looked away, and then back. Still there. He repeated the exercise several times, but always with the same results. There was no headache this time, so he grabbed his hat and coat, heading outside to think again.
       Drake spent the rest of that day wandering the streets of New York. When it reached the next morning, he got in his car, returning to Riker’s Island for another meeting with Nimnul and hoping for a few more answers before he let go of reality as he knew it. Drake’s unshaven, unkempt look garnered a few stares from the people working at the prison, but they kept their comments to themselves as he was shown to the visiting room. The detective sat down and waited for Nimnul.
       The plucky professor was in just as peachy as mood as last time. "Now what?" Nimnul asked, as the guards sat him down. "Couldn’t find your car keys and thought you left them in my straitjacket?" Drake asked to be left alone with Nimnul, and once the guards let the nutty professor know they’d be right outside, the detective and the bound-up baddie went one-on-one.
       Drake locked eyes with Nimnul, his eyes baggy. "You know what? I’ve barely slept the last two days because I’m coming to the conclusion that you’re not the nutcase everyone thinks you are. There’s evidence that these vermin of yours exist, and I want you to tell me more about them. Why are we the only ones who can see them? Why can’t everyone see what is right before their eyes?"
       Nimnul smiled, his voice patronizing. "Redundancy."
       "Redundancy?" Drake said, confused.
       "What is this, an echo chamber? Yeah, redundancy! You used "why" twice in a row to begin your sentences. I try to make it a practice never to begin two consecutive sentences with the same word. It’s not a universal requirement, but it does make for better grammar, Drake."
       Drake slammed his fist on the table. "Answer me!"
       "Why should I care if no one else can see them? I already told you! The vernicious vermin stopped me at every turn! They wasted my weather machine, mashed my modemizer, stymied my static electricity generator, and wouldn’t give me a moment’s peace! They’re determined to keep me from taking my rightful place as supreme ruler of the world!"
       Nimnul sat there and stared at him for a few minutes. When Drake didn’t budge, he grimaced and spoke again. "All right. I’ve developed a theory, but it’s unproven. It has to do with social framing and education." Whatever Drake had expected to hear, that wasn’t it. "Okay, you have my attention." Nimnul leaned forward. "I’ll try to use little words so I won’t lose you. You know how when you’re a kid you believe in all sorts of things? Monsters, fairies, a benevolent government and the like? Some of that’s imaginary, but my theory is that there’s more to what we call ‘childlike innocence’ than we realize."
       "But I’m not a kid," Drake protested.
       "I’m not finished yet! Once we’re indoctrinated into society, we’re taught that the monsters and fairies aren’t real. As for the government, that’s a whole other story. We’re also taught things like animals are unintelligent creatures that thrive on instinct and have no ability to communicate with us. It’s been that way since the dawn of time, and while I can’t prove it I think there’s some kind of ulterior purpose behind it. Suffice it to say, man wasn’t supposed to find out what we know."
       Drake went over all that in his mind for a few moments, then he began to laugh. Nimnul’s eyes narrowed. "What’s so funny?" Drake smirked. "I just thought of a song from ‘Bedknobs and Broomsticks’."
       "Age of Not Believing?"
       Drake stopped laughing. "Yeah, exactly. So, if we’re not supposed to know, why haven’t they killed us both by now?" Nimnul leaned back. "From the time I was switched with that insidious insect’s body, I learned that they’re pretty secretive. They don’t want to be found out, and for the most part they keep to themselves. The vermin and a few others are the exceptions."
       "What are they like?" Drake asked, showing Nimnul the tiny letter he had found.
       "They’re meddling do-gooders, that’s what they are! Like I told you, they try to stop me at every turn, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they stuck their little rodent noses into a lot of other people’s business! Give me a magnifying glass...yeah, that’s them! Rescue Rangers is what that Chip called them. I don’t know about any Rescue Aid Society, but if they’re like the vermin they probably cause honest criminals like me to lose sleep!"
       Drake was feeling better now, slightly. He began thinking out loud. "It’s like folklore and fairy tales—often talking animals would help hapless humans in distress. They say every legend has some basis in fact, but this...this is too much to believe."
       "Then don’t believe it," Nimnul said, soberly. "Let the idea go, and forget about them! You’ll be much better off."
       "But I can’t!" Drake said, running his fingers through his hair. "I’m past the point of willful ignorance. I can’t go back, Nimnul, it’s too late. I can hear them now, as well as see them."
       Nimnul blinked in surprise. "Hear them? You can tell what they’re saying? But I could only do that when I was modemized! You’ve just proven my theory—rats, it’ll be years before they let me out of here and I can publish my findings in an academic journal!"

       Drake sat back in his chair, hanging his head. He had some of the answers and he didn’t like them at all. His whole universe had just been turned upside-down and he was still concerned if all of this wasn’t some sort of hysteria and that he himself was slowly going insane.
       "Nimnul, how can we truly know we’re seeing what we’re seeing? What if we’re both just seeing things? How can we be sure?"
       Nimnul raised an eyebrow, Spock-like. "Here’s one way. When you first showed me that picture, I told you what they were wearing. You didn’t describe anything about them. What would be the odds of us both imagining the same thing?"
       "Yeah, that’s so. I saw the exact same clothes you did. Since you’ve helped out, I’ll make a deal with you. If I find these Rangers and they’re what you say they are, I’ll do what I can do get you out of the loony bin and into a regular cell. I know it’s not much to offer, but I’ll try anyway."
       Nimnul looked at Drake, the madness that usually was there seemed to fade briefly. "You know, I’m just glad that someone has finally proven to me that I’m not totally insane. Well, it’s almost time for Judge Judy, can’t miss that! I don’t know what else to tell you, Drake. Watch your back and I hope you don’t end up here—before I can get my revenge."
       "Thanks, Nimnul."

       Drake retrieved the tiny letter and the picture, and left the prison. He found the effort he’d needed to speak to Nimnul had drained him, so he decided to go home before doing anything else. When he opened the door, all he wanted to do was crash in his recliner and say hello to Plato. There was only one little problem with that plan—Plato was nowhere to be seen.
       "Plato? Where are you? We need to talk!"
       The detective looked around and found a window to the fire escape open. From the claw marks on the frame it appeared that Plato had opened the window and gone down the ladder. It didn’t take much imagination to guess where the dog had gone, but Drake didn’t like to think about it. When he reached Central Park, he stopped at the periphery. Should he go in? If the animals knew he was coming, would they try to stop him? Drake hoped that daylight would dissuade them from doing anything serious and he proceeded into the park.
       He had never really paid attention to the location of that particular tree that Plato was so fond of, so he had to search. He wandered around and periodically asked people if they had seen his dog. A few had seen a stray dog fitting Plato’s description, but not recently. Drake always kept a wary eye on the birds and woodland animals, and would from time to time catch snatches of strange conversations where no humans were around—and it even appeared that some of them were wearing clothes as well. He found the tree where Plato had stopped before, and at his feet was a pigeon.
       "I don’t suppose you’ve seen Plato?" Drake asked.
       "I haven’t seen your dog, man," the pigeon replied.
       Drake cried out in alarm—as did the pigeon—and the detective leaped over the back of a bench and began running. He stopped near the park fountain, catching his breath, when he noticed a squirrel with red hair who was wearing a one-piece black bathing suit jump into the fountain and start doing the backstroke. She looked over at Drake and smiled, waving. Drake blinked at the sight, and fearfully he began backing up. He jumped when he felt a tug on his pants leg.
       "Whatcha doing?"
       Drake looked down to see he wasn’t alone. A girl about five years old stood there, along with three other kids, all looking at him curiously. Drake looked at the lady with the kids and then back at the girl. "Say, do you see that squirrel swimming in the fountain?"
       "Sure!" the girl said. "She’s smiling and waving. And she has on a pretty black swimsuit!" The lady, who was the girl’s mother, scolded her. "Now Melanie, I’ve told you about telling lies. Tell the nice man the truth, dear."
       "But I was! Wasn’t I, gang?"
       The kids all agreed, but the mother knew they were lying to back up her daughter and tugged Melanie away. Drake looked back at the squirrel and this time he found himself waving back. That seemed to disturb the swimmer, and she quickly got out of the water and ran off—on two feet.

       Drake stood at the fountain for several minutes, lost in his thoughts. He began to realize that there was no animal life anywhere near him—no birds or squirrels, not even insects. It was as if the whole park had suddenly gone silent. He felt like he was in the center of the Roman Coliseum.
       "I guess word gets around."
       Drake quickly and nervously returned to his car, keeping an eye out in case the animals tried to ambush him. He needed to find out about the Rescue Rangers and the Rescue Aid Society, and the only human resources he knew that might be of any help were at the New York Public Library.
       Drake had done his share of legwork here before, but mainly in the card catalogs. Computers were still a new world for him, so he sought out a librarian. He found just what he was looking for at the reference desk—a young fellow around 30 who was totally engrossed with his computer terminal. When Drake’s shadow alerted the librarian to his presence, the bespectacled man looked up.
       "Hello there. Do you need any assistance?"
       Drake hesitated, thinking about how to phrase what he was after without raising too much suspicion. "I need to look something up on the...internet."
       The librarian adjusted his spectacles. "Oh, okay. Are you interested in doing a multi search-engine lookup or perhaps finding information from a government website? I’d be glad to guide you through it."
       "I just want to look something up," Drake said, feeling like a fish out of water. "You’re talking Greek to me. You’ll have to show me how to do everything here." The librarian looked at Drake curiously, then motioned him around. "I tell you what, I’ll get the search engine up and then you can use my terminal. Do you want to search for information on a global scale, or just here in the States?"
       "Global, and what I’m looking for first is Rescue Rangers. I’ll watch you so I can see how it’s done. I plan on being here a while and I don’t want to waste too much of your time. Say, is there a way to print out stuff that I need?"
       "Uh, sure," the librarian said, studying him. "What’s Rescue Rangers? Some sort of forest fire rescue squad?"
       "I haven’t a clue as to what they are. I’m a private investigator on a case and that’s all I have to go on right now. Actually, the name ‘Chip’ came up in regard to them. Try that too."
       The librarian brought up the search engine and began entering the keywords. "All right, I’ll try those terms in both Godado and the Alltheweb engine. There’s bound to be a lot of ancillary matching terms so I’m going to surround the term "Rescue Rangers" with quotes to avoid that problem. Let’s try just doing that first before adding Chip to it."

       He did so, and both sites brought up less then ten pages. "Hmm...mostly references to Power Rangers. Looks like a couple of these are pages put up by animal lovers." Drake saw the descriptions and it gave him some hope. "Well, it may be related to animal care and rescue, like an animal rights group."
       "All right, let’s have a look-see at one of them."
       Clicking on the link brought them to a website designed by a high school student. It had lots of the typical teenage interests represented, but it also had a link to "my encounter with the Rescue Rangers". Drake was immediately intrigued and the librarian brought up the next screen. It described an encounter with intelligent talking mice and chipmunks that happened about four years ago.
       "Sounds like someone’s idea of online fan fiction," the librarian said. "Pretty creative, though."
       Drake did his best not to reveal his excitement. "Okay, I need a copy of that. Whose site is this? Is there a name?"
       "Yes, the name is Cynthia Hale. Wait, this is a defunct site. It says here she’s moved to Australia, where she’s staying in the outback with her parents. Apparently doing research on the aborigines. That’s a bother. Do you want a copy of the story, and do you want to keep looking?"
       "Make a copy for me, please. Anything else?"
       The librarian returned to the hit list. "Well, there was one other site. Let me see...oh yes. This one appears to be a conspiracy site of some sort. The fellow says animals are preparing to take over the planet. Yeah, right. Let’s see who this crackpot is...Norman Nimnul."
       "Normie!" Drake muttered, under his breath. "I just talked to that kid the other day. He’s a nutcase all right. Anything else?"
       "Those look to be the only two from that engine. Let’s look at the Godado results...hmm...not Rescue Rangers, but there is an entry here about something called the Rescue Aid Society. Interesting, it’s an Australian site. Might be that Cynthia again who wrote the cute little story."
       Drake was eager to get some privacy. "Okay, I think I’ve got the hang of this now. If you hear sobbing and threats to the computer, then you’ll know I need more help." The librarian chuckled. "Okay, it’s all yours." Drake accessed the link for the site. Like the last two, this was a personal web page. The creator was a freshman undergraduate at Trinity College in Victoria, near Sydney. His name was Cody Newcastle, and his story was even more interesting than Cynthia’s. Apparently, some intelligent mice who helped him to save a rare giant golden eagle from a poacher named Percival MacLeash had rescued him. Drake’s eyes froze on the last sentence. "And if it hadn’t been for Bernard and Bianca, I wouldn’t be here today.
       Instantly, Drake felt gratified. "Now where have I heard those names before?" Drake entered the two names along with "Rescue Aid Society" into the search engine. He found Cody’s site again, plus an online version of the story where that girl Penny had been rescued. It was the large front-page article from the New York Times that dealt with Penny’s kidnapping, all the way to her donating the Devil’s Eye to the Smithsonian.
       He was now able to confirm what he thought he’d remembered, as he saw from the print copy that she’d "mysteriously said hello to two people named Bernard and Bianca while on camera, and referred to an unknown organization called the Rescue Aid Society. Penny now has the last name Little, as the New York couple had heard of Penny’s plight on the news and wanted to provide her a good home."
       Drake remembered the kidnapping in question like it was yesterday. He returned to the article, reading about Madame Medusa and her compatriot, Edward "Snoops" Nim...
       "Small world..."

       Drake’s train of thought was derailed when he noticed a small animal scurry across the top of one of the rows of books nearby, reminding him that he wasn’t alone here. He got up to see where it was headed, but it was already gone. Returning to the computer, Drake flagged down the librarian again and had him print out the info he’d found, plus the librarian found a home address for Penny Little. Drake thanked the fellow for his help, and headed out.
       When he got outside, he stopped. What now? Plato was gone, and likely wouldn’t be back until this mess was cleared up. The address he’d found wasn’t all that far, so Drake decided to have a go at it. Penny’s house was in the middle-class district, near the zoo. Drake felt foolish walking up the walkway. Would she even remember the mice, or admit to it? What if she thought he was a fruitcake and called the police? Drake gritted his teeth, finished the walk up to her door and knocked.
       After what seemed a short eternity, Drake heard a bolt sliding back and the door opened. A woman about 30 years old stood there, her honey blonde hair draped about her shoulders. Her eyes were dark and curious, and she seemed as tense as Drake was. Finally, she spoke.
       "I’m Penny Little. Won’t you come inside, Detective Drake?" she said, making a sweeping motion with her arm. Drake didn’t like the idea of being expected, but he couldn’t see anyone in the house besides her. He followed, and Penny led him into a simply-decorated yet tasteful living room. She sat down on a cushy armchair, and a cat immediately came and jumped in her lap. Drake noticed the cat was wearing a red muffler, and thought it odd since it wasn’t winter. Penny sat there silently, looking at him, and it made Drake uncomfortable.
       He began studying the surroundings a little more closely. On the mantle, he noticed an old teddy bear had been carefully preserved under a custom-made glass covering. Photos of Penny and her parents were on the wall, as well as a child’s drawings of two mice—two mice wearing clothes and standing on their hind legs, to be precise. Drake then returned his attention to Penny. She was charming in appearance, her white dress covered with pink roses and green petals making a nice complement to her complexion. It was also evident she was trying to decide about him, which made him all the more curious.
       Drake at last spoke up. "I take it you know why I’m here."
       "Yes, I was contacted as soon as you left the library," Penny said, drawing her legs up under her. "Drake, I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but you’ve come farther than you should. What will it take to convince you not to go any further?"
       She unfolded her legs and rose at this, the nervous tension inside telling on her. She seemed to be studying the mantle for a moment, then she turned and stared at him. "Return to your life, Drake. If you like, I could give you the names of some people who can hypnotize you and make you forget what you’ve learned. There’s still a little time left before it’s too late."
       Drake started, not expecting a threat. Still, she’d delivered it calmly and even with a hint of concern for him. "Thanks, but this old cop’s used to looking out for himself. Can’t say I expected danger from a person like you."
       Penny sat down again, taking on the attitude of a well-meaning friend. "The danger’s not from me, let me assure you, or from those whom I represent. It’s for your own well-being. Not every human who knows what you know can deal with it. We prefer to have as few people in our circle as possible. Plus, there are other groups out there that aren’t as understanding. Your—you’ll pardon me for this—your clumsy investigation has drawn a great deal of attention to you, Drake. A time’s coming where you might have to make some tough choices."
       "Believe me, sister, I’ve already had to make some. If what you’re saying’s true, that’s your affair. I can’t forget what I’ve learned, and I won’t forget it. That drawing on the wall over there. Is that Bernard and Bianca?"
       Penny looked over at the picture, and she formed a fond smile. "Yes, my two dearest friends in the entire world. My lifeless body would’ve ended up that the bottom of Devil’s Bayou, unknown and unmourned for all eternity if not for them. Drake, what is it you’re after? What do you plan to do with what you know now?"
       Drake studied her more, not certain if he should answer. Then an idea occurred to him. "Hey cat, is she trustworthy?" The cat appeared startled that Drake had addressed him, but once he’d looked at Penny he turned to the questioner. "The name’s Rufus, human. Rufus the Fourth, to be precise. Penny’s been trustworthy since my great-grandfather Rufus the First knew her. He was the first one to speak to her, and when she believed, it told him enough."
       When the cat actually answered, Drake twitched. At least it confirmed what he’d heard and seen in the park. "All right, Penny, let’s say I trust you for the moment. I know that animals have been helping me, and if they’re on the side of law and order, that’s jake with me. If you’re asking if I can keep a secret, that’s my business. I don’t plan to go blabbing this around and end up in the nut bin with Nimnul."
       "The problem tends to take care of itself. Those that can’t keep a secret usually are scorned into silence and those that know better keep it to themselves. Very well, Drake, you have confirmation as to your fears and suspicions. What more do you want? We try very hard to maintain the status quo on this issue."

       Drake felt that he was being interviewed, and maybe he was. He crossed his legs, trying to feel more at ease with all this. "I want to know who helped me defeat Klordane, and I’d like to talk with them and know why they helped. I’d also like to find Plato and ask him why he was so evasive—wow, to think my old partner could talk all this time! I bet there’s a lot he’d have told me if he thought he could, like how much I’ve put him through. Other than that, I dunno. I’m a detective, not an animal trainer."
       Penny raised a warning finger. "Drake, you’re going to have to make changes in your lifestyle. You’ve got to remember that you’ll see strange and bizarre things that those around you can’t see, and you must learn not to react to them or people will think you’re crazy".
       She stroked Rufus’ fur, then continued. "Always remember that around humans, most animals will not speak. So don’t try starting a conversation with one like you did with that pigeon again if you know what’s good for you. There are many little things you’ll have to figure out on your own. Perhaps one day I should write an instruction book."
       Before Drake could reply, Penny got up again and went to the kitchen. She returned with some tea and cookies, and Drake could see that she was more relaxed now, as if she’d made up her mind about him. Penny reclaimed her chair, sipping the tea. "The group that aided you is called the Rescue Rangers, and like the Rescue Aid Society they help anyone in need, human or otherwise. I’ve never met them in person, but Bianca is very close to them and has told me much about them. I’ll pass along your request for a face-to-face meeting with them if you wish."
       "I’d appreciate that. You know, I’m not exactly Adolph Hitler or Alexander the Great. I ain’t planning on rallying the animal forces of the planet or anything. It’s kind of neat to be able to know that they can talk and understand what we’re saying. I might ask one every now again if he’s seen a suspect I’m tailing or something like that, but aside from that I’ve got my own life. Plato’s the only one I’d really spend any time gabbing with."
       Penny took another sip of tea. "That’s a good way to view this issue. Just keep out of their affairs and they’ll keep out of yours. I would suggest that you keep a low profile for a while until things settle down."
       Drake crossed his arms. "Huh, the way you talk you’d think I was a fugitive from justice." Penny nodded. "You’ve stumbled upon a secret world that goes to great lengths to protect itself. Think of this time as your evaluation period. From what I’ve heard, you spooked most of Central Park this morning. They’ll need time to get used to you as you need time to get used to them."
       "For being such a secret world, the word gets around pretty quick. I’ll lay low for now, on one condition. I need to know Plato’s okay. Is he with the Rescue Rangers or your friends?"
       "I believe he’s staying near Central Park in a hidden location for the time being. I’ll get in contact with you when I find out more. You’ll have to excuse me, Detective Drake, but the children will be coming home from school soon, so I need to get dinner on." Drake stood up. "Sure thing. It’s been educational. Good meeting you too, Rufus."
       "Likewise."

       Drake needed time to think. When he left Penny’s, he decided to go to his favorite thinking place, which had always been the docks. There was an old beat-up wharf that extended well out into the water, mainly used by fishermen, but even they didn’t frequent it much. Drake loved the solitude and found it again now as he sat at the end of the pier and listened to the water surging past the wharf’s supports.
       Taking off his fedora, he held it in his hands and let his eyes defocus as he watched the sunset. "Dad, you always said I had an eye for trouble. Wish you were here now, old man. I sure could use your advice on this one."
       Drake looked out at the sailboats passing by, and slowly his mind cleared. He had discovered a secret known to few, and highly protected by those who did. Penny was apparently resolved to act normally, and really that was all he wanted. He hoped she could put him in touch with those Rangers, because he had a feeling he owed them. Drake put his fedora back in place and stood up.
       "First, I’ve gotta grab a bite to eat. The next move’s gonna be theirs anyway, from the way Penny put it."
       Drake returned to his car and headed for Altoni’s, his favorite Italian hangout. He figured he might as well get a good meal before whatever it was happened. When he returned to his apartment, he found a note on the door with a single word written on it — periculum.
       "I don’t know what that means, but it can’t be good."

       Drake took the note inside, and pulled out his dictionary. It turned out that periculum was the Latin word for danger or risk. The message was clear enough. Drake checked his gun and ammunition, making sure no one was hiding in either room. He took a seat and waited for the person or animal he knew would surely come.
       "Come on, mysterious, secret people. I don’t have all day."
       As the wait dragged on, Drake began pacing the room, thinking back to what had started all this. Arresting the former mayor’s deadbeat brother for embezzlement of city funds and getting "promoted" to a K-9 unit, he was teamed with a fearless bulldog named Plato. He missed his friend and hoped he was okay, and now found that he was worried that this would somehow end their friendship.
       There was a knock at the door.
       Drake got up and drew his gun. It might not do him any good, but it made him feel safer. When he cracked the door, he saw nothing. He opened the door fully, and still nothing was there. Was it his imagination?
       "Good evening, detective."
       Drake swung around to find a person—at least he assumed it was a person—wearing a large brown hooded vestment similar to what monks wore. The hood kept Drake from seeing any facial features, but on closer inspection the hands extending from the robe’s folds told him this was a human.
       Drake raised the gun and held it point-blank at the person’s head. "All right, who are you and why are you here?" The voice that replied was calm and carried some authority. "You know why I am here. Who I am is not pertinent at the moment. Your weapon will do you no good. If I perish, it will be in serving the ordinatio elementum, as those like me have sworn to protect the delicate balance between man and creature."
       At this, Drake took a few steps back and lowered his gun, but didn’t holster it. "This is the 21st century, Quasimodo. What’s with the Latin?"

       Removing his hood, the man appeared to be like anyone Drake would meet on the street. "It is a reminder of those who came before us. Qui quisnam alieno pridem fatalis repeto. Loosely translated, ‘those who forget history are doomed to repeat it’. You are not the first to haplessly intrude upon the Great Secret, nor will you be the last. It is our duty to see that it is respected, and that balance is maintained."
       "I’ve already talked to someone about that. Are you with the Rescue Aid Society or something? I already know that I have to keep this a secret."
       The figure stayed still. "No, I am not with them. They are permissive of human-animal relations, a danger that we constantly guard against. It is not enough for you tell us that you will keep the Great Secret. We must weigh your heart and know that you will never use it for your own gain, no matter what the temptation."
       From behind, something jumped on Drake’s back. It startled him, and before he could recover, the hooded stranger had covered the distance between them and took the gun. The distraction turned out to be a spider monkey. "Nester is an excellent diversion, would you not agree? He was the one knocking at the door earlier."
       "They won’t like this, Quartus," the monkey said. "You contacted him without permission."
       "Never mind, Nester. It is permitted when the intruder is deemed dangerous. Codex three, subsection 13."
       "I disagree, and will speak against this action to the Council."
       Quartus nodded. "That is your right. Now detective, you will be under our observation for a time. Any animal you see may be an informant, so take no idea that you can elude us."
       Drake felt like he was the star of a Twilight Zone episode. "Excuse me, you’re the intruder who’s deemed, by me, to be dangerous. So if I catch either of you here again, you’re leaving in body bags!"
       Quartus didn’t respond to the threat. "Our deaths are not important. Many have died over the millennia to protect the ordinatio elementum. Understand, detective, we are not merely some local order that you can ignore. Augustus Caesar tried to ignore us, and his empire paid the price. Be sure you do not make the same error."
       "I’ve had worse threats and I’m still laughing. Like I already told you, I plan on keeping the secret, so why don’t you two just scurry along? I have to find my dog."
       "Yes, your dog. Plato must also be judged for his worthiness. Like the ancient philosopher he is named after, he must show his thoughts worthy of our little republic. We have summoned him already."
       Drake didn’t like the intimation of that. "Don’t even think of threatening Plato! I’ve had just about enough of your scary monk schtick. And I want my dog back!"

       Quartus glanced away from Drake for a moment and that’s when Drake struck. He sucker-punched Quartus, grabbed the barrel of the gun and twisted it in Quartus’ hand till the pain made him release it. All of this happened in a matter of seconds. "You should know better than to ever point a gun a cop, active duty or retired. Just be glad Plato isn’t here or you’d know first hand what the ‘crime bite’ feels like. Now, you’re going to take me to him."
       "That...will be nothing compared to the Council’s wrath...if you cross us. And I refuse to divulge the Council’s secrets. You are free to shoot if you wish." Quartus said. Drake pushed Quartus away. "You sound like a bad B-movie — ‘Strange in a Dead Language’. You’ve got five seconds to decide if you’re walking down the stairs or be thrown down them."
       Quartus stood his ground, and when the time was up, Drake knew his bluff had been called. "All right, get out of here. But if you and your council hurt Plato…" The robed human raised his right hand in a gesture of an oath. "He will come to no harm. The Society and the ordinatio elementum forbid it." Quartus whistled, and Nester jumped to his arm. "Until we are satisfied, you will know the Society is watching you." Quartus left by the door this time, and Drake watched him go down the hall and enter the elevator.

       Drake hustled to the window and quickly climbed down the fire escape. He knew from experience exactly how long the elevator took, and he knew that looking the way he did and carrying a monkey on his arm, Quartus probably wouldn’t leave by the front door. Drake took up a hiding spot to observe the back door of the apartment building.
       The wily detective was right. Quartus emerged from the back, and took a minute to carefully see if he was followed. Drake’s experience paid off, for he’d chosen a hiding place deep in the shadows and he knew that movement was the important factor to being seen. He kept still as a statue, and Quartus moved on.
       Drake put his years of expertise in tailing suspects to good use as he played a cat and mouse game with Nester and his monkey boy, Quartus. Soon after he left, Quartus ditched the robe and the monkey, trying to blend in. He was slippery, but not slippery enough. Drake watched as he entered what looked to be an old warehouse near the docks. Once he was inside, Drake entered the building adjoining it and climbed up to the roof.
       He found what he was looking for—a roof access to the other building. The catwalk was narrow, but Drake had walked narrower. He nimbly tiptoed across and crept up to a skylight. Looking down, he saw a robed figure in a large spotlight, speaking to other robed figures sitting at a large semicircular table. The detective was about to see if there was any way to hear the conversation when he heard a slight noise.
       Drake looked up to find three robed figures carrying staffs emerging onto the opposite side of the roof. Drake was only mildly concerned. His gun had seventeen little friends who could help him out of a jam. "Are you the guys who did that awful ‘Chant’ CD a few years back?"

       The figures said nothing, and neither did they quicken their pace. They simply kept coming. Drake fired a warning shot that passed over the robed figure in front. The figures stopped, but didn’t run. They stood there, seeming to be waiting for something. It came when Drake heard flapping noises behind him and turned to see birds flying at him—dozens of birds. They darted at him and around him, like a swarm of locusts.
       "Call off your birds or people are going to start dying, buster!" Drake shouted.
       The figures never moved, but the birds responded by pecking at him. Drake was forced to retreat, and the figures followed. He retreated across the catwalk, but before he reached the other side he found other robed figures waiting for him. He looked back and the birds and robed humans were still there. Drake was trapped.
       With no other way to go, Drake looked down. Two stories below, a garbage truck was parked beneath him, filled with its wares. He looked back at his assailants and then back to the truck. Drake lowered his gun. "I’m crazy, but not that crazy. Okay, I give up."

       Drake expected them to come and get him, but instead it was the birds. They laid into him, pecking and clawing at his face and body. He lost his gun in the panic as he futilely tried to fight them off. They forced him off the catwalk, and with a scream Drake jumped, hoping his aim was good. He landed in the middle of the garbage truck’s refuse, and for once was grateful for such a foul stench. Drake climbed out, and ran for it.
       Once the panic was over, he caught his breath a few blocks later. He’d been stupid, going into a situation without casing it enough. Now he had a better idea of who he was up against. He also knew he’d just upped the stakes, because he knew their hiding place. Drake checked his gun and ammunition—still good. He had to go back. There was no real choice now, and he had to assume Plato was there by now. They would hunt him down to keep their secret safe, and all his instincts told him it was better to hunt than to be hunted. Drake hoped the various odors he’d picked up wouldn’t give him away, and slowly he headed back.
       It was nearing midnight, and Drake hugged the darkness like an old friend. Soon the building was in sight. He knew it would be tough to go in unobserved, but maybe he could get lucky. His opportunity came when he neared the side entrance to the warehouse. Two of the robed men had been sent outside to keep watch, then one of them returned inside. Drake timed his walk up and down the sidewalk and it was an easy matter to cross the street and get behind him in the shadows.

       Drake decided to do something that he’d only seen in the movies—he sneaked up behind the guard and cold-cocked him with the butt of his gun. Drake quickly put on the guard’s robe, not knowing how much time he had. When he met up with some others inside, he returned their silent greeting and calmly walked into the interior of the place. The detective smiled underneath his hood, satisfied with the idea that he just might find Plato and get out without being noticed.
       He entered a larger room, and found it was the one he’d seen from above. The semicircular table was empty now, but there was someone there. It was Plato, chained and muzzled. Drake ran to his old friend and removed his hood. Plato was overjoyed, but alarmed. The dog mumbled something, but it didn’t occur to Drake that he was trying to warn him until he loosened the muzzle some.
       "Behind you, Drake!"
       Drake turned—just in time to get a staff to the head. When he came to, his hands were bound and two of the robed guards held him between them. Behind the table, five robed figures sat. A spotlight appeared above them, highlighting the words chiseled into the marble facade —Sodalitas Nam Bestia Tutamen et Fidelitas. The figure in the center stood and spoke.
       "Let this council come to order. Donald Drake, you have come here of your own volition. Do you submit yourself for trial?"
       Drake wondered if these guys were all frustrated Spanish Inquisition wannabes. "Well, since you have me as a prisoner, I’m hardly in a position to refuse."
       "We will take that as consent. The time for concealment is past."
       The council members and the guards removed their hoods. Most of them were humans, but two of the council members were animals—a bear and a squirrel that had been standing on a stage. Drake studied the human faces, but none of them seemed familiar. A human who seemed to be in charge stepped forward.
       "You may refer to me as Primo," the human said. "We know of your visits to Norton Nimnul and Aldrin Klordane, as well as Penny Little. You have made no move that was unobserved. I do apologize for Quartus’ excess zeal. He was inexperienced, and has been reprimanded."
       Drake scowled at Primo. "He’s just lucky I didn’t send him to the morgue. Why are you bothering me like this and what’s it gonna take to get out of here?" Primo came and stood over Drake, his air of authority prevalent. "Donald Drake, you must understand that you have information that you were not supposed to have. The purpose of this society, the Secret Society For Animal Protection and Fidelity, is to protect humans and animals from those who would use that knowledge improperly. Again, I apologize for our avian sentinels chasing you from the roof, but our Codex requires that anyone who tries to infiltrate the secret headquarters must be repelled and tried. We did not expect you back so soon, though we knew you would return for your companion."
       "You dirtbags are holding my buddy hostage! I had to do it. As I told your monkey and the monkey boy, I’m going to keep it a secret. It’s not like anyone would believe me if I told anyone."
       Primo’s eyes narrowed. "Others have promised, but didn’t keep their word. They were tempted by the information, the potential power. Some of them were writers. I am sure you know Aesop’s Fables, the Tales of Mother Goose, The Canterbury Tales, The Tales of Uncle Remus, Wind in the Willows, Dr. Doolittle, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, Watership Down, and the like. Each of these writers had the same knowledge you did, and couldn’t resist the temptation to use it."
       Drake was totally lost now. "Look, I don’t know what you guys are looking for! I told you what I’m gonna do. What more do you want?"
       "Very simple. We want proof that you will do as you say. When we..."
       At that moment, the lights went out.
       Drake grinned in the darkness. "I’d say that this was too well-timed to be an accident. You guys are in trouble." Within seconds, Drake could feel his bonds loosening, and another voice came from the dark.
       "Jeepers, that was only a double clove hitch! Not exactly a tough knot."

       Confusion reigned supreme, and in the blackness Drake shook off his captors. He didn’t get far, though, because someone found the main switch and threw it again. When they did, the assembly found they’d been joined by a new group of animals. Drake noticed them, but his first attention went to Plato, who was now free.
       "Plato, let’s git while the getting’s good!"
       Drake fought his way past the guards and Plato bit anyone that came near him as they pushed toward the door. Only after Drake and Plato had made it out of the building and had run several blocks without stopping did they finally cease running. They ducked into a dark alley and both sat on the ground, panting from the exertion.
       Plato looked up at Drake. "It’s good to see you again, old friend, and to finally talk with you. How do you feel about it all?" Drake recognized the voice as the one he’d heard when he listened in on the conversation back at his apartment. "Plato, it’s the weirdest thing to ever happen to me! I can’t believe you can talk. Why didn’t you ever talk to me? You knew you could trust me."
       Plato appeared apologetic. "It’s not that, Drake. It’s simply the way we’ve been trained since as long as any of us can remember. Animals are not to speak to humans—it’s as basic a rule to us as the law against murder is to you. It’s engrained, but there are a few humans who find out on their own, and for those few we can make an exception." Drake was beginning to think nothing was impossible. "So, how gooney are these people? Are they gonna kill us in our sleep or something? We need to deal with ‘em!"
       "Easier said than done. Every animal’s heard of the Society. They’re usually never seen, and rarely heard from. They’re known for their cunning and patience. They will wait for a better time, and then we may have to go through all this again. They don’t kill, though. That’s against their Codex. They told me what happened to you on the roof, and they regretted the incident. The Society’s not a group you deal with, however. You simply learn to stay out of their way, and most of us do that quite well."
       Drake dusted himself off. "Sounds like the Mafia."
       "In a way, but the Society at least says it’s above the moral limitations of normal society. They believe they’ve all been chosen to maintain the balance established between humans and animals, and will do almost anything to defend it. They’re an ancient order, as ancient as recorded knowledge. But enough of them for the moment. Are you okay?"
       The battered human leaned against the wall of the alley. "I haven’t slept, shaved or eaten in two days, plus I got to live out the whole Hitchcock experience from The Birds and I fell in a garbage truck. Oh, and I got the living heck scared out of me not to mention half of my retirement years. Other than that I’m fine."
       Drake calmed down some after venting, and realized he hadn’t seen Plato for most of that time. "Hey, enough about me, chum. How are you? You’ve really had me worried! Why did you run off the other night?" Plato laughed, and after a few moments Drake found himself laughing with him. "You always had a way of throwing yourself into a case, Drake. I’m all right. I may not be the young pup I used to be, but I can still get around."
       Plato came closer. "I ran because, despite the training I’d received from my parents, I was on the verge of telling you everything. I knew what you were about to get yourself into, and wanted in the worst way to warn you. The Rangers convinced me I should come with them. Now, I think I should have followed my own instincts."
       "How did these guys get you?"
       Plato growled as he spoke. "Ah, that was my own stupid fault! Chip and the others were keeping an eye on you, but I decided to slip away and see how you were for myself. They got me while I was going up the stairs, and the next thing I knew I was in that warehouse. The Rangers were right on that count. Still, I should’ve been smart enough to evade them."
       "Well, we all slip up some time," Drake said. "And so help me, when those guys slip up next, I’m taking ‘em all down. No one’s above the law!" Plato laughed some more, familiar as he was with Drake’s moods. "Now I know where my own spunk comes from. Drake, once this is all cleared up, what do we do then? Do we go back to detective work?"
       Drake didn’t believe by any means this was near to being over, but the question intrigued him. "Sure, we can even expand out work to help animals and humans. We can even add a little door for the little people that need our help. It’s a whole new world of detective work."
       "Drake, I’d advise against that. Besides, best handle the present problem first," Plato said, then took his first good look at his human companion. "Dash it all, Drake, you’re a total mess! When was the last time you slept or had a decent meal?"
       "It’s been a couple of days at least. I don’t remember. I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately."
       Plato started out of the alley. "I bet you have. Come on, let’s get back to the apartment and you can clean up. Then you can order us a pizza and we’ll plan our next move." Drake was amused at how easily Plato had taken up the idea of them being a team—but then, they always had been. "Sounds good, but what about those goons? They know where we live. They’ll be all over us, won’t they?"
       "I rather think they wouldn’t try again so soon, plus you now have the Rangers backing you up. I’m sure they’ll be following and watching our backs. They’re small, but they know how to fight crime."
       Drake stood, making himself as presentable as possible, and looked down at Plato. "Okay, if a guy can’t take his dog at his word, then who can he trust? We’ll head back. I’m too worn out to fight any longer anyway. When we get back to our place I want you to tell me all about the Rescue Rangers."

       The duo headed for home, but not before Drake recovered his gun from where it had fallen in the alley. Now he pulled it out and swept his rooms. Everything appeared normal, and frankly he was too tired to care if it wasn’t. Plato told him he’d stand guard, so Drake went to take a shower. When he’d put on a new set of clothes and rested for a couple of hours, he felt like a new man. Plato came in the bedroom, finding Drake awake with his hands behind his head, thinking.
       "No sign of anyone so far," Plato said. "I spotted the lads in their RangerPlane a while back. They’re patrolling the area just to be sure."
       "Okay, that’s good. So when do I get to meet them? What are they like? From what Klordane and Nimnul told me, I owe them my skin."
       Plato could understand his eagerness. "I’d best leave most of the personal descriptions to them, as I’m sure they can do a better job of that. But I can tell you that Chip and his friend Dale were pupils of mine of a sort. Oh, they were a harum-scarum duo early on, but they were eager, just like the rookies you’ve had to train. Chip’s one of the best animal detectives I’ve run across. He’s quick-minded, alert, a natural leader. Dale is creative and spontaneous, and sometimes it gets him into trouble. But he’s as loyal as—well, as a dog to his human."
       Drake chuckled at the irony of the analogy. "I’m surprised they help humans, seeing as how most humans think so little of animals."
       "Well now, they know like I do that there are good and bad humans, just as there are good and bad animals. In fact, there are organized criminal elements in the animal world as well. I’m sure before your time is over you’ll become quite familiar with them."
       Drake sat up. "I never would’ve thought of that. Like a little Al Capone running around, stealing cheese and stuff? I wonder how much crime in the city is crossover crime. That would clear up a lot of unsolved cases if the force knew what I know now."
       "There’s been some, but you’ll have to be discreet handling it. They mustn’t know the source of your ‘inside’ information, but of course you know that by now. As for meeting the Rangers, I’m sure they’ll contact us when they’re ready to do that. Now, I bet you’ve starved. I wouldn’t mind sharing a little pizza for that matter." Drake headed for the phone. "Okay, pizza hound. Yeah, besides, they’d never believe me if I told them. I guess I could just tell them a little bird told me. Wouldn’t be far from the truth, either."

       After the pizza came and they each had their fill, Drake caught Plato’s attention. "I guess we’re really partners now in the detective business, not just gumshoe and his loyal dog. I...we should change the name of our business." Plato thought about that. "Hmm, how about Drake and McGruff? We take a bite out of crime!" Plato snapped his mouth shut to emphasize his idea. Drake laughed. "Crimebite, Inc. We could even get one of those webpage thingies."
       "Sounds like a winner, partner."
       Plato and Drake shook hands, and there was a knock at the door. Drake immediately pulled his gun and motioned Plato out of the line of fire. When he cracked the door, he found a note taped to it and quickly brought it inside. Drake opened the envelope, and man and dog both read the contents.

       Plato smiled then yawned again, heading for his rug. Drake followed and soon they were both asleep. The next day found them outside Penny’s house. Drake tilted his fedora up, scratching his head and wondering if he was going to wake up from all this and find it was just his imagination. Were there really talking rodents inside? Plato looked up at him and could see the hesitation.
       "Go on. You need the closure as much as anyone."
       "Yeah, I guess you’re right, partner. It can’t get any more weird than it’s already been."
       Drake and Plato walked up to the door and Drake knocked. There was a delay before Drake heard someone coming, enough time for him to get nervous. Penny opened the door, and Drake took off his fedora. "Well, I’m here. Did they come?"
       "They’ll be here shortly," Penny said, her voice warm and welcoming. "Thank you both for coming. Welcome to a different world, Detective Drake." She motioned them inside, and as they entered they saw that there were other guests, human and otherwise. First she gestured toward some humans.
       "Detective Drake, I’d like you to meet my family—my mother and father John and Elizabeth Little, my brother George." Then she gestured toward a small group of mice. "And this is my brother Stuart, his wife Emily and their children Florence and David." She turned to two human children and a pair of small animals. "These are my children. The female squirrel is my daughter, Jennifer. The human boy’s my son, Kevin. The female chipmunk’s my second daughter, Amanda." Lastly, she picked up a young human girl. "And this is my youngest daughter, Bianca."
       After the introductions, the other guests greeted Drake and Plato the same. Drake stood there, trying to soak it all in. "This is sure weird. You mean you consider the squirrel and chipmunk, er Jennifer and Amanda, the same as you do Kevin and Bianca there?"
       "Of course," Penny said. "I love all my children. It was at Morningside Orphanage that I learned that animals were more than they appeared to be, and when Bianca and Bernard saved my life, how could I possibly think them as mere animals? They were people to me now and when I was old enough, I adopted children—human and non-human, just like my mother and father did with Stuart there. Bianca and Bernard are the godparents to my own Bianca. They’re like family to me and have stayed close all these years."
       Drake felt uncomfortable. Something about it just didn’t feel normal. "I didn’t mean any offense there or nothing. It’s just that I’ve always been taught that humans were superior to animals and all." Plato tapped his leg, catching his attention. "Well Drake, I’d say that humans are. We know the ancient history as well, and we’ve always seen mankind as the caretakers of this world. Of course, animals and humans haven’t always gotten along, but we’ve tried to maintain a balance and respect man’s rights to dominion."
       Drake was amazed. "Sweet mercy, if everyone knew about this they’d never hurt another animal for sure!" Plato shook his head. "Actually, they still would. After all, humans kill other humans."
       "Yeah, you’re right there. Human nature can’t be changed even by something as big as this. I guess that’s why you keep all this a secret then, right Penny?"
       "That’s true, Detective Drake," Penny said. "Believe me, it wasn’t easy for my parents to get permission to officially adopt my brother Stuart, and Bianca and Bernard had to pull some strings to allow me adopt Amanda and Jennifer. It’s a line many don’t want to cross, but I wanted to show that the differences didn’t matter to me. I love all my children equally."
       Stuart smiled and spoke up. "And I’ve never once felt that I was loved any less than my human siblings." Florence nodded in agreement. "Grandma and Grandpa and Uncle George and Aunt Penny are always happy to see us. They don’t think of us as just icky mice." Drake guided himself down and took a seat. This was heavy stuff, and would take him time to get used to.
       "And animals have been able to talk to humans all along?" Drake asked, wondering. "Our history seems to indicate that," Stuart replied. "It’s a holdover from times long past. As we have very little written history, it’s fallen to oral history to give us our answers."
       "Guess it would explain a lot of things, like why Egyptians worshipped cats. Someone like me must’ve believed enough to hear one of those furry felines talk and they thought it was a god or something. So when do I get to meet Bernard, Bianca and the others?"
       "They’ll be here soon," Penny replied. "I wanted to give you a little time with my family to adjust to the mixed company to put you at ease before the others arrived."

       Drake had to admit, it was different. The mice, squirrel and chipmunk were all wearing nice clothes and seemed perfectly comfortable in them. Slowly, he started to get used to the idea and questioned them on several topics. They were eager to answer his questions and Drake was further put at ease by their friendliness, particularly after his recent run-ins.
       "So let me see if I’ve got this straight. Some animals live pretty much like humans, while others don’t, but they all can talk. Some trust us and some don’t—can’t blame the ones that don’t, really. What do animals think of humans who are hunters and the like? They can’t like that."
       Plato cleared his throat. "That’s probably something we shouldn’t breach, Drake. It’s a touchy subject, and it’s better left for another time." Drake could see their uncomfortable looks and nodded. "Okay, sure. Pardon, folks. It was just curiosity." A light knocking at the door broke the uneasiness.

       Drake looked to the front door, but saw Penny walk over to a small stand by the wall and move it aside. Behind the stand was a tiny door, which she opened. In walked a male and female mouse.
       "Penny, dahling! It is so good to see you again!" Bianca said. Bernard removed his cap. "Uh, yes...th...thank you for inviting us to dinner." Penny took Bernard’s hat and Bianca’s wrap. "I’m glad you both were willing to come here to the meeting. I’d like to introduce you both to Detective Donald Drake."
       Penny gently picked them up and held them in her hands, walking over to Drake. She held the couple at eye level to him. "Detective Drake, meet Bianca and Bernard, the mice to whom I owe my life." Drake tipped his fedora, not knowing just what to do. "Oh uh, hello there. I’m still trying to convince myself I’m not in an episode of the Twilight Zone or anything." Drake was beginning to figure out that all male and female animals spoke and dressed like human ones, making it easy to figure out which one was Bianca. He addressed himself to her first.
       "You’re the one who wrote that note to Eva. I seriously thought I was losing it when I read that, and found your names linked with Penny here and that boy and girl in Australia. You guys sure do get around."
       Bianca used her natural charm to help break the ice. "Hello, Donald dahling. It is a pleasure to at last meet you face to face. Your investigations were beginning to concern us, you know. I am so glad that the transition was a pleasant one. Perhaps it was thanks to having such a dedicated friend as Plato—he was not just a pet to you, but your friend as well. That perhaps made the final step easier than it might have been otherwise."
       "It...it’s nice to meet you, Mr. Drake," Bernard said shakily, as nervous as the human. "Welcome to, uh...to the real animal kingdom." Bernard’s nervousness helped Drake’s own. "Thanks, Bernard. I’m just glad I’m not Jim Fowler and having to go out and wrestle an anaconda or something."
       "Ah, James is an acquaintance of ours," Bianca said. "He is an ever-so-nice human, and helps educate the humans about the animal world. Now that you are a part of our world, do you find it strange speaking to Plato now? It must be strange to know that now he can answer you back."
       Drake looked down at his grinning partner. "In a way, I guess. We humans tend to talk to our dogs like they could answer anyway. Maybe on some level, we all have the knowledge that they should be able to. Well, now that I’ve passed your little test, what’s next? You gonna fit me up in a tuxedo and make me the next Dirk Suave?"
       Penny put Bernard and Bianca on the coffee table and Drake took a seat in front of them. "Well, that depends on you, Donald," Bianca said. "Now that you know the truth, what do you plan on doing with that knowledge?" Drake breathed out. "Try to forget it for the most part. This ain’t a can of worms, it’s a whole barrel full! Of course, I always did wonder what I’d look like in a penguin suit. I’m a law and order man, and if it means working with you guys, that’s jake with me."
       "I am glad to hear you say that. The Rescue Aid Society can always use an extra paw, or hand. Penny has been a dear over the years and works with us full time, mostly in an administrative capacity."
       "But having human help makes things a little easier for us," Bernard added.
       "Yeah, I expect so," Drake said. "We’ve got a lot more access and wouldn’t draw near the attention you would. These Rescue Rangers, they an offshoot of your outfit or something?"
       Bianca fielded that one. "Not directly. They formed of their own accord. I’ll leave those particular details for them to explain when they arrive. It may sound bad, but I guess you could call them vigilantes. The animal world does not have much in the way of organized law enforcement. So, individuals at times feel the need to deal with lawlessness. The Rescue Rangers are one such group."
       Drake’s eyes narrowed. "And you allow that?"
       "It’s not quite the way it sounds, Drake," Plato said, interrupting. "After all, I trained Chip and Dale. They and their team are dedicated to stopping crime on any level. They try to keep within the bounds of the law, and most times they succeed. When they don’t, it’s usually because of the criminal they were fighting."
       "Well, like Bianca here says I can ask ‘em when they come. So what would I be doing at this Rescue Aid Society if I joined up?"
       Bianca looked at the others meaningfully. "This may seem a little silly, but it will give you an idea of what the RAS stands for. Bianca gestured for everyone to stand. "Everyone, hands over hearts." To Drake’s surprise all those assembled began singing.
       "R...E...S...C...U...E, Rescue Aid Society..."
       The song sounded a little silly and humorous, but he could tell they meant it, so he said nothing and listened through it all. When they finished, Drake clapped politely. "Not bad, not bad. I never knew mice could sing that good."
       "Thank you, Donald," Bianca said. "That song means to us what your National Anthem means to you. The RAS is a species-blind organization that helps anyone in need, regardless of race, creed, color or nationality."
       "Pretty nice idea."

       Drake looked around the living room, thinking over what they said, then he remembered that Bianca has said Penny worked full time for the RAS. "Penny, how can you afford to live here if you work for the RAS? Do they pay you well?"
       "They don’t pay me at all. The Little family is independently wealthy, thanks to Madame Medusa, that is."
       "How so?"
       Penny walked over to the glassed-in teddy bear, mentally going back in time. "Madame Medusa was obsessed with finding the Devil’s eye. Nothing else mattered to her, not even the small mountain of pirate treasure that was in the cave along with it. Well, let’s just say that my summer vacation between second and third grade was not the usual one a kid that age would have. That summer included a trip to the Florida swamps, then to Switzerland to set up a bank account, and finally to Antwerp to liquidate the stones. The gold and silver were left here in the states because they’re harder to get rid of. Now part of that money goes to the RAS to fund their work."
       Penny’s story was interrupted by another knock on the little door. Jennifer hopped off the couch and opened it. Shortly, in walked the chipmunks that Drake had seen in the bank photos, along with several other small animals—four mice, a young chipmunk and even a bee and a fly.
       "Jumping Jupiter!" Drake shouted. "Even with all this...I didn’t really know if you guys were really real until now."
       "Zowie!" Dale said. "Look Chip, it’s really Detective Drake!"
       Theo hid behind his dad. "Uh, I hope you’re sure he’s going to be our friend, dad." Chip stepped out of the way. "Well, of course he is! And Dale, stop kidding around. You know this is serious. Sorry Detective, Dale gets over-emotional at times like this." The Rangers climbed or landed on the coffee table in front of Drake.
       "That’s okay," Drake said. "I’m pretty emotional at this point myself. How about we start with introductions? Seems like you all know me, and I now know who’s Chip and who’s Dale."
       Dale took the nervous Gadget by the hand and led her forward. "Mr. Drake, sir, this is my wife, Gadget." Gadget managed a smile. "Golly, it’s a pleasure to finally get to meet you in person, Detective Drake. I’m sorry we weren’t introduced when we first met." Drake was surprised to find that a mouse could be beautiful, even to a human. "Nice to meet ya. You remind me of...actually, there’s no one offhand I can think of that looks quite that cute. Except maybe the one standing over there by Chip. She your sister or something?"
       Lahwhinie walked right up the table’s edge, determined to show no fear. "Yeah, we’re identical twins...in appearance at least. I’m Lahwhinie. Nice to meet you, Drake."
       "Likewise."

       Drake turned his attention to the larger mouse with the flight cap and oilskin. "Now you look almost exactly like this guy we had on the force when I was a rookie. One of the best undercover boys we had, but couldn’t leave jelly doughnuts alone. What’s your name, pal?"
       "Monterey Jack Colby Erskine’s the name, and adventure’s my game!" Monty said. "It’s a pleasure ta meet ya, Drake! We had quite a bonzer adventure stoppin’ that Klordane fella and Nimnul and Fat Cat in order ta rescue you an’ Plato. It was the best thing to happen to this old mouse."
       Drake couldn’t believe his ears. "You...you really sound like you’re from Australia! With Bianca here, I thought it might be just her way of talking, but you mean you animals all have the same dialects and all we do?"
       "Yes, dahling," Bianca said. "We all speak the native language of the countries we are from. It is hard to explain, but we also can all speak to one another regardless of nationality. Still, we retain the accents of our native languages."
       Drake returned his attention to Monty. "So you guys did help me out in the Global Gold Reserve caper." Monty got a little haughty at this. "Help out? Why, we foiled the whole thing while you and the lot o’ your humans stood around helpless! One o’ me finest hours, mate!" Drake straightened his tie. "Yeah, I remember how Klordane pulled the wool over our eyes. I’m glad you Rangers are on our side. So how often do you help out the cops? Did you ever throw in on any of my other cases?"
       "Mainly we watched before that one, detective. Dale and I were just learning," Chip said. Dale pointed at Drake. "And there was no one better to learn from than you and Plato!"
       Drake smiled some, hearing the hero-worship in Dale’s voice. "Thanks, Dale. Good to know at least some of our citizens stand behind New York’s finest, even if they’re animals. No offense there."

       Drake then shifted his attention to the smallest members of the team. "And you must be that fly Nimnul was complaining about. Sounds like you’ve given him a pain in the patootie a time or two." Zipper flew up to Drake’s eye level. "Nimnul cowers in fear of my very presence. I’m Zipper. Nice to meet you, Detective Drake."
       "Say, you sound sorta familiar," Drake said. "Are you a Happy Days fan or something?" Zipper rolled his eyes. "Not really. I just happen to sound like Ron Howard. Drake, I’d like you to meet my friend, Honey Regina, our newest Rescue Ranger."
       Zipper flew down, then had to tug Honey by the hand to get her to approach Drake. Her normal bee instincts told her to regard all humans as enemies, along with her own personal experience. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Detective Drake."
       Drake sensed her fear, and tried to put her at ease. "Eh, don’t worry about me any. I’m a pretty laissez faire kind of fella. Nice rig you’re wearing there. You and your fly friend got a social after this meeting?" Honey was not accustomed to being treated so commonly, but held her tongue. "I am of royal lineage, sir. I may look regal now, but for me this is uncommonly casual."
       Drake’s eyebrows raised. "You mean you’re a queen...bee? I thought that was just a name we humans made up. You mean there really are queens and kings and such among bees?"
       "Why of course there are!" Honey said. "It would be uncivilized for it to be any other way." Dale butted in. "Before you ask, there isn’t any king for the animal kingdom."
       "I wasn’t going to," Drake said, "but I was wondering about another thing. Dale, you said Gadget there’s your wife so I guess you folks get married like us too. But she’s a mouse. I thought you animals stuck to your own kind."
       Dale looked over at Gadget. "Well most of the time we do, but sometimes you find a soulmate who’s a little different. Zipper and Honey are in love and Chip and...well, it’s uncommon, but not unheard of. I think with us, it’s because we’re a team and work together so much."

       Drake noticed someone deliberately hiding. "And who’s that hiding behind you, Chip?" Theo peeked out again. "M..me, sir." Up until now, Drake had figured all animals were putting on an act that they were scared of humans. With this little fellow, he decided maybe it wasn’t the case. "Hey now, we’re gonna be pals, aren’t we? After all, Plato and I are gonna need all the help we can get to solve crimes in this here city. What’s your name?"
       "It’s Theo, sir. Theo Maplewood. Chip’s my dad."
       Drake smiled back at him. "Yeah, I can see the family resemblance. So, whatcha hiding behind him for? Afraid of humans?"
       "Yes, sir," Theo said. "I’ve had some...problems with them in the past that I don’t want to talk about. But dad says you’re a good guy and that’s good enough for me. It’s just going to take me a while to feel that way."
       Drake liked the little chipmunk, and realized that it must’ve taken a lot of spunk for him to come along. The veteran detective leaned back a little, trying to appear less threatening. "You’re a brave little trooper, Theo, and I’m sure you do your dad proud. I guess talking to someone as big as me’s no piece of cake for any of you. As far as I’m concerned, you can count me in on whatever you’re doing. I’d like to throw in, and help out."
       Theo found himself a little less afraid. "Well thanks, detective. I’m new to the detective business, so I’ll need all the help and advice I can get. I guess you’re not so bad, for a human." Drake leaned his head back and laughed. It was the first time he’d really felt like laughing since this whole thing got started, and it felt good. When he returned his gaze to the Rangers, he could see that they were more at ease.
       "Look, I know this is gonna take a lot of getting used to. Heaven only knows, I expect to wake up tomorrow morning and find this was all some sort of crazy dream. Penny, how long did it take you to get used to animals talking to you?"
       "It was as natural as could be, for me. It only seemed odd when others told me animals couldn’t talk. I always could do it," Penny said. Drake wondered just how many others there were like Penny. "Well Rangers, I guess we oughtta work out a system for contacting each other. Maybe your fly friend here and his lady, the queen. They wouldn’t likely get noticed by anyone else, and they could come and check with me to see if anything’s up or tell me if you needed an extra pair of eyes in Plato and me."
       "Neato!" Dale shouted. "We can fight crime with Detective Drake and Plato now! We’ll be even more unstoppable than we were before!"

       "Not so fast there, Dale," Plato warned. "We must be careful not to allow the secret to be revealed. I think in most cases we would be safe, but we must think this through. The RAS always carries out its operations close to the vest, am I not right, miss Bianca?"
       Bianca nodded. "As often as possible, but at times we act so overtly we can only count on the human inability to perceive our actions to hide our efforts. But we would certainly enjoy the affiliation of Detective Drake, and his efforts would not go unreciprocated. We would see to it that our resources would be available for his needs." Bernard stood by Bianca in agreement. "Sh...sure. Any..anything we can provide."
       "Sounds like I’m about to get the white tux after all," Drake said. "Okay then, count me in. I’ll keep working at my regular private detective cases, but when you need me just send for me. Now what about if I need you guys? Should I come to the oak tree in the park and try not to look suspicious?"
       Chip realized just how little Drake knew about them. "That would work, but it would be easier if we just gave you our phone number." Drake’s mouth dropped. "Phone number! You mean you little guys have a phone in that tree?" Gadget stepped forward proudly. "Golly, I’ve made sure the tree has everything! We have hot and cold running water, electric lights, phone and cable television—well, only the basic program package on that."
       "Yeah! Who could live without Zobo the Clown, Johnny Bravo and the Late, Late, Late, Late Show?" Dale said. Drake really hadn’t expected any of this. "Jumping Jupiter! You mean you guys live like us humans? I thought you just lived in holes in the ground or in little burrows in trees or something."
       Dale giggled. "Well, only if those holes and burrows have television and stuff! Most of our people live simple, but some of us live on the cutting edge of technology." Drake again was amazed. "I guess that makes sense. Too bad I’m human-sized. Sounds like your pad would make an interesting visit."
       That set Gadget to thinking. "Well, Nimnul did invent the Gigantico gun, which can alter people’s size. Maybe I could build one of those and make you small enough to visit." That thought made Drake nervous, so he decided not to follow it up. "I think with all that’s happened, the first visit I want to make is to home. It’s been a long week, and this New Yorker’s ready to take it easy. Anything else that needs saying, Penny?"
       "One thing I vill add," Bianca said, interrupting. "That group you encountered is not merely a bunch of people who wear robes and quote Latin. In their own way, they fight for justice. You should not attempt to contact those humans or animals, detective, nor should they try to contact you. Let us know if they do, and we vill try to intervene for you from here on. I think with us and the Rangers, you will be safe."
       Drake wondered what else this Society had its hand in. "Well, I guess you people have to be very careful before trusting anyone. Man, it’s good I didn’t shoot anyone."
       "We had to be sure you were what you appeared to be, and so did they," Bianca said. "Even though the Rangers have known of you for some time, it was still possible you could have been a plant for one of our enemies. The Society is not the only group that is distrustful."

       Drake blinked and nodded, then realized there was one more question to be answered and addressed it to Chip. "Hey Chip, I was in the park the other day and noticed a red-haired squirrel swimming in the park fountain in a black swimsuit. She a friend of yours?" Chip looked at his fellow Rangers, then back to Drake. "Well, we don’t know too many of our neighbors, but it might have been our friend, Tammy."
       "Well, if it was, let her know I didn’t mean to scare her by waving back when she did. Of course, it sort of scared me at the time too."
       Drake took a moment to really look at the animals in front of him, trying to resolve all this in his head. "So, are you Rangers okay with the idea of working with an old gumshoe like me?" Chip didn’t have to wait for permission on that one. "Are you cuh-razy! We’d love to work with you and Plato. The two of you were our inspiration for becoming detectives!"
       "Yeah!" Monty said. "If it weren’t for you blokes, we Rangers would’ve never been Rangers!"
       "And I wouldn’t have had my dad around!" Gadget said, hugging Monty.
       "Me neither, for that matter," Lahwhinie added, copying her sister.
       Drake found himself liking the idea of working with the Rangers. "I guess we’ve all been working the same end of the street all this time, and just weren’t able to work it together." Drake offered his index finger, and Chip shook it. "There’s something I got to know. Just what the heck happened during that whole Klutchcoin ruby case?"
       Chip motioned for everyone to take seats, as it was going to be a long story. "Well, it all began when Dale and I were flying a paper airplane..."

       One week later, Donald Drake sat in his office. He’d heard from the Rangers a couple of times, but mainly just to see if he was adjusting okay. He was, and at the moment he was finishing up work on a rodent-sized door for his "smaller" cases. The door was fitted into the lower corner of his own door next to the hinges. He was kneeling down, fitting a makeshift knob to it, when the rest of the door suddenly opened, bumping his head. It hurt like sixty, but Drake shook it off.
       "Now I wonder who..."
       In walked a stunningly beautiful blond woman, wearing a tight red dress and beside her walked a French poodle. "Detective Drake, I have a case that only a man of your ‘special’ talents can help me with." Drake stood up, blinked, and blinked again. He was utterly speechless, as was Plato when he saw the poodle—which for his part was a good thing.
       "Well uh, er, uh, ha..have a seat there and uh, we’ll pretty...we’ll pretty well try to get down to business!" The lady ignored his clumsiness, probably because she was so used to it from everyone else. "Someone’s been kidnapping the prize dogs for next month’s Westminster Dog Show and I fear for Fifi’s safety. I’ve received a threat against her, and I need you to stop them."
       Drake looked down and he could see Plato was just as dedicated to this particular mission as he was. Drake went to his hat rack, grabbed his fedora and put it on. "All right, miss, I’m on the case."
       "I feel safer already," Fifi said, in a French accent. "You came highly recommended."
       "That’s goo..." Drake suddenly realized he’d responded to the lady’s dog. "That’s good that you came to me so quickly, miss. Often, owners wait until their pets are stolen. I’ll do everything I can to see that neither you or your Fifi are bothered. Come on, Plato, we’ve got a crime to solve!"
       Drake offered his arm to the young lady, and she took it gladly. Plato was right beside Fifi, and together they headed out. Drake stole a glance down at Plato and winked, who winked back. It was just the beginning for them, and if today was typical it would be a rosy road ahead.

Theo Maplewood, Eva Erskine, Primo, Jennifer Little, John Little, Elizabeth Little, Jennifer Little, Amanda Little and Quartus are original creations of Indy and Chris Silva. George Little and Stuart Little are copyright Harper Books and Columbia Pictures. Detective Donald Drake, Plato, Norton Nimnul, Normie Nimnul, Adrin Klordane, Lahwhinie, Spinelli, Kirby, Muldoon, Bianca, Bernard, Penny, and the Rescue Rangers are copyright Disney and used without permission, but with the utmost respect.

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