Chapter 34

The inner-city of George Bernard Shaw City.
Mostly from an elevation.

Moving from tree to tree, Fluff concluded that he was in favor of this "arbor day" and "greening the inner-city" he had once heard Virginia's father give a sententious speech on. It was a lot less boring a subject when people with torches and spotlights were trying to find you. And he was not at all sure that these were the right people to give Virginia's letter and the details of the security perimeter of Shaw House to. As with the money that Virginia had put in the waistcoat pocket, he felt the weight of these responsibilities. Either that weight or the lack of trees was hampering his ability to get away. Or it could have been exhaustion.

At last he was obliged to settle for buildings instead of trees. These were more abundant, if less leafy.

However, at least he could now choose his direction. The trees had kept him going down certain streets, which the police in their cars had known better than he did. He soon realized that the buildings, while not offering as much cover, allowed him to go where cars could not.

At length, he was sure that he'd shaken them off. He clung to the side of one of the higher buildings, looking down at the distant view. All he needed now was a suitably svelte maiden to hold in one paw and he could be like that tragic hero he had admired so much. He stood on the seventeenth floor window ledge, and did a bit of chest beating anyway.

Someone whistled, wolfishly.

Fluff nearly plunged to his death.

"Hello handsome," said the rattess who was supporting the ornamental light on the cornice. Unless Fluff's eyes deceived him, she was wearing what looked like black fishnet stockings. "If you hath the money, I hath the time."

Fluff was looking for the rats. He hadn't expected to find them just here. Or quite so easily. Suspicion prickled. "Alas. I am entirely out of money. And candy and even strong drink."

" 'Tis sad," she said sympathetically, arching her tail. "But a girl like me has got to make ends meet. As frequently as possible, but not for free. So what's your name, sailor?"

"Señorita," he bowed. "You may call me—" He suddenly remembered he was a mission of secrecy and gravity. "Ah . . . Kong."

"Well, Kong," she said admiringly, with just a trace of regret. "I was looking for someone called 'Fluff.' He looks rather like you but wears red. The boss wants to see him. You haven't seen him anywhere, have you? And isn't he a bit better resourced than you are?"

"Ah. And who is this boss of yours, señorita?"

"Ol' Bluefur-bigteeth. He's the big cheese of the Ratafia."

According to the Cervantes in his download, "Ratafia" was a drink of some sort. And the bluefur sounded rather like the alien Fluff had seen in the chaos of his escape from that box.

"Why?" he asked warily. "A party of the cheese and wine? I thank you but not tonight. I am also called Fluff, it is true. But it is something of a headache I am having."

She chuckled. "Honey, misery acquaints rats with strange bedfellows. I doth not ask Ol' Bluefur-bigteeth why he wants you. And he doth not ask me why I pursue my vocation. I just know word is out to find you. Go on up. Tell him Sally Lunn sent you. In case there be a reward."

So, as there seemed no obvious way out, Fluff continued to climb. Fortunately the building was in the Nuevo-Art Deco style, which meant that there were many handholds. Fluff had a feeling that this Grand Brie was not going to be pleased with him for interfering in the banditry.

Actually, Ol' Bluefur-bigteeth was pleased to see him again. Well, once he had established that the waistcoat was detachable and that despite this one being blue, Fluff was the same creature that the alien had last encountered in the scorpiary.

Fluff had no trouble in enlisting his help for Virginia. Not when he explained—in Korozhet—that the evil enemy of both of them was behind her kidnapping.

"What do you mean 'the evil enemy of both of you'?" demanded Bluefur's assistant, the severed-tailed rat named Ariel.

"Well, señorita. It is this thing which she is called 'the Crotchet.' It is very like the good Korozhet. But it is an evil thing which would enslave us, by falsehoods and the lies in the soft-cyber."

Ariel blinked. "I can think of that idea. So, you were with Virginia Shaw, were you? Suppose you tell us the whole story, especially about these 'Crotchets.' I could probably talk to Van Klomp about your precious girlfriend."

The galago shook his head, furiously. "No. Virginia she say only to trust the rats or the bats who were with Chip. Especially Bronstein or Melene."

"As it happens, I know those rats and bats are supposed to be brought up here to testify in a case for Capra. I presume this is the case this 'Chip' is in, no?"

"Si, señorita. I need to tell them. I have the maps . . ."

"We'll put out the word," said Ariel. "Now. Tell me your story about the . . . Crotchets. Start from the beginning."