Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego, Home by the Sea, Ch 6 (Dying Informant, 26)
Title: Home by the Sea, chapter 6: Adrift Without Direction
Author/Artist: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Theme(s): 26; To be forgotten is worse than death.
Character: the Dying Informant
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (unless otherwise noted) and the story is!
Cross-posted to 31_days and my journal
The Informant’s head throbbed as consciousness came to him. Sunlight had found its way through the window, and the Informant opened his eyes to find himself on the old, dusty cot in the room.
With a gasp, he sat upright.
“A nightmare…?” he asked, aloud. “Was it all just a nightmare…?”
He bolted out of the cot and crossed to the window. Tentatively, he tried to open it, and he was surprised when it opened with ease. The boy breathed a sigh of relief.
His relief was short-lived, however, as he realized that he could not go past the boundary of the windowsill. It was as thought there was an invisible force field, or another piece of glass that he could not see.
“No…!” he pleaded to no one in particular. “Let me out! Let me out!”
Instead, the mark on his shoulder began to glow, and it repelled him from the window with such a force that he was sent halfway across the room.
A small squeak made him blink, looking the trio of mice he had seen the previous night by his head.
“Hey…” he said, softly. The mice seemed to remind him of people he knew… One was large, one had wild fur, and the other shrunk away from him, shy and timid.
“You’re buddies… just like them…” he realized. He gave a wan smile. “I’ll name you after them… You’re the Inspector, you’re the Messenger…” He coaxed the shy mouse into his hand, where it promptly curled itself into a ball. “And you’re Techie.”
But why did thinking of his friends hurt so much? Why wasn’t he feeling happy when he thought about his friends? His head was hazy, and he felt that his memories had been drain of all happy emotions-had the ghosts really drained it all in their quest to remember what happiness was like?
The Informant held the shy mouse close to him.
“I miss them…” he said, his voice cracking. “I’d give anything to see them again… But they don’t even know I’m alive…”
The mouse named Techie squeaked, looking up at him with its shiny eyes.
“I want to believe that they miss me, too…” he said. “Actually, I know they miss me. I won’t believe that they let Carmen take me…” He trailed off, sobbing. “But… I… I can’t help it… I know they’re missing me and mourning me and are probably feeling terrible about losing me… But I can’t help but feel that they should be here, realizing that I’m stuck in this Heaven-forsaken place.” He trembled more violently. “They’re probably thinking that one day they’ll meet me again, but… They never will… I’ll never see them again… And even though they’re sure they never will, they’ll probably end up forgetting me after several hundred years…”
Now the other two mice were squeaking, too.
“Yeah, I’ll probably end up forgetting them, too…” sobbed the Informant. “I don’t want to forget them…! I don’t want them to forget me…!”
The mouse in his hand squeaked again.
“I haven’t been separated from them since I met them in Central Park…” the boy went on. “After what happened with Adelo, I didn’t feel like making new friends, especially with them, but… Techie’s laugh made everything alright… And then I made friends with the Inspector… And it took so long for me to make friends with the Messenger…” He shook his head. “What would they say if they knew where I was…? If they knew I was going to be trapped here for all eternity…?”
He sobbed as he realized what they would do-they would probably stay with him for all eternity, though he could not bring himself to allow them to stay… He would tell them to go and live their lives, just as they were probably struggling to do right this moment.
“Maybe…” he said, trembling. “Maybe it’s better this way… They won’t be suffering like me…”
“So this is the life… and afterlife… that you want…?” a voice sneered.
The Informant froze-he knew that voice; it was an echo of his own. The mice sensed something evil approaching and they fled under the bed.
“Why are you here…?” the boy asked. “What do you want!?”
“Well…” sighed his double, materializing out of nowhere. “I’m just taking pity on you. And pitying myself; for as long as you’re here, I can’t take your essence. There’d be no point for me to become you and stay trapped for all eternity…”
He shook his head, disgusted.
“And I’m not the only one in the spirit realm who is deeply upset with your plight,” the double said. “There’s another spirit-a lovely lady who would be willing to help free you somehow, because it hurts her so much to see this fate befall her… Little Prince…”
The doppelganger smirked as the Informant looked up at him in horror.
“Not… not Veran…!” the boy gasped. “No! I’ll never take any help from her! There’s no point in being free if she’s going to have me take out my friends!”
“Your friends aren’t here, helping you, are they?” the double asked.
The Informant shot him a dark look.
“Suit yourself…” said the doppelganger. “Well, I’ll relay your reply to Veran. But she’ll keep her ears open-just call for help, and she’ll devise some way to get you out of this. She’s the Sorceress of Shadows-if there’s anyone capable of breaking the curse on you, she is the one.”
With that, he faded away as the boy heard footsteps approaching him. Carmen and the rest of the V.I.L.E. agents arrived.
“So, Dying Informant…” said Carmen. “Did you enjoy your night in the house?”
The Informant gave her a dark look now.
“You must think it’s hilarious…” he said. “Anyway, I found out that I won’t be able to get out of here, even if I do talk. So what’s the point in any sort of interrogation process?”
“Because I personally know the descendant of the owners of this house-the ones who cursed it,” Carmen explained. “He can get you out of here… if I tell him to.”
So basically my two escape routes are either Veran or Carmen… the Informant thought to himself. He shook his head. He wouldn’t be going anywhere-his morals were higher than they thought.
“I’ll never talk…” he vowed.
“Then things are about to get a whole lot worse…” Carmen said.
Eartha and RoboCrook stepped forward now, Eartha cracking her massive knuckles. Patty held her breath, hoping that they wouldn’t hurt him too much.
The Informant braced himself, struggling to hold on as the pain descended.
************************************
The Inspector’s search took him to London. He knew there was a branch of V.I.L.E. located here, and had, at last, tracked down one of the agents-a man by the name of Titus Canbe, a seafaring agent who had been known to frequent a quiet pub.
The London branch of ACME had been most helpful in helping him find his way. The Chief of the London branch had heard about the Informant and felt for him.
“We can understand how it is to lose a comrade,” she said. “But I am still not sure why you wish to question Mr. Canbe. Do you suspect that he knows something?”
“I’m hoping so,” he said. He had no leads to go on, so the pub was the best place to start.
The Inspector did draw some attention when he entered, but as an unfamiliar face to Titus, he was not perceived as a threat.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you before…” said Titus, as the Inspector sat by the bar next to him.
The Inspector just grunted in agreement, trying to look uninterested as he took note of how slurred the crook’s speech was. He paged through a copy of a London newspaper. There had been a mention of the lost ACME agent-something which surprised him. He hadn’t expected the story to come this far.
“What’re you reading…?” asked Titus.
“Some story about a missing detective from New York,” he mumbled. “Sad, really… He drowned, but…” He decided to add his own embellishments to the story. “Some of his colleagues think that Carmen Sandiego was involved.”
“Maybe she was…” said Titus. “But just between you and me… I know Miss Sandiego well-she would not have killed him. In fact, she said that she had overheard some plans from another organization to kill that agent, so she interfered and saved his life.”
The Inspector pretended to be confused.
“Then… he’s alive?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Titus, with a smirk. He had obviously had a bit too much, and was blabbing far more than he should. “And ACME will never know it.”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” the Inspector said, darkly, as he quickly slapped the handcuffs on Titus. “I knew he was alive before you even confessed it.”
Titus, still a little tipsy, stared dumbly at the handcuffs and then at the Inspector, who was now holding out his badge.
“Where did she take him?” he asked, on a cold, dark voice.
“I… I dunno…” he slurred. “I didn’t hear the whole plan… Only that she intended to hide the boy somewhere he wouldn’t be found or wouldn’t escape from. Can you take these things off?”
“Then if you don’t know, who would know!?” the Inspector demanded, ignoring him.
“M… Madam LeZaard might know…” Titus slurred. The Inspector flinched in disgust at his breath.
Should he take the lead, or pass it off as part of a drunken rambling? And yet, there might not be time if he waited for him to sober up…
“Where is LeZaard?” the Inspector asked. “Tell me!”
“Oh, she’s prob’ly ‘round Paris somewhere…” he said. “Shoeing for some shops… I mean, shopping for some shoes.”
The Inspector shook his head, taking him back to the London Headquarters of ACME. He would have to request for him to be questioned later; following the lead was the most important thing.
**************************
The Messenger had contacted the San Francisco branch of ACME upon his arrival, and he was preparing to meet with one of the agents. He had already requested a plane for him and one for the Techie, but his mind was on the Informant. It was all he could do to stop himself from yelling in frustration. If only he could do something… something that could ensure that the boy would soon be rescued…
“Excuse me?” a voice asked.
The Messenger jumped, turning to face the speaker-a woman slightly older than he was.
“I’m Julia Argent,” she said, shaking his hand. “San Francisco branch… I regret that we couldn’t have met under different circumstances… I am sorry for your loss.”
The Messenger could only nod, blankly, the thought of the Informant being alive being the only comforting thought to him at the moment.
“Normally, I wouldn’t want to question a person’s action after a tragedy like this…” she said. “But you’ll forgive me if I ask why you and your friends need accesses to planes?”
“Because we believe that what happened to him was no accident,” the Messenger explained. “And I believe that Carmen Sandiego herself is behind it.”
“I see…” said Miss Argent, stunned. “What proof do you have to back this claim, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Let’s just call it a strong gut instinct…” the other agent replied.
“I always feared that Carmen might resort to such methods…” she sighed. “She used to work with me… during her brief career at ACME.”
The Messenger muttered something under his breath about traitors.
“It was inevitable,” Miss Argent said. “Her family came from a long line of thieves… It was fate that she would follow in their footsteps.”
“That’s just like the story of Aranea Vulsor…” the Messenger said, darkly. But then he blinked.
Vulsor… She had always been close to Carmen-if there was anyone that Carmen would reveal her plans to, it would be her!
“Miss Argent,” he said, taking off. “Hold that plane-I’ll be back as soon as possible!”
“But…” she trailed off as he was already out of earshot. “Alright…”
The Messenger struggled to keep his emotions under control during the cab ride to the Dronyche Company. He had never wanted to lay eyes on that woman again… Not after what she had put him through… But for the Informant, he would be more than willing to face her. And if she was expecting the mild-mannered agent that she had tried to force into wedlock before, she was going to be sorely disappointed.
He didn’t bother to say so much as a word to the receptionist who greeted him. Startled workers made way for him as he approached Vulsor’s office.
“Excuse me, sir…” said the secretary. “You can’t see Miss Vulsor without an appointment--”
“Oh, she’ll see me,” he threw over his shoulder, as he opened the door.
Vulsor looked up, astounded to see him there.
“Well, well…” she said, her painted lips pressing into a smirk. “If it isn’t my darling…”
“I’m not your anything,” the agent spat. “I’m here for some information, Vulsor!”
“I thought we were on first name terms, Dearest…” she purred, getting up from her desk and walking towards him. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re not here because you want to come back to me?”
She let out a slight gasp as the Messenger seized her by the shoulders as she approached.
“Now you listen to me…” he said, coldly. “Where is Infy!?”
And now the lady knew what this was all about.
“I thought you were supposed to be your brother’s keeper,” she smirked. “Guess you didn’t do a good job--”
“Where is he!?” he demanded, startling her.
“Well he’s not here, if that’s what you’re wondering!” she retorted.
“But you know about what happened to him, don’t you?” asked the Messenger.
“If I did…” Vulsor purred. “Why would I tell you-the man who left me standing at the altar?”
“Because if you don’t, I can have you arrested for withholding evidence and being an accessory to a kidnapping.”
“Touché…” she admitted. “First of all, let me confirm what you’ve probably been guessing-the Dying Informant is alive. He was never dead, but he would have been if not for Carmen’s interference.”
“You expect me to believe that!?” the Messenger asked.
“It’s the truth,” said Vulsor. “Carmen found out about plans by another developer of odd serums that he had been intending to try a new serum which would render its victims into such a state of unconsciousness, they would easily be mistaken for dead. Carmen found out that he intended to use it on your Dying Informant. Whether or not the man’s intent was to let him die, or if he himself was going to retrieve him, we will never know. Carmen saved his life.”
The Messenger’s blood began to boil.
“Yeah, but now she’s got him locked up somewhere, torturing him for information!” he yelled back. “You expect me to be grateful for that!?”
“At least he’s alive,” Vulsor answered.
“Where is he, then?” he asked. “Carmen tells you everything.”
“And that’s why she didn’t tell me his location this time,” Vulsor said. “She had a feeling one of you would suspect her and come to me. So she refused to tell me where he was, but she did say I could give you the name of the man behind this.”
“Who is he?” the Messenger asked, ready to mentally curse the man.
“A Dr. Mendoza,” she said. Rage flashed in her eyes. “According to one of Carmen’s V.I.L.E. scientists, Dr. Sara Bellum, he stole some of my family’s research on spider venom-it’s nothing that I can’t rewrite, but it enrages me to see my family’s work in his hands!” She looked the Messenger in the eyes. “If you choose to pursue the man, I request you to let me join you, for in this case, the enemy of my enemy… is my dear intended.”
“Come off it,” he snarled back. “You never really wanted to marry me-you just thought that I had another one of those stupid medallions!”
She looked away at these words.
“If that were true, then why did I still want to marry you, even after I found out that Seto Kaiba had it…?”
The Messenger frowned, deeply, as Vulsor turned back to face him.
“You virtuous fool…” she said, quietly. “Don’t even think for one moment that it was your threat of an arrest that made me talk.”
The Messenger blinked, and then backed away from her. Without another word, he turned and left, feeling her gaze as he retreated.
***********************************
The Techie had long since headed for the address on the letter that the Messenger had intercepted. Getting inside the inconspicuous old brick building was another matter entirely. He wasn’t sure of how many of Carmen’s henchpeople were still in there, but judging by the stench when he had passed by one of the windows, it was a safe bet that Top Grunge was somewhere inside. And the blaring party music betrayed Double Trouble’s presences as well.
A way in through any of the doors was out of the question, and the windows all had bars lining them. The Techie sighed, pushing back his fedora as he glanced at the nigh-impenetrable fortress. There weren’t any visible air ducts, either.
Perhaps… there was some sort of vent or skylight on the roof? The brunet stared at it in determination. Taking out the collapsible grappling hook he had brought with him, he managed to climb his way to the roof. Glancing onto the rooftop, he gasped and ducked so that he wasn’t visible-Wonder Rat was pacing the rooftop, muttering to himself about being put on guard duty.
“It ain’t fair…” he mumbled. “I never get to relax inside. I don’t know why we even need a lookout here anyways… Nothing ever happens--”
He was cut off as the techie suddenly approached him and gave him a blow to the shoulder, which knocked him out. He didn’t even know what hat hit him.
The Techie immediately handcuffed him to a pipe that ran along the roof before looking around. Sure enough, there was a small staircase that led inside.
He wandered slowly down the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, walking ever so quietly, making sure that he didn’t make a single sound.
“Hi!” a cheerful voice exclaimed behind him.
The Techie yelped in fright, crashing into a small table that had been set up in the hallway, which had carried the once-priceless vase that he had just knocked to the floor, now lying totaled.
He turned, coming face to face with Kneemoi.
“Oh dear…” said the Roddenberrian. “Carmen went through a lot of trouble stealing that Ming vase. She won’t like it when she hears that it got smashed. But I wouldn’t worry-Double Trouble would probably take the blame for it-their parties can get really wild, and they’ve broken things before!”
She made her nose into a funnel and started sucking the pieces into the air, where they somehow fell into place, recreating the vase on the table (which had become upright due to Kneemoi’s nose), which was now laden with a spiderweb of cracks.
“Maybe she won’t even notice…” Kneemoi began, but then blinked as the “vase” collapsed into a pile on the table. “Oh, well! So what brings you here to our neck of the woods?”
The Techie just stared at Kneemoi for a moment, his mouth open. Kneemoi just blinked, sensing the mix of emotions in the Techie’s mind.
“You’re missing your friend…” she realized. Her mouth turned down into a glum expression.
And now the Techie found his voice.
“Please…” he pleaded. “If there’s anything you can tell me…”
“I don’t know much myself…” said Kneemoi. “All I know is that Carmen got wind of someone named Dr. Mendoza trying to use your friend as a guinea pig, so she stepped in after she had a long talk with someone from a mental hospital.”
The Techie blinked.
“What…?” he asked.
“I was there when she was talking to him-that place gave me the creeps,” said Kneemoi, with a slight shudder. “He kept saying something over and over again about a place called the Adelo House. At least, that’s what its real name is… Everyone else calls it the Home by the Sea.”
The Techie blinked. Was that where the Informant was being held!?
“Where is this Home by the Sea?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Kneemoi. “I couldn’t stand to stay in the place a moment longer-I left before Carmen had finished speaking… But I can give you the name of the man Carmen talked to-he’s in a mental hospital in New York…”
“New York!?” the Techie cried. No… it couldn’t be… They had left New York and… left the Informant behind there!? Oh, he had to get out of here!
He tore down the corridor.
“Wait!” cried Kneemoi. “That’s the wrong way…!”
He paid her no heed, and he only came to a stop when he came face to face with a pair of all-too-familiar twins.
“Well, well, well…” said one, with a smirk. “Look who it is…”
“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time…” the other said, smirking also.
The increasing stench behind him told the Techie that Grunge was rapidly approaching from the other end of the corridor.
He was surrounded.
Author/Artist: Crystal Rose of Pollux (rose_of_pollux)
Theme(s): 26; To be forgotten is worse than death.
Character: the Dying Informant
Fandom: Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego?
Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine (unless otherwise noted) and the story is!
Cross-posted to 31_days and my journal
The Informant’s head throbbed as consciousness came to him. Sunlight had found its way through the window, and the Informant opened his eyes to find himself on the old, dusty cot in the room.
With a gasp, he sat upright.
“A nightmare…?” he asked, aloud. “Was it all just a nightmare…?”
He bolted out of the cot and crossed to the window. Tentatively, he tried to open it, and he was surprised when it opened with ease. The boy breathed a sigh of relief.
His relief was short-lived, however, as he realized that he could not go past the boundary of the windowsill. It was as thought there was an invisible force field, or another piece of glass that he could not see.
“No…!” he pleaded to no one in particular. “Let me out! Let me out!”
Instead, the mark on his shoulder began to glow, and it repelled him from the window with such a force that he was sent halfway across the room.
A small squeak made him blink, looking the trio of mice he had seen the previous night by his head.
“Hey…” he said, softly. The mice seemed to remind him of people he knew… One was large, one had wild fur, and the other shrunk away from him, shy and timid.
“You’re buddies… just like them…” he realized. He gave a wan smile. “I’ll name you after them… You’re the Inspector, you’re the Messenger…” He coaxed the shy mouse into his hand, where it promptly curled itself into a ball. “And you’re Techie.”
But why did thinking of his friends hurt so much? Why wasn’t he feeling happy when he thought about his friends? His head was hazy, and he felt that his memories had been drain of all happy emotions-had the ghosts really drained it all in their quest to remember what happiness was like?
The Informant held the shy mouse close to him.
“I miss them…” he said, his voice cracking. “I’d give anything to see them again… But they don’t even know I’m alive…”
The mouse named Techie squeaked, looking up at him with its shiny eyes.
“I want to believe that they miss me, too…” he said. “Actually, I know they miss me. I won’t believe that they let Carmen take me…” He trailed off, sobbing. “But… I… I can’t help it… I know they’re missing me and mourning me and are probably feeling terrible about losing me… But I can’t help but feel that they should be here, realizing that I’m stuck in this Heaven-forsaken place.” He trembled more violently. “They’re probably thinking that one day they’ll meet me again, but… They never will… I’ll never see them again… And even though they’re sure they never will, they’ll probably end up forgetting me after several hundred years…”
Now the other two mice were squeaking, too.
“Yeah, I’ll probably end up forgetting them, too…” sobbed the Informant. “I don’t want to forget them…! I don’t want them to forget me…!”
The mouse in his hand squeaked again.
“I haven’t been separated from them since I met them in Central Park…” the boy went on. “After what happened with Adelo, I didn’t feel like making new friends, especially with them, but… Techie’s laugh made everything alright… And then I made friends with the Inspector… And it took so long for me to make friends with the Messenger…” He shook his head. “What would they say if they knew where I was…? If they knew I was going to be trapped here for all eternity…?”
He sobbed as he realized what they would do-they would probably stay with him for all eternity, though he could not bring himself to allow them to stay… He would tell them to go and live their lives, just as they were probably struggling to do right this moment.
“Maybe…” he said, trembling. “Maybe it’s better this way… They won’t be suffering like me…”
“So this is the life… and afterlife… that you want…?” a voice sneered.
The Informant froze-he knew that voice; it was an echo of his own. The mice sensed something evil approaching and they fled under the bed.
“Why are you here…?” the boy asked. “What do you want!?”
“Well…” sighed his double, materializing out of nowhere. “I’m just taking pity on you. And pitying myself; for as long as you’re here, I can’t take your essence. There’d be no point for me to become you and stay trapped for all eternity…”
He shook his head, disgusted.
“And I’m not the only one in the spirit realm who is deeply upset with your plight,” the double said. “There’s another spirit-a lovely lady who would be willing to help free you somehow, because it hurts her so much to see this fate befall her… Little Prince…”
The doppelganger smirked as the Informant looked up at him in horror.
“Not… not Veran…!” the boy gasped. “No! I’ll never take any help from her! There’s no point in being free if she’s going to have me take out my friends!”
“Your friends aren’t here, helping you, are they?” the double asked.
The Informant shot him a dark look.
“Suit yourself…” said the doppelganger. “Well, I’ll relay your reply to Veran. But she’ll keep her ears open-just call for help, and she’ll devise some way to get you out of this. She’s the Sorceress of Shadows-if there’s anyone capable of breaking the curse on you, she is the one.”
With that, he faded away as the boy heard footsteps approaching him. Carmen and the rest of the V.I.L.E. agents arrived.
“So, Dying Informant…” said Carmen. “Did you enjoy your night in the house?”
The Informant gave her a dark look now.
“You must think it’s hilarious…” he said. “Anyway, I found out that I won’t be able to get out of here, even if I do talk. So what’s the point in any sort of interrogation process?”
“Because I personally know the descendant of the owners of this house-the ones who cursed it,” Carmen explained. “He can get you out of here… if I tell him to.”
So basically my two escape routes are either Veran or Carmen… the Informant thought to himself. He shook his head. He wouldn’t be going anywhere-his morals were higher than they thought.
“I’ll never talk…” he vowed.
“Then things are about to get a whole lot worse…” Carmen said.
Eartha and RoboCrook stepped forward now, Eartha cracking her massive knuckles. Patty held her breath, hoping that they wouldn’t hurt him too much.
The Informant braced himself, struggling to hold on as the pain descended.
************************************
The Inspector’s search took him to London. He knew there was a branch of V.I.L.E. located here, and had, at last, tracked down one of the agents-a man by the name of Titus Canbe, a seafaring agent who had been known to frequent a quiet pub.
The London branch of ACME had been most helpful in helping him find his way. The Chief of the London branch had heard about the Informant and felt for him.
“We can understand how it is to lose a comrade,” she said. “But I am still not sure why you wish to question Mr. Canbe. Do you suspect that he knows something?”
“I’m hoping so,” he said. He had no leads to go on, so the pub was the best place to start.
The Inspector did draw some attention when he entered, but as an unfamiliar face to Titus, he was not perceived as a threat.
“Don’t think I’ve seen you before…” said Titus, as the Inspector sat by the bar next to him.
The Inspector just grunted in agreement, trying to look uninterested as he took note of how slurred the crook’s speech was. He paged through a copy of a London newspaper. There had been a mention of the lost ACME agent-something which surprised him. He hadn’t expected the story to come this far.
“What’re you reading…?” asked Titus.
“Some story about a missing detective from New York,” he mumbled. “Sad, really… He drowned, but…” He decided to add his own embellishments to the story. “Some of his colleagues think that Carmen Sandiego was involved.”
“Maybe she was…” said Titus. “But just between you and me… I know Miss Sandiego well-she would not have killed him. In fact, she said that she had overheard some plans from another organization to kill that agent, so she interfered and saved his life.”
The Inspector pretended to be confused.
“Then… he’s alive?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Titus, with a smirk. He had obviously had a bit too much, and was blabbing far more than he should. “And ACME will never know it.”
“I’ll tell you one thing,” the Inspector said, darkly, as he quickly slapped the handcuffs on Titus. “I knew he was alive before you even confessed it.”
Titus, still a little tipsy, stared dumbly at the handcuffs and then at the Inspector, who was now holding out his badge.
“Where did she take him?” he asked, on a cold, dark voice.
“I… I dunno…” he slurred. “I didn’t hear the whole plan… Only that she intended to hide the boy somewhere he wouldn’t be found or wouldn’t escape from. Can you take these things off?”
“Then if you don’t know, who would know!?” the Inspector demanded, ignoring him.
“M… Madam LeZaard might know…” Titus slurred. The Inspector flinched in disgust at his breath.
Should he take the lead, or pass it off as part of a drunken rambling? And yet, there might not be time if he waited for him to sober up…
“Where is LeZaard?” the Inspector asked. “Tell me!”
“Oh, she’s prob’ly ‘round Paris somewhere…” he said. “Shoeing for some shops… I mean, shopping for some shoes.”
The Inspector shook his head, taking him back to the London Headquarters of ACME. He would have to request for him to be questioned later; following the lead was the most important thing.
**************************
The Messenger had contacted the San Francisco branch of ACME upon his arrival, and he was preparing to meet with one of the agents. He had already requested a plane for him and one for the Techie, but his mind was on the Informant. It was all he could do to stop himself from yelling in frustration. If only he could do something… something that could ensure that the boy would soon be rescued…
“Excuse me?” a voice asked.
The Messenger jumped, turning to face the speaker-a woman slightly older than he was.
“I’m Julia Argent,” she said, shaking his hand. “San Francisco branch… I regret that we couldn’t have met under different circumstances… I am sorry for your loss.”
The Messenger could only nod, blankly, the thought of the Informant being alive being the only comforting thought to him at the moment.
“Normally, I wouldn’t want to question a person’s action after a tragedy like this…” she said. “But you’ll forgive me if I ask why you and your friends need accesses to planes?”
“Because we believe that what happened to him was no accident,” the Messenger explained. “And I believe that Carmen Sandiego herself is behind it.”
“I see…” said Miss Argent, stunned. “What proof do you have to back this claim, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Let’s just call it a strong gut instinct…” the other agent replied.
“I always feared that Carmen might resort to such methods…” she sighed. “She used to work with me… during her brief career at ACME.”
The Messenger muttered something under his breath about traitors.
“It was inevitable,” Miss Argent said. “Her family came from a long line of thieves… It was fate that she would follow in their footsteps.”
“That’s just like the story of Aranea Vulsor…” the Messenger said, darkly. But then he blinked.
Vulsor… She had always been close to Carmen-if there was anyone that Carmen would reveal her plans to, it would be her!
“Miss Argent,” he said, taking off. “Hold that plane-I’ll be back as soon as possible!”
“But…” she trailed off as he was already out of earshot. “Alright…”
The Messenger struggled to keep his emotions under control during the cab ride to the Dronyche Company. He had never wanted to lay eyes on that woman again… Not after what she had put him through… But for the Informant, he would be more than willing to face her. And if she was expecting the mild-mannered agent that she had tried to force into wedlock before, she was going to be sorely disappointed.
He didn’t bother to say so much as a word to the receptionist who greeted him. Startled workers made way for him as he approached Vulsor’s office.
“Excuse me, sir…” said the secretary. “You can’t see Miss Vulsor without an appointment--”
“Oh, she’ll see me,” he threw over his shoulder, as he opened the door.
Vulsor looked up, astounded to see him there.
“Well, well…” she said, her painted lips pressing into a smirk. “If it isn’t my darling…”
“I’m not your anything,” the agent spat. “I’m here for some information, Vulsor!”
“I thought we were on first name terms, Dearest…” she purred, getting up from her desk and walking towards him. “Do you mean to tell me that you’re not here because you want to come back to me?”
She let out a slight gasp as the Messenger seized her by the shoulders as she approached.
“Now you listen to me…” he said, coldly. “Where is Infy!?”
And now the lady knew what this was all about.
“I thought you were supposed to be your brother’s keeper,” she smirked. “Guess you didn’t do a good job--”
“Where is he!?” he demanded, startling her.
“Well he’s not here, if that’s what you’re wondering!” she retorted.
“But you know about what happened to him, don’t you?” asked the Messenger.
“If I did…” Vulsor purred. “Why would I tell you-the man who left me standing at the altar?”
“Because if you don’t, I can have you arrested for withholding evidence and being an accessory to a kidnapping.”
“Touché…” she admitted. “First of all, let me confirm what you’ve probably been guessing-the Dying Informant is alive. He was never dead, but he would have been if not for Carmen’s interference.”
“You expect me to believe that!?” the Messenger asked.
“It’s the truth,” said Vulsor. “Carmen found out about plans by another developer of odd serums that he had been intending to try a new serum which would render its victims into such a state of unconsciousness, they would easily be mistaken for dead. Carmen found out that he intended to use it on your Dying Informant. Whether or not the man’s intent was to let him die, or if he himself was going to retrieve him, we will never know. Carmen saved his life.”
The Messenger’s blood began to boil.
“Yeah, but now she’s got him locked up somewhere, torturing him for information!” he yelled back. “You expect me to be grateful for that!?”
“At least he’s alive,” Vulsor answered.
“Where is he, then?” he asked. “Carmen tells you everything.”
“And that’s why she didn’t tell me his location this time,” Vulsor said. “She had a feeling one of you would suspect her and come to me. So she refused to tell me where he was, but she did say I could give you the name of the man behind this.”
“Who is he?” the Messenger asked, ready to mentally curse the man.
“A Dr. Mendoza,” she said. Rage flashed in her eyes. “According to one of Carmen’s V.I.L.E. scientists, Dr. Sara Bellum, he stole some of my family’s research on spider venom-it’s nothing that I can’t rewrite, but it enrages me to see my family’s work in his hands!” She looked the Messenger in the eyes. “If you choose to pursue the man, I request you to let me join you, for in this case, the enemy of my enemy… is my dear intended.”
“Come off it,” he snarled back. “You never really wanted to marry me-you just thought that I had another one of those stupid medallions!”
She looked away at these words.
“If that were true, then why did I still want to marry you, even after I found out that Seto Kaiba had it…?”
The Messenger frowned, deeply, as Vulsor turned back to face him.
“You virtuous fool…” she said, quietly. “Don’t even think for one moment that it was your threat of an arrest that made me talk.”
The Messenger blinked, and then backed away from her. Without another word, he turned and left, feeling her gaze as he retreated.
***********************************
The Techie had long since headed for the address on the letter that the Messenger had intercepted. Getting inside the inconspicuous old brick building was another matter entirely. He wasn’t sure of how many of Carmen’s henchpeople were still in there, but judging by the stench when he had passed by one of the windows, it was a safe bet that Top Grunge was somewhere inside. And the blaring party music betrayed Double Trouble’s presences as well.
A way in through any of the doors was out of the question, and the windows all had bars lining them. The Techie sighed, pushing back his fedora as he glanced at the nigh-impenetrable fortress. There weren’t any visible air ducts, either.
Perhaps… there was some sort of vent or skylight on the roof? The brunet stared at it in determination. Taking out the collapsible grappling hook he had brought with him, he managed to climb his way to the roof. Glancing onto the rooftop, he gasped and ducked so that he wasn’t visible-Wonder Rat was pacing the rooftop, muttering to himself about being put on guard duty.
“It ain’t fair…” he mumbled. “I never get to relax inside. I don’t know why we even need a lookout here anyways… Nothing ever happens--”
He was cut off as the techie suddenly approached him and gave him a blow to the shoulder, which knocked him out. He didn’t even know what hat hit him.
The Techie immediately handcuffed him to a pipe that ran along the roof before looking around. Sure enough, there was a small staircase that led inside.
He wandered slowly down the corridor at the bottom of the stairs, walking ever so quietly, making sure that he didn’t make a single sound.
“Hi!” a cheerful voice exclaimed behind him.
The Techie yelped in fright, crashing into a small table that had been set up in the hallway, which had carried the once-priceless vase that he had just knocked to the floor, now lying totaled.
He turned, coming face to face with Kneemoi.
“Oh dear…” said the Roddenberrian. “Carmen went through a lot of trouble stealing that Ming vase. She won’t like it when she hears that it got smashed. But I wouldn’t worry-Double Trouble would probably take the blame for it-their parties can get really wild, and they’ve broken things before!”
She made her nose into a funnel and started sucking the pieces into the air, where they somehow fell into place, recreating the vase on the table (which had become upright due to Kneemoi’s nose), which was now laden with a spiderweb of cracks.
“Maybe she won’t even notice…” Kneemoi began, but then blinked as the “vase” collapsed into a pile on the table. “Oh, well! So what brings you here to our neck of the woods?”
The Techie just stared at Kneemoi for a moment, his mouth open. Kneemoi just blinked, sensing the mix of emotions in the Techie’s mind.
“You’re missing your friend…” she realized. Her mouth turned down into a glum expression.
And now the Techie found his voice.
“Please…” he pleaded. “If there’s anything you can tell me…”
“I don’t know much myself…” said Kneemoi. “All I know is that Carmen got wind of someone named Dr. Mendoza trying to use your friend as a guinea pig, so she stepped in after she had a long talk with someone from a mental hospital.”
The Techie blinked.
“What…?” he asked.
“I was there when she was talking to him-that place gave me the creeps,” said Kneemoi, with a slight shudder. “He kept saying something over and over again about a place called the Adelo House. At least, that’s what its real name is… Everyone else calls it the Home by the Sea.”
The Techie blinked. Was that where the Informant was being held!?
“Where is this Home by the Sea?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” said Kneemoi. “I couldn’t stand to stay in the place a moment longer-I left before Carmen had finished speaking… But I can give you the name of the man Carmen talked to-he’s in a mental hospital in New York…”
“New York!?” the Techie cried. No… it couldn’t be… They had left New York and… left the Informant behind there!? Oh, he had to get out of here!
He tore down the corridor.
“Wait!” cried Kneemoi. “That’s the wrong way…!”
He paid her no heed, and he only came to a stop when he came face to face with a pair of all-too-familiar twins.
“Well, well, well…” said one, with a smirk. “Look who it is…”
“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time…” the other said, smirking also.
The increasing stench behind him told the Techie that Grunge was rapidly approaching from the other end of the corridor.
He was surrounded.