Chapter 48

Katie MacArran rushed out of the shed in such a hurry, she neglected to don her oilskins.  In mere seconds, the driving rain had transformed her clothing into pasties.

She didn’t care.

Nor was she bothered when she reached the edge of the airstrip and was instantly pelted with a torrent of mud from the prop wash.  (It was turning her clothes opaque again, anyway.)

Katie cared about only one thing at that moment – getting her hooves on the unwilling passenger who must surely be aboard the Guinea Airways W.34, now taxiing to a stop on the Iso Mine’s landing strip.

And she wasn’t the only one.  As if by mass intuition, every miner in the camp seemed to be converging on the runway; they knew, as did their employer, that there could be only ONE reason Guinea Airways was flying in this downpour.

It was then that an equally soaked Shang Li-Sung turned and shouted for everyone to get back to work. “This does not concern you at the moment, back to what you were doing!” 

 The crowd immediately dispersed, albeit grudgingly and with a murderous look over every shoulder. The miners of Iso clearly were of the same mind as Katie where the traitorous rat, Le Ho-Chang was concerned.

So were Drigo, Drake, and Striper McKenna, who had also just come running to the airstrip. (And to whom the red panda’s order obviously did not apply.)

The Junkers’ engine was cut, and the propeller slowed, and then stopped.  A second later, Katie saw a drenched Charlie Deal raise his flying goggles, then turn in the open cockpit and wave in greeting.  Even at this distance, and in this downpour, there could be no mistaking the grimness of his smile.

Katie waved and nodded back, and at that instant the passenger door was flung open like a starting a gate, and a squealing, black-furred figure was pitched headlong through the opening, landing face-first. (and with an unpleasant crunch) on the muddy surface of the packed-stone runway.  This was not much of surprise to Katie or her cohorts; it’s just about impossible to break a fall with your paws tied behind your back.

“Lose something?” called a voice from inside the aircraft, and then the sardonic figure of Pard Mustar appeared in the doorway.

Katie didn’t even notice him.  She was too busy stalking towards the spot where Le Ho-Chang had landed.   Under any other circumstances, she might have found the scene amusing.  The rodent looked positively ridiculous, clad as he was in a dark-blue changpao, the traditional Chinese long coat  that resembles nothing so much as a heavy nightdress.  When she got to the rodent, he was laying on the ground, groaning and half incoherent, his muzzle dark with blood.  Whether this was the result of his fall from the plane, or the product of some rough treatment at the paws of his captors, Katie couldn’t tell and didn’t frankly give a damn; she only wished that as long as Le had decided to dress like a relic of the Manchu era, he might have chosen to sport a queue as well.  It would have made the perfect holding handle.

Oh well, she would just have to make do with the scruff of his neck...which she did, hauling the rodent roughly to his feet and thrusting her face into his, her one blue eye blazing like an electric arc.

“Guess who, you little shit.” she hissed in Cantonese.

Le Ho-Chang became instantly and fully conscious, letting out a high, piercing squeak of terror that was sweet music to her ears.

Katie back-hoofed him across the muzzle.  Le screamed again, louder this time.

He finally stopped when Katie’s rear hoof kicked viciously upwards between his legs, causing Drigo to grunt in spite of himself and drawing a nasty snigger from Striper McKenna.

“Right, there’s one went in the goal.” he said.

But then Shang Li-Sung was pushing his way through the others, and grabbing Le by his shirtfront.  In the blink of an eye, he had his knife in his paw, and the rat’s pitiable keening had resumed once again.

“No Shang!” Katie started to protest, but the red panda was much too quick.  In three swift movements, he sliced through every one of the changpao’s toggle closings, and popped both sleeves.  Then he pulled the shirt off in a single, fast movement, drawing an even louder hoot from the Striper.

But then, to everyone’s bewilderment, he turned what was left of the shirt inside out, and began to examine it closely. 

This lasted for perhaps two seconds, then the garment was dropping to the muddy runway, and Shang was pulling a whistle from his pocket.   He blew it twice and immediately a skein of guards was hurrying across the bridge towards the end of the airstrip.

“Eh, what’s goin’ on, mate?” called Pard Mustar, who had just climbed down from the Junkers.

“No time,” said the red panda curtly.  He spun on his heel, as though performing an exercise in Tai Chi, and barked a quick order at the approaching squad of security furs.  “You!  Get to Dredge Number 2 immediately. Find and detain Brian Lu...go!”

They did not go.  Instead, the leader of the squad, a black shar-pei dog, stepped forward and snapped quickly to attention, drawing an acid look from his chief.

“Sir!  No one has seen Brian Lu since at least the day before yesterday; he did not show up at the counting house to receive his pay.”

Shang’s look of choler vanished at once.  He pointed at the canine and one of the others, a clouded leopard.

“You and you, come with me.  The rest of you, search the dredging sheds and the cargo dock.  If you find Brian Lu, do not hurt him unless he resists, but do not let him escape.  Move.” 

“Yes Shang.”  They, this time obeying instantly. 

“Shang, what....?” Katie started to say.

“I will explain later, Your Grace.” he answered, hurriedly, “But right now, there is no time.  It may be too late already.”  Without waiting for a response, he beckoned to the remaining guards, then drew his gun and led them at run towards the camp.

“Cor, now what the devil’s THAT all about?” said Drake Hackett, reaching under the hood of his oilskin and scratching his head.

“Damn if I know”, said Drigo Chavez, paws on hips as he watched the red panda vanish into the gray curtain of rain, “But you know Shang -- he wouldn’t run off NOW, unless it was somethin’ damn, yiffin’ important.”

There was a general murmur of agreement all around, then Striper McKenna nodded at the helpless figure laying prostrate at their feet. 

“Anyways, we’ve got some business of our own to attend to, haven’t we?”  He smiled wickedly for Le Ho-Chang’s benefit, then opened his mouth in a predatory smirk.

Being a Tasmanian Tiger, Striper McKenna had the ability to spread his jaws at an impossibly wide angle.  He could literally touch his chest with his chin, a gesture that never failed to disconcert anyone who saw it.  The result here was another shriek of terror on Le’s part, followed by a futile attempt to roll away from the horror confronting him...and gut busting paroxysms of laughter on the part of Drigo, Drake, and Pard Mustar.  Up above in the cockpit of the Junkers, Charlie Deal was straining to see what all the mirth was about.

Katie, for HER part, just watched the tableau with a face of chiseled stone, then turned to Pard Mustar, expression unchanged.

“Where’d you find him?” she asked, jerking a thumb in Le’s direction.  An ugly odor was now finding her nostrils; the Striper’s display had literally scared the crap out of Le.

“Caught ‘im tryin’ to stow away aboard one of our planes for Buna,” said the wallaby, then added with a snort of contempt, “Never came close to pullin’ it off, though.  One of our native ground-crew spotted ‘im tryin’ to climb up into the one of the wheel wells, and came runnin’ to the admin hut wi’ the news.”  He chuckled and nodded at the petrified rat, “Persistent little bugger, I’ll give ‘im that.  There weren’t near enough room for ‘im up in that wheel housing, but he was so bloody determined t’ MAKE himself fit in there, ‘e never even noticed my blokes ‘til they grabbed him.”

Katie smiled and nodded gratefully, her expression now turning malicious, judging from Mustar’s reaction.

“I just want to say, thanks for trying anyway, Pard.  It’s not your fault that Le broke free and jumped out of the plane before you could get him to Buna.”

“Wha...?” the wallaby started to say, regarding her with a very odd look, but then a quick realization dawned in his eyes, and his expression went immediately from puzzled and confused to sly and cynical...and then to one of faux contrition.

“Yeah, well...” he said, pretending to wring his paws, “we did TRY to do the right thing...but accidents will happen, won’t they?”  He turned and called up at the cockpit, “We got enough gas to make it back to Lae, Charlie?”

The rabbit turned to look at the instrument panel and then back again

“Plenty, boss.” he answered, sounding mildly perplexed, “but...”

“Then fire ‘er up.  We’re off on out of ‘ere, sport.”

“But aren’t we gonna...?”

“NOW, Charlie.”

“Yes, boss.”

With a sound like nails on a blackboard, the Junkers’ prop began to rotate.

“That native who spotted Le.” said Katie, raising her voice as the chugging of the propellor became a low roar, “He gonna get the reward you promised?”

“Yeah,” said Pard, shouting to be heard over the rising engine song, “Fair’s fair, n’ all. ‘E gets every bloody penny.”

Katie cupped her hooves over her muzzle and shouted as well.

“Double it...on me.”

“Right-o.”

When the plane had finally gone, Drigo Chavez stepped forward and grabbed Le by the ear, his muzzle almost touching the rat’s. 

“Hey, Amigo.  We got a little somethin’ to show you over in Storage Shed Number 2.”

“Yeah,” said Striper, giving him another ‘mouth of Hell’ grin, “Yer gonna LUV this ‘un, sport.”

The two of the hauled the rodent to his feet and began to prod him, none too gently, back across the bridge and towards the camp.


At the same time this was going on, Shang Li-Sung was pounding furiously on the door of a miner’s shack, although this one was more of an actual flat; with a stout door, windows with shades, and even a small garden. 

Before coming to work for the Iso Mining and Extraction Company, Brian Lu, a bear of Eurasian descent, had worked as a stevedore in Shanghai, where he had learned to operate a dockside crane.  That had lasted until the American shipping company he’d worked for had gone bankrupt in the wake of the Crash.  Jobless in Shanghai, he had drifted down to Rangoon in search of employment, and ultimately to Iso.  Like Le Ho-Chang, his mechanical skills had earned him a considerably higher status in the mine than the average laborer but unlike the rat, he never lorded it over his cohorts.  In fact, Brian Lu was probably the most colorless worker in the mine.  He never drank, never smoked, never gambled...he didn’t even eat very much.  He also kept his own company most of the time.  A lot of that was only to be expected, Shang knew.  Brian’s mother had been an Asiatic black bear, his father a European brown bear.  As an ursine of mixed parentage, he was naturally regarded askance by all of the full-blooded Chinese in the camp.  In addition, he never had any extra money to spend; every spare penny he earned was sent back home to his family in the Pudong district of Shanghai.   If Brian Lu had been one of Le’s two cohorts, he had almost certainly not been a willing one, of that much Shang was certain; it was one of the Snakehead gang’s favorite modus operandi:

“If you agree to serve as our eyes and ears in Iso, we will pay you $5000 American.  If you don’t, we will pay a visit to your family.”

He pounded on the door again.  The angry head of a mouse popped out of a window next door, then hurriedly withdrew when he saw who was making all the noise.

“Brian Lu!” the red panda shouted.  “Open the door!  It’s Shang Li-Sung.”

No response.  Shang raised two fingers and pointed to either side of the doorway.  The guard with him nodded and then the two of them quickly took up flanking positions on either side of the flat’s entrance.  Shang then picked up a pebble and threw it over the roof.  A moment later, it was thrown back.  Good...Cho was in position at the rear window.

He drew his other revolver and stepped up to the door.

Instead of raising his foot and kicking the door head on, in the manner of a western policefur. Shang turned halfway to the left, raised his right leg and spun on his heel, driving his right leg into the door like a battering ram.  It was a stout partition, of almost solid teak, but when Shang’s foot struck, it flew off it’s hinges as though it were made of balsa and went crashing into the room beyond.

With an almost blinding speed, Shang spun into a half crouch, both weapons pointing into the dimness of the flat.

Empty....and both lamps were out, but there on the right was another door, standing half ajar.  On the left, the red panda could see a small stove, and a table with flies buzzing around it.  Now an odd odor began to assert it’s presence, faint but unmistakable; ammonia.

Shang Li-Sung felt a frown pulling deeply at the corners of his mouth.  There was something about this scene that did not quite fit together.  Well, he could figure out why later.  Right now...

“Brian Lu!” he called through the half open door, “If you are in there, come out now.  You have no place to hide, you are surrounded.  Come out now!”

Again, no reply.

Shang crept to the doorway and placed himself against the wall beside it, both pistols raised once more.

“This is your last chance, Brian!”  He shouted, “I know you were not a willing participant in this.  Come out and give yourself up.  It is the only way you can protect your family now.”

Still no answer.  Shang grunted, inhaled a short breath, and moved.

But even as he whirled into the doorway, guns at the ready, he knew it was a fruitless gesture.  Now a different aroma was becoming apparent...one easily more unpleasant than that of the ammonia – and far more indisputable.

Shung rumbled in disgust and put his guns away. 

When he came back out through the shattered front door, the Shar-Pei was still there waiting.  Good discipline, the red panda thought.  Wah had not moved without his signal.

“All right, stand down.” he said, and the canine instantly obeyed, moving away from the door and coming to instant and rigid attention.  Odd, what a little crisis could do, Shang mused.  There had never been this kind of precision amongst the sentry crew before Her Grace had been attacked. 

He pointed at the shack.

“Seal this place.  No one in, no one out..and no one touches anything.  If anyone requests access here, they’re to be detained immediately and brought to the guardhouse.  In fact, I want ALL the dwellings on this street cleared.  And have both of Brian Lu’s neighbors detained for questioning...but do not be difficult with them unless you encounter resist...”

At that moment, the red panda’s words were cut off by a wail of terror that could almost have passed for a prison siren.

Le Ho-Chang had just found out what was inside of Storage Shed Number 2.


“Take a good look, mate!” hissed Striper McKenna, shoving the rat’s face to within inches of the rhinoceros hide, “Take a real good look.  Coz YOU’RE next...unless you yiffin’ talk!  Who’re the others, eh?”

Le Ho-Chang began to tremble uncontrollably

“There..are no other...OHF!!”

“Don’t you yiffing lie to us.” the Tasmanian Tiger hissed, continuing to grind the rodent’s face into the hide.  “We know yer not in this alone.  So who are the others?!”

“Brian Lu.” said a voice from the doorway, and everyone looked up to see Shang Li-Sung entering the shed, “One of them anyway.”

He shucked off his oilskins, looking at Striper McKenna, who was still pushing Le’s muzzle into what was left of Chu Lung-Kuo. “Mind letting him go for a second?” he asked.  From the tone of his voice, he might have been asking to bum a cigarette.

“No problem, mate.” said the Striper, not so much simply letting go of Le as lifting him up and flinging him unceremoniously back to the ground.  Le response to this was another series of pitiful squeaks...which were abruptly truncated when Shang walked up to the prostrate rodent, flipped him over and planted a foot in the center of his chest.  Then, apparently ignoring his captive, he pulled a half-smoked cigar from a shirt-pocket and a well-used trench lighter from another.  The tobacco turned out to be fairly damp from all the rain and it took several minutes to coax the cigar into life. 

During all of this, none of the others spoke, merely waited with baited breath.

Finally Shang took a slow, luxuriant puff and blew a neat smoke-ring.
Then he looked down at Le, speaking in thd dryly amused tone that all who knew him had learned to recognize as approaching thunder.

“It WAS Brian Lu...wasn’t it, Le?” he queried.

Le Ho-Chang tried to respond to this with yet another protest of ignorance...but stopped immediately when Shang knelt swiftly and put his full weight on the hapless rodent’s chest.

At the same time he took Le’s forelock in an iron grip and brought the cigar’s glowing tip to within a hair’s-breadth of his right eye.

“It WAS Brian Lu, wasn’t it Le?” he repeated, a trickle of impatience now seeping into his voice. “You might as well admit it.  Unlike you, he is being most cooperative.”

“Yes...” said the rat in a voice like dead leaves being crushed.  Shang nodded and pulled the cigar away, taking another puff.

“And who is the third member of your cell?   And please don’t say there isn’t any...or you know what will happen.”

Le Ho-Chang began to cry.

“I...I don’t know.  There is one other...you are right.  But I swear I do not know who he is.”

Shang put the cigar back in his mouth and stood up once again

“Well, as much as I am inclined to believe that for once you’re telling the truth Le, I’m afraid I can’t afford to take that chance.”  He looked at Katie and the others, who had been watching this exchange with a mixture of loathing, amusement, and awe.

“With your permission, Your Grace, I would like to have Le taken to the guard house and continue this session there later.”

As a matter of fact, Katie wanted nothing so much as to tear Le Ho-Chang limb from limb right NOW....but there was that note in the red panda’s voice again.

And besides that, there was something else on her and everyone else’s mind at the moment

“Cor, mate...how’d y know it were Brian Lu, eh?” queried the Striper after a pair of sentries had hustled Le out of the shed and away...serenaded every step of the way by a chorus of catcalls and derisive hoots from the other miners.

“And...who IS Brian Lu?” It was Drake Hackett.

“He’s that bear in charge a the block and tackle when the Republic loads an’ unloads.” Drigo Chavez told him.  “The rest a’ the time he helps out on the dredges.”

Shang nodded and dropped the cigar, grinding it out on the cement floor with a measured, deliberate movement.

“Yes, that’s right Drigo...except you should have said that Brian Lu WAS in charge of the block and tackle.  He’s dead.”

“Suicide?” said Katie, laying her ears back.  She had very much wanted Le’s unknown compatriot for herself.

“That is how it looks,” Shang responded, a cautioning note in his voice, “But I can’t be sure from what little I’ve seen so far.  I estimate that he died either yesterday or the day before.”

Drigo Chavez narrowed his eyes, and canted his head to the left.

“Uhhh, then why’d you tell that yiffer Le that Brian’s still alive?”

The response came in the form of an equine snort from Katie.

“Hell, even I know that, Drigo.” she said,  “If Le thinks Brian’s still alive and talking,  he might figure HE’s got nothing to lose by owning up.”

The coati made a face as though he had just bitten into a lemon

“Ai fregon!  Si...riigggght.”

“But how did you know, mate?” said Striper McKenna, repeating his earlier question.  “How’d you know it were Brain Lu?”

“Yiff, how’d you even know there WAS another turncoat, sport?” queried Drake Hackett.

Shang Li-Sung took two steps backwards.

“Before I tell you that, there is something else that all of you need to know...something I have already discussed with Her Grace.  But first be aware that what I am about to say must NOT leave this shed under any circumstances.  If the rest of the camp finds out that these air-pirates either were, or still are working under the direction the Snakehead gang, we will have a mass stampede on our paws.  So, what is said in here, stays in here. Understood?”

At the mention of the words, ‘Snakehead Gang’, Drigo Chavez and the Striper merely exchanged puzzled looks...but the hair on Drake Hackett’s neck stood up like a row of porcupine quills, and he let out a squeal that would have been more appropriate to a pig than a dog.

“Oh shite...not THOSE bastards!”

“You know who Shang’s talkin’ about, amigo?” said Drigo, regarding the canine with raised brows.

“Yeah,” said Drake, looking very bleak, “An’ trust me, mate...YOU don’t want to.”

Katie MacArran moved over and put a hoof on the Queensland Heeler’s red and gray shoulder.

“We gonna lose you, Drake?” she said, only half joking.  The dog regarded her sharply for a second, then bit his lip and shook his head very slowly.

“Nooooo, I’ve got nowhere else to go, have I?” He turned his attention to the others. “But Shang’s right, mates.  If word gets out it’s THESE blokes we’re dealing with, every miner in camp’ll be runnin’ for the hills like their arses are on fire.”

“But who...?” Drigo started to say, before Katie cut him off with a raised hoof. 

“Tell him, Shang.  Tell him what you told me...and don’t pull your punches.”

The red panda did just that...leaving out only the more intimate details of his feelings for Fan Mei-Lin, the lost love murdered by Chu.  When he finished, he went on to explain how he had come to the conclusion that Brian Lu was one of Le’s co-conspirators.

“It was something I saw when Le was thrown off the Guinea Airways plane, something that brought into focus a number of things I had seen earlier; that much-too-large coat he was wearing.”

Striper McKenna’s brows began to beetle up and down.

“Uhhh, that changpao ‘e had on didn’t look all that big to me, Shang.”

“Except that it was NOT a changpao, Striper.” the red panda answered, raising a finger, “a changpao does not have toggle closings, and it is the traditional wear of the middle classes, never laborers.  Furthermore, although it is long, it fits close to the body, whereas Le’s coat was billowing around him like a sail.  No, what you saw was the same shan’ao or peasant’s coat that all the miners wear...it only looked like a changpao, because it was several sizes too large for a rat of Le’s size.  From that, I could only conclude that he had appropriated it from another miner, one of a species much bigger than himself.”

Drake Hackett’s head titled to one side and his ears went up.

“But why would he do that, when there’s so many other blokes ‘ere the same size as him?”

“Because there was only one other miner whom he could be certain would not report the loss.” Shang replied, deadpan, “and also only one other miner whom he could be certain would be absent from his own dwelling at the time he committed the theft...and whom now he wishes to incriminate for destroying his safety net.”

The heeler’s ear lifted even higher.

“Cor...what?!”

“Never mind about that for now Shang,” said Katie, interrupting, “There’s at least dozens of other miners in the camp who could have fit into that shan’ao Le was wearing.  How did you figure out it belonged Brian Lu?”

By way of response, the red panda plucked at an arm, coming away with a small tuft of fur that he held up for the pinto mare’s consideration.

“As you know, it is the shedding season.” he said, “And that was why I cut the shan’ao off of Le and turned it inside out; to see what other fur besides his own might be on the inside.  And what I found was the fur of a bear, dark everywhere except in one place – a v-shaped patch of golden fur, just below the collar.”

“An Asiatic black bear,” said Katie, spitting out the words in disgust.

“Yes,” said Shang, speaking quickly before she could ask the inevitable follow-up., “Except the dark fur on the inside of the shirt was not black, it was brown.  And there is, or rather was only ONE ursine in the camp with that particular color pattern...Brian Lu.”

Everyone nodded, and Katie saw Drigo Chavez looking highly pleased with both Shang Li-Sung and himself.  Wellllll, let him; bringing the red panda on board HAD been his idea after all.

“I don’t suppose you got any idea who the third guy is, amigo?” he asked.

“No,” Shang admitted, but without the slightest trace of contrition, “However, there are certain things we can deduce about him from what we have seen so far.  Number one, whoever he is, he is almost undeniably the leader of the cell.  Certainly Le Ho-Chang was not in charge, and neither was Brian Lu; the Snakeheads would never entrust that position to a fur of Eurasian background.  In fact, it is for that reason I believe that Brian Lu was not a willing conspirator in this affair.”

“He wasn’t?” said Katie, ears pointing at one another, “How do you know that, Shang?”

“Yeah, mate.” said Striper McKenna, “‘Ow can you be so sure o’ that?”

“It is the way the Snakeheads operate,” the red panda replied, folding his arms, “Whenever they set up a spy cell, there is always one member who serves out of fear rather than in expectation of any reward.  As a mixed-blood ursine, Brian Lu was especially vulnerable to any threats against his family...who just happen to live right in the Snakeheads backyard, do not forget.  Had he either he or they gone to the authorities in Shanghai for protection, they would have found little if any support.  I myself would have turned my back on them, when I was with the Shanghai Police.” He quickly raised a paw as Katie’s ears began to lay back, “Yes, I know.  I do not pretend to have been a paragon in those days, Your Grace.  That is simply how things were for me back then, and still are for those who remained when I left.”

“Okay, so the third bloke, whoever he is, is the one runnin’ things,” said Drake Hackett, apparently trying to keep the subject where it belonged, “Anythin’ else y’ figger about him?”

“Yes,” said Shang, “Remember that coded letter I found in Le’s shack?  That means he was receiving his instructions from OUTSIDE of Iso when he first came here...and that mean whoever the cell leader is, he arrived here after Le.”

“Huh,” said Drigo, impressed “that eliminates half the guys in camp right there.”

“Yes,” said Shang, “And it would also have to be someone with fairly wide access in the camp...and someone of no small authority.   Le Ho-Chang drove the Toonerville Trolley and Brian Lu was a crane operator, both positions of fairly high rank in the mine.”  He pulled at his nose, “You’re not going to have a mere coolie giving orders to either of those two.”

Katie MacArran also pulled at her muzzle.

“You think Le might know who our Mister Big is, Shang?  I know he said he didn’t, but...” She left the rest of the sentence hanging.

Shang shook his head twice,

“Possibly...but I doubt it.  By rights, Le should not have even known that Brian Lu was one of the others...except he became aware that he was a doomed spy and acted accordingly.”

Katie nickered and tightened her lips, “Mnh-mnh-mnh-mnh-mmnhmm, you will keep talking in one riddle after another, Shang.  All right, please explain.”

Shang Li-Sung grunted, and sucked air between his teeth.

“I will endeavor to explain it to the best of my abilities, Your Grace, but keep in mind what a tangled web....”

“...we weave, when first we practice to deceive,” the Striper recited, much to the red-panda’s confusion.

“What, Striper?” he said, ears working back and forth.   An uncharacteristically sheepish look from the Tasmanian Tiger quickly followed.

“Eh, sorry mate.  Line from this poem, Marmion by Sir Walter Scott...bit of a leftover from me public school days.”
That was enough to make both Katie AND Drake forget the subject at paw.

“Cor, you never told me, y ‘went to public school mate.” said the heeler.

The Striper looked uneasily at the hard, gray floor, “Yeah...well, I never said I’d graduated, did I?”  He raised his eyes again, “If y’ must know, I’m an Old Carthusian....or nearly am anyways.”

Katie MacArran let out a low whistle, and one of Drake’s ears went up in confusion.

“Eh, what’s a....?”

“Means he went to Charterhouse, Drake.” she said, not adding that this was one of England’s most prestigious public schooling establishments, on a par with Eton and Harrow.  Or that Charterhouse had been her father’s old school.

“Anyway, go on with what you were saying.” she said to Shang.

The red panda instantly obliged her.

And it WAS a most tangled web he wove.


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