War of the World Records (28 page)

Greenley gave a reassuring smile. “Not to worry, lad—we'll make certain you won't have to live alone. At this very moment, agents from the ASRCAI are waiting outside the theater. They'll have each of you reunited with your respective birth families in no time—just as soon as you complete the mandatory ninety-day deprogramming camp. Just think, Rupert—before you know it, you'll be back on your family's turnip farm, gearing up for your first harvest!”

The full weight of Rupert's situation seemed to strike him for the first time. The hopeful expression drained from his face.

Just then, a large piece of the set crashed to the stage behind them. Though the stage's sprinkler system had doused most of the fire by now, several sections of the structure still appeared dangerously unstable.

“Come on then,” said Greenley. “Let's get ourselves outside, shall we? Nobody's going to get to enjoy their new turnip farm if the roof comes down on our heads.”

• • •

The Goldwin children made their way through the crowd of shell-shocked patrons and out to the street, where uniformed agents wrapped them with woolen blankets and ushered them into a van marked
AGENCY
FOR
THE
SAFE
-
KEEP
ING
AND
RESTORATION
OF
CHILDREN
ABDUCTED
AS
INFANTS
.

Arthur watched as Rupert (aka Francois Louis Moreau) took one last look around him, hung his head, and climbed through the van door. Even after all the torment the Goldwin boy had made him suffer, Arthur couldn't help but feel just a little bit sorry for him.

As the ASRCAI van pulled away, Greenley opened the rear door of an awaiting squad car and loaded Rex Goldwin inside.

The rage in Rex's eyes had now been replaced by a heavily glazed stare.

“There was only ever room for one of us at the top, wasn't there, Charlie?” he muttered. “And why shouldn't it have been me? All I've ever wanted is absolute perfection—is that too much to ask? Surely, it's no less than I deserve. Have you any idea how difficult it is to succeed when you're constantly surrounded by lesser individuals? And yet, look how close I came to winning it all. . . .” He snorted and turned to Arthur. “Who'd have thought your little failure of a son would be the one to ruin all my years of hard work?”

“Now now, Rex,” Mr. Whipple replied. “Surely, even you can see there's only one failure here now—and it's certainly not any member of
my
family. Let's see here: you've failed as a world-record breaker, you've failed as a kidnapper, you've failed as a murderer—and you've failed as a father. I wonder what the Ardmore Association will think about so much failure in their one perfect champion? I should say you're due for a rather drastic demotion after this. But I guess you won't have to worry much about that where you're going, will you, Mr. Goldwin?”

Arthur's father paused.

“Or should I call you . . . the
Treasurer
?”

Rex's eyes snapped toward him.

Mr. Whipple smiled. “What ever did happen to the Treasurer before you, Rex? Did you do the same to your predecessor as you tried to do to me?”

Rex Goldwin's ever-deepening scowl suddenly melted away. “Well, well, Charlie,” he said with a sly grin. “You've really figured it all out, haven't you? The Association's board of directors was crazy to ever go up against
you
; they just never had a chance, did they?”

There was something unnerving in Rex's tone. Something that made his capture seem somehow like less of an accomplishment.

But before Mr. Whipple could inquire further, Rex simply said, “Oh well. Have a nice life, Charlie.” He gave a smug final salute with his fettered right hand, then slid to the far side of the seat and stared out the opposite window.

The group stepped away from the car, and Arthur's father turned to the detective with a long sigh of relief.

“Well, Sergeant,” he said, “I really can't thank you enough for all you've done here. If not for you, we should still be at the mercy of that madman.”

“Just doing my duty, sir. If you'd like to thank somebody, thank your boy and his mate Ruby there. They're the ones who brought the clues to my attention and set the whole thing in motion. Surely, there'd have been no case without them.”

“Indeed, Sergeant,” agreed Mr. Whipple. “I owe them more than I can say.” He looked to the two children and smiled. “I only hope I may yet prove it to them.”

Just then, a shrill voice at their backs caused the group to whirl around.

The Goldwin twins, Rayford and Royston, approached the curb with a trio of policemen and stood waiting for transport.

The dwarf did not appear happy.

“This is all your fault, Roy!” he shrieked up at this brother. “If not for your repeated failures, we'd be holding the Championship Cup ourselves now, instead of being hauled off to jail! How is it possible that someone with such elite training can make so many idiotic blunders!”

The giant opened his mouth to speak—but the dwarf cut him off before he could say the first word.

“Oh, save it, Roy,” Rayford snapped. “What makes you think anyone wants to hear what you've got to say? You've made a mess of every single task you've been given since the day we left our secret bunker on the Compound! First, it was the birthday party, where—despite having a doctorate in Explosives Rigging—you couldn't manage to get a few oversized birthday candles to actually fall at the
same time
. Then, it was the Unsafe Sports Showdown. There you are, a certified Deadshot in foot archery—and yet, the moment you're called on to take out one defenseless boy, you can't be bothered to hit a single lousy organ! And tell me—what
did
happen the night of the Komodo plot? The plan was to release Ridgely as soon as one of the Whipples passed by—but by the time you'd let go of his tail, the girl had already spotted him, run to a nearby Sim-o-Tree and begun to climb it! Did you suddenly forget everything we'd ever learned in Animal Assassins 201? Professor Wilde would be mortified; you were his star pupil, for crying out loud!”

“Listen, Ray,” said the giant. “I wasn't—”

“Listen Ray nothing!” screeched the dwarf. “You've lost the privilege to even address me! Because despite all your prior ineptitudes, none of them can even begin to compare with the utter incompetence you've demonstrated today! This morning, you were charged with the simple task of locking two kids in a cage—and yet, somehow, they were able to escape without so much as one self-severed limb! I wonder—did you even bother to lock the lock? It's a good thing I sent you for the car while I emptied the Lizard Lounge into the tunnel, or your blundering would surely have made it even easier for them!”

With that, he turned to Arthur and Ruby.

“Just look at those two,” he sneered. “Does it not make you sick to see them here now—happy and free—cheating Mother and Father out of their rightful victory and splitting our family apart? But then, it's difficult to tell if you care about this family at all, when you're told to guard the rear exits to prevent our enemies from escaping—and you end up assaulting our own dear father instead! Honestly, Roy—what sort of son and henchman are you, anyway? All I can say is: you'd better watch your back, Brother. I've got friends on the inside; I'll be leader of the Dwarven Brotherhood in no time. And don't think the GGDG will protect you; I've got half the board in my pocket! Oh, you'll pay for your failures, Brother. You'll pay dear—”

But before Rayford could finish this last word, the giant simply cocked back his leg and kicked the dwarf through the open door of the awaiting squad car.

Arthur and Ruby couldn't help but giggle.

Rayford collided with his handcuffed father on the car's far side, before landing flat on his back in the empty seat beside him.

“Watch yourself, you little mutant!” snarled Rex.

“So sorry, Father,” the dwarf whimpered as he struggled to right himself. “I hope I haven't hurt you. Oh, do forgive me.”

Back on the pavement, the giant tilted his head to face his little sister and the two locked eyes for a moment. Slowly, Royston's mouth revealed a faint smile, but his eyes remained sad as he looked back at the outraged dwarf now sitting upright in the back of the squad car.

“How dare you!” Rayford screeched at him. “You've just crossed the wrong dwarf, Brother! You're a dead man! Do you hear me, Royston? You're—”

Just then, the attending officer snapped the door shut in Rayford's face and climbed into the driving seat. A moment later, the car started up and lurched forward into the street.

As Arthur and the others watched the car pull away from the theater, they could see the enraged dwarf jumping up and down in the rear window, shouting back at them at the top of his lungs—his screeches heard by no one but his father and the poor policeman tasked with transporting the two villains to jail.

Shortly after the car disappeared from view, the van arrived that would convey Rayford's giant brother to a similar destination.

“All right then, Royston,” sighed Greenley. “That'll be your ride, I'm afraid.”

The giant nodded. He stepped forward, then turned back to face Mr. Whipple.

“I am sorry, sir,” the giant said in a deep but clear voice, “for the terrible harm I have inflicted on your family. I knew it was wrong what we were doing; I wanted to stop it. I should have found my voice sooner. They—they were all the family I had. But I should have stood up to them.” He shifted his gaze to the ground. “For all my size, I'm afraid—I just wasn't big enough.”

Mr. Whipple looked up into the giant's face.

“Your crimes are serious indeed,” he sighed, “there is no question. Many of those I love have suffered dearly at your hand. And yet, today, that same hand has saved your sister from a brutal beating—and saved me from a second bullet. I cannot say for certain, but I imagine that counts for something. It's up to you to decide the sort of work your hands will do from now on. Will it be of the former sort—or of the latter?” Mr. Whipple took in a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. “Indeed Royston, it seems today may prove to be a turning point for more than one of us.”

Royston pondered these words a moment, then, giving a nod to Mr. Whipple, turned and ducked through the rear door of the van. Once he'd managed to fold himself inside it, the giant's frame nearly filled the entire rear compartment.

Royston shared one last look with his sister, raising his cuffed hands in an attempted wave before the driver shut the door behind him.

Ruby watched in silence as the van drove away and vanished into the night.

Arthur put a hand on her shoulder. “Seems he wasn't just another mute ogre after all,” he said.

“No,” said Ruby. “No, he wasn't.”

After some moments had passed, D.S. Greenley stepped up alongside her. “Well, Miss Goldwin,” he said, “seeing as you're the only one in your family who's not been a victim of baby snatching or been placed under arrest, it seems you've no place to go. I'm afraid we'll have to take you to the orphan shelter for now, until we can figure out a more permanent arrangement. But not to worry; it's not half as bad as you may think. I try and volunteer once a month myself—putting on original one-acts for the orphan kids and offering free acting lessons for some of the more imaginative ones. In all my time there, I've only witnessed three stabbings and two medium-sized riots—all of them occurring right in the middle of my performances, oddly enough. Just their way of crying for help, of course—poor little buggers. But no, it's a fine place. I reckon you'll really—”

“I don't think that will be necessary, Detective Sergeant,” interrupted Mr. Whipple. “We've got plenty of room for Miss Goldwin at our house—that is, if she would do us the honor of staying with us.”

“I don't know, Mr. Whipple,” she smirked, “after all Greenley's said about the orphan shelter, it's a tough choice, really. Of course, I'd hate to take any honor away from the Whipples by declining such a generous invitation. . . .”

“Very well then,” smiled Mr. Whipple. “It's settled. You'll stay with us for as long as you like. It's the least I can do for the girl who saved my life.”

Greenley laughed. “Well, how do you like that? Couldn't have come up with a better scenario myself. All's well that ends well, eh?”

“Indeed, Sergeant,” said Arthur's father, his face growing suddenly stern. “There is, however, one final matter which has yet to be resolved—and requires our urgent attention. Now we've proved Rex and his sons are to blame for the sabotage, we really must—”

“Say no more, Mr. Whipple,” Greenley interjected. “I believe I've just the man to help settle such a matter.”

The detective donned a strange smirk, then turned to face the nearby crowd of onlookers.

“Mr. Smythe,” he called out, “perhaps you'd like to formally introduce yourself.”

Out of the crowd stepped the bowler-wearing gentleman who had aided the detective in protecting the Whipples during the stage explosion.

“Fank you, Sergeant,” said the stranger. “I'd be much obliged.”

And with that, the bearded man with the bowler removed his beard and bowler.

“'Aven't forgot about your old chef, 'ave you?” smiled the man.

“Sammy!” shouted the Whipple children.

Arthur's heart nearly burst with joy.

“My goodness!” cried Mr. Whipple, rushing forward and embracing the man. “Is it really you, old boy?”

“I can 'ardly believe it meself,” grinned the chef. “‘Acquitted of all wrongdoing,' says Greenley 'ere. Free as a bloomin' bird, I am!”