The Secret of the Ginger Mice (5 page)

Alice's eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “He's ginger because he's part Gerandan.”

“And so are you,” her uncle nodded. “And you're not
just
part
Gerandan either. Your mother was actually born in Gerander; she escaped across the border when she was just a few years older than you are now.”

The mouths of the two young mice dropped open as they tried to imagine their gentle mother doing something as daring as escaping across a border.

“How come no one else in the family is ginger?” Alice wanted to know.

“It's a recessive gene,” her aunt explained. “So a mouse born to one ginger parent and one brown parent will be more likely to have brown fur, because brown fur is the dominant gene.”

“That explains why Alistair looks so different, anyway,” said Alex. “I didn't like to mention it, but—”

“Didn't like to mention it?” Alice snorted. “You've mentioned it every day of your life!”

“Have I?” Alex looked genuinely puzzled.

His sister crossed her arms and gave him a look. “
Help, help, there's a fire
,” she squeaked, in what was clearly meant to be Alex's voice. “
Oh, no there's not—it's only Alistair
.”

Alex reddened. “I'm just joking around,” he said lamely.

“But why has no one ever mentioned that Alistair is ginger because he's Gerandan?” Alice wanted to know. “And why haven't
you
ever mentioned it?”

Ebenezer stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “Well, I suppose to most people around here what happened to Gerander is just part of history, and Sourian history at that, nothing to do with Shetlock. They might think Alistair looks funny, but they don't really make the connection to Gerander. Out of sight, out of mind, perhaps.”

“Shetlockers don't have much to be proud of when it comes to Gerander,” his wife agreed. “We may not have invaded Gerander ourselves, but we didn't do anything to stop Souris. And after the first wave of refugees fled Gerander for Shetlock, our government did close the border at the request of the Sourians.”

“All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good mice to do nothing,” said Ebenezer gravely. “As for why I never mentioned Gerander”—his tone hardened—“our family has sacrificed enough in the name of our homeland. I'm done with it.”

“But what about Alistair?” said Alice. “If his disappearance has something to do with Gerander, who will help us find him? Should we ask FIG?”

“Forget FIG,” said her uncle. “I have.” Alice was taken aback by the vehemence in Ebenezer's voice. “After Rebus and Emmeline died I cut off all contact with them. I haven't been in touch with FIG in four years; any messages go straight in the bin unopened.”

“But of course we have to do whatever it takes to find Alistair,” his wife reminded him gently.

“Alistair . . .,” said Uncle Ebenezer with a sigh, and his mustache drooped sorrowfully. “The question is: Who has taken him—and where?”

Beezer shrugged. “My guess is Sourian agents,” she said. “FIG's number-one enemy is Queen Eugenia. In order to maintain control over Gerander, she has to stamp out any resistance. Though I don't know why they'd bother snatching such a young mouse. Really, what danger does he pose? What kind of information is he likely to have?” She shook her head. “I know your mother was very important to FIG—and to the Sourians too. She had some valuable knowledge about Gerander that had been passed down through her family, though what that knowledge related to was a closely guarded secret, too dangerous even to share with us. Certainly too dangerous to share with you children. Unless . . . is it possible she would have shared the secret with Alistair?” She put a hand to her mouth. The next words she spoke were in a low tone. “The Sourians have killed before in their quest to retain control of Gerander.”

Alice gave a frightened squeak. “You mean they might be planning to kill Alistair?” Her eyes filled with tears. “But he doesn't know any secret. Why would they think he knows the secret any more than me or Alex?”

“Let's just say the Sourians have a particular hatred of ginger mice,” her uncle said curtly.

Alex thumped his fist on the table. “We have to save Alistair,” he said. “We have to . . . I don't know.” He slumped. “We don't have any idea where they might be taking him.”

Beezer tapped her finger on the table while she considered this. “Souris,” she said finally. “I think they're trying to keep this quiet—otherwise, why not just barge in here and take him? No, they want to attract as little attention as possible. Trying to get him across the Shetlock-Gerander border would be dicey, as I presume the Shetlock government wouldn't take too kindly to having Sourian agents waltzing on in and kidnapping our citizens. Maybe they'll take him to Grouch, the Sourian capital, or maybe they'll take him to Gerander across their own border.”

“It makes sense,” said Ebenezer.

“So if they're going to Souris,” Alice said slowly, “they'll be heading toward the coast. Which is what we should do.” She looked at her brother.

He met her gaze. “As soon as possible,” he said.

But their uncle was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. It's too dangerous.”

“We can't just do nothing,” said Alice fiercely.

“Of course we'll do something,” said Ebenezer.
He looked resigned. “I'll call a meeting of local FIG members. There are mice in the organization who have a lot more experience with this kind of thing.
Older
mice.”

“Well, what did FIG do to save our parents?” said Alice mutinously. “It's because of FIG that they died, you said so yourself. And how long will it take to get these ‘more experienced' mice on the case—while the trail gets colder and Alistair . . .” Her voice grew smaller. “And Alistair gets further away.” Then she shook herself and sat up straight. “What time did we go to bed last night?”

“About ten,” Beezer replied.

“And it's seven now,” said Ebenezer, glancing at the clock sitting on the mantelpiece.

“So whoever has taken Alistair has had up to a nine-hour start.” Alex pushed back his chair and stood up. “We have to go, Uncle,” he said. “There's no time to lose. Please.”

Ebenezer looked at Beezer helplessly. “I promised Rebus and Emmeline I'd look after them,” he said. He put a hand over his eyes. “No,” he whispered hoarsely. “I'm sorry, but I just can't allow it. That's final.”

Beezer rose and moved around the table to stand beside him.

“Your uncle is right,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I know you are brave, resourceful, capable
mice, but it's just too dangerous. Besides, there's one question I don't have an answer for,” she continued. “And that is: Why now? Why snatch Alistair
now
? Ebenezer, when you meet with FIG ask if they've heard of any unusual activity coming from within Gerander, something to explain all this.”

Her husband nodded. “I will. You go to work as usual, Beez—we must act like nothing's amiss.”

“Look,” Beezer said to her nephew and niece, “I've got another idea. If his captors are planning to smuggle Alistair across the Sourian Sea, they're probably heading for the port of Shambles. It's smaller and not as well patrolled as Shooster, which has a naval base. Now . . .” She went to the bureau and rummaged in the top drawer for a note pad and pen and then brought them back to the table and resumed her seat. “I have some good friends in Shambles who are also members of FIG. I'll send a message asking them to look out for Alistair there. I'll write it while Ebenezer gets ready, and he can give it to someone in FIG to organize delivery.” Then she picked up the pen, bent her head over the note pad, and began to write.

Ebenezer stood up. “Right, I'll get myself together then.”

As he moved toward the kitchen, Alex and Alice headed to their bedroom.

Alice went and stood by the window while Alex flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

“I can't believe we just have to sit here and do nothing while Alistair is in danger,” he grumbled.

“I know,” said Alice. She turned to lean against the windowsill, facing her brother. “They're treating us like we're just a couple of useless kids. I mean sure, we may be kids, but maybe that's a good thing. I think the Sourians would be less likely to notice a couple of kids on their trail; they'd be expecting trained FIG operatives.” She paced to the bedroom door then back to the window, feeling so frustrated she could burst.

There was a tap at the door then Ebenezer stuck his head into the room. “I'm off now,” he said. “Beezer's already left for work, but she'll try to make it home for lunch. I've left you some sandwiches in case I'm late.”

“Thanks, Uncle,” Alice said glumly as she and Alex followed him to the front door.

“Try not to worry,” Ebenezer told them. “Maybe I'll come back with good news.” But his attempt at a reassuring smile was not at all convincing.

“So what do we do now?” Alex asked as the door closed behind their uncle. He went to the lounge room window. “It looks like it's going to be hot today. I bet the other kids are going swimming. It's so boring being stuck inside.”

“Don't even think about it. We have to wait here,” Alice insisted. “We—” She broke off as a square white envelope on the table caught her eye. The address, written in her aunt's firm, clear hand, read:

Julius and Augustus

Three Sheets Tavern

Shambles

“Alex,” she said urgently, “Uncle Ebenezer forgot to take the message for Aunt Beezer's friends in Shambles. Do you think we should go after him? Or . . .” An idea had popped into her head, and she didn't know whether she dared voice it.

Her brother turned to face her and Alice could tell that he'd had the same idea.

“Or we could deliver it ourselves,” Alex said.

They stared at each other in silence for a second. Alice's heart was thumping. Could they? Should they?

“You said it yourself, sis,” Alex pointed out. “The Sourians would be far less likely to notice us. When you think about it, the FIG agents would be like our decoys.” He was sounding excited. “And wouldn't it be so much better to
do
something instead of sitting around twiddling our thumbs waiting for strangers to rescue our brother?”

“I suppose,” said Alice cautiously, though she was starting to feel a little excited herself. “But you know, Alex, this isn't an adventure—this is real, and
dangerous
.”

“I know that,” said her brother dismissively. “But you heard what Aunt Beezer said: we're brave, resourceful and capable. And Alistair needs our help; you know he's not as brave as we are.”

Alice thought about their brother, always so thoughtful and considerate and courteous, so anxious not to cause trouble. He was definitely smart, and he might even be resourceful and capable—but he wasn't as brave and daring as she and Alex were. In fact, wherever he was, he was probably terrified . . . And that decided her.

“All right,” she said. “Let's do it. But we'd better hurry. Uncle Ebenezer might come back for the letter.” She hurried to their bedroom. “What do you think we should take with us?”

“How about this?” said Alex, going immediately to the corner of the room and picking up his rucksack, which hadn't been touched since school had broken for summer several weeks earlier.

“Perfect,” said Alice, and Alex emptied the rucksack of schoolbooks. “Wait,” she said, as she noticed his geography atlas among the jumble of books. “Shouldn't we take a look at a map so we have some idea of how to get to Shambles?”

She opened the atlas to the map of Shetlock. With Alex looking over her shoulder, she pointed first to Smiggins, then traced the road they would follow. It
headed north, through their old home of Stubbins, then veered to the east and curved around a large gray patch on the map before resuming a north-westerly course to reach the coast at Shambles.

“Wouldn't it be quicker if we just cut straight through this gray bit?” Alex wanted to know, indicating the point at which the road veered east. “It looks shorter.”

Alice squinted at the small writing. “I don't know. It might be more direct, but it looks like if we go that way we have to cross Mount Sharpnest. It'd be more sensible to stick to the road.” She closed the atlas and looked around the room one last time. “I can't believe we were doing somersaults off the couch just last night. It feels like ten years have passed since then.” She directed her gaze to the bed where Alistair had been sleeping just a few short hours ago. The sheets had been thrown back, and the pillow was still dented from where his head had lain. She closed her eyes briefly. “Poor Alistair,” she said softly. Then she opened her eyes and looked at her brother. “We have to find him.”

Alex looked just as determined. “We will,” he vowed.

In the kitchen, they found the sandwiches Ebenezer had made for them. While Alice stowed them in the rucksack Alex filled two water bottles. Then Alice took the letter addressed to Julius and Augustus at the Three Sheets Tavern from the dining table and tucked it into
the front pocket of the rucksack. “Do you think we should leave a note for Aunt Beezer and Uncle Ebenezer?” She was trying not to think about her aunt and uncle, how worried they'd be when they returned to the empty apartment.