Spies Are Like Daffodils
A Spontoon Island story
© 2023 by Walter Reimer

Thumbnail art by  rockbaker

Eight.



“I do not see why,” Nunevya growled, “that you must follow me back to my compartment.” Not receiving any immediate reply, she turned and saw Patafuerte looking absorbedly at her tailfur. The minkess raised her paw to slap him and was satisfied when he recoiled and looked at least somewhat contrite.

“Real simple, Miss,” Phlute said.

“Da, I know you are,” the minkess said, “but that is not reason.”

“The reason is that you’re in danger,” the stork soldiered on, either ignoring or oblivious to her jibe. “We’ve got to keep you safe until we reach Tacoma and give you to the American – “

“Rain Island authorities,” Patafuerte cut in. “She’ll be getting on the ferry to Seathl with me.”

“Sez you,” the stork sneered at the fox.

The red fox crested. “Yeah, says me.”

“Bunch of children,” Nunevya muttered as she entered the compartment. She had folded the bed away before going to breakfast, and there was room for four people to sit comfortably. “You both still smell, you know.”

“Well, yes,” Phlute conceded, “so I’m going to use that bathroom to clean up and change my clothes.”

“Me first,” Patafuerte said.

“I saw it first, Buster.”

“My fur’s still all sticky.”

“Nunevya does not wish to know that.”

“Look,” Patafuerte said, “We’ll flip a coin for it, okay?” He fished a Rain Island half-dollar piece from a pocket. “Heads, I go first; tails, you go. Okay?”

“Seems fair – but I’ve got my eye on you, kid.” The stork watched as the fox flipped the coin, flubbed the catch, and the two dove onto the floor to see where the coin had landed. “Aha! Tails! See you later, Stinky.”

Henry smirked at Bernie. “No,” he said, wagging a finger. “I said ‘Heads, I go first; tails, you go.’ It was tails,” and he scooped up the coin, “so you go.”

“Yeah. I go first.”

“No. You go,” and Henry made shooing motions as he backed up toward the bathroom entrance, hurriedly slamming the door in Phlute’s face and locking the door before the stork could get it open.

Bernie hammered a fist on the closed door and shouted, “Mangy, cheating fox! See if I let you sleep with me again!”

“Nunevya does not wish to know this,” the mink femme muttered to herself with a deep sense of resigned dread.


***


Perhaps an hour later, Ivan L. Awfulich reached out with a toe and nudged Igor N. Blymy’s foot. The bear blinked and looked at the wolverine, who nodded toward the Major as the schnauzer stirred awake. Since he was senior, Awfulich said, “Good morning, Your High Well Born.”

Without opening his eyes, von Fecklessenburg asked, “Sergeant Awfulich, have you killed Nunevya Bizwacz?”

“No, Your High Well Born.”

“Have you found Nunevya Bizwacz?”

“No, Your High Well Born.”

His eyes still closed, the Major sighed. “Sergeant Blymy?”

“Sir.”

“Slap Sergeant Awfulich across the face.”

“Hard, Sir?”

“Da.” The bear immediately complied. “Horosha. Sergeant Awfulich?”

“Yes, Your High Well Born?”

“Slap Sergeant Blymy across the – “ The schnauzer opened his eyes to glare at the wolverine as he shifted beside him, raising his paw. “Wait for it.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

“It is well. Carry on.” The wolverine slapped the bear, and von Fecklessenburg said, “Now, be quiet, both of you. I need to think.” He adjusted his eyeglasses, crossed his arms across his chest, and lapsed into a brooding silence, gazing at the toes of his shoes. The two sergeants sat, looked at each other, shrugged, and settled down to wait.

After a few moments von Fecklessenburg muttered, half to himself, “She must have help . . . there is no way she - “ He looked up as Blymy smiled and waved at him. “I believe it may be at the end of the car, to your left, Sergeant.”

“No, Your High Well Born. Sergeant Awfulich and I saw her talking with two mels at the train station in Tilikum.”

The schnauzer glanced at the wolverine, who said, “Two mels, Sir. A stork and a fox.”

“She was alone when I saw her,” von Fecklessenburg observed. “They didn’t get on the train with her?”

“No, Your High Well Born,” Awfulich said.

“We gave them a lift,” Blymy supplied.

Von Fecklessenburg blinked, looking from the bear to the wolverine and back. “I am going to use the toilet,” he said as he stood up, “and when I return I expect a full report of how you two got aboard this train – and how you came to give two possible enemy agents ‘a lift.’” He stepped out into the aisle, looked one way and the other, and set off for the car’s bathroom.

The door banged open as he reached for it, and he snatched his paw back. “Watch where you are going!” he snapped, and found himself looking up.

And up.

Standing before him was a skunk some inches taller than six feet, dressed in a green uniform with a single gold chevron on a red background adorning each sleeve. Curiously, the mephit’s fur was somewhat lighter than the usual black, faded to a light brown shade.

The skunk straightened up. “Sorry, Sir,” he said respectfully, as the U.S. Marine made his way past the schnauzer. “You may want to wait a minute or two, sorry.” Von Fecklessenburg peered at the man’s retreating back for a moment before stepping into the bathroom and closing the door.

He realized that he should have taken the skunk’s advice, and waited.


***


One of the train’s windows opened, and two sets of clothing, dirty and reeking of pungent smoke, were forcibly tossed out of the window. After a moment, the window closed.

“Aw, that was my best shirt,” Patafuerte whined.

Phlute smirked. “You’ve got low standards in Rain Island, then.”

Henry crested at the stork. “Keep it up, Featherbrain.”

The two turned at a low hiss from the minkess as Nunevya closed the window. “They stank,” she said. “I would not have them in here.”

“Well, yeah, they did smell,” Phlute conceded. “You said you met one of the Tsarist cops?”

“Da,” she replied.

“Are you sure it wasn’t some guy offering you a cup of tea?” Patafuerte asked. “I mean, I’d offer you a drink – “

“No, I have seen him before, you see? At Embassy, we call him The Major. He is a schnauzer,” Nunevya said.

“’The Major,’ huh?” the stork said, putting his paw to his beak and stroking it. He finally shrugged. “Don’t you worry, Miss. I’ll protect you.”

“And so will I,” the fox said, his ears dipped as if in thought. “Hmm, ‘the Major,’ a schnauzer . . . “

“You know of him?” the minkess asked.

“Not sure,” Henry said. “I think I read about him in a dossier, or he was on a bubble-gum card.”

"Some of the secret police are seen on cigarette cards. Only some, though."

“No kidding?” Phlute asked. “What do they have for stats?”

Nunevya fixed the stork with a glare. “Number of kills.” She sighed. “I am worried he will find a way to lure you two away, so he may kill me.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Henry said. “We’ll never give you up.”

“Right, we’ll never let you down,” Bernie declared.

“Thank you,” the minkess said, trying to ignore the look Patafuerte was giving her.

Phlute glanced at his wristwatch. “Hey! It’s getting close to lunchtime.”

“We should see if we can get seated early,” the fox said, and he and the stork left the compartment.

Nunevya waited.

A few moments later, the tod-fox and the stork came back, sheepish looks on their faces. “Um,” Phlute started to say.

“Would you like to come with us for lunch?” Patafuerte asked.

The minkess took a breath. “Yes. You,” she said to Henry, “will walk in front of me, and you,” she said to Bernie, “will walk behind me.”

“Why do I have to walk behind you?” the stork asked.

“Because you have no interest in my tailfur,” she said.

The trio went to the dining car, to find two empty seats beside the middle-aged couple that Nunevya had seen at breakfast. The couple, both moose, were engrossed in their lunch.

The minkess sat, with Henry taking the seat across from her. “Hey!” Bernie protested.

“This way,” Patafuerte said, “I’ve got my eye on that door,” and he pointed back the way they came. “You can sit facing the other door, so we can spot anyone coming in. It makes sense.”

“Hm. Yeah, it does,” the stork finally admitted. He took a seat as the steward approached with the menu.




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