SPACE MICE

[Archaix]

All persons depicted herein are purely fiction, and are not based on real people. Except Debro, Kardas, Primus Orios and anyone else later added to the story who are based on real people.

It didn’t make any sense. None of the pieces fitted. There seemed to be no solution.
Inspector Kardas of Europol’s Netherlands Branch gave up, “It’s just ridiculous!” He shouted. Inspector Debro, sitting opposite, gave him a commiserating pat on the arm.
“It’s only a jigsaw, Kardas. Give it a rest, now, and look at these statistics.” He flourished spreadsheet. It contained a lot of figures.
“Why, what’s gone wrong now?”
“Just listen to this: abductions have gone up by five percent in the last quarter, armed robbery is up by nearly seventeen percent and murders are up nearly twenty percent!”
“Really? Because I haven’t noticed anything odd, you know.”
“What about that information about the Mafia moving into town? Or the legalisation of firearms last week? And what about when France invaded on Tuesday?”
“That was Tuesday?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Seems like only yesterday.”
“It was. It’s Wednesday.”
Kardas leant back on the chair thoughtfully. “Ah.” He said. Debro moved towards the window of the apartment and looked out into the darkness.

A pale, shadowy vision of a silvery city stared back at him through the rain. This was Kroppenheim, the most westerly city in the country. Five square miles of concrete, steel and glass shaped into squares and cuboids; the angular skyscrapers in the middle-distance; the swirling mass of the motorway junctions; the jungle-like canopy of the raised-platform railroads. The rain soaked it all, turning the predominating stone-grey into a much richer, darker colour, collected in numerous drains to be funnelled almost secretly out of the city and onto the wide floodplain of the River Kropp and the border with France. It was caught, too, in the vast reservoir behind the Kropp Dam, not at this time visible, which burgeoned broodingly behind the barrier.

He turned away from the window. “We must find the root cause, Kardas.” He said.
“Indeed.”
“Lol.” Said Primus, who was passing by.
“Suppose we go to that latest crime –that woman who was butchered on GeneralDiscussion Street.” Said Debro.
“Isn’t it a bit late for that if she’s dead?”
“We could check for clues.” He said, as though he were enticing a dog with a bone. It worked: Kardas’ eyes lit up at once.
“I never thought about it that way. That’s a lot better put than those thirty emails the Department sent telling me to investigate it.”
“Exactly. Let’s go!”
---

Kroppenheim at night was a spectacle to behold. There was something pleasant about the woosh of water as cars ambled by, something comforting about the dim yellow lights that loitered at the side of the rode, something reassuring about the smell of earth after heavy rainfall in the night. Accompanying the early hours was a deep city-wide skein of fog, accompanied itself by an even deeper skein of smog, which veiled the movements of the two officers of the law. They even managed to take by surprise the policeman on guard at the fringe of GeneralDiscussion Street, who was making sure that the criminal who perpetrated the hideous crime didn’t come back to finish off the poor woman, who was currently dead under the police pavilion several yards behind.
“Who goes there?” He asked, suspiciously.
“Inspectors Kardas and Debro of Europol.”
“Of what? Europol?”
“Yes. It is the European equivalent of Interpol.”
“But I thought Interpol was international, hence the prefix of the descriptive amalgam.”
“Yes. But Europol is still a functioning organization dedicated to the resolution of European crimes, ever since 1999.”
“Got a badge?”
“Several. An Amnesty International one, and one that displays a smiley yellow face against a black background.”
“Good enough for me. Come this way.”

They peered at the contorted body laid before them.
“How did she die?” Debro asked the guard, tentatively.
“We’re still awaiting the preliminary results of the coroner, but I am of the opinion that the cause of death was due to an axe in the face.” They looked at the axe protruding from the face of the late Mrs Moose. It was an ornate instrument with a beautifully crafted ash handle, which displayed a helix of wonderfully arcane runes.
“What do these mean?”
“It means,” Said Kardas, brows furrowed in deep, logical thought, “that this woman was axed in the face.”
“…by…?”
“A man. With an axe, I’ll be bound.”
“How did they ever let you onto the force, man?”
“I was once taken to the cells one night after stealing a shoe, but they put me on the wrong side of the bars. I’ve been bluffing my way through service for seven long years.”
“Well, let’s move on to another crime scene, to see if there are any similarities.”
“Sounds like a plan.”

---
“I don’t like this,” Said one masked figure. “I think we’re being set up by the Confederacy.” There was some nodding by the other masked member around the table.
“More tea?” Offered one, proffering the teacup with a little shake.
“Please,” He paused while a comrade filled up his cup. “I think it’s time we showed them what the Alliance really acts like when it’s pissed!” More masked nodding.
“Perhaps,” Said another, “We should target their headquarters…”
---

[Archaix]

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers; a peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers, how many pickled peppers did Peter Piper pick?

They had, by midnight, returned to the flat to consider the night’s work. Debro had brewed coffee, while Kardas took out a packet of tea.
“What on earth do you have there?” Said the former, disparagingly.
“Nettle tea,” Said the latter. There was a brief pause while they waited for the kettle to boil. “I find a nice hot drink helps with my jigsaw.”
“Kardas, if you like that jigsaw so much, why don’t you just marry it?”
“I did,” He replied, pointing to the wedding photo in a heart-shaped frame on a nearby shelf. “Five long months it took, too, to find a priest willing to conduct the ceremony,” He sighed deeply, and turned back to the matter at hand. “Anyway, what have we established?”
They spread the pictures out over the jigsaw, and gazed at them.
“They’ve all got axes in the face, for one thing. Ow!”
“What?”
“I’m drinking nettle tea. Why do people buy this? Is there a dock-leaf tea to cancel it out, do you think…?”
Debro ignored him. “Anyway- why axes?”
“Probably because penetrating the skin with a banana won’t have much immediate effect.”
“Yes, but why not mow them down with a…hang on, what do you mean, immediate effect?”
“Yes, you see, if the skin is penetrated with banana –specifically a banana tainted with the Panama Disease (you may well recall that this is a devastating banana virus rightly feared by the banana producing industries of the world)- the effects on the central nervous system of the aforesaid victim is not immediately apparent but certainly irredeemable; the fruit containing the otherwise unharmful vitamin B6 is liable to breakdown into several harmful mineral extracts which may cover the synapses all along the spinal cord…”
“Can I just stop you there?” Broke in Debro.
“Why?”
“I would just like to confirm the fact that there were no bananas found at any of the crime scenes.”
“Yes, to a suspiciously substantial degree.” Before this point could be further built on, several things occurred at once, as will now be listed in order of importance:

The time changed to 12:04.
Debro rose to his feet, dramatically.
Kardas managed to find a corner-piece for his jigsaw.
Masked figures rushed in and grabbed them both.
---

“I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here.” Said one masked member. They were in an old abandoned building somewhere, tied to chairs and surrounded by at least twenty featureless people. Unfortunately the two Europol officers had been blindfolded on the way there, and so did not know where they were.
“No!” Said Debro, bravely.
“It’s not necessary to lie, officer.”
“Oh. Yes, then.”
The figure demasked himself. “I am Deutschgarten.”
“I’m sorry? Deutsch Garten?”
“No, it’s all one word.”
“Ah.”
The demasked man stood about a yard away from them. “I know you are both inquiring into the recent murders, and I would like to help.”
“You’ve not been very helpful so far.”
“Well, we can tell you who perpetrated the murders.”
“That would be helpful.”

Suddenly another masked member entered, bowed low before the master, and whispered in his ear. Suddenly the atmosphere changed.
“I’m sorry, officers, but we have to go.”
“But…”
“My apologies, this is an important matter.” Deutschgarten and his minions departed with haste, and made for the exit. In a matter of seconds the clamouring footsteps had disappeared.
“Come on, Kardas,” Said Debro, wearily. He thought of his bed, far, far away, and decided that the only thing that mattered to him right now was going to sleep. “Let’s go home.”
“We’re still tied up.”
“Oh. Oh yeah.”
They sat still for a moment.
---

[Archaix]

Every care is taken on the part of the manufacturer to ensure that this quality novella is in fine condition. If, however, you discover a fault with the product, please return to the place of purchase (see below for details) and we will refund your expense. This does not affect your statutory rights, largely because I don’t know what your statutory rights are.

Thursday morning came. As though jealous of its more popular neighbour, Friday, it sulkily presented a heavy, overcast sky that threatened more precipitation for Kroppenheim. Unbeknownst to the citizenry the sun rose at half seven, which was far too late for the people off to work, and who were jamming the roads by eight.
The slow, gradual signs of morning awoke Debro first. Wandering about the flat he felt his wrists for the marks of the rope that had bound him not seven hours before, and complained loudly to his body-clock for waking him up. It told him to sod off and to mind his business, and so he made his way, crankily, to the kitchen area to make breakfast.
Who were those guys? Why had they tried to tell him who’d done the murders? Why had they left suddenly? Why had they left Kardas and himself to spend two and a half miserable but surprisingly informative hours trying to get out of the chairs they’d been lashed to? His eyes wondered over to the corner of the room, where the chairs were stacked, with two gnarled pieces of rope rested on the seat of the top one.
Kardas rolled in half an hour later. “What are you doing?” He asked, bleary eyed.
“I couldn’t get back to sleep. Thought I might as well wake up.”
“No, I meant why are you eating my jigsaw?”
Debro’s eyes dropped to his spoon, which was suspended in transit from the piece-full bowl to his half-open mouth. He’d been so tired and absorbed that his confused mind had failed to register that the puzzle box was not, as it had so alluringly appeared many minutes before, the cornflakes box.

After several more minutes of furious stomach-pump activity, the two officers began going over the night’s events, but reaching no conclusion, except a long-winded answer Kardas had involving spoons.
“I know,” Debro at last declared, “Let us go and visit the Chief Inspector!”
“Splendid!” Applauded Kardas, as they wandered over to their automobile and began to drive it superciliously to the district headquarters.

The district headquarters was a utilitarian building made out of refreshing sandy-coloured bricks, marking it out from most other buildings in the city. It also employed a large amount of foliage and mosaic-like ornate flagstones on the sweeping driveway, making the overall complex an uplifting place –made all the more remarkable by the actual use of the place. The overall purpose of the effect was to make any incoming criminals necessarily aware that they were now at the disposal of the state, which was all-powerful and wise. That and the fact that the overly grand expense of the complex would lure suspicious auditors away from the accounts of the Chief Inspector and his fabulously illegal yacht moored at Den Haag.
Debro, slipping off his driving gloves and placing them in the allocated glove compartment, clamped the wheel.
“Debro, the car’s in the car-park of the nation’s biggest police district headquarters, which is under constant, twenty-four hour surveillance from approximately seven hundred security cameras, five separate satellite stations orbiting the earth and one nuclear-class submarine. It’s not going to get stolen.”
“One and a half, I think you’ll find. And besides, you can never be too careful. Take care of this, will you?” He added, giving the keys to a man who he presumed to be a valet.
---


The oak-carven double-doors to the office of the Chief Inspector were swung open, and the two officers were led in. They stood on a royal red carpet set down on marble floor, but soon sat down on mahogany chairs shaped like thrones and bedecked with fine jewels and covered liberally with ermine. Around them stood art-pieces and cultural spectacles, each worthy in themselves of a conversation. An ancient skeleton of a man, bones concatenated by steel wire, stood humorously in the corner behind the door, whilst opposite a fierce alabaster lion stood sentry. Between these and the grandiose curtains stood rows and rows of books, their names either faded or too small to see, written at a time when it was acceptable for a book to weigh several hundred tonnes and compose of five volumes. Beyond them the aforementioned grandiose curtains curtailing the giant panoramic window behind the desk of the C.I rose and fell like the waves of the Hellespont, or the sweeping peaks of Alps. In front of this, separating the C.I’s chair and the two equally impressive chairs the Europol agents were reclining in, was the desk, which was frugal and of no noteworthy feature.

“Pray, sit down,” Exclaimed Chief Inspector Horatio Archaix, as the inspectors did so. “I believe you need some assistance regarding your current predicament?”
“Yeah.” Said Kardas.
“The thing is,” Said Debro, “We were tied up by a masked group last night, who tried to tell us who has been behind all these axe-murders. Unfortunately they were called away before they could give us a name. We were, however, introduced to the leader of the group.”
“His name?”
“Deutschgarten. All one word. Probably false, sir, since it literally means, ‘German garden’. Can’t think of the logic behind it.”
“Ah yes, we have a file on Deutschgarten....” Replied Archaix, indistinctly as he searched for a piece of paper in his desk. “Here is the fellow.” He handed the file over to Kardas, who tried to eat it, and so it was subsequently passed to Debro.
“Yes, the photo matches.”
“Yes, Deutschgarten is the leader of a group of monks and ninjas, supposedly behind the Rotterdam Episode of 1994, the Transvaal Attack of 1999 and, most recently, the Potato Incident of 2003.”
“Unpleasant business, that.” Concluded Kardas, solemnly.
“Indeed. I believe the President of the United States is still apprehensive about sitting down. Anyway, any ideas as to why he’d tell you who the culprit is?”
“None,” Said Debro. “We should find him and question him further, I think.”
“Very good, but his whereabouts are unknown. You should contact a guy called Kaleckton who owns a pizzeria downtown. He’s been to go-between for Deutsch and us for four years.”

Outside the station, Debro and Kardas looked at the rest of the city, although at ground-level this meant a view of about a block.
“So, it’s time to pay Kaleckton a visit.” Said the former.
“I don’t know, man. We should be prepared before walking into what might be a trap.”
“If something’s going on, we need to find out before more people die. Bite the bullet, Kardas. Let’s go.”
“Well, ok…”



* 1 Mooseplough Lane, Whiston, Rotherham, S.Yorks, England. If not at home, write your name and address on the garden using weedkiller.

[Archaix]

Alcoholic drinks available in the foyer!

They walked towards the centre of town, where Kaleckton’s Pizzeria operated, but were interrupted in doing so by a sharp-looking red car that pulled up next to the pavement, and rolled down the windows.
“Hey, my man, Kardas!” Shouted Cacinecro. Kardas moved over to him. “Whussup, dog?”
“No, it’s Kardas.” Said Kardas, displaying a badge upon which was written, ‘HEY HO LETS GO’, but should have been written, ‘Inspector Kardas of Europol’.
“Yo, man, check out ma’ wheels!”
“Yes, very nice I see. So is the rest of the car.”
“Jump in, man!” Kardas turned to Debro, who was seeing if he could balance on only one leg.
“Hey, can I catch you up later on?”
“We’re on police business, Kardas.” Replied Debro, from the floor.
“I won’t be long. Besides, you can talk to Kaleckton by yourself, right?”
“Well, ok. Meet you at the flat.”

Kardas rode shotgun as Cacinecro gave him a spin in his car.
“Nice ring.” He said, noticing a nice ring sitting comfortably upon Cacinecro’s left hand index finger, which was placed non the wheel of the war, itself on the left-hand side of the automobile, itself placed in Kroppenheim, the Netherlands, Europe, Northern Hemisphere, planet Earth.
“Yeah, man; it’s ma’ ice!”
“Really? Thought it was opal, at first. How do you keep it from melting?”
Despite the lack of a satisfying answer to this question Kardas had a nice time with Cacinecro, who took him to his house where they played Twister and ate Wooberry Pie before it was time to go back to the flat.

Needless to say, Debro’s day was hardly as exciting, except for the fact that it involved pizza and guns.

“Who are you, and what do you want?!” Shouted/asked Kaleckton.
“I’m an officer of Europol, and I want to- ”
“An officer of what?!”
“Europol. It is the European equivalent of Interpol.”
“A functioning organization dedicated to the resolution of European crimes, ever since 1999?!”
“The very same.”
“Have you done the badge gag?!”
“Yeah, in chapter one, and I think we touched upon it in the first paragraph of this chapter, too.”
“Then you better come inside!”
The door opened to reveal Kaleckton Kaleckton, local pizzeria store merchant and criminal liaison personage, who was nonetheless pointing a gun at Debro when he entered. It was almost midday and there should have been many people here because of the lack of food-based competition and the excellent prime position of the shop, as well as its good standing reputation as a high-quality purveyor of food-based merchandise, but there were none –none who might potentially be witnesses if anything should happen to him. Debro dismissed this as a plot device, and sat down to a desk with Kaleckton. Right, time for small talk, he thought.
“Is that a Ak-4 you have there?”
“Yes!”
“Ah, a fine weapon of choice. It’s a very accurate battle rifle that can with standard sights hit a stationary target at 500 meters, and can fire off nearly 600 bullets per minute.”
“Indeed! You know your guns, sir!”
“Yes, yes I do. I also know that all of this means practically nothing since I’m barely a yard away from you, so even a Luger would do the trick.”
“That’s right! But personally I prefer the dramatic style of an automatic rifle, particularly when on official business such as this! Handguns I use around the house!”
“Very wise.”
“Now, what can I help you with, officer?!”
“I was wondering if you could give me a meeting with Deutschgarten, the leader of a group of monks and ninjas.”
“Certainly! He’ll be holding a meeting with his lieutenants at their secret meeting place tonight!”
“And where is that?”
“The Community Hall, on PoliticalDebatingChamber Street! I’ll wire him a message and tell him to expect you!”
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Kaleckton.”
“My pleasure! Have a pizza on the house!”

So after Debro had eaten his pizza on the roof of the pizzeria he set off back to the flat to tell Kardas about the meeting. His optimism, however, was misplaced.

[Archaix]

I told the witch doctor I was in love with you. I told the witch doctor I was in love with you. And then the witch doctor, he told me what to do, he told me: “ooh ee ooh ah ah, ting-tang, walla walla bing-bang, ooh ee ooh ah ah ting walla walla bang bang.”

It was approaching seven o’clock when the two finally managed to get together at the flat. Debro was pacing up and down the kitchen frantically, wondering what the night would hold for him and, to a lesser extent, what it would hold for Kardas.

Outside the night began to set in early, as Thursday began to wane and collapse to the encroaching blackness. A slight drizzle had ensued just as he’d entered the house, and appeared to be getting heavier. The dark clouds mixed ominously with light ones high above, and they both wondered idly if there would be a lightening storm. But there were more pressing considerations for the time being.

“Done it!” Said Kardas, placing the final piece of the jigsaw into the picture. He sat back on his chair –it was the same chair he’d escaped from last night, and he didn’t want to throw it away- with a satisfied, relishing sigh. Debro looked over.
“Well that took you long enough. What’s that…three days to complete a picture of…oh God.”
“What?”
“Your pictures, it’s…”
“Well, you get pictures of the Arch de Triumph, the Statue of Liberty, St Peter’s Basilica, don’t you?”
“Kardas, that’s a picture of Barry Manilow!” It was indeed a portrait picture of Manilow, with an awful chewed area below the waist where Debro had eaten the pieces.
“So?”
“Freaking Barry Manilow!”
“Hey, you can’t say he isn’t talented. Besides, he’s…shapely. Perfect for a puzzle.”
“Look, we’ll talk about this later, ok? We have to go.”

They set off into what was now pouring rain, and once more headed –on foot- downtown to PoliticalDebatingChamber Street. As they moved the rain became more and more intense, and within minutes they were soaked to the bone, despite Debro’s large police coat and Kardas’ rather fetching Native American feathered battledress with eagle feathers and extra buffalo hide.
“There it is,” Said Debro, pointing at the Community Hall. It was the only building on third street, situated next to a park. In the gloom it looked dark and monstrous, and stuck fear into the two policemen. “Move quietly, now, and let me do all the talking.”

Knock knock knock.

“Are you the two Europol officers?”
“Yes. No time for the badge-joke routine, it’s freezing out here.”
“Ok, come on in.”

The hall was packed with robed figures. None of them were masked, and Debro began identifying them systematically while Kardas tried to find those little sausages on cocktail sticks at the buffet spread.
There was Neo Nibu the Knife Ninja, the mysterious El Zee of Zoso and Twwk the Terrible Gun-Toter, amongst many others. Kaleckton was also around, as drunk as a goose. And Deutschgarten, too, who was chatting to another member about cottage cheese.

After a few moments the meeting was in session, and the two officers listened attentively to the leader.
“Officers, it’s about time we told who the real culprit is.”
“Yes it bloody is!” Said Kardas before he was choked into silence by Debro.
“It was our rivals, the Alliance of Pirates and Vikings! They axed innocent people to try and scare us off their territory. We were going to tell you last night, but they attacked our base, so we had to leave.”
Ah, so that explains the axes, thought Debro.

Just then, the Alliance of Pirates and Vikings burst in.
“Not so fast, Deutschgarten!” Said their leader, Ironwolves. “You can pin the blame on us! It was your Confederacy of Monks and Ninjas and Other Cool Shit that did it! And then you put axes in the heads of people so it’d look like us, because we too like axing innocent people in the face!”
“Yeah!” said Kazzerland, Automaticz and several others who were alongside him.
“No! Lies! Lies and slander!” Shouted the Confederacy. They all took up their weapons.

“Kardas,” Whispered Debro.
“Yeah?”
“Get out your gun. I think there’s going to be a fight.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Well, you know like you told me to ‘bite the bullet’?”
“Yes…” Said Debro, with dread.
“Well, I decided to go one step further, and– ”
“It was a figurative expression.”
“Well, here we are.”
They stood there for a moment at the edge of the room, looking anxiously at the two lines of mobsters shouting insults at each other.
“Well”, said Debro, finally, “You’ll just have to make gun noises.”
“Right.”

Finally, with negotiations drawing to an end, Kaleckton shot an Alliance member, and the whole thing kicked off. It was as bloody as it was long.
“Die!” Said Ironwolves.
“Perish!” Shouted Kaleckton.
“Attack!” Screamed Automaticz.
“Stop, we have to pay extra if we get the Hall dirty!” Urged Deutschgarten.
“You’ll pay!” Cried Kazzerland.
“Lol!” Said Primus.
“Fag.” Deplored Nibu.
“Photobucket: bandwidth exceeded.” Said a sign El Zee was holding up.
“Bang! Bang bang pow!” Exclaimed Kardas.
“Stop it, everybody!” Said Debro.
“Kill kill kill!” Roared Twwk.

Several minutes later, in a room now painted red with blood and smothered with smoke, almost twenty bodies lay. Debro and Kardas, who had managed to stay alive by hiding behind the now-upturned buffet table, were the only ones left in the room.
“Good gracious.” Said Kardas.
“Snakes alive.” Said Debro.
“Does this mean we’ve solved the case?”
“I suppose it does.”

“Not so fast!” Said a mouse, entering the room suddenly. He was accompanied by two other vicious-looking mouse fellows, who leered menacingly at the two police officers.
“Why?” Said Kardas.
“Because we’ve come to tell you who the real murderers are!”
“Who?” Said Debro.
“Us! We carried out the string of murders.”
Debro didn’t know what to say. Everything was all so sudden; the meeting, the Alliance, the murdering…and now this.
“Who…who are you?” He stuttered.
“We,” Said the head-mouse, “Are Space Mice! We have come to wage bloody murder and tomfoolery against the planet known as Earth.”
“You’ll never get away with this!” Shouted Debro, raising his pistol. Kardas followed suit, and raised his fist with the index finger as the barrel and his thumb as the hammer, and made a clicking sound to emphasize that it was primed.
“You don’t seem to realize the extent of our devious master plan!” Said the mouse.
“Explain.”
“I shall. We monitored the two rival gangs of Kroppenheim, and thought up a devious plan. If we could get both gangs into an all out war –and take down the police at the same time- then we could buy ourselves some time.
“Over the previous few days, with the two gangs accusing the other of our murders, our Space Mouse technicians set up a bomb on the Kropp Dam, ready to go off in exactly one hour. The resulting deluge will bury the city. Now it is too late for anyone to do anything about it! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
“Quick, Kardas, let’s go and stop the bomb from going off!” they raced out into the rain.
The Mice looked at each other awkwardly in the silence.
“Gary, what did you go and tell them that for?”
“Sorry, I got carried away. I love our master plans, you know.”
“Well, at least they won’t be able to stop it going off.”
“Yes. Yes indeed.”
---

In the dim light the Kropp Dam loomed large. The features themselves could not be discerned, but the square edges stood out sharply against the weathered winter sky like the shoulders of a giant spanning the twin peaks, the Kommending Heights. As the lightening flashed the Kropp River down below in the gorge could be seen, briefly, trickling down to the flood plains in the east.

“Isn’t it odd that in that in a county where the terrain is predominately flat,” Debro began, “that there should be this dramatic mountain range?”
“Yeah. If this was in a book I’d be sceptical, personally.”
“Mind you, this mountain isn’t as big as my own Hungarian mountain, Kékes which is Hungary's highest mountain, in the Mátra range of Heves county. It is Hungary's third most popular tourist attraction, after Lake Balaton and the Danube, and has a number of hotels and skiing pistes. There is also a television mast at the summit. The name Kékes is derived from the mountain's often bluish colour. In Hungarian, the word kék means 'blue', while kékes means implicitly 'bluish'*.”
“I see.”

The dam was unmanned, and the two officers quietly made their way down to the centre of the structure, containing all the pumps, engines, and a bomb.
“Ok, what do we do?” Asked Debro.
“Three options.”
“Let’s hear them.”
“One; we put in the seven-letter code that deactivates the bomb.”
“Ok.”
“Two; we cut the wires in the precise order required for the bomb to be deactivated.”
“Gotcha.”
“Three; we get the hell out, let the bomb explode, and then move to Eritrea and live like kings.”
“I see,” They paused for thought. “How long till it goes off?”
“Three minutes.”
“Rules three out, then. Do you know which wires to cut?”
“No,” Another pause. Then Kardas brightened up. “I could guess!” He said.
“Too risky. Let’s just think: if you were a mouse, what would you put as your code?”
“‘Cheese’.”
“No, that’s six.”
“Ok. ‘Cheeses’, then.” They tried it. It didn’t work.
“‘Bananas’” Nope, nothing.
“Come on, there’s only a minute left!” Pleaded Debro. “Think: if you were going to put any word as a code, what would put in?”
“I’ve got it!” Kardas replied, excitedly.
“What?”
“I’ll put it in myself.” He rushed over to the device, and began to hurriedly type his word. There was a brief pause long enough for a deep intake of breath –before a satisfying bleeping noise sounded, and the timer stopped.
“OMG!” Said Debro. “OMGOMGOMG! What did you enter?” Kardas moved out of the way to reveal…“Manilow. You put in: Manilow.”
“Wasn’t it obvious?”
“I…I guess it was.”

And then they returned to the District Headquarters in the fierce rain, finally at peace. The case had been solved: the murders explained, the gangs extinguished, the bomb deactivated.
“But what about the Space Mice?” Asked Kardas.
“We’ll just file a description and leave it for some other sods to take care of.” Said Debro, and they laughed all the way back into town.

* Information available from the Hungarian National Tourist Office (HNTO), website www.hungary.com.

THE END

CREDITS (in order of appearance)
Kardas “Kardas” Kardas – Inspector Kardas
Elemer “Alexander” Debro – Inspector Debro
Primus “King of Lols” Orios – as himself
Deutsch “LOLshevik” Garten – Deutschgarten
James “Archie” Preece – Horatio Archaix
Casi “I’ll be in it, I guess” Necro – Cacinecro
Kaleck “Kaleckton” Ton – Kaleckton Kaleckton.
Neo “Admin” Nibu – Neo Nibu the Knife Ninja
Led “-Led Zeppelin-” Zeppelin – El Zee of Zoso
TWWK “not the only member of the NA” TWWK – Twwk the Terrible Gun-Toter
Iron ‘IW’ Wolves - Ironwolves
Kazzer ‘Kazzerland’ Land - Kazzerland
Auto ‘penguin’ Maticz – Automaticz
George Finnigan – Barry the Space Mouse
Pier Le Grande – Gary the Space Mouse
Simon Henderson – Larry the Space Mouse

Written at Archie’s house.

MMVII