Written by: Marc

Disclaimer: Kit Cloudkicker, Baloo,WildCat, Molly Cunningham, Rebecca Cunningham, Don Karnage and other characters are copyright 1990/1991 Walt Disney Company and are being used without premission. The writer has made sure that no money was made in the production of this fanfic and all material is used with the upmost affection and respect to the Walt Disney Company and the Tale Spin Team.

PART IV

Kit gingerly walked up four small stone steps that led to teh front door of the Westing House, and knocked on the door four times. He knocked again after no one answered, and looked at the ironic, happy welcome mat he was standing on.

"Definitely know how to make me feel welcome." he said to himself. This is stupid, Kit thought to himself. Yet he had to admit that Ollie was right; there was no other explanation for the two gorillas that chased the young cub.

Then there were the goons who somehow knew they when they would be landing at Louie's that day. The more Kit pondered these fateful harbingers, the more confused he became. He pounded roughly on the door, realizing John Westing may be his only chance to get some answers. No sound but the wind rustling the leaves in the oaks behind him, and with that Kit started on his way.

He stopped for a moment to listen closely. There was a cracking sound coming from the backyard, as if someone were jumping on sticks.  Kit dashed behind the house to find no one there. The yard was small, but surrounded by a small wood and in the northwest corner stood a crumbling old shack. Eyes fluttering from side to side, Kit froze in his tracks. Someone was here, and he knew it. Suddenly, something moved from behind the shed.

"Hey, who's back there?" he called out.

"Don't come any closer," a female voice gasped, "I'll defend myself."

Kit walked slowly towards the shed with his hands in the air, "I'm just a kid, lady. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Just a kid?" she repeated to herself.

Out jumped a middle-aged badger. Her clothes were tattered and old, gray with dirt, yet she had  covered her face in cosmetics and her hair was curled and layered according to the latest fashion. Upon seeing her, Kit took a subconscious step backward as she was almost as large as Baloo.

"Hello, I'm Kit Cloudkicker." he introduced himself sprightly extending his paw.

She looked away from his paw condescendingly, "I know who you are."

Kit squinted at her, "You do? Cause I don't know you, lady."

The badger rolled her eyes scornfully, and looked down at him. "How typical."

"I'm sorry," Kit shook his head, "Maybe you're thinking of somebody else, but I'm here looking for John Weston. In this his house?"

"Yes, I guess it was," she said taking out a cigarette in a holder and lighting it. Relishing each puff,  she spoke between coughs, "He's dead now.

Though you probably know that."

"I'm so sorry, I guess, if you knew him. . ." Kit sighed, then looking back at her harshly, "Whaddya mean I'd probably know that already."

She blew through her holder, spitting out the cigarette butt by Kit's feet.

"Put that out for me, kid, will ya?"

Kit moaned and stepped on the butt with his claws to extinguish it, "Well. .."

Waving her hand at him, she spoke as if she was irritated by Kit, "Oh, forget it already, kid. Didn't they ever teach you in school curiosity killed the cat?"

"I ain't a cat." Kit replied

The badger started to retort, but stopped for a moment before speaking. "Good point. Kid. You must be going to school. I'm sorry, but sometimes my tongue has a life of its own. . ."

"Yeah, I bet." Kit sniffed roughly.

:"All right, Squirt," she shook her head, "Very funny. Prepare yourself for a shock now. . .I'm Mrs. Valentine."

"Vala-who?"

Her arms dropped limply to her sides as she could not believe Kit's response,"You don't know me?"

"Nope." Kit shrugged.

"Weelllll," she chuckled to herself, "Maybe we ain't as smart as some people think we are. Rusty Valentine was my husband."

"Look lady," a frustrated Kit pleaded,"Would just tell me who you are? I don't know your husband either."

"Why, he was the otter you saw drowning that night," she said matter-of- factly putting her paw on her heart, "Don't tell me you've forgotten about that."

"He was your husband," Kit gasped, taking off his hat, "We wanted to help him, but it was just too dangerous, Miss Valentine."

"Don't worry 'bout it kid," she looked away tearfully, "When you gotta go, you gotta go, right?"

Kit scratched his head, "But what are you doing here, Mrs. Valentine? Where are the Westings?"

"I'm here because my husband said you'd show up eventually." she said, "He always said he had some kinda intuition. ..guess he was right."

"But I didn't even know your husband," Kit was in a quandary.

The badger shook her head, "He didn't know you either, kid. But it's all part of the case he was working on."

"That's why they killed him, isn't it?" Kit said, "Because he was getting close to finding something."

Nodding, the badger wiped a tear from eye, as she sat slumping against the shed. "Couple months ago, Mrs. Weston comes into my husband's office crying like a little girl. She had this crazy story about a chase through the streets with guns and such,. Well. . .ya ever been in the wrong place at the wrong time? That's what happened to ol' man Westing, caught in the crossfire, kid."

"That's horrible." Kit lamented.

"My husband was a good detective," she continued ignoring his comment,"He wasn't clever or anything, but he was persistent and hard as a rock, kid. That's all you need really, kid, is a hardhead to be good at anything. Anyways, the trail leads to this scientist-type. He's wound so tightly Rusty used to say you could stick a lumpa coal up his. . .well I guess I shouldna be repeatin' that in front of you. His name's Dr. Kofka or Hofka, I'm not sure. Turns out he's the one that whoever was chasing through the streets trying to shoot his head off."

Her words bounced off Kit like rubber balls and he was in a total whirlwind. Kit could not understand how she knew he had seen her that night. Perhaps, he wondered, she is not being honest. "What are you talkin' about lady. What's this gotta do with me?"

The old badger laughed garrulously to herself, tossing her tiny cigarette butt between two small patches of light silver crabgrass. She noticed Kit looking disapprovingly at it.

"So, I don't like to waste." she shrugged, opening a large, tan leather purse. The zipper made a loud strange sound, as when one draws their fingernail over the teeth of a comb. Kit's stomach cringed. He was relieved to see that it was only a plain, white envelope that seemed to glimmer brightly against the overcast sky. She roughly handed it to him as if she were happy to be rid of it. "That Kofka guy supposedly swiped some plans for some secret weapon. Sound like a bunch of baloney to me, but Rusty said you'd know something about it."

"What's this?" Kit asked holding up the letter.

"How should I know, the old ball n' chain never told me nothing,"she snapped at him then relaxing, "I can only suppose it has something to do with the story I was supposed to tell ya. He said you'd know what I was talkin' about."

Kit sighed to himself, turning the envelope over and over again in his sullen hands. "Thanks, I guess, Mrs.Valentine."

"You can shove it, kid," she replied petulantly, "However important you or my husband thought whatever's in that envelope is, it ain't worth folks gettin' killed over. Especially a fella like Rusty."

With that she promptly turned around, briskly loping away past the shed and into the shaded, morose wood that surrounded the house. Her dress rippling in the wind like a thick mist, she trudged onward visibly shaking like a frightened child without looking back.

Kit called out to her, "Hey! How'd you know I saw him get killed."

Looking over her shoulder, she shook her head, "You're Kit Cloudkicker  ain't ya?"

"That's me." Kit replied sheepishly.

"He rented a copter to find you, Squirt." her voice trembled with sobs, "He was trying to find you."

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The cadences of Rebecca's heart slowed as she listlessly hung up the receiver as Baloo watched curiously. Rebecca bent over her desk caressing her stomach wearily, as she looked outside to Molly and Wildcat happily running away from languid fish lying on the deck. She lost her breath as she recalled the words of Dr. Hofka, and although his words seemed like warped, shadowy fragments of a cracked record, she remember the danger in his voice. It was not safe for Molly, and that was all she could think about.

"Baloo," she said softly but firmly, "Put Molly in the Seaduck and take her to Louie's right now."

"It was that Dr.Hofka again wasn't it, Beckers?" Baloo replied angrily and he tensed his fist at the thought of the doctor, "What'd he say to get you all riled up?"

"Just do it, please!" she pleaded with him, "I'm not as strong as I used to be, Baloo. I can't have you fighting me on this."

Baloo gestured toward the Seaduck, "Well what about the Kurlander shipment? It's the last one,and ol' rudder tail himself is coming to see it off and to pay his tab."

"I. . .I forgot." she sniffed, "I. . ."

Hofka's frantic telephone message had been more than she could bear. With the death of her friend Joel Goodsen, the chase that night after Louies, and the sudden appearance of Hofka there had been a great strain placed on her the likes of which she had not felt since the death of her husband. She had told herself then she may not have been able to withstand another ordeal like that, and now standing before her was another one perhaps more perilous and frightening than the first. Instead of the blind courage she had used for most of her life, she froze like a deer caught in headlights. Baloo seeing her distress, shamefully walked towards her when there was a quick knock on he door and the sound of a familiar boisterous voice.

"Hello all!" said a cheerful Mr. Kurlander as the round beaver strolled through the door, "It is fine to see you two again. I must say Rebecca you fail to disappoint. You've done an excellent job with my merchandise!"

"Thank you," Rebecca muttered meekly still supporting herself on her desk.

An exaggerated look of concern came across Kurlander's face, "Oh, my dear. Are you ill? You look terribly pale. Maybe we. . ."

"She's just a little tired." Baloo interrupted stepping in front of him. Kurlander's beady eyes looked away, "Oh, I see. Pity, really. . .When are you scheduled for takeoff, Mr. Baloo."

Something about this Mr. Kurlander made Baloo shudder, as if everything he said seemed to really have another meaning as if he were constantly changing his mind. "Soon as the navigator gets home from school."

The beaver grinned widely, "Ah, yes. I had anticipated he would be here actually," he said clutching to his briefcase,"I've so wanted to meet the little tyche."

Baloo raised his eyebrows, "Really?"

"Well, whenever I mention Higher for Hire, someone always seems to equate that Mr. Cloudkicker." Kurlander briskly explained, "When such a reputation precedes such a young cub, I'm. . .well. ..curious to meet such a talented bear."

"He should be here any moment, Mr. Kurlander." she said, "I should wonder why he isn't here by now. He's usually never late."

******************************************************************************

Kit crept slowly down the moist street towards Higher for Hire as the dark clouds had parted to reveal a brilliant sun which lit Cape Suzette in an eerie yellow light that seemed to reflect off the water causing the building to glisten.  Dodging puddles he nearly walked into absent-mindedly, he noticed a silence that seemed to have swallowed his home. He knew Molly would be there, and yet there was not a peep emanating from the usually turbulent Higher for hire, no cars were passing by, and not even a spring melody of a lonely bluebird did disturb the stillness. Although nothing appeared out of the ordinary other than Mr. Kurlander's limo parked in the lot, the young cub hesitated for a moment and took out the contents of the white envelope. They were blueprints he was sure of a weapon similar to the one the air pirates had stolen from Shere Khan so long ago, yet it was visibly altered in some ways with cryptic equations and notes scribbled on the sides as apparent explanations. At the sight of it, Kit had an impulse to just tear it to pieces. He shoved it roughly in his pockets and stepped quietly inside.

Kit heard low voices echoing from Rebecca's office, and he peered at them from behind the kitchen door.

"Perhaps, you may just want to leave without your navigator this time. Surely you know the way by now, Baloo?" Kurlander said.

Clenching his teeth, Baloo angrily grabbed his hat from Rebecca's desk, "Just give 'em a few minutes, Mr.Kurlander. He sure does make my job easier."

"Yes," Kurlander nodded, "We certainly would not want to risk putting to heavy a burden on your shoulders."

The voice lit a spark somewhere deep in Kit's memory like a solemn, lonely firefly buzzing through a black, moonless midnight sky. It resonated throughout him vibrating every part within him, and his heart began to beat rapidly. Slowly he began to back away from the gnarled, wooden door. Nearly tripping over himself, he crumbled outside where the clouds had now covered the sun and a small drizzle gently pattered the top of his hat. An old beat up, tan automboile pulled up in front of him, but he hardly even noticed. As he cradled the voice in his mind, repeating it over and over. Then suddenly Kit clicked his tongue and snapped his finger. The voice was most certainly a part of a past he had wanted to forget, and this may have been why he had not realized it earlier.

"Kurlander was an air pirate!" Kit exclaimed unaware of the car door opening and the tall cheetah who stepped out.

"Get in the car, Kit!" he yelled.

Kit was at first startled by the voice, but as he turned to the cheetah he nearly did a doubletake as he was staring down the barrel of a revolver. Now the young cub was not as afraid of guns as most would be from his experiences with the air pirates. In a world where there are no longer any natural enemies, another person is the closest we can come. A gun to us is as an owl to a mouse, a fox to a rabbit, an orca to a seallion, and so forth. It's very sight strickens one with a nearly paralyzing fear and an overcoming instinct to runaway as fast as one can. The young cub, however, stood his ground. He knew a gun is truly only as dangerous as its carrier.

"No!' he said firmly, "What do you want?"

The cheetah was tall and sleek, and moved gracefully towards the cub. His wore dark sunglasses that cast shadows over much of his face despite the cloud-ridden sky.  Kit could sense there was a great deal of urgency in his voice, yet he could not sense a touch of nervousness or tension.

"Fine, Cloudkicker," he sighed, lowering his weapon, "I had planned to save your life, but if you are unwilling. . .I'll only need that envelope that Mrs. Valentine gave you."

Kit clutched it tightly against his chest, and turned away. The cheetah now frustrated became more forceful, the urgency now replaced by anger.

"There isn't any time for this," he cried firing a shot just above Kit's head. He ducked as a relax though the bullet never would have hit him. Staring for a moment at the gaping hole in the Higher for Hire wall, he heard voices whispering anxiously from inside, and knowing soon that they should attracted outside due to the sound of the blast, Kit jumped into the Cheetah's car too afraid to face Kurlander.

"Good." the cheetah grinned, as he drove away recklessly fast. Kit grimaced and held tightly to his seat as the car quickly gained in velocity, burning its tires on fast, sharp turns.

"What's the rush, umm. ."

"Goodsen. Joel Goodsen." he replied nonchalantly, "Give me the envelope."

"What are you going to do with it?" Kit demanded as he took it out from under his sweater.

Before Kit could react, Goodsen swept it up, tore into four sloppy pieces, and tossed them into his mouth, chewing deliberately.

"Nothin' ever tasted so good." he mused glancing at the rearview mirror.

Kit shook his head, "You know you could have just gone to Tiny's. I'm pretty certain you could have gotten a better meal there."

The cheetah looked at him quizzically, "Oh, for Heaven's sake. You don't have a clue about what's s going on to do you.  They had you all pegged wrong."

Kit was hurt by the Cheetah's words which seemed to insinuate had not grasped something he should have, "Hey, I know the air pirates had a laser like that, and I know Kurlander's an air pirate!"

Goodsen laughed heartily, "No he ain't, Kit. That was a setup just so he could steal the plans you had there in that envelope."

"Well, who don they belong to then?" Kit asked.

Goodsen  stopped at a traffic light and leaned over Kit with his shoulder to look at the car behind. Satisfied he turned back to the road. "It don't matter, really. Wherever came from had it be an evil place, at least that's what I think. Besides it don't matter where it came from when everybody this side of the ocean is after it. But now that it's destroyed, thanks to old Rusty Valentine, everything should be all right."

"Hey, I know you." Kit whispered softly almost to himself, "The name. Joel Goodsen. You're Miss Cunningham's friend who died."

The light turned green and the car jerked forward. Kit shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Joel gave him a wry little half smile.

"That was Rusty's idea. Fake my own death You see it was my helicopter you saw that night. He and I were out trying to find you, and Rusty thought if I was dead nobody would be lookin' for that helicopter. That's too bad Becky thought I was a goner. I didn't think she'd remember me from college"

"But why me? I didn't even know about this back then." Kit stammered.

Joel squinted at him as if he thought Kit were lying. "You serious, kid? Oh, man! I'd better tell you the whole story then.  Ya see wherever those plans came from Khan was the first to steal them, and then this pair of fellows in turn stole them. One of them was a pirate, and we're not sure about the other. Rusty thinks it was this Hofka fella. So the pirate, maybe this Kurlander you're talking about took the plans to Karnage, and the other took a copy away to research. But the plans weren't designed for that crystal you stole. That was Khan's idea; there was some malfunction or other with the gun. Something to do with the gun and the atmosphere not mixing right. I ain't good with all that technical stuff."

"But why were you looking for me that night?" Kit maintained.

Joel rolled his eyes, "Cause Rusty and I found out that a couple of months ago, this Hofka gets a letter supposedly from some prodigy who explains how to fix the gun making sure to leave out a few details. That's all the note said. Didn't offer an explanation or ask for money, nothin'. So's Kurlander and Hofka have been looking for this kid every since."

"My CSAT scores!" Kit gasped.

"That's right!" Joel exclaimed, "That's why they're after you, and that's why were trying to get to you first."

"But I don't know anything about it!" Kit exclaimed, "I swear, cross my heart. And they don't know you destroyed that thing. They still think I know how to fix it."

Goodsen nodded, "That's why I'm here, but no way I ever thought you weren't the one who wrote it. I mean you were an airpirate and all."

"We've got to convince them that I'm not the one, Mr. Goodsen," Kit said.

Joel looked at him sadly as he gradually braked to a stop by a traffic light. It appeared to Kit as though he were about to say something. Kit turned away for a moment still uncomfortable in the presence of this stranger who had all the answers to his questions, and yet did not seem that concerned about the whole situation. Kit didn't truly believe that Goodsen cared about Baloo or Rebecca or even him.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang, and Kit glanced at the driver's side to see tufts of smoke swirling through the air. As the smoke slowly dissolved, he saw Goodsen leaning forward, his head pressed against the wheel, grimacing.

"Muldrake."  He groaned, and through the window Kit saw the fox peering inward his hand extended, holding a small dillinger.

"Don't move, boy!" he snarled.

Kit froze, his paw on the doorlatch. Muldrake started to move himself from inside the car when Goodsen, regaining his senses, powerfully kicked the unlocked door against the fox who fell to the ground with a painful thud.

"Run, kid!"

Seeing blood slithering down Goodsen's jacket, Kit didn't hesitate, jumping out of the car and starting to run as fast as he could.

"Stop, Cloudkicker!" Muldrake screamed.

Kit looked over his shoulder to see Muldrake holding a gun up to the head of Goodsen. The young bear carefully walked toward Muldrake his paws in the air. Muldrake gestured him to hurry as other cars and pedestrians were beginning to take notice of the strange proceedings. The fox grabbed Kit by the shoulder roughly shoving him into the car, and then kicking the limp body of Goodsen onto the sidewalk.

As the car sped away, Goodsen coughed slightly as the fumes smothered him for a moment. He felt terribly weak, and a passer-by, a tall thin stork, helped him to his feet. Although he must have been asking Goodsen questions about his condition, the cheetah couldn't hear anything. He could only focus on the alley across the way, as he reached his hand towards it. The stork urged him onward, and Goodsen was forced to leave the alley where he saw Dr. Hofka lurking behind a rusty dumpster.

To be Continued...