Welcome to the Jungle (15 page)

SO THAT'S HOW THEY ESCAPED,
DIANA THOUGHT, STARING AT THE HOLE THAT THE LANES AND
Vesuvia had carved through at least a dozen prison floors. Leaning against the Vesuvia-size divot in the icy wall, she watched the adults argue. The warden, known as the Polar Bear, was in hot water.

Literally.

During his chase with the Lanes and the “Piffle fugitive,” as Mister Snow called Vesuvia, the Polar Bear had fallen into a pit, struck a steam pipe, and superheated the base of the prison, melting it. Diana had never heard of someone making an iceberg sink, but from the looks on her mother's and Mister Snow's faces, they did not appreciate their iceberg being the first to do so.

“They navigated the prison too easily,” the Polar Bear blubbered. “It must have been an inside job.”

Mrs. Maple rolled her eyes. “You're making excuses for your incompetence, warden.
You
are the one with all the access codes. If anyone from Winterpole helped the Piffle fugitive escape, it was probably you.”

“Me!? No, no. I love Winterpole. Why else would I be freezing my paws off in this awful place?”

Diana's mother gasped in offense. This was not going to be good.

Mister Snow drew a piece of cyber paper and snapped it. An electrical charge shot from the paper and struck the Polar Bear. He immediately dropped to the floor, writhing in agony.

“Article Three, Subsection Eight—Winterpole facilities are to be spoken of with respect and mild reverence,” Mister Snow sneered.

“I'm sorry!” the Polar Bear choked. “Please stop!” Diana grimaced as Mister Snow put the paper away. Across the room, Benjamin Nagg, the only other trainee to come with the agents on this mission, smirked knowingly.

“Hey Mister Snow,” Benjamin said, “permission to make an observation, sir?”

“Granted, trainee.”

“Maybe this fat old man is right. After all, one of Piffle's known accomplices works at Winterpole. In fact, she's here right now.”

Diana glared. “I know what you're insinuating, Benjamin, and it's utterly ridiculous. I'm the one who testified against Vesuvia in the first place. I helped Mister Snow find her after the Battle of the Garbage Patch. Tell him, Mister Snow. Tell this sower of discord that his suggestion is absurd. I should throw a dozen demerits at him for slander.”

Despite Diana's lashing, Benjamin went right on grinning. Mister Snow's eyes grew as he stared at Diana. “The trainee has a point, Miss Maple. There is evidence you helped the Piffle fugitive out of jams on many occasions. Have you had any contact with her since her detention?”

“Have I . . . um . . .” Diana tried to summon the words. She'd had nothing to do with the prison break, but she
had
received an unprompted phone call from Vesuvia just before leaving for the Pole.

Diana wanted nothing to do with Vesuvia and had told her as much. But she didn't want to lie. Turning to her mother, Diana said, “Mom, tell them to leave me alone. This is crazy.”

Her mother's voice was cold. “I don't know, Diana. They have a point.
Have
you had any contact with Vesuvia? I suggest you answer my colleagues.”

“I won't dignify these questions with a response!” Diana shouted. She'd heard someone yell that on a TV legal drama, and figured it was the correct thing to say.

Benjamin shivered with delight. “Uhhuhhuh. Mister Snow, we have a hostile suspect. Might I recommend enhanced interrogation techniques?”

“She looks pretty guilty to me!” The Polar Bear looked away and wiped his mouth, obviously happy not to be the center of attention anymore.

Diana's eyes darted between her mother, Mister Snow, and Benjamin, her panic growing. They stepped closer. “Have you had any contact with the fugitive?” asked Benjamin.

“Did you help her escape?” asked Mister Snow.

Her mother put a hand on her shoulder. It wasn't meant to be comforting. “Where is Vesuvia now?”

“I don't know!” Diana screamed, pushing away from them. “I didn't help her escape.”

Mister Snow and her mother exchanged a look. Mrs. Maple nodded. “Very well, Diana. We believe you. Now, let us return to Winterpole Headquarters. Polar Bear, you will continue your duties here as warden without pay until you receive the verdict of your disciplinary hearing. I give you my word that we will expedite the procedure. No one wishes to leave you in limbo.”

“I appreciate that, ma'am,” the Polar Bear said.

“Good. You should have the verdict in twelve to eighteen months.”

“Months? Without pay?”

Diana's mother left the cell in a flurry. “Come along, Mister Snow. Trainees, we're going.”

The others followed in Mrs. Maple's wake. The Polar Bear stayed behind, watching them go. He looked so miserable Diana couldn't help feeling bad for him, even if he had been terrible to her back in the cell.

As they walked the halls, headed to the landing pad on the roof, Benjamin stopped Diana, hissing like a snake. “Let's get one thing straight, Maple. I own you now. I've been monitoring your Winterpole communication line for weeks. I know you spoke to your old pal Vesuvia on the phone.”

Diana shoved him hard with both hands. He snorted in amusement. “I didn't help her escape!” she said. “I didn't want her to escape.”

“Oh. Oh dear.” For a second Benjamin looked regretful, but then his face morphed back into its sinister leer. “You must have me confused with someone who gives two ice cubes about
the truth
. I have evidence you spoke to her. That's all I need to convince everyone else here that you lied to superior Winterpole officers—and your own mother. As the daughter of the Secretary of Enforcement, you must know what the penalty is for
lying
.”

“What do you care?”

“Care? Can't I want to defend the ideals of our noble organization? No, no. Of course that's silly. But you've had everything handed to you, and you don't deserve it. So now we both know who the better agent is. Cross me again, and you're finished.”

He shoved her back, knocking her so hard in the chest that it dropped her to the cold floor. She clutched herself, gasping. Benjamin spun on his toes and hurried after the grown-up agents.

Diana's head was spinning. Benjamin could blab at any time, and then she'd be finished. Not just with Winterpole, but with her Mom too. She figured she might as well lock herself in one of these cells right now. She'd be back soon enough.

Looking up at the cell door in front of her, she saw the number. Z-99.

George Lane.

She crawled over to the door and pulled herself up. The small window in the door was blurry with frost. She breathed on the glass and wiped it clear.

The poor man was still in there, tied to the chair, fish falling on his head twice a minute. He looked as miserable as Diana felt. But there was nothing she could do for him.

Up on the landing pad, Mister Snow and Benjamin were already aboard their hovership. Diana's mother was waiting. “What took so long?”

“Nothing,” Diana said. “Just had to catch my breath.”

“We need to talk,” her mother replied.

“Can we do it on the ship? I'm tired and it's freezing out here.”

“No we cannot. Diana, you will not be returning to Geneva. You will be staying here.”

“I told you I had nothing to do with Vesuvia's escape!”

Her mother shook her head. “This isn't about that. I'm . . . giving you a reward, for all your hard work. I need you to continue investigating the breakout. You can't do that if you're not at the Prison at the Pole. Get to the bottom of it. You can return to Winterpole once you've filed a full ten-thousand-page report.”

“Ten thousand! By myself?”

“Some agents would be thankful to have their superior officer give them such an important assignment.”

An important punishment is more like it
, Diana thought. Her faith in Winterpole was unraveling at an alarming speed. The bureaucracy and the rules always took top billing, with only an occasional guest appearance by the ideals Diana held dear. Protect the environment, defend endangered animals, save the earth—Winterpole never
did
any of that stuff. Instead, they tracked down people who didn't get permission slips for arbitrary junk and slammed them with exorbitant penalties. Even their own agents weren't immune, as Diana had just discovered.

Making no effort to embrace her daughter, Mrs. Maple said, “Good luck with your mission. I look forward to your paperwork.”

Diana was still standing on the landing pad, alone and in disbelief, when the hovership took off and flew home.

THE FIRST STOP ON GRANDMA CONDOLINI'S SHOPPING SPREE WAS TOTALLY SANE PETE'S USED
Weapon Dealership—
Why Would You Think Pete Was Anything but Sane?
, a depot in Arizona for cannons, contraptions, and other calamitous inventions. Vesuvia had no interest in setting a dainty toe on the property, which featured not three, but four lawn flamingoes, and innumerable garden gnomes with hats in seven distinct colors. It was so tacky, Vesuvia nearly gagged.

Totally Sane Pete and several of his assistants emerged from the depot in Granny's wake. The old woman had a look of pure satisfaction on her face. Vesuvia could see why. The assistants each pushed large carts filled with hammer cannons, chainsaw launchers, and other destructive weapons.

“Back to the
Big Whale
, Susu! We're on to our next destination.” Granny knew better than to waltz into Winterpole territory unprepared. That was a strategy guaranteed to land Vesuvia back at the Prison at the Pole. Instead, they flew around the globe, gathering tanks, attack robots, stylish boots, and other supplies from several of Granny's old friends—terrorists, warlords, military dictators, and an old crooner who stank of cigars and whose yellow teeth seemed to take up the entirety of his face.

It was oddly amusing to meet so many bizarre people, but this wasn't exactly the sort of shopping spree Vesuvia had in mind, so she was relieved when Granny said, “All right, I think we have everything. Now, to the eighth continent!”

Several hours later, Vesuvia and her grandmother had circled the globe. The eighth continent was at last visible through the front viewport of the
Big Whale
. Vesuvia bubbled with anticipation. She couldn't wait to make the continent her own.

Granny grabbed the megaphone she used to communicate with the crew and raised it to her lips. “Deploy the Piffle Pink Patrol!”

Pink robo-birds spilled from the hangar on the ship's underbelly. They looked pretty beat up from their last encounter with the Lanes, but Granny gave no sign to indicate she noticed or cared. “Excellent, excellent!” she cheered. “Good to see the patrol is operating at top efficiency.”

Vesuvia mewed as she waved at the robots swooping past the window. “Pinky! Blinky! Peppercorn! Chompedo! Look at you fly!”

Granny barked into her megaphone. “Begin the bombardment!”

The Piffle Pink Patrol turned en masse and bombed the continent. Winterpole agents ran for cover. The robots pelted the ground with napalm, hydrochloric acid, and a mixture of orange juice and 2-percent milk.

“Milk?” Vesuvia asked.

“Not just regular milk, also chocolate milk. And strawberry for you, of course. Speaking of which”—Granny cranked up the volume on her megaphone—“WILL SOMEONE GET MY GRANDDAUGHTER SOME STRAW-BERRY MILK!? Sigh. You see, Susu, the experimental bombardment is all part of my master plan.”

“And what plan is that?” Vesuvia asked, accepting a glass of pink milk from a passing server-bot.

“Why, destroying the eighth continent, of course.”

Vesuvia choked in response. Twin streams of strawberry milk shot from her nostrils. “Destroy it?! Have all those perms damaged your wrinkled old brain? What about New Miami?”

Granny clutched her chest wistfully. “Ah, to be young and narrow-minded again.”

“
Excuse
me? Narrow-minded?”

“Don't be such a daft pineapple, Susu. There are more important things than New Miami.”

“What did you just say?”

“Condo Corp has formed a partnership with another corporation to destroy the eighth continent and discover the chemical formula for the Eden Compound.”

“Uh, good luck with that. Every last drop of that nasty green Eden Compound was used to turn all the garbage into the land that now makes up the Lanes' precious continent. We lost most of the Condo Corp fleet, and it ruined my favorite jacket.”

“I know,” Granny said. “While you were having your holiday at Chez Winterpole, I was handling the insurance settlement. But think carefully now. The Eden Compound isn't really gone, it has merely changed, forming new earth with the old trash. Now, what if we could undo that transformation?”

“Then you'd have a bunch of yucky garbage again, and still no New Miami.”

“You'd have a bunch of yucky garbage AND the Eden Compound. They would separate. And with the Eden Compound in hand, we could figure out how to make
more
Eden Compound. And then, with more Eden Compound, we could transform garbage dumps
anywhere in the world
.”

Vesuvia's head felt light, but maybe that was some of the strawberry milk sloshing around her skull. “You mean . . . two New Miamis?”

“Two
thousand
New Miamis! You see, we're destroying the eighth continent so we can profit off someone else's good idea later. In business we call that investing.”

Two thousand New Miamis
. Vesuvia's mind ran wild with the possibilities. Maybe she didn't need Diana after all. She could make the world she wanted all by herself, and no one could stop her, not even the stupid Lanes and their dumb bird. There was just one question.

“Granny, who did Condo Corp form their partnership with? Where'd you get this idea in the first place?”

Tapping her playfully on the nose, Granny said, “That, my dear, is my little secret! A lady needs her secrets, you know.”

That would not do at all. She would make sure Granny spilled the gumballs. Vesuvia hated secrets—unless she was the one keeping them.