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

Thumbnail art by  RockBaker


Twelve.


Sometime in the night, the minkess stirred sleepily at sounds coming from the corridor next door. It started with the sound of a compartment door being opened, followed by the sound of several large and heavy objects tumbling out onto the floor. These sounds were accompanied by a startled gasp.

This was followed by a chorus of male groans, and the same person who had gasped, a woman, said, “Mrs. Totenschlager!”

An old woman’s cackling and the sound of stumbling footsteps followed this exclamation, and Nunevya rolled over and went back to sleep.


***


Feeling very well-rested after a good night’s rest, Nunevya opened her compartment door early the next morning and glanced around. There was no sign of either the fox or the stork, and there was also no sign of the schnauzer, the wolverine or the bear.

The minkess smiled. The day was starting off well, but then she paused, realizing that the train had stopped. She decided to get breakfast before finding out what was going on.

The dining car was open, and she walked in and paused.

The stork was seated next to the middle-aged moose couple, hunched over a cup of coffee and gazing glassy-eyed at the table in front of him. Seated across the aisle and facing toward the kitchen, the fox was raising a cup of coffee to his lips with a shaking paw.

“Have a good night?” Nunevya asked as she sat down.

Patafuerte nearly dropped his coffee, while Phlute flinched backward, almost pitching himself off his seat. The fox shuddered, drank the remainder of his coffee and muttered, “She . . . she didn’t have a b-book . . . “

"What have book to do with things? You are weird boy.” The minkess shrugged, accepted a menu from a steward, and ordered breakfast. Mention of food brought the officer and the detective out of their reverie, and they hastened to add their orders to hers.

Dawdling over the last of her eggs and bacon, Nunevya asked her two alleged guardians, “Why have we stopped?” she asked.

Phlute shrugged. “Dunno,” and he went back to his pancakes.

“Yeah, I think we’ve stopped,” Patafuerte said. He waved at a steward and asked as the mel refilled his coffee, “Why did we stop?”

“This is Riverlock, sir. It’s the last stop on this train before Tacoma.”

“Thanks,” and the steward went about his business, and the fox sipped at his coffee before he turned to the minkess. “He said that we’re – “

“Nunevya heard him,” she said, drinking the last of her tea.

Shortly afterward, the moose couple got up and left the dining car, making way for the tall Marine. The skunk nodded at them pleasantly as he moved past them before finding a seat.

Patafuerte’s ears perked at the sound of the train’s whistle, and he said, “Company.” Phlute turned in his seat and his feathers ruffled at the sight of Sergeants Ivan Awfulich and Igor Blymy coming down the aisle toward them. The stork and the fox were on their feet, and the four of them faced each other.

“Step aside,” the wolverine growled. “We are here for her,” and he pointed a meaty finger at Nunevya, who eeped and started to hide herself under the table.

Phlute said, “You’ll have to get past us first.”

“Is no problem,” the bear said. “We go over you.”

Patafuerte said, “Look, we know you want her, but we can’t cause a scene in here. That conductor will be along, and you saw the size of the cook’s cleaver.”

“Hmm, that is so,” Awfulich said after a second’s consideration. “Where, then?”

“Step out onto the platform,” Patafuerte said, “and we’ll be out there as soon as I finish my coffee.”

The two Okhrana operatives considered this.

“It is good,” Awfulich said, and he and Blymy turned to go.

“But – “ Phlute started to say, only to yell “OW!” as the fox stepped on his foot. The stork grabbed the tod by his lapels and said, “Why’d you do that?”

Patafuerte put a finger to his lips until the wolverine and the bear had left the dining car. “Look, did you hear a whistle earlier, Earless?”

“Yeah,” and the stork glared at him. “What about it?”

“They’ll be waiting on the platform – “

“Yeah, until you finish your coffee.”

“Uh-huh.” Patafuerte gestured at his cup, which was a quarter full, and as they watched one of the stewards refilled the cup.

“That’s clever,” Phlute said. “Which means you didn’t think of it yourself.”

“I did it in elementary school.”

“How many times?”


***


Igor von Fecklessenburg watched dispassionately from the upper level of the Golden Bear’s observation car as the train left the Riverlock Station, leaving his two operatives standing there apparently waiting for something.

The schnauzer sighed before allowing himself a smile.

There was an old saying that went, “If you want something done, incite a pogrom to conceal what you’re doing,” and von Fecklessenburg contemplated it for a moment.

Enough with subtlety. It was time for a direct approach.


***


“You!” Heads turned as the schnauzer stamped into the dining car. “I do not how you did it, but you have tricked my two sergeants!” he declared, pointing at Phlute and Patafuerte. His left paw was bandaged.

Nunevya thought that was appropriate. The fox would likely have had another body part bandaged, if he had tried to sneak into her compartment.

“We were going to fight them out on the platform,” the red fox said, “but they agreed to wait until I finished my coffee.” He gestured at his now-empty cup. “Not my fault the train left before I was done.”

Von Fecklessenburg growled. “I will deal with both of you myself,” and he pulled a pistol from his overcoat. “Do not move!” he said, raising his voice as the other diners reacted to the sight of the gun. He smiled, and it was an unpleasant expression. “I shall be decorated for removing an enemy of her Imperial Highness, not to mention the bonus for killing both of you.”

Phlute was holding up his empty breakfast plate as a shield, and the stork peered over it. “How much?”

“Fool!” Nunevya hissed.

“Yes, they are, Nunevya Iosefevna,” von Fecklessenburg nodded. “But so are you,” he said as he raised his pistol . . .

And paused, turning to his right to look down at a young feline boy. “What?”

The kitten smiled and held up a pasteboard card showing a schnauzer in uniform, his name in both Cyrillic and English, in one paw. In his other paw, he held a fountain pen.

“Ah,” the schnauzer said, “an admirer. Yes, I shall sign your card,” and the kitten grinned as von Fecklessenburg turned back to the others. “You will excuse me. I shall deal with you three as soon as I am finished.” He started to take the card and the pen, realizing belatedly that he was at least one short in the paws department. “Here, my young fellow, hold this,” and he gave the kitten his pistol. He then placed the card on a nearby table, signed it with a flourish, and gave it the kitten.

The boy scampered off, and the schnauzer said, “And now, for you three – what?” he asked, suddenly realizing that he no longer had his firearm. Coming to the same realization, the diners started clearing out of the dining car. Nunevya, Phlute and Patafuerte joined the stampede, the minkess evading the Major’s grab at her tail.

There was a tap on his shoulder.

He turned and found himself confronted by a tall and rather broad-chested skunk. Private Wilkins growled, “Mister, you’d best get out of here.”

“Pah!” von Fecklessenburg snorted. “My mission is to kill her, and no one will stop me. Not even YOU,” and raised his paw, index finger outstretched and pointed at the skunk’s nose.

Wilkins grabbed the paw.

Von Fecklessenburg had a sudden impression of abrupt flight, followed by him landing hard on his back on the floor of the dining car. As he shook his head to clear it, he blinked up at the Marine private as Wilkins moved to stand over him.

“Mister,” Private Wilkins said, “you just got on my last nerve, as my Ma says.” His paws reached behind him as his tail cocked, and he fumbled with something. He started to turn to face away from the schnauzer, and von Fecklessenburg’s eyes widened as the skunk pulled his trousers and underwear down.

“This is my butt,” Wilkins said. “There are many like it - but this one is mine.”

The schnauzer managed to choke out the whimpered word, “Mat’” before something horribly pungent happened.


***


On her way back to her compartment, Nunevya glanced into the room next door. An elderly feline was sitting there, perhaps the Mrs. Totenschlager that the young woman had spoken of earlier in the morning.

The woman met the minkess’ gaze and winked before going back to her book.





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