“No, no—I can explain.”

“I think you’d better come with us,” said Briggs. “You’re under arrest.”

“On what charge?”

“Almost everything I can think of—but we’ll just have ‘murder of a serving police officer’ to begin with.”

Before Jack could protest, two officers had disarmed him, pushed him facedown on the floor and begun to caution him.

“Briggs!” yelled Jack in desperation. “It’s not over!”

“For you it most certainly is,” Briggs replied, kneeling down to speak to Jack, who had his head pressed against the concrete. “A plea of insanity is about the best defense you have—and from what I’ve seen and heard over the past few days, it will be enthusiastically and gratefully accepted.”

“Give your brain a chance, Briggs,” growled Jack. “Ash just stopped an explosion from devastating most of Reading. We need to arrest Bisky-Batt, the Quangle-Wangle and the fourth bear.”

“And let me guess,” said Briggs. “The Easter Bunny as well?”

“No,” replied Jack with a grunt as someone grabbed his wrist and pulled it up behind him, “she had nothing to do with it.”

“I hope you’ve got a good lawy—”

Briggs stopped as a group of large bears walked into the underground garage from the stairwell. Jack, who was facing the other way, couldn’t see who it was at first.

“Relinquish Spratt to my custody,” came a deep voice.

“Don’t push it, Craps,” replied Briggs. “Threatening a police officer and obstruction are serious offenses, Ursidae immunity or not.”

Jack rolled over so that he could see what was going on. The small party of human officers was being faced down by an even larger contingent of bears, Vinnie Craps at their head. They didn’t look too happy either, and they were all males. Large males.

“I’m not going to argue, Briggs,” said Vinnie. “Spratt is a Friend to Bears, and bears look after their friends.”

“Like you look after Bartholomew? Harboring murderers isn’t being friendly and will land you in the clink, Boo-Boo.”

Craps walked up to Briggs, towered over him and placed a single pointed claw on the knot of his tie. “If you call me Boo-Boo again,” he said in a low, threatening growl, “it’ll be the last thing you do.” He raised a lip to reveal a shiny white canine. “Last chance: Leave the Bob Southey right now.”

“No way,” replied Briggs, who was showing a degree of courage that he’d forgotten he possessed. “And if you don’t surrender Barth—”

Suddenly the underground garage was full of noise. Directionless and powerful, it seemed to well up from the earth and reverberate right inside one’s skull. Jack wasn’t quite sure where it was coming from until he saw Vinnie with his mouth wide open. The roar was a deafening bellow that seemed to surge forth from within and expel itself at furious speed; it was a deep, guttural cry that spoke volumes about territory, outrage, anger and dominance.

Everyone jumped about a foot in the air. Briggs was almost knocked off his feet, and the sound set the car alarms going. The noise was brutal, and in a sort of primordial way, the kind of noise that makes anyone who hears it just leg it for the nearest cave or high tree. It also spoke of unpredictable danger. Even Jack, who was now a Friend to Bears, had an awful feeling that even he wasn’t completely safe—that any moment the six hundred pounds of angry bear might vent his anger on him. Abruptly, the roar stopped. Vinnie coughed slightly, cleared his throat and walked through the crowd of dazed officers, pulled Jack to his feet and escorted him to the stairwell.

“Hey!” said Briggs, suddenly regaining his composure.

Vinnie stopped and took a threatening pace toward them, and they all took a hasty step back.

“Leave now,” repeated Vinnie, and they did.

35. Ursula

They rose through the Bob Southey in one of the many luxurious oak-paneled lifts. Jack found to his surprise that he was still holding Ashley’s thin but immensely strong outer membrane. It had dried out by now and resembled blue cellophane. So he rolled it up, folded it twice and placed it in his breast pocket for safekeeping.

“Thanks for rescuing me,” said Jack, finally breaking the thoughtful silence. “I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Inspector,” replied Vinnie in his usual short manner. “The Ursa Majors voted you Friend to Bears an hour ago, and it’s totally out of my hands. It’s not a good situation. I’ve got a bit of clout with the authorities, but it’s only a matter of time before they decide to use force to get you and Bartholomew out of here.”

“I’ll surrender before that happens, Vinnie. I won’t have senseless loss just to postpone the inevitable.”

Vinnie gave an imperceptible nod to show that he approved of Jack’s attitude.

The elevator doors opened, and they walked out into a plush corridor with thick carpeting on the floor and original Lichtenstein prints decorating the walls. Vinnie walked up to a door and entered. It wasn’t locked, but this wasn’t unusual—bears didn’t have any need for them. In the entire Bob Southey, the only locks were the ones that connected the bears’ world to that of the outside. The apartment was light, airy and modern, but it still retained the same understated utopian ethos as the three bears’ cottage in the forest: hard-wearing, functional wooden furniture and a minimalistic low-tech feel with simple floral designs on the drapes and small furnishings.

Standing at the window was Sherman Bartholomew. He looked tired and gaunt.

“Good evening, Inspector,” he said, rubbing his temples nervously. “I know I’m going to be sorry to ask this, but… what the blazes is going on?”

“I’m not one hundred percent sure yet, sir. A missing nuclear physicist, a discovery of unthinkable and devastating potential and Goldilocks caught up in the middle. NS-4 and QuangTech are implicated, and the Gingerbreadman is involved—I just don’t know where. And then there’s the fourth bear.”

Jack went on for some minutes, attempting to explain the complexities of the case.

When he’d finished, Bartholomew stared at him for a long time and then said, “I knew I’d be sorry.”

Vinnie, however, had understood it all a little better.

“So are you saying that all the nuclear strain of cucumbers have been destroyed?”

“No—Fuchsia told me that his ‘Alpha-Pickle’ was snipped off the main stalk last night. That’s the sole remaining cucumber. Whoever possesses that has almost unthinkable riches and power within his grasp.”

“And who do you suppose this fourth bear is?” asked Vinnie.

“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me. He’s a dominant male, likes porridge, has no compunction about killing other bears—and was having an affair with Ursula Bruin.”

Vinnie pricked up his ears when he heard this.

“You’ve an idea?” asked Jack.

“Not me—but Ursula might.”

They took the elevator to the large vaulted atrium on the ground floor and made their way across to the Bob Southey Medical Center.

“She regained consciousness an hour ago,” explained Vinnie, his claws clicking percussively on the smooth marble flooring. “She can’t speak, but she might be able to communicate in some other way.”