And the quilters? News of their fate had arrived from mice in Bagshot, a bit closer to London. Acting on an anonymous tip, police had stopped the bus full of men in women’s clothes and removed the five who were wanted by the police for hacking, or bugging, or just plain burglary.
“The rest, the ‘Loggocorp Ladies,’ underwent the ordeal of facing a battery of reporters and cameramen,” said the director. “We have heard from our contacts in certain newspaper offices that they are to be mocked mercilessly in the press, to an extent that they may never live down.”
He turned to go, but Megan’s mom had one more question.
“Now that you are here,” she said, “perhaps you can tell us. How did you mice mess things up so badly? You let us walk straight into a trap!”
The director made the sign for “Slight smile.”
“Such an explanation is above my pay grade,” he said. “I suggest that you reserve your questions until your return to Cleveland, where our leader will, I am sure, explain the sequence of events. Meanwhile there is a Shakespeare play with a title that sums up the situation.”
“The Comedy of Errors?” suggested Susie.
“Much Ado About Nothing?” guessed Jake.
“Hardly,” said the director. “It was All’s Well That Ends Well that I had in mind.”
The duke had invited everyone to dine with him, though dinner was nothing like the first occasion—was it only two nights ago?
Someone had laid out food on the sideboard so people could help themselves to cold roast beef and mashed potatoes, and cold Brussels sprouts, but it would take more than a cold Brussels sprout to dampen the experts’ mood.
Jake told the group what he had learned from a “friend” who had good contacts in the police force. How the quilters—and Loggocorp—were about to be thoroughly embarrassed by the British press. How Mr. Peabody had been arrested for the repeat offenses of stealing from the aristocracy.
“The bounder,” said the duke. “Forged his references, did he? At least he didn’t steal from me, as far as I can tell! Didn’t need to, what? Expected a big payoff from Loggocorp.”
It was Laura who came out with the obvious question.
“How come Loggocorp planted him here in the first place?” she asked.
“They must have known all along that the duke was the heir to Coconut Man,” said Jake. “Then they put him here to report if anyone else found out the truth. Like us.”
“But how did Loggocorp know it?” asked Martin. “That Coconut Man became the Duke of Wiltshire?”
“I think I can guess,” said ex-President Pindoran. “Shortly after the generals took power, and began negotiating with Loggocorp, they set up a national archive of all documents relating to my country, and now I know why. They found what they wanted: evidence of the true identity of Coconut Man.”
“Good old Frederick,” said the duke. “We should drink a toast to him, don’t you think?”
A footman brought champagne for the adults, and everyone stood except the duke, in his wheelchair, and ex-President Pindoran, who had Chaz asleep on his knee.
“To my great-great-grandfather,” said the duke, raising his glass toward the portrait of the twelfth duke, the naval officer who had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he saw something that was hidden from most humans.
“To Coconut Man,” said Sir Brian.
There were two pieces of unfinished business. The first came with the cold sponge pudding, when the duke lamented the fact that on top of everything else, Mr. Peabody had failed miserably in the job for which he was hired.
“Chap said he’d double my tourist business,” said the duke. “It’s worse than before he came!”
“We can help with that,” said Susie. “We have good contacts, so we can send thousands of Americans your way.”
“Excellent!” said the duke. “You Yanks are good at that sort of thing, aren’t you.”
Well, maybe not all Yanks. But Yanks with the power of a billion mice behind them? You bet.
The second piece of unfinished business was the new audio track for the duke’s sound-and-light show. With Sir Quentin in his pocket, Jake made his way back to the control room. John the footman offered to help, but Jake said he got nervous with people around. He’d rather be alone.
And once they were on their own, as he told the rest of his family later, Sir Quentin was awesome, his voice dipping and soaring, soft then loud, far better than the original human voice had been.
The four Humans Who Knew took a different apartment in London for the three days that remained before their flight back to Cleveland. Now at last they and their mice could be tourists, with Ken as their guide.
True, you don’t exactly need a guide to find Buckingham Palace or the Tower of London, but Ken knew things from the London Mouse News Network that no previous humans had heard. Like what the Queen really thought about the prime minister, and if she’d really enjoyed the singing and dancing at the latest royal performance.
On their last night, the four humans went to Sir Brian’s apartment to discuss their next move. Ex-President Pindoran was there with Chaz, who was no longer wearing his school uniform.
“My son is coming back with me to Marisco,” said the president. “After that scare, I have no wish to be separated from him.”
With the help of Trey and Julia, Chaz and Megan played one last game of “God Save the/’Tis of Thee” while the adults discussed the next steps, which would mostly involve money. Money to win the lawsuit that would happen if the generals fought the duke’s claim. Money for the lemur sanctuary, and the research labs, and the educational center, and the wardens.
And where would this money come from? Once again, eyes swiveled toward Susie and Jake, because Americans were good at fund-raising, right?
Jake and Susie promised that they would give it their best shot. They looked surprisingly confident, actually.
The humans were tired that night when they got back to their apartment, but no one could go to bed yet because of the date that had sneaked up on them. October twenty-sixth. Megan Day. The day mice would celebrate at precisely two o’clock California time, because that was when Megan had signed the Treaty Between the Species and the members of the Mouse Council had all attached their pawprints.
Which meant ten o’clock at night in London.
Jake had set up a corner of the rented apartment for a video-conference so Megan could make her speech, live, to one or two billion mice. And even though she’d learned her speech backward and forward, just looking at that corner, all lit up and ready, gave her that ominous beginning of warmth in her cheeks.
She’d expected it would be a strain, sitting through the whole show, waiting for her turn. But to her surprise—to everyone’s surprise—the show was awesome, much better than they’d expected.
The Youth Chorus was word perfect. The Mousettes had learned some amazing moves, including the tallest mouse pyramid ever. Mice from the Theater Club at the factory reenacted great moments in mouse history, like Trey’s first contact with Megan, and the mouse raid that he led on Joey’s house. Sir Quentin’s ode was fine. He’d been a little miffed, as he put it, to learn that the Big Cheese had shortened it. But he’d cheered up again when he was asked to record four new lines in a private videoconference:
Fierce rode she, our Miss Megan, through the night
And rescued Master Chaz from his dire plight.
The claims of coconuts, that’s at the core
To keep the forest whole for ever more.
When it was time for Larry’s sports report, Megan noticed that Joey had shrunk down into the cushions of the couch and half covered his eyes, afraid that Larry would embarrass himself and bore the fur off the billions of watching mice, as only he could do. But Joey sat forward again as the new comedy routine unfurled, with Savannah pretending to be dumb while Larry played straight mouse:
Savannah: Tell me how Cleveland beat the red underwear team in baseball?
Larry: It
’s Red Sox, not underwear!
Savannah: But Cleveland won by two points?
Larry: Not points! Runs!
Savannah: Who are Cleveland’s best running fronts?
Larry [paws outstretched in frustration]: That’s in football and it’s running backs, not fronts.
And so on until (Megan could imagine) mice in the farthest corners of the world were rolling in fits of mouse giggles.
When her own turn came? The moment she’d been dreading for weeks? Maybe it was because the show was so good. Maybe it was because so much had happened in the past week that was even more frightening than public speaking. For whatever reason, Megan found that she could smile into the webcam without that dreaded glow in her cheeks. She could say with conviction (because she meant it) how glad she was to have been the right human in the right place at the right time, and to have written the treaty that brought the two species together permanently.
t the airport, the humans ran their arrival ritual in reverse. They dropped off the mice at the loading bay behind the terminal, with fond farewells to Ken. And in the long, long passage that led to the plane, Megan again put down her backpack near the poster proclaiming that London was the capital of the world as she pretended to tie her shoe. Then she carried her slightly heavier backpack onto the plane.
There were huge comfort huddles waiting at the Cleveland airport, of course.
Uncle Fred’s comfort huddles for humans were bone crushing, and when they were safely inside his car, Julia vanished into a huddle with Curly and Larry that was so intense that it looked, as always, like one mouse with three tails and six ears. Savannah leapt straight for Susie, making her giggle as her pink straw hat tickled Susie’s neck.
“These guys were worried about you,” said Uncle Fred. “We all were. The Big Cheese gave me a briefing every day. Blow by blow, disaster by disaster. Like when you did that horse stunt, Megan. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to ride a strange horse through a forest at night?”
Yes, from the safety of Cleveland, it did sound crazy. Through the haze of jet lag, almost everything about their trip sounded crazy.
A messenger mouse was waiting at The Fishery. There was to be a formal meeting between the Big Cheese and his humans in ten minutes’ time precisely.
Ten minutes! Yes, that was kind of soon for humans with jet lag. In fact the Director of Human Psychology had tried to persuade his boss to postpone the meeting, at least for a couple of hours.
“But I want to see them,” said the Big Cheese. “I’ve missed them.”
“Ah,” said the director, because he was too surprised to say more. He’d read plenty about patterns of attachment among humans, of course, but for his own leader to make such a confession?
The Big Cheese didn’t make that confession to his actual humans, when they flopped, tired and wrinkled, on the office couch. That wouldn’t do at all.
“I am relieved that you have survived your various ordeals,” he began. “The trip was indeed rather more exciting for you than I expected.”
“Exciting!” said Susie, who was the human most likely to talk back to the Big Cheese. “It was close to being a total disaster, and you let us walk right into it. You must have known that Peabody was in league with Loggocorp. You must have guessed we’d be surrounded by spies.”
There was total silence. Megan wished she could read the Big Cheese’s expressions, but except on Talking Mice, who can learn facial expressions like “joy,” “regret,” and “embarrassment” for extra credit, most mouse faces don’t reflect what is going on inside.
Then to her relief, the Big Cheese made the sign for “Slight smile.”
“We knew about Peabody,” he said, “but I let the situation run its course for two reasons. First, it was important for you to act naturally.”
Megan glanced at her mom because, yes, Susie Fisher might have had a hard time behaving naturally around Peabody if she’d known he was a bad guy. She’d never been good at faking the way she felt.
“And second?” prompted Jake.
“Acting on the advice of my Director of Human Psychology, I wanted Peabody to reveal his own villainy,” he said. “Was it not the evidence of his betrayal that convinced the duke to support your proposal? Rather than enrich himself through a deal with Loggocorp?”
“You’re right,” said Jake admiringly. “That certainly helped persuade the duke. Knowing Peabody was a cad. A bounder.”
“Yes, but—” began Susie.
“But did things spin a little bit out of mouse control?” said the Big Cheese. “I must admit that to some extent they did. However, thanks to the heroic actions of Miss Megan, the situation was saved, and I think we can all agree, in Shakespeare’s words—”
To his surprise, Jake and Joey groaned, while Megan and her mom finished his sentence:
“All’s well that ends well.”
Except that it wasn’t yet ended.
“There are still two tasks ahead of us, as I see it,” said the Big Cheese. “We need to raise money for the support of Mr. Pindoran’s Foundation. We should also get millions upon millions of humans from all over the world to demand that the rain forest be preserved. To put so much pressure on the generals—and on Loggocorp—that they give up any thought of a lawsuit and acknowledge the duke’s ownership of the forest. We propose to kill both cats with one stone, by going viral.”
He paused to let those words sink in and then waved to a media-mouse, who brought up a list on the big monitor in the corner.
What You Need to Go Viral on YouTube
1. Immature humans
2. A catchy tune
3. A celebrity
4. Cute young animals, such as lemurs
5. An “OOPS” moment
Preparations for Operation Viral didn’t take long. First, Sir Quentin wrote a song that turned out to be quite sprightly, as if his English experience had knocked all the iambic pentameters out of him. President Pindoran arranged for the most popular composer in Marisco to write the music, while the rain forest experts lined up children’s choirs in each of their countries. Joey did the same thing in Cleveland, where he’d sung in the Lakeview Middle School Chorus until his voice started going weird.
That took care of Items 1 and 2—the immature humans and the sprightly tune. And the celebrity for Item 3? It was Daisy Dakota, of course, whose work on Creaturebook made her the most important Snuggle for the Mouse Nation. Daisy was delighted to fly with Susie to Marisco, where they were whisked off to find a lemur group in the rain forest.
Soon the mouse editing team in the Media Department was busy turning pieces of video from all corners of the world into one polished segment. Two weeks after his humans had returned from England, the Big Cheese proclaimed that his nation was ready for Operation Viral. Ready for V-day. And Jake posted the video on YouTube.
First, Daisy Dakota appeared, walking through the rain forest. Brilliantly colored butterflies floated by. Flashes of red and turquoise and yellow sparked above her head as birds flitted through the treetops. Daisy pushed her way carefully past rich thickets of plants, with leaves of all imaginable shades of green, flowers of astonishing shapes and colors.
“Can you imagine,” asked Daisy, “cutting all this down?”
At that moment she tripped on a hidden log (as had been planned) and landed, splat, in a patch of mud. Oops.
Daisy sat up laughing, as (with some clever editing) three young lemurs came down from the trees to inspect her. So cute.
And while Daisy told the audience about the campaign to save this beautiful rain forest, there came the first soft humming of a very catchy tune, followed by a burst of sound as the video cut to a choir of children from Marisco (with Chaz in the front row) singing:
Hey you, world, now listen to us please.
We’re asking you, we’re begging you:
Save our trees!
The next three lines had a different rhythm, and children’s choirs from Germany, France, Ghana, England, a
nd Australia took turns singing them:
We need the trees as habitat
For bees and bugs and birds.
We need them so lemurs and such
Can frolic there in herds.
We need the woods for beauty
With their plants of every hue.
We need them for the planet
As they suck up CO2.
We’re heading for disaster
If you take away the trees.
The next lines came from the Lakeview Middle School Chorus in Cleveland, where a sixth grader with red braids stood next to a pale girl with glasses, while in the back row a tall seventh grader opened and shut his mouth but didn’t dare make sounds because he had no clue whether they would come out high or low. This chorus sang:
So help us save the forest—
Help us, please!
The video ended with a close-up of a grinning Chaz, impossibly cute because he’d just lost a front tooth.
Oh, and there was the address of the Foundation that would fight to keep the forest intact and maintain it as a resource for research and education, a resource for the world.
On the morning of V-day, when the video was scheduled to go viral, Daisy Dakota had posted news about it on her Creaturebook page, and a few million of her fans followed the link. Next, she put it on her Facebook page. Millions more clicks. More kids learned about the video from her Twitter feed, retweeted a gazillion times. By the end of the day, millions upon millions of Daisy’s fans had found the link online, or just spread the word the old-fashioned way, by telling at least six of their friends. From two million to five million. Eight million. Fifty million. A hundred million….
Mouse Mission Page 16