6. The Search for the Perpetrator

There was no shortage of volunteers to look for the culprit and Lapinette balanced on Susan's wing as she sped to Lingotto. "How's the Wabbit?" asked Skratch the Cat. "Complaining," shouted Lapinette. Wabsworth grimaced. "When I get the perpetrator, I'll rip his stem from his stern." "We haven't got one yet," yelled Lapinette. "I want ideas!" Susan's engine whined, chugged and rattled as she raced close above the tracks. Skratch gripped the fuselage and looked for clues. "What about enemies?" Wabsworth shook his head. "The city is full of Wabbit fans dressed as enemies." Lapinette shouted through the wind. "What about the Fanbots?" "They're citizens," shrugged Wabsworth. "I'm guessing a malignant voyeur." The wind tore at Skratch's fur and he screamed to make himself heard. "Anyone missing? Someone we've forgotten." A train shrieked past. The noise was unbearable but Skratch's eyes were keen and he jerked round. "I think I saw something." Lapinette grabbed a strut and turned. "What kind of something?" Skratch hissed and arched his back like a wildcat. "Something isn't right. Wabsworth. Can you land Susan here?" "I can very well land myself," snorted Susan and she flew vertically upwards, twisted in the air and dived. Everyone except Wabsworth gasped in the g-forces. "Bank angle, bank angle," shouted Susan, "stall, stall, stall!" "Is she always like this?" gulped Skratch. "Invariably," sighed Wabsworth.

5. Touch and Go for the Wabbit

The Wabbit stared down. He could see his body in the wreckage and he could hear voices. "Clear!" The Wabbit wasn't feeling clear at all. The voices were shouting. "What's your name?" Suddenly the Wabbit saw himself signing autographs at Wabbit-Con. But the more he signed his name, the less he could remember it. "Clear!" There it was again. The Wabbit watched as he signed Clear on a programme. "We're losing him. Again!" The Wabbit felt a shudder and the voices got louder. "Do you know where you are?" The Wabbit saw his younger self hopping along a stony beach. "Loch Lomond," he murmured. He heard a flat electronic whine that just wouldn't stop. "He's gone," said a voice. The Wabbit watched himself hop into the loch. "Epinephrine. Stat!" The Wabbit sank beneath the water. The loch felt cold and tangles of weed stretched out to grasp his paws. "Again. Clear!" The Wabbit looked up through water that shimmered with a clear green light. Now he made out a quiet voice. "It's over." "No," said another. Something whacked his body with the force of a water cannon and he reached for the surface and kicked. The Wabbit gasped and spluttered as faces swam between him and the light. "Welcome back, Commander." The Wabbit blinked. Everyone was looking down at him. "What's up?" said the Wabbit. "Is it my turn to buy drinks?"

4. The Wabbit and a Touch of Menace

Inside the Main Hall, special guests gathered for the preview of Wabbit Con. "Ah Wabsworth," said the Wabbit, I hope I'm on that list." Wabsworth waved his clipboard. "My list is blank. I'll write you in and you can be first." The Wabbit smiled and viewed the hall. "I must say the Department has done well." Lapinette agreed but did not say she had routed cash from the Wabbit's Dinosaur Fund to pay for refreshments. The Wabbit relaxed and watched adventure stills on the big screen. But through light jazz playing from the sound system, drifted a conversation between two fans dressed as Lapinette. "Where are you from, darling?" "Los Angeles, honey." "How fabulous. I'm from London." "I love London. Say, can you hear a ticking?" "No, it must be part of the music." "Well it's going right through my head." The Wabbit swung and tuned his ears to fans dressed as Ice Mice. "I do like jazz," said one, "but the percussion isn't right." "Do you mean that ticking?" "Yes, I can't get rid of it. It's all I can hear." The Wabbit turned to Lapinette. "Have you got a ticking noise?" Lapinette frowned and listened hard. "It sounds like an oven timer." The Wabbit sprung in the air and yelled at the top of his voice. "Free aperitivi in the basement!" In the stampede that followed, he pushed Lapinette under the jeep. The Wabbit heard the roar and saw the flash before everything went black ...

3. The Wabbit and Wabbit-Con

Lapinette had dragged the Wabbit for a hop to the Medieval Castle, but it was more crowded than usual. "Passes please!" said a familiar voice. "What in the Binky for?" growled the Wabbit. "You have to have a pass," said Skratch the Cat, "or you can't come in." Lapinette grinned maliciously. "It's for Wabbit-Con. Your fans are arriving from all over." The Wabbit looked all around. "No-one tells me a thing." "It's a Department PR initiative," said Lapinette. "Then I don't need a pass," said the Wabbit, "because I'm the Wabbit." Skratch scrutinised the Wabbit from ears to toe. "How do I know you're the real Wabbit? You might be a fan." "Then how do I know you're the real Skratch?" frowned the Wabbit. "Because today I'm the Cat's Pyjamas," said Skratch. The Wabbit spoke loudly. "I order you to let me in." "No pass, no admission," said Skratch, as he casually nodded a Wabbit fan through. The Wabbit hopped in fury and yelled, "I can prove I'm the Wabbit!" "OK," said Skratch, "let's have it." The Wabbit thought. "I'm the one that sent you to film classes." Skratch smiled an annoying smile. "Everyone knows that - and it's in the journalist press pack." "Oh all right," sighed the Wabbit, "I'll buy a pass." "Pre-orders only," said Skratch, "available from the Pet Shop in Corso Svizzera." The Wabbit scowled, jumped and shrugged at exactly the same time. Skratch glanced at Lapinette. "He just might be the Wabbit." Lapinette pulled an extra pass from her fur. "I'll make sure he behaves." "If you can do that," laughed Skratch. "he's not the Wabbit."

2. The Wabbit & the Pure Hop FanBots

The Wabbit and Wabsworth headed for the tram, but when it came to a halt, green FanBots flooded out. The Wabbit sighed. "You know everything about this, Wabsworth, don't you?" "I'm an android with a mammoth memory," said Wabsworth. "Then who?" asked the Wabbit tersely. Wabsworth paused and a smile flickered across his face. "These are Pure Hop FanBots." The Wabbit shook his head and murmured, "Why?" Wabsworth kept an eye on the FanBots' approach and elaborated. "The FanBots of the Pure Hop Tendency do not approve of the status quo." "Well, Qui, Quo, Qua," flounced the Wabbit. Wabsworth paid no attention and continued. "The Pure Hoppers are coming to WabbitCon to protest." The Wabbit's eyes rose so high they reached his ears. "They do not consider you a personality, Commander," said Wabsworth. "You are the Liberator who will lead them to the Promised Hay." "I will not," moaned the Wabbit, "I'm busy." "Excuse me," said a Pure Hopper, "that is a good costume and you wear it well." The Wabbit clenched his paws and tried very hard to be civil. "Thank you," he nodded. The FanBot looked up. "But the lettering isn't quite right." Wabsworth detected the start of a low growl, so he interrupted. "It's nearly Ferragosto Holiday and all the costumiers are on vacation." The FanBot whirred his fan. "Where can we find the Great Leader?" "He took a small vacation," snapped the Wabbit.
[In Italy, Qui, Quo and Qua are Donald Duck's nephews, Huey, Dewey and Louie.]

1. The Wabbit and the FanBots

"There they are now," said Wabsworth. "Don't turn round, they'll spot us." The Wabbit tried not to look. "Who did you say they were?" "They're FanBots." said Wabsworth. The Wabbit looked quizzical. "What kind of FanBots?" Wabsworth sighed a deep sigh. "They're your FanBots actually. And so they're mine too - by default." The Wabbit squeezed his eyes to slits and turned slightly. "What the Binky are they doing?" Wabsworth had been quick to investigate. "They're coming to Wabbit-Con and they're desperate to even glimpse you." The Wabbit shuddered but Wabsworth continued. "They worship the very ground you hop on." "Tell me it isn't true," groaned the Wabbit. But Wabsworth was the Wabbit's android double and he was keen on the truth. "They know everything about you. Everything." At that moment a FanBot called out. "Hello fellow fans! Can you tell us where the Wabbit eats?" The Wabbit adopted a funny voice and, without hesitation, named an establishment he hated. "The Wabbit eats at a sausage restaurant in Mirafiore." A FanBot came close and his voice shook. "You ... look so much like the Wabbit." "We're big fans," shrugged the Wabbit. "Perhaps His Wabbitness is nearby!" shouted a FanBot and they scurried around, looking. Wabsworth intervened. "You will never find the Wabbit." The FanBots looked distraught and moaned gently. Wabsworth gestured to thin air. "The Wabbit will find you."

The Wabbit, Lapinette and Old Times

The Wabbit's paw snuck into Lapinette's and she smiled. "Looks like we're hopping down the very same street." "On the sunny side," laughed the Wabbit. "I prefer my streets sunny side up," said Lapinette. "As do I," nodded the Wabbit. Lapinette hopped with delight. "Do you remember when we first met?" The Wabbit was tentative. "I do," he said, "but it was dark." "That," said Lapinette, "was because you were locked in a luggage locker at the rail terminal." The Wabbit smirked slightly. "I was protecting stolen goods as valuable evidence." Lapinette hopped, skipped and giggled. "You locked yourself in and you'd still be there if it wasn't for my swift intervention." The Wabbit caught a mental glimpse of his skeletal remains. "It was all under control." Lapinette fluttered her eyes. "Your radio had no batteries and there was a railway strike." "Mmm," murmured the Wabbit. "Then it was just as well you had a fur dresser's appointment there." Lapinette thought for a second. "I've still got the scissors I borrowed to lever the hinges." "Are they the ones with the red handles?" asked the Wabbit. "Puce," replied Lapinette. The Wabbit looked relieved because he regularly used bent scissors to prise open containers. "Anyway, what did we get up to after that?" "We had adventures," shrugged Lapinette. "How many, would you say?" queried the Wabbit. Lapinette was emphatic. "A thousand."

The Wabbit's Adventure Caffè

The team gathered and waited for Skratch the Cat. Eventually he hove into sight with a giant wave and a shout. "Now what was that for a rip roaring adventure?" "It was detectively woofy," said Arson Fire, the Greyhound. Lapinette giggled and looked at the Wabbit. "You think you're Sam Spade?" The Wabbit effected a drawl. "I kept putting two and two together but there were so many twos I stopped counting." Skratch meaowed pleasantly. "It wasn't about the money and it wasn't about the gold." Wabsworth looked across at the Wabbit. "So what was it about?" "It was about the journey," said the Wabbit. Wabsworth looked disappointed. "So the Dinosaur Fund made nothing?" The Wabbit smirked. He drew a shiny object from his fur and set it on the table. "I wouldn't say that exactly." Now Skratch pounced. "I knew it. You kept the Bratwurst Bullion!" The Wabbit shook his head. "It got stuck in my fur." "I'll take charge of it," said Wabsworth reaching for the Gold Bullion Hot Dog. Lapinette made a mental note. "That's Good Delivery Bullion, even with unorthodox packaging." "Not to mention cooking," barked Arson Fire. "Well, it's all the money I have at the minute," said the Wabbit, and I'm thirsty." Skratch put his paw in his fur and rummaged. "Maybe I can spare five euro for a fellow traveller." The Wabbit's 28 teeth flashed in the sun. "I'll have a carrot aperitivo with sparkling gold flakes please." "So will I," said Lapinette. "And me," said Arson Fire. Wabsworth pulled out a requisition book. "Does that aperitivo have a name?" "Macwabbit's Gold," meaowed Skratch.

13. The Wabbit's Finance Restitution

A clapping of wings heralded Parakalo the Dove. He hurtled to their meeting place from the best blue sky he could arrange at short notice. At exactly the same time, the Wabbit and Lapinette shimmered in from a productive past. Parakalo felt obliged to be formal, so he spread his wings and hovered. The Wabbit opened the bag. "I'm returning what rightfully belongs here." Parakalo cooed softly. "To whom shall I deliver it?" A silence fell and then the Wabbit murmured. "I trust your judgement in the matter." "How much is there?" asked Parakalo. "Enough to run a country for a while," said Lapinette, who had made a careful note of the amount, denominations and serial numbers. "There's only one thing," said the Wabbit with a grimace. Another silence fell. "Money's like a gun," he said. "It smells of its history." Lapinette thought that was very sage but Parakalo merely sniffed. "I can smell hot dogs, Bratwurst to be exact." "So can I," sniffed Lapinette. "It must have got on my fur," sighed the Wabbit. Lapinette was thoughtful. "The Dinosaur Fund got caught up in something smellier than we thought." "The road to smell is paved with good intentions," said the Wabbit. Lapinette gave a wry grin. "But we had to go to smell and back." Parakalo looked serious. "Now the banks have got smell to pay." Then they looked at each other and laughed and laughed.

12. The Wabbit makes Good Time

Just as the Wabbit and Arson Fire jumped on board, Quantum departed. With Captain Jenny on the footplate there were no half measures. Quantum flipped to Slipstream Drive and the city dissolved to a sea of banks and beer cellars. "Let's get out of here?" shrugged the Wabbit. Lapinette watched until things stopped shimmering. "It's our money?" "Sure is," said the Wabbit. "How much?" asked Lapinette. "I haven't counted," said the Wabbit ... and he sniffed. "But there's another smell. It's familar." Arson Fire barked once. "Aaargos." The Wabbit paused because Arson Fire was more than he seemed. "The money smells of Argos, the hound," said Arson. The Wabbit wheeled round and yelled down the corridor. "Set new course 132'." Jenny's voice echoed back. "What day?" "Same time as we left," said the Wabbit. "But where are we going now?" asked Wabsworth. The Wabbit stamped a foot. "We're returning the money that isn't ours." Only Arson Fire appeared to have a clue what on earth was going on and he watched the Wabbit intently. "Wabsworth!" shouted the Wabbit. "Get Parakalo on the blower." "No can do," yelled Jenny from the footplate, "we're in slipstream." The Wabbit sighed. "Drop out, we're still in last week." Quantum's engines whined to a halt and they hung somewhere vague as the Wabbit spoke to Parakalo, the dove. "I wasn't expecting a call, Commander," he cooed, "where are you speaking from?" "Last Tuesday," said the Wabbit.
[Argos is Odysseus faithful dog, a greyhound.]

11. The Wabbit and the Money Kitchen

The Wabbit burst through the door at the top of the stairs. Arson Fire scampered to the far end of the kitchen and maintained a low growl as the Wabbit pointed his automatic at the boss sausage. Two sausage henchmen looked unfazed and continued to launder what money they had. But the boss was furious and he yelled, "Don't you know who I am?" "You're a silly sausage," remarked the Wabbit. He sniffed the air. "You have something of mine." He sniffed again. "and something of someone else too." The boss sausage snarled. "I'm Hit Sausage and it all belongs to me," Arson Fire laughed with a howling that equalled the Hound of the Baskervilles and notes flew around as the Wabbit savagely kicked the bag. "All this money in one container isn't safe but I'll take the risk." He seized the bag and backed towards the door. Hit Sausage started after the Wabbit, but Arson Fire got in his way and bit him on the nose. "Aaagh, get them!" yelled the Boss. But his henchmen were too cooked. "They're the Extra Wurst," shrugged the Wabbit and he fired a few rounds into the ceiling because he thought it might be fun. Together with Arson Fire he barked and barked hs way to the street. Arson Fire slithered to a halt. "Where now Commander?" "We have a train to catch," said the Wabbit. "I'm hungry," said Arson Fire. "You had sausages," laughed the Wabbit. The city echoed to pounding paws, as they vanished with enormous speed. "This bag's heavy," yelled the Wabbit. "We'll buy a trolley," barked Arson Fire.

10. The Wabbit and the Hot Dog Club

It was quieter than expected. Soft piano jazz mixed with a chinking of glasses and money. "Members?" asked the barman with the top hat. "We're temporary," said Arson Fire. "Just passing through," said the Wabbit. The barman puffed at a cigar the size of a sausage. "Check in your hot dogs here." "Grrrrr grrr grrr," snarled Arson Fire. The barman didn't bat an eyelid. "As long as you're here, your money's here." "Just the job!" said the Wabbit. "You can certainly help us. We're looking for a special hot dog consignment." "What kind of special?" asked the barman. "Sentimental value," smiled the Wabbit. He hopped over to the pianist and pulled from his fur the lunch vouchers he'd saved for his vacation. "No elevator music," he whispered. The pianist hit the keys with vigour. "Think I'll come around," he crooned. "... when the money's gone." Arson Fire kept a firm grip of his hot dog and barked at the barman. "Perhaps you saw a hot dog liquidisation?" The barman leaned back. "The Hot Dog Laundry. It books work outings here. The staff like hot dog smoothies." Arson Fire looked at the Wabbit in horror but the Wabbit merely smiled and hopped close to the barman. "What better," he drawled, "than the slow release of hot dog fibre into the bloodstream?" The barman found himself staring at the wrong end of an automatic. "For the sake of your health," said the Wabbit, "tell us where to find the Laundry brigade." The barman merely gestured with his head. "Upstairs ..."

9. The Wabbit and El Dorado's Place

In a less than salubrious location, the Wabbit and Arson Fire approached a premises known as El Dorado. But locals knew it variously as the Golden Handshake, the Golden Digger and the Golden Parachute. The hostess hardly looked at them and effected a special interest in polishing glasses. "Name?" she barked. "Wabbit," replied the Wabbit. The hostess paused. "Going?" The Wabbit frowned and nodded, "inside." The hostess flicked her hair. "Stay?" "Brief, "said the Wabbit. "Hmmph," said the hostess and she turned to Arson Fire. "Name?" "Arse," blinked Arson Fire. The hostess nodded approvingly and spoke gently. "Business?" Arson shook his head. "Pleasure." He blinked some more. "Stay?" asked the hostess, fluttering her eyes. "Indefinite," said Arson. The hostess turned to give the Wabbit a withering glance. "Credit?" The Wabbit was about to say 'cash', but Arson Fire interrupted. "Undated Government Hot Dogs." "Now that," said the hostess, "will do very nicely indeed." She looked from Arson to the Wabbit and then her eyes flicked back. "Are you vouching for the strange furry one?" "I take care of him," said Arson. The hostess nodded again. "Any weapons?" The Wabbit patted his fur and adopted a lop sided grin that usually worked. "Just a Makarov automatic." The hostess smiled for the first time. "You might need it in here ..."

8. The Wabbit and the Golden Sausage

Acting without any particular authority, Jenny, Skratch and Wabsworth seized the Riverboat and sailed to Bamberg to pick up the Wabbit. There the Wabbit searched in his fur, then grabbed the sausage with a pair of cooking tongs. Streams of flame shot from Arson Fire and enveloped it - but nothing happened. The Wabbit nodded. "The sausage is gold all right." "You want hotter heat?" asked Arson Fire." "How hot can you get?" asked Lapinette. "Prrrropane hot," said the greyhound. "Too destructive," said the Wabbit as he peered for markings. And there they were -  999, Frankfurt am Main, 2015. The Wabbit mused. "My Dinosaur Fund got diverted." Lapinette started to hum a song and the Wabbit picked it up. "Gold, Gold, Gold, they just gotta have that gold." Lapinette kept her eyes on the golden sausage. "They'll do anything for gold, won't they?" The Wabbit sniffed and shook his head. "Not this gold." Arson Fire barked suddenly. "Why not?" "Because it still has a trace of Dinosaur Fund." The Wabbit suddenly whacked the gold sausage with his tongs. Sonorous music rang out and played a familiar snatch from Taxman Blues. Now the Wabbit's teeth flashed in a sinister smile. "One thing about gold is - you gotta dig it!" He snapped a paw and laid down the golden sausage to let it cool. "Where to Commander?" called Jenny. "El Dorado?" shrugged the Wabbit.

7. The Wabbit and the Bankers' Run

It all happened in an instant. Without waiting, the Wabbit grabbed the Trophy and Lapinette seized her winnings. Give a Flux, the white greyhound, snatched what he could and Arson Fire tightened his grip on his hot dog. "Run!" shouted the Wabbit and he loped off at speed. "What odds?" gasped the Wabbit. "Hundrrred to One," barked Arson Fire, "can we keep the Trophy? I won it." "It's quite awful," yelled Lapinette. "And it weighs a ton," yelled the Wabbit. Not far behind, Woof Hearted soared through the streets "What's that brrratwurst made of?" he growled. So the Wabbit sniffed, then sniffed again. "It smells ... of my Dinosaur Fund." He knew at that instant what it was - because the Trophy was much too heavy and sturdy for a competition prize. "It's gold," said the Wabbit. "It's probably a Good Delivery Bratwurst," suggested Lapinette. "Look, I'm not a Chinese take away," scoffed the Wabbit. "That's gold bullion to go," replied Lapinette. Even at the Wabbit's considerable velocity, Lapinette could see his brow knit into a ball. "Four hundred golden ounces in the shape of a sausage." The Wabbit clasped the Trophy fiercely to his fur and quickened his pace. "How much do you think?" "Half a million," gasped Lapinette. The Wabbit loped faster. "Let's find some quiet spot." "What then?" asked Arson Fire. "We cook the sausage," said the Wabbit.
[Banker is slang for a greyhound that regularly delivers wins.]