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35. Ursula
Highest ursine decoration: Anthropomorphized bears have a peculiar and byzantine system of merits, honors and awards that number almost three hundred. Only two of these, however, are conferred upon nonbears. Most common is the Ursine Badge of Merit (2,568 recipients), which is more a measure of thanks. The second is the Ursidae Order of Friendship, which is closer to a status than medal and confers upon the holder unswerving protection from any bear, to death, without question. There are only five living recipients, all of whom live in Reading, Berkshire.
—The Bumper Book of Berkshire Records , 2004 edition
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 Vi
“I’ll surrender before that happens, Vi
Vi
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. Vi
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.”
Vi
“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 Vi
“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.”
Vi
“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 Vi
The medical center was one of the most modern Jack had ever seen, a reflection on the colossal wealth the bear fraternity had amassed over the years with wise long-term investments, well-pla
“He’s a long way from being out of danger,” said a small bear with a stethoscope draped around his neck, “but he’s getting the best care we can give him.”
Ursula was in a separate room and had only a plasma drip and a heart monitor. She was lying on her back on a sturdy wooden bed with a crocheted bedspread, and a large flower arrangement in a vase was sitting atop a table nearby. Sun streamed through the open window, and sitting opposite her with his chair against a bookshelf was the baby bear. It was the first time Jack had seen him, and he was baby in name only. Medium-size and wearing baggy trousers and a hoodie emblazoned with a flaming skull, he looked like any other teenager you might find in Reading—only with a lot more hair.
“She’s very weak,” said the bear with the stethoscope. “Try not to tire her too much.”
“Mrs. Bruin?” inquired Vi
Her eyes flickered open, and she stared weakly in their direction.
“This is Inspector Spratt,” continued Vi
She blinked twice and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“I know about the fourth bear,” began Jack. “I know that he was there in the cottage the morning Goldilocks came around, and whatever you think about him, you must know that he killed Goldilocks and attempted to have you and your husband murdered to keep you quiet. You don’t owe him a thing, and I need to know who he is and where I can find him.”
Ursula closed her eyes for a moment, and two tears welled up in her small brown eyes. She looked at Jack, then raised a wobbly claw and pointed it… at Vi
“Oh, I get it now,” said Jack, jumping to his feet. “All the time you pretend to be on our side, but actually, while using the League of Ursidae as cover, you—”
But then he stopped, because Vi
“Oh, I get it now,” said Jack, turning to face the youngest Bruin. “Adopted when a cub, you grew resentful of your father’s authority and—”
“Jack,” said Vi
Jack took a deep breath to compose himself. Vi
“She means a book, ” muttered Vi
Jack opened it to the first page and sat on the bed to show Ursula the list of chapters. She indicated the appendix, Jack rapidly flicked to the back of the book, and Ursula pointed to a popular ballad that described in broadly lyrical terms the formation of the characters who came together to form the Quang’s business empire.
"‘The Quangle-Wangle’s Hat’? asked Jack, and Ursula nodded. She then closed her eyes and relaxed, her energy spent. Jack cleared his throat and read:
“On top of the Crumpetty tree, the Quangle-Wangle sat,
But his face you could not see, on account of his beaver hat.
For his hat was a hundred and two feet wide,
With ribbons and bibbons on every side,
And bells and buttons and loops and lace,
So no one could ever see the face
Of the Quangle-Wangle Quee.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” murmured Jack.
“Maybe it picks up further on,” suggested Vi
“But there came to the Crumpetty tree,
Mr. and Mrs. Canary,
And they said, ‘Did ever you see
Any spot so charmingly airy?
May we build a nest on your lovely hat?
Mr. Quangle-Wangle, grant us that!
Oh, please let us come and build a nest
Of whatever material suits you best,
Mr. Quangle-Wangle Quee!’"
“I suppose that must refer to Mr. and Mrs. Canary who now run the Quang’s hotel chain in the Far East,” murmured Vi
“And the Golden Grouse came there,
And the Pobble who hast no toes,
And the Small Olympian Bear,
And the Dong with the Luminous Nose,
And the Blue Baboon who played the flute,
And the Orient Calf from the Land of Tute,
And the Attery-Squash and the Bisky-Batt,
All came and built on the lovely hat of the Quangle—”
Jack put the book down and looked up at Vi
Vi
“I really don’t think he cares, Vi
“Nick,” he said slowly and with infinite sadness. “Nick… Demetrios .”
“Demetrios?” repeated Jack incredulously. “The head of NS-4? Danvers’s superior? A bear?”
Vi