9:5
“Oh what a twisted web we weave… what a twisted, twisted web indeed.”

Edward twitched his whiskers in a most self satisfied way and said, “I knew it. As sure as my tail is fluffy, I knew there would be an equally voluminous tale of greed somewhere in this mess.”

“There’s always a mess when people get the scent of green. More like hogs a than any self respecting rabbits. Still…” Edward looked around and abashedly realized that he was lecturing an empty room. “Hurmph,” he grunted.

The next step seemed to be returning to the environs currently inhabited by the young Gareth fellow. He might have tried his home town first, but all the indications were that events had progressed beyond that. And time seemed to be an increasingly relevant factor.

“Well,” he addressed the empty room once more, “Adieu, farewell and auf weidersehen! Until we meet again!” He swept an elegant rabbit bow to the invisible observers and silently slipped out.

9:3

Edward gazed across the water. It really was amazing what people got up to when they had the time and resources. This vast reservoir of water was entirely man made. And it was completely out of place here on the prairie, as the prickly pear cactus that Edward had narrowly avoided sitting on attested to. Leave it to people to put a lake in the desert.

The sun was slowly setting and the light twinkled and bounced off the water, and the occasional sail, while Edward let focus slip from his eyes.

It hadn’t taken that long to find it. It hadn’t really been hidden, just placed out of view under a pile of old musty saddle blankets. The ratty notebook had been filled with page after page of neatly written script and a most informative, yet horrifying, story.

And, most importantly, it had provided a vital clue to why the beaver seemed to be messing about in his business. Not the whole story, at least not yet, but there was now a logical connection between Edward’s mission and the beaver’s constant interference—and that was what he had been looking for. Better yet, it also provided a pretty good idea where he might find what the flat-tailed pinhead was sticking his nose into this time.

 

9:2

It was cold here in the abandoned farmyard. The failing summer left little heat to keep the air warm throughout the night, and as the wind whistled off the nearby reservoir it made for a chilly morning.

A few more moments, just be sure, and then we’ll move in. Edward, being a rabbit after all, had lots of experience ignoring the weather and remaining still. That didn’t mean he liked it, however. And if he was to be completely honest with himself, he may have gotten a bit spoiled over the last few years.

It hadn’t taken long to backtrack the beaver’s movements over the last little while. Most of it was of an insubstantial nature and seemed to have left no opportunity for gleaning any facts. But he had found out that the furry rapscallion had spent a significant period of time one summer in a small town in Alberta called Magrath. And a little research into the town’s history indicated that a potential nexus of events had occurred surrounding a solitary woman name Meredith, who had lived on this very farm on the outskirts of Magrath.

Unfortunately for Edward, the farm seemed abandoned. There had been no record of this woman’s death and no indication that she had moved or relocated. But there was definitely no one here and hadn’t been for months. Something at the edge of Edward’s mind seemed to think that observation was somehow significant to his purpose, but he just couldn’t make it connect with anything.

Well, enough of this. Edward emerged from under the rusted corrugated sheet metal that was leaning up against the shop and slipped around the corner. There was an old cat flap in the sliding, paint-flecked shop door, and Edward moved swiftly into the warmer interior.

Low morning light streamed in from the east through the high windows in the door, and as Edward moved across the floor he disturbed the dust that had accumulated there, sending up sparkling clouds that twisted and flowed through the beams and added a mysterious feel to the empty space. But a not altogether unpleasant feeling — really quite homey, Edward noticed.

This main floor was tidy and organized. A worn wooden bench filled the long wall, and neat wooden cubes mounted above the bench held all manner of nails, bolts and assorted cotter pins. An old seed drill was in the back, seemingly abandoned midway through some repairs. Parts were neatly arrayed before it, and on the workbench all the bolts and fasteners were lined up like freckle-faced army recruits doing drill. Edward could appreciate the meticulous nature of the farmer who worked here; it wasn’t often he found some whose appreciation of order and harmony approached his own.

“I’ll find nothing of the beaver here,” he murmured smugly.

In the center of the shop there was a set of stairs up to the attic that would swing down from the ceiling. They were held up by a  coffee-can weight over by the door that was filled with bolts and nuts. It was attached to a greasy nylon line that ran up to a pulley and secured the staircase.

Edward hopped over to the old coffee can and, upon investigation, found it superbly balancing the weight of the stairs. A quick nudge and it slowly moved toward the roof, and the foot of the staircase travelled down with an equally smooth motion.

At the top of the staircase, Edward found himself in a room that had been empty and undisturbed for a lot longer than a few months. Layers of thick dust coated everything, and mouse dropping and bird feces could be found pretty much everywhere. It was as different from the room below as could be, and Edward strongly suspected that there was a good reason the farmer had avoided this space. Which, knowing the beaver as he did, made it a pretty good place to start looking for clues.

 

9:1

There was always a reason and Edward was going to find it. And if this old bunny knew anything , he knew that there was likely money, sex or both involved.

Well if he was in for a nugget, he’d be in for a clump. It was time to get they rabbit on the road and see what he could dig up. Time seemed to be running short and there was no telling what his opponents would be up to next; and that didn’t even count the capricious behaviour of that beaver.

8:24

CRACK

Edward swivelled his head toward the ear-splitting sound that shattered the evening’s calm and quiet, and laid his ears back against his head. Two showy figures stood at the edge of the field staring across the dark clearing; glancing in that direction he caught a dark shape rolling clumsily into the bushes.

“Oh my,” he muttered. “I did warn him.”

Edward prudently backed a little further into the shelter of the bush he’d been occupying. Thinking this was another unneeded complication, Edward was already revising his plans. While he hoped the beaver was all right, to be honest he was much more worried that this was going to throw up yet another of the roadblocks he’d been plagued with over the last couple of decades.

Taking too much time and nothing ever going right: that’s how this whole disastrous project had been going since the first moment it landed in his lap. And now this. Edward hated it when people got hurt; it always bought an air of unprofessionalism to the proceedings and ninety percent of the time is was simply unnecessary.

And speaking of unnecessary, just who did these fools thing they were dealing with? Weres? Did they go home and whip up a batch of mystical silver bullets? Guns are the last refuge of the stupid and incompetent, in Edward’s opinion, and their appearance in this round was just another indication that he was dealing with the desperate and dumb.

The two figures had moved quickly across the field to the spot where the object of their target practice had disappeared. They seemed to be examining the ground closely but were showing no indication that they were about to attempt the bushes. Edward watched them for any indication of just who they were, but as usual, they remained indistinct and bereft of any memorable aspect.

I’d best be going. This isn’t gaining me anything and leaves me open to the possibility of being these fools’ next clay pigeon. Edward backed slowly sticking to the thickest and lowest parts of the underbrush. A few moments later he turned and exited onto a shale footpath and picked up speed heading towards the lake.

The issue now was how to pick up the trail again. Edward might be the rabbit in this scenario, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a few tricks up his sleeve.

 

8:12

Edward hated flying. It hurt his ears, clogged his sinuses and generally put him in a bad mood. It had, in his opinion, been a thoroughly bad thing when that French fellow launched his hot-air contraption and signalled the end of the steam engine as the preferred method of travel. And if these ludicrous dirigible thingies continued to grow in popularity, even the unutterable elegance of the mighty ocean liner might not survive the end of the century.

And that, Edward firmly believed, was a fate not to be considered.

And flying. The deaths that had resulted from such an unnatural act were unforgivable. On that account alone he would have refused to participate in such voyages. But it truly was the queasiness and underlying instability that made flying something Edward had vowed never to indulge in again. His first, and only, flight had been quite short, a day trip from Berlin to Strasbourg, but it was sufficient to confirm that no unnatural act would remain unpunished. And so Edward had not set foot in an aerodrome all these many years and found himself none the less for that.

But here and now Edward had been faced with a choice. Either remain on the ground and let the moment pass, or seize the day, as it were, and board this flying death-trap for destinations unknown but with an eye to finally making some progress with this latest wrinkle.

As the crew had slowly begun to cast off the coarse hemp lines and shift ballast aft in preparation for disengaging, Edward had sat at the base of the mooring tower and weighed his options. To balance Flaccus’s carpe diem there was always Demosthenes: “The man who runs away may fight again.”

“No,” Edward spoke suddenly to the vast iron and canvas flying behemoth, “there is no need. Either you will go crashing into the sea like a giant, misshapen Icarus, thus solving my problem, or I will catch up with you in the new world at a time more suited to my purposes.”

Edward turned away as the dirigible cast off, and headed off the field and back to his quarters in the city. There will be time. There is always more time.

 

6:30

Step One: Get some sleep. Get lots of sleep.

One of the most annoying things about being a rabbit was that sleep was a built-in function. Rabbits don’t hibernate, but they do spend a lot of time resting and processing energy. The dumbest thing about being a vegetarian was that vegetarians spend a lot of energy generating energy.  These were the kind of inefficiencies that drove Edward crazy.

Step Two: Stay out of the heat and away from the crowds. It had been bad enough the past few weeks, dealing with everyone without deliberately going out of his way to seek social interaction. Let the people do as they may. Edward was sitting this one out.

Step Three: A little research was in order. There were a few things about the last couple of weeks that didn’t quite ring true and since the next few weeks’ outcomes were going to be completely predicated on what had just finished happening, a little peek into what was going on under the surface just might make things easier to foresee.

 

6:29

Edward glanced up at the faded old promotional clock on the sign above the door of the corner store. It was too late to start anything today. And worse, it was the Friday of a long weekend and it was highly unlikely that he’d get through half of what he needed to do with everyone out traipsing around the woods like a herd of drunken elk.

No, it would better to hunker down and wait; take the weekend off, so to speak, and start fresh after the kerfuffle was done. But that didn’t mean he would be wasting time.

Edward had a plan.

 

6:20

The beaver hadn’t expected to find the lemon tree where he’d left it. That would have been too easy. But he had figured he’d pick up a few clues. The stupid rabbit had been all too closed mouthed about the jerks who were screwing around with his life. The jerks other than the rabbit, that is.

Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? Well, this bunch of trees were certainly a bust — didn’t even look very tasty, really. Time to move on. Next stop Gareth’s place. If they’d tracked him to the park, then they had to have been keeping the apartment under close watch. Maybe he’d pick up some sense of who the hell they were there. It was a sure thing that if he didn’t deal with the interfering morons first, he would never be able to get back to business.

The beaver crossed the field, keeping an eye out for anything unusual. If he was lucky he could flush out any watchers by acting oblivious. If not then at least he could try to maneuver them into attempting something on his home turf. There still a few surprises left behind at Gareth’s place.

And the beaver was looking forward to being the surprise this time.

 

6:16

For a few moments Edward seriously considered losing his temper. It didn’t happen often and when it did, well, it had been said that he resembled Marvin the Martian quite closely. But that bit of entertainment was going to elude any bystanders today as Edward slowly regained any composure he had lost and looked around.

There was no sign of when or where the beaver had left the path. They hadn’t gone more than a hundred metres, but by choosing to leave the roadside, Edward had inadvertently provided numerous options for the beaver to skip away. And, Edward admitted to himself, he hadn’t helped matters by getting a little self-absorbed. It was a weakness the beaver had exploited time and time again. It was also a habit that Edward had no intention of breaking just because some trumped-up pond-dweller thought he was so smart. He would simply deal with the situation as always and, in the end, the beaver would find what comes around coming around.

But that left the next step. It seemed to Edward there were three significant factors at play: one, the beaver was at large and not likely to stop interfering; two, someone or someones were starting to take an active role in hindering either him or the beaver, or both; and three, he had managed to do little but smooth over the effects of Barney’s remaining legacy—he’d made no actual progress in implementing any permanent solution.

Then Edward smiled sleepily. Still, he had managed to rile up the beaver. That was always worthwhile.