by Deanna Kent
Oscar nodded. “You’re a high-maintenance cat,” he said matter-of-factly. “And I know you don’t know it yet, but even though you are really legendary on your own, you might actually learn to love having a great inventor at your side!”
Ophelia rolled her eyes.
“In any case, you shouldn’t have a bag that big on any heist. When we’re home, I’ll construct you something tiny but beautiful—a compact masterpiece to match any outfit!”
“This bag might be large, but it’s filled with very lovely compartments. And you never know what you might need!” She spotted Oscar’s gravity-defying grappling hook on the ground and popped it in her bag. It could come in handy.
The fish tapped his fin. “I think you’re being stubborn. Isn’t there always room for improveme—” Oscar stopped talking when the massive seagull swooped back around, looked at Oscar, and greedily licked its lips.
“You seem to be a good snack option.” Ophelia chuckled.
One paw at a time, Ophelia tentatively tested out the makeshift transportation. “Are you sure we won’t sink in this?”
“Positive.”
“If I get soggy …”
“Trust me,” Oscar assured her. “I’ve sailed every sea on the map and some that aren’t on the map. I’ll keep you dry.”
They cruised across the water toward Paris at high speed, and thanks to the inventor’s solid ship design, Ophelia, as promised, didn’t get wet.
When they got to France’s shoreline, the fish captain maneuvered them to a small dock, where he anchored and tied their boat. “Do you think Pierre’s watching for us?”
“Probably,” Ophelia replied. “Not to mention the CCIA.” She sighed. “There are a lot of enemies to keep track of. Just try to stay low.”
“I’m not really very good at slinking,” he admitted. “But I’ve been practicing! I want to make you proud.”
They moved slowly and carefully. The short hike from the dock to the train station was uneventful.
The entire way, Ophelia was trying to decide how to tell Oscar that it was time for him to go home. Admittedly, the fish had been quite use-ful. Still, a paw-rtner would undoubtedly get in her way.
As they approached the train station, Ophelia cleared her throat and turned to her theater training to help her find (and keep) a just-right, wide whisker-to-whisker smile on her face.
“Ah! They’re announcing my train. Thank you so very much, Oscar F. Gold. You’re quite an inventor. And there’s a top-notch burglar somewhere in the FFBI who will find you very helpful! I’ve got to hurry now. You’ll get your own ride home?”
“Home?” The fish looked confused. “Oh no, no, no. I’m coming with you! This is, by far, the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s been my dream to work with you! I’ve never been so happy!”
Ophelia knew there was no way she could pull off an almost-impossible heist and babysit this awkward, stowaway fan-fish. She cleared her throat and shifted her approach from polite to pointed. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm, there’s ZERO chance you’re staying with me. Pierre is already a step ahead. And who knows what’s happening with the crazy canines? From here, I shall take the train to Paris, steal the diamond, then get to Brussels to claim my first-place prize in the FFBI Purr-fect Heist Competition before the deadline.”
Oscar’s eyes widened in disbelief, but the cat stood her ground. “Here’s some money. Fly first class! Put your fins up and relax! Then, when you’re home, make sure to say hello to MEW for me. Oh, and do me a favor: Let her know I’ve been polite and kind to you. Au revoir! Wish me luck!”
Ophelia waved, then jumped onto the train to Paris and the Belle Mew-seum.
She didn’t look back.
She should have.
“The only thing to fear is fear itself … or a jerk-face feline with too much fur above his eyes.”
—Ophelia von Hairball V
10
PLANS FUR-LORN
Paris is known for being fashion fur-ward, and Ophelia was absolutely ready for it. With just a few minor wardrobe adjustments, she was almost invisible among the chic train station crowds in rush-hour traffic.
She found a seat in the train car, grabbed a newspaper, and settled in to look natural (naturally amazing, that is). She hid her Mew-seum map inside the paper so no one could see it.
Across from her, a dog stranger smiled. Though she couldn’t place him, he looked a bit fur-miliar. Every instinct told her to be on high alert. “Nouveau á Paris?” the stranger inquired. Although she was fluent in French (and ten other languages), Ophelia didn’t want to encourage conversation, so she smiled and shrugged, pretending not to understand.
With a keen eye, she peered around the train. Two more dogs were seated close to her, looking bored—almost as if they were pretending to be bored. Her whiskers twitched with suspicion.
The stranger tried again—this time in English. “Have you visited Paris before?”
Ophelia needed to know if she was dealing with the CCIA. She remembered MEW had told her that the CCIA liked to have their logo on everything.
“Achoo! Achoo!! ACHOO!!!” She fake-sneezed three times—each louder than the last. “Pardon me!” she exclaimed. “Oh my! Would you be so kind as to lend me your handkerchief?”
There was a flicker of hesitation, and Ophelia could see the stranger squirm. Unless he wanted to be very rude, he had no choice but to pass his handkerchief over. “Mais oui! But of course!”
Though the flustered dog tried to crumple it, she could clearly see the CCIA symbol embossed in the bottom-right corner.
Clever canines. Ophelia was surprised that the CCIA dogs had found her. She had hoped they’d still be following the seagull that chomped their tracking device. MEW was right—this organization was more dangerous to the FFBI than she’d first thought.
Ophelia knew the CCIA would need to catch her red-pawed in order to take her into custody. And if that happened, her reputation as an elite burglar would be ruined. She would have to stay on high alert.
“Thank you so much,” she said, returning the handkerchief. She didn’t let on that she’d seen the CCIA symbol. “And no. Je ne parlez paws fran-sez.” She put her head back into her newspaper.
When the train arrived in the city, Ophelia took every possible precaution to lose the CCIA dogs following her. She climbed trees, went in and out of random buildings, and changed outfits several times until she was certain they were no longer on her tail.
Aware that her time was running short, she hurried over the cobblestone streets. As she made her way to the famous Belle Mew-seum, she recognized many of the quaint stores. It had been ages since she’d been to Paris. Ophelia wondered if she might be able to sneak in some hat shopping after the heist.
Finally, in front of her target building, Ophelia stood tall, ready for action. She soaked in the white marble, lush gardens, and well-dressed visitors. The Mew-seum was much more grandiose in person. Among all the luxury, Ophelia could almost smell sweet victory … but realized the delicious scents were coming from the bakery across the street. She strolled over and took a seat at an outdoor table.
Since the Mew-seum closed in an hour, Ophelia only had a few minutes for reconnaissance. With such high security at the front doors, she wondered if there was, perhaps, another way to get into—and out of—the Mew-seum.
Through binoculars (that were ever-so-smartly disguised as a camera), Ophelia watched carefully as a steady stream of people entered and exited the Mew-seum through the front door. The building also had a side emergency exit, and there looked to be a rooftop atrium, but without more time to plan, she’d have to risk going in and out through the front entrance like everyone else.
Although she knew a great many FFBI agents who liked to fly by the seat of their pants, it wasn’t Ophelia’s favorite way to work. Still, she reminded herself that she’d pulled off a few spur-of-the-moment heists in the past. A waiter approached. “Bonjour. I’m Simon. I’ll be servin
g you today.”
“One of your deliciously decadent chocolate croissants, please, with butter. And a tea with milk. I’m in a bit of a hurry.”
“Of course.”
Simon quickly returned to her table with the flaky treat. In the small dish of butter was the FFBI symbol.
“Ophelia! I’m FFBI,” Simon whispered. “Not as high ranking as you, of course, but I’m a big fan. Let me know how I can help!”
“I’m competing in the Purr-fect Heist Competition right now. Looks like someone wants to stop me. Do you know if the diamond has been stolen yet?” Ophelia asked. She feared that another burglar—worst of all Pierre—had already nabbed it.
Simon nodded. “I’ve seen some action across the street,” he said, “but as far as I know, the jewel is still there. It’s ready for you to pluck!” He smiled. “Do check the back room of my bakery before you go. There’s a fresh disguise for you there. And your snack is on the house today. Good luck.”
“Merci!” Grateful for the unexpected help, she exited the patio and found her way through the bakery’s kitchen. On a hook, a rather bold disguise awaited her. It took several minutes, but with (a LOT of) hair spray, a bandanna, some very real-looking facial hair, and some studded black leather, Ophelia transformed from a raving beauty into a radical biker cat.
The disguise had more hair than she normally liked, but Ophelia decided it would serve its purpose very well. Both Pierre and the CCIA would be looking for a glamorous tourist, and she looked nothing like the sleek, sophisticated cat on the wanted poster she’d seen outside the bakery.
With bold and beautiful confidence, Ophelia went into her character just like every great actor and stomped across the street to the Belle Mew-seum, ready to take on any obstacle to get the Himalayan diamond!
“Even when I’m alone, I’m not lonely. Because inside me is a rough-and-tumble cowgirl. And a sparkling superstar. And a mad scientist. And every other persona I can imagine.”
—Ophelia von Hairball V
11
MEW, MEW, MEW-SEUM
Even though the Belle Mew-seum was crowded, Ophelia wished she could roam around the building as a tourist and take in all the magnificent art. The entrance security was a gauntlet of guards and metal detectors. “Hello.” Ophelia nodded, trying a casual smile through her new facial hair. The fake mustache tickled her nose.
The crabby-looking guard addressed her in English. “Head on through there,” she said.
This was the tricky part. Ophelia did NOT want her handbag to go through the X-ray machine. “I’ve got an old-fashioned camera in here with unexposed film,” Ophelia cautioned. “The machine might damage it. Do you mind hand-searching my bag instead?”
“Okay,” the guard muttered, annoyed. “Give me your bag. Step through the machine.”
These were the moments that mattered. Ophelia’s heart beat like a drum.
The guard opened Ophelia’s handbag and removed a few things. Right away, she honed in on a bejeweled nail file. Nervous, Ophelia realized it was possible the guard might have seen it on the news—Ophelia had recently “acquired” it from a private collection in Hawaii.
“Supercute. Doesn’t really look like your style, though,” the guard challenged.
A small fib was in order. “It’s a souvenir for my niece.”
The guard smiled. “Ah! I bought my daughter one just like this yesterday at the two-cent store.”
It took all her might, but Ophelia held back an eye roll. That nail file is worth a lot more than two cents! It’s worth a small castle!
“I hope your niece loves it.”
“Why, thank you,” Ophelia said. “It will be cat-astrophic if she doesn’t.” Thankfully, the guard didn’t dig any deeper in her bag to find the grappling hook or other, suspicious knick-knacks.
“Okay. Put all this junk back in your bag. Please note the Mew-seum closes in just under an hour.”
Beneath her beard, Ophelia’s smile was huge. Time for action.
Now that she was past security, she had to make a few things happen:
• Find an object the same weight as the diamond.
• Get into the Himalayan diamond room and make everyone else leave.
• Expose the laser beams and get to the gem’s podium without setting off an alarm.
• Perform the grab-and-switch maneuver.
• Stroll (with the diamond) out the front door.
Ophelia remembered that her grab-and-switch object needed to be 3,501.17 carats, or approximately 24.7 ounces—just about the weight of two soup cans. Thankfully the Mew-seum had many interesting trinkets—almost as many as she had in her very own secret lair! Even though she was feeling the stress of the challenge, Ophelia knew her creativity and inventive nature would help her.
The Egyptian exhibit looked like it had smaller items that would be fairly easy for her to pilfer. As she admired all the gold, the wall monitor in front of her flickered.
Was it possible that someone was trying to communicate with her through the screen? She shook her head and blinked a few times. Maybe she’d breathed in too many stinky fumes on the garbage barge.
OSCAR? OSCAR?! Somehow, the fish was intercepting the signals and sending his own messages. She put her wireless earpiece in and tuned in to the FFBI-approved channel.
Nobody else seemed to notice Oscar’s fish-face on the monitor.
“Cheers, Ophelia! You can talk back to me through the microphone in your earpiece. It’s a secure channel.”
She was fuming. How dare he risk compromising her cover? She hissed into her watch, “Do you even want to know what I’ll do to you if I don’t win this competition because of your tomfishery?!”
“Oh, relax,” Oscar replied. “I’ve done this before.”
“Indeed! Also, be aware of the time! There are thirty-five minutes left. Please keep your earpiece in so I can communicate with you. And while you’re doing the heist, I’m going to enjoy another delicious bite from this bakery and soak in some of the gorgeous fashions here in Paris. I’m sure it will inspire some new outfit ideas. Let me know if you need anything!”
Ophelia sighed and removed her earpiece. She was so close to the diamond and her prize—and yet so very far. What she needed was a new grand plan—one as unexpected as she was.
“Whenever and wherever you can in life, make a big splash. But not in actual water.”
—Ophelia von Hairball V
12
CAT-CH ME IF YOU CAN
Good afternoon, guests!” A voice came over the intercom. “It is now four thirty.” Ophelia’s time was running out! “The Mew-seum will close in thirty minutes. Also … can we get a few mops to the front of the insect displays, please?”
Ophelia watched a janitor go by with his mop. Of course! A rather risky idea started to take shape. With all the rushing and panic, Ophelia almost lost sight of one of the most important cat burglary secrets of all time: Your biggest obstacle might also be the best part of your plan.
Placing her earpiece back into her ear, she waded through the crowds toward the bathroom to equip a brand-new disguise.
Twice, she thought she spotted some suspicious-looking dogs, but there was no time to investigate. She had just under thirty minutes until closing time! Ophelia knew she needed every single second.
“Oscar,” Ophelia whispered into her watch. There was silence on the other end. “Oscar, expect to hear a few alarms and sirens soon, but don’t panic. I’ve got a plan. Keep your bulgy eyes peeled for Pierre or any of those CCIA mutts. I haven’t seen them yet, but I’ve got a feeling they could be here.”
She didn’t wait for the fish to reply. Instead, she traded her biker disguise for a janitor outfit and a mop and double-checked her special-ops handbag. She had everything she needed.
Adrenaline surged from the tip of her tail to her claws. She was so close to winning!
With only fifteen minutes left before the staff cleared everyone out of the Mew-seum, Ophelia confidently wal
ked right past security and entered the gem room, where the Himalayan diamond sparkled brilliantly on its pedestal. Nobody questioned when she set up a CLOSED FOR CLEANING sign.
Ophelia knew the next few moments would either put her in the hiss-tory books or behind bars. The clock was ticking.
She shooed several people out of the room. When she was finally alone, Ophelia made her bold move. With a deep breath, she pounced through the array of invisible lasers directly to the pedestal where the precious gem sparkled. As she anticipated, the titanium bars shot up to encase her with a loud BOOM! It was just like Oscar had warned! She was a prisoner—with the beloved Himalayan diamond.
Just like she wanted.
In her handbag, Ophelia had the special grappling hook Oscar made her, plus the file, which would serve as a dandy glass cutter of sorts. All she needed to do was attach the grappling hook to the chandelier, zip herself up, cut through the atrium window, and escape!
But before she could reach for the hook that would take her up to the ceiling, she heard a bark that made her fur prickle.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the infamous cat burglar, Ophelia von Hairball V. We can get to know each other later—once you’re in CCIA custody. For now, let me just say that there’s no escape for you. This room is surrounded by agents who are very excited to be part of your arrest.”
A slow, sly grin spread across the cat burglar’s face, and she looked toward her adversary. His face was hidden by shadows. “Well, doggone it! I guess you’ve caught me then.” Her tail twitched, and, as if defeated, she sat down, mop in paw. Ophelia kept talking as she reached into her special-ops handbag, searching for her diamond-encrusted nail file and dental floss. Without looking down, she wrapped the floss around the nail file over and over, then tied dozens of knots to secure the file to the mop head. In no time, the file was solidly attached. “While I admire your purr-sistence and the loyalty to your cause, I’ll never understand why your organization feels the need to be constantly barking up our trees. We’re harmless. Members of the FFBI demonstrate superior skills, then return our spoils. Cat burglary is a very old and respected art form.”
