by Emily Ecton
Polo slid down onto the floor. “Hold on, let me fix this leash so it won’t get caught. If you get strangled, it’ll give me nightmares.”
“Me too,” Butterbean said. She shuddered just thinking about it.
Polo looped the leash around Butterbean’s collar so that the end wasn’t dragging anymore. She patted it carefully as she watched the elevator numbers. “Now go.”
The elevator dinged as it reached the second floor. “Second floor,” a disembodied lady’s voice said.
“That’s really creepy,” Polo muttered.
“You should hear her say ‘lobby,’ ” Butterbean said. “Gets me every time.”
The doors opened.
“You know what to do!” Polo shrieked, throwing herself in front of the elevator door. Butterbean had said that her rat-sized body should be enough to keep the door from closing, but until they tested it, they couldn’t be sure. And now that Polo thought about it, getting squished in the elevator door was something else that would give her nightmares.
Butterbean raced out of the elevator and then ran up and down the hallway, pausing only to sniff under each door.
“Biscuit!” she yelled at the first door. “Teacher Man!” she yelled at the second. “Too Many Kids!” she yelled at the third. “Old Mothball Lady!” she yelled at the fourth. “All clear.”
“Great!” Polo said, bracing herself against the elevator door. “Now hurry! This thing is trying to move!”
Butterbean rushed back into the elevator, skidding into the wall just as Polo leaped inside and let the door slide shut.
“We’re like superheroes! This is so fun!” Butterbean panted, her tongue hanging out of the side of her mouth.
“Yeah, well, I hope you keep feeling that way, because we’ve got seven more floors to go. Get ready!”
Butterbean took her position in front of the door and shot out of the elevator as the doors opened, quickly making the circuit. “Mrs. Third Floor! Man With Stinky Sweat Socks! Perfume Lady! Lots of Cats!” She yelled at each apartment before turning and skidding back into the elevator. “We’re awesome! We could do this professionally.”
Polo suppressed a grin. “We are pretty great, huh? Okay, get ready for the next flooooor!” she yelled, diving into the gap to hold the elevator door. Plan B was looking like a winner. Oscar was going to be so surprised when he found out.
* * *
Oscar was already surprised. At that moment he was doing some pretty serious stress plucking of his under feathers and trying not to fly off the handle (literally). “WHAT ARE THEY DOING!” he screamed. “What’s HAPPENING!”
The lobby was in an uproar. The last they’d seen of Polo and Butterbean was when Polo did a mad dash into the elevator and Butterbean looked like she’d gone crazy, racing around the lobby and then disappearing into the elevator just as the doors closed.
The girl had been knocked off her feet when Butterbean raced in between her legs, and she’d spent a few minutes gesturing wildly at the doorman before racing to a door at the end of the lobby, opening it, and disappearing.
“The stairway,” Walt said softly.
The doorman had looked concerned for a few minutes, until a lady with a big hat came in. Then he seemed to go back to his usual self, smiling and holding the door like nothing had happened.
“Wow, did you see that?” Marco bobbed up and down nervously. “Maybe they’ve gone CRAZY! Or maybe they’re found the coins and they’re cutting us out of the loop! Oh man, it’s just like a real action movie! We’ve been double-crossed! They’ve gone ROGUE!” He hugged his rat-head corn in excitement. “Isn’t it awesome?”
“We haven’t been double-crossed. It’ll be fine,” Walt said slowly. “I think.”
“Wait, what’s that?” They could hear the sound of the elevator dinging in the hallway, followed by the sound of frantic barking.
“That’s Butterbean,” Oscar said, flying to front door and hovering awkwardly. He’d never been good at using the peephole.
“That Workout Lady Who Gives Me Snacks! The Airplane Man Who’s Never Home! The Guy Who Smokes Cigars. Us! Hi, guys, be back in a sec!” Butterbean barked at the doorway. Then they heard the elevator doors close. There was silence.
“So it sounds like there’s a new plan?” Walt said, ears back and eyes wide.
“Those two are going to ruin everything,” Oscar groaned as he dropped back to the floor.
* * *
Butterbean slumped in the back of the elevator and waited for the doors to open. Polo leaned against the wall next to the door. They weren’t having so much fun anymore.
Butterbean had done the circuit over and over, sniffing every apartment on every floor, and so far they hadn’t even gotten one whiff of the Coin Man.
“Just two floors left, Bean,” Polo said, watching the numbers.
“I know,” Butterbean said.
“And you’re sure you haven’t smelled him?”
“I’m sure.” Butterbean hadn’t smelled anything like the Coin Man smell. She was starting to think she’d imagined him. Maybe he didn’t even live in the building. He could’ve been visiting. He could’ve dropped the coin in the lobby, gone away, and never come back.
The door opened, and Butterbean trudged out into the hallway while Polo flopped over to block the door. Around the sixth floor she’d realized she didn’t have to actually hold the door closed. Lying in front of the sensor worked just as well.
“Patchouli Family. Biscuit. Empty apartment. No, wait—not empty. Pencils? Pretzels? Anyway, not him.” Butterbean headed for the last door and took a sniff. “Nope. Axe Body Spray and fish.” She didn’t even feel like explaining what she’d sniffed anymore. It all seemed so pointless now. And they didn’t have a Plan C.
“Okay, one last chance,” Polo said, scooting back into the elevator after Butterbean had returned. “If he’s not on the top floor, he’s not here.”
“I know,” Butterbean said quietly.
“So,” Polo said after a second. “Haircut Biscuit?”
“Different Biscuit.”
They didn’t say anything else as the elevator climbed to the top floor.
The doors opened.
Butterbean gave Polo a mournful glance as she plodded into the hallway. The top floor wasn’t like the other floors. There were only two apartment doors. Butterbean sniffed the first one. “Nope. Furniture polish and incense.”
Butterbean turned and looked at the last apartment. Then, taking a deep breath, she marched down the hall.
“Just smell it,” Polo said from the elevator.
Butterbean stuck her nose under the door as far as it would go, and then she took a big sniff.
Her head shot up. She looked back at Polo. “I think…”
She took another sniff under the door. “Polo. Polo. I think…”
The door to the stairway burst open and Madison lurched into the hallway, red faced and panting. “There you are! What did you do that for, you crazy dog?”
She dropped to her knees and hugged Butterbean tightly. “I was so worried about you!”
Butterbean, caught tight in Madison’s hug, raised her eyebrows at Polo, who shrugged. Butterbean licked the girl across the forehead.
“We have to get you home, okay?” Madison reached down and examined Butterbean’s collar and leash. “How did you get it all twisted like that?”
She had just gotten the leash untangled when the apartment door jerked open.
A tall man with icy blue eyes stared down at them.
Madison’s grip on Butterbean tightened. “Oh, um. Hi. I’m sorry. I just… see, the dog… she got in the elevator…” Madison stammered, gesturing back toward the elevator. Polo pressed herself against the elevator door, hoping the man wouldn’t notice her. She shouldn’t have worried. He never took his eyes off Madison. And he didn’t say a word.
Polo shivered. There was something about his eyes. She was glad he wasn’t looking at her.
Madison scrambled to
her feet. “So anyway. Sorry to disturb you.” She twisted the leash around her hand as she took a step back.
“You should go,” the man said, his face stony. “Now.”
“Yes, sir,” Madison said, backing away toward the elevator. “Leaving. Right now.”
She bolted through the open elevator door and jabbed the fourth-floor button, holding her breath until the door had shut.
“I didn’t like that guy,” Polo said quietly as she crawled into position under Butterbean’s tummy.
“He never stopped looking at her, not once. Polo, that was him. The Coin Man,” Butterbean whined under her breath. “It was bad, Polo.”
“I saw.” Polo shuddered. She was glad that she had Butterbean’s hair to hide her.
Butterbean kept her eyes on the door. She hardly even noticed the rat hanging from her underside.
“We’ll tell Oscar. He’ll know what to do.” Polo tightened her grip on Butterbean’s hair. “We did our part. Oscar will know what to do.”
8
THERE WAS ANOTHER BIG FLAW in their plan, one that they didn’t figure out until they were back in the apartment. They had to keep acting like normal pets until Madison left.
This was harder than it seemed. Oscar didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone take so long to clean a litter box.
“Did you have to poop so much, Walt?” Butterbean grumbled, watching Madison hard at work with the litter sifter.
“Can it, Bean,” Walt said, not looking at her. “I know you used it too.”
“It was an emergency!” Butterbean started to wail, lowering her voice just in time.
Marco and Polo tried desperately to cover up the soiled corner of their cage with clean cedar chips so Madison wouldn’t feel the need to change their bedding too. It didn’t work.
“Doesn’t she need to be somewhere? Talk on the phone to someone? Eat dinner? Do ANYTHING?” Marco said, hiding behind the water bottle and clutching his rat-head corn. “Why is she hanging out with us?”
Polo peered at the girl from behind the food dish. “Something’s not right here. It’s like she doesn’t want to leave.” Polo frowned and crouched lower behind the dish. The last thing she wanted was to end up in a tub of sudsy water.
By the time everyone’s food and water had been refreshed, the animals were practically twitching with anxiety.
“Okay, well, I guess I’ll see you later, guys,” Madison said, watching them with narrowed eyes. They seemed awfully edgy. She could’ve sworn one of the rats was wringing its paws. She just hoped they wouldn’t destroy the apartment.
As soon as the door closed behind her, the dam burst.
“Finally!” Butterbean squealed.
“You’re not going to believe what happened!” Polo said, launching herself out of the aquarium. The two blurted out the whole story so quickly that at one point Polo started hyperventilating and had to put her head between her knees.
But it was all worth it. The Coin Man was real. The mission was a success.
“Bravo! Excellent work!” Oscar crowed. “Your plan didn’t have the elegance and subtlety of my original plan, but I have to admit, it was effective. So we have a target—Apartment B on the top floor.”
“That’s the one,” Butterbean said, nodding her head. “It was definitely him. He smelled just right.”
“Oh boy was he creepy, though,” Polo said, shivering. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at that girl.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at me!” Butterbean said. “I’m glad we won’t be seeing him ever again.”
“Yeah, we’ll just steer clear of that guy,” Polo agreed.
“Um, yes.” Oscar frowned. He was having a creeping feeling that the others weren’t as clear on the “heist” concept as he’d thought. “We will definitely steer clear of him. After the heist, that is.”
“Wait, what?” Butterbean said, cocking her head.
“About that,” Marco said. “How does this heisting work, exactly?” He shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t seen a lot of the crime-type shows that Oscar had seen. He was feeling like he and Polo were at a severe disadvantage, heist-wise.
“Well, he’s got the coins, so he’s the target of our heist,” Oscar explained.
Butterbean’s head cocked ever farther to the right.
“This is how it works. Now that we’ve identified the Coin Man, we’ll do some surveillance,” Oscar said, pacing back and forth across the coffee table like he was teaching Heisting 101. “We’ll locate his coins, and then we’ll set the heist in motion. Don’t worry, I’ll plan all that. Right now, you’ll just need to do some legwork.”
“Oh, okay,” Marco said uncertainly. He’d heard of legwork. Mrs. Food did legwork every Wednesday and Friday. He thought his legs were in decent shape already, but he was willing to put in a couple of workouts for the cause. He was pretty good on the wheel.
Polo still wasn’t convinced. “But me and Butterbean, we already did our part, right? So we’re done?”
“You did excellent work, yes,” Oscar said, shifting his wings. He didn’t like how suspicious Polo was looking. He definitely should’ve explained heisting earlier. “But this is just the beginning. We need more information to plan the heist. And then we’ll need everyone to pitch in on heist day.”
Walt rolled her eyes. The last thing they needed was a rat mutiny. And Walt didn’t think that anyone in the history of heists had ever called it “heist day.”
She nudged Oscar to the side. “What Oscar’s trying to say is that we can’t get the information without you. How many coins there are, where they’re hidden—that kind of thing. You follow?”
“Sure,” Polo said uncertainly. She absolutely did not follow.
“Follow where?” Marco asked.
Walt sighed. “We need a couple of inside men. Rats. A couple of inside rats.”
“Well, yeah, we’re inside rats,” Marco said. He hadn’t met any outside rats. He’d heard about them, though.
“They want you to go in, I think,” Butterbean explained. “Inside that creepy guy’s apartment. Right, Walt?”
“Right.” Walt twitched her tail impatiently.
Polo’s nose turned bright pink. “You want us to do WHAT? Are you kidding me? You didn’t SEE that guy!”
“I know, he’s creepy. We don’t want you around that guy,” Walt said, holding up her paws defensively. She hadn’t realized rats could get so jumpy. “Just scope out the apartment, okay? That’s all we want you to do. Just take a look around.”
“We can do that,” Marco said. “Right, Polo?”
“That guy eats rats like me for LUNCH!” Polo gasped.
“He won’t even know you’re there!” Walt promised.
“We’ll make sure he’s gone. Just a quick look. That’s all we’re asking,” Oscar said. “I’d do it myself, but you’re the only ones who can fit under the door.”
Polo stared at the carpet. That was true. Oscar would never be able to fit under a door. Rats were made for that kind of thing. It was practically the reason they’d been invented.
“We can do this, Polo,” Marco said, patting her on the shoulder. “You didn’t see yourself on TV. You were amazing! Once you hid under that plant, nobody even knew you were there!”
“Really?” Polo looked up. “You watched me on TV?”
Marco blushed. “Yeah, you looked really good, too. Plus with that button, you looked all glamorous, like a star! Next time we’ll tape it.” He shot Oscar a look. “We didn’t have it set up right this time.”
“Well. If he won’t be there…” Polo looked at Oscar. “What do we have to do?”
“We’ll watch on the surveillance cameras until the man leaves the building. That’ll be your cue,” Oscar said.
Walt nodded. “I’ve got the door set up so we can come and go. I’ll carry you up on my back. Then just sneak inside, find the coins, and get out of there. If he comes back before you’re done, forget the coins and skedaddle. Then report b
ack.”
Marco bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet. “Got it. Go, scope, skedaddle!”
“Got it.” Polo let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “We don’t go until he’s gone.” She turned to Marco. “You didn’t see him. He was scary.”
Marco nodded as he bobbed. “We’ll be careful. We’ll be totally invisible, like ghosts, or superspies.” He turned to Oscar. “I like this plan. It’ll give me a chance to get some more legwork done.” He jogged off, doing a lap around the sofa, punching the air as he went.
Oscar looked at Walt, eyebrows raised. “Legwork?”
“Don’t tell him,” Walt said under her breath.
* * *
It took three hours for the man in the penthouse apartment to leave the building.
Since only Butterbean and Polo had actually seen the guy, they were the ones on surveillance duty. And they figured out one problem pretty quickly—blue eyes don’t show up on fuzzy black-and-white surveillance footage.
“Is that him?” Polo whispered early on. A light-haired man was leaving the elevator in the lobby.
Butterbean leaned forward, nose hovering in front of the screen. “I don’t think so. I think that’s Stinky Sweat Socks on three.”
“Are you sure?” Polo said, watching the man disappear off the edge of the screen.
“Maybe?”
Polo shrugged. “Okay.” Maybe would have to be good enough. Better to keep waiting than get it wrong.
After three more false IDs (Guy Who Smokes Cigars, Guy Who Yells at the Doorman, and Mechanic Guy) the Coin Man appeared. And once they’d seen him, there was no question. Even the way he moved across the screen sent chills down Polo’s back.
“Okay, you’re right—he’s creepy,” Marco said as they watched the blurry footage of the guy leaving the building. “Look, even the doorman guy doesn’t like him.”
“Wow, you’re right,” Butterbean said, pressing her nose against the Television again, leaving a smeary streak behind. “Mr. Doorman talks to EVERYONE, and he didn’t say a word to that guy. He just held the door and stepped back.”
