by Emily Ecton
“You know what else I don’t see?” Walt continued, her voice low. “I don’t see a dead rat. Or any rat, wounded or otherwise. I don’t see Polo.”
Oscar cleared his throat and looked over at Marco. He wasn’t paying attention to them—he seemed intent on listening to the men arguing. Oscar edged closer to Walt. “They could have… disposed of her,” he said quietly. The last thing he wanted was for Marco to overhear him.
Walt shook her head. “I don’t think those guys would’ve bothered. And look down there.” She nodded toward the floor right below the grate. Oscar had to crane his neck to see what she was pointing at. It was a mousetrap.
“They wouldn’t have put that there if they thought they got her.”
Walt sounded confident, but Oscar wasn’t so sure. He just hoped she was right.
He scuttled over to Marco, cringing with every step. Skidding on the metal floor was so undignified. “Marco. Is there another grate?”
“SHH!” Marco hissed, putting his hands over Oscar’s beak. “Listen—I think this is important!”
“No excuses.” The Coin Man’s voice was sharp, and he was pointing aggressively at the second man. The Coin Man didn’t touch him, but Number Two flinched with every jab as if he had. “One. How did she get in? Two. How did she get the coins? Three. Where are they now? And most importantly, why did you not notice? These are questions that I want answered, now.”
The Coin Man crossed the living room and pulled the chair away from the door. “If you can’t answer, she will.”
“Quick, to the other grate!” Marco said, hurtling himself down the vent. “We need to see!”
Marco and Walt scurried away, with Oscar awkwardly slipping along behind. He arrived just in time to see the Coin Man crouching down next to Madison. She didn’t look like she’d been harmed, but she was obviously not okay. Oscar scanned the room. There was no sign of Polo.
“Little girl, you have made a very big mistake.”
Madison tried not to react, but she couldn’t help but flinch a little at the Coin Man’s words.
“It was a funny game to you, stealing from me? It is not a game now, believe me.” The man’s voice was very low, and the animals had to strain to hear him. He wasn’t shouting. He didn’t even raise his voice. But something in the way he spoke made Oscar shiver.
“I will be back in one hour. When I return, you will tell me where the coins are. Understand? That is your only option. If you want to survive.”
He stared at Madison until she nodded hesitantly.
“Good. And to be clear, I know all about you, Miss Madison Park. I know you are alone. No one will miss you. No one knows you are here. Remember that. No one is coming to save you. So you will do what I say.”
Madison nodded again, biting her lip to steel herself. She refused to look away from him.
The Coin Man stood up and opened the door. “One hour,” he said again, closing the door and locking it behind him.
Madison waited until she was sure he was gone and then broke out in a strangled sob. “I don’t have the coins!” she whispered. “What am I going to do?”
Polo poked a head out of Madison’s pocket and scrambled back up onto her knee. “We’ll think of a plan,” Polo said quietly. She had no idea what, but they had to try something. Anything. And they only had an hour.
“POLO!” a voice shrieked from the vent grate. “IT’S POLO! YOU’RE ALIVE!”
Polo’s head jerked up, and she leaned back to look up at the grate. “Marco?” She stood on her hind legs and waved excitedly. “MARCO!” she screamed. “I’m okay! It’s me!”
“What are you doing?” Madison said, staring at Polo like she’d sprouted an extra head. It was one thing to have a rat quietly comforting you. It was something entirely different when that rat started to scream and wave at someone you couldn’t see.
Madison peered up at the grate.
If she squinted, she thought she could just make out eyes staring back at her from the darkness. Three pairs of eyes.
She blinked. The eyes were still there. And was that a tiny arm waving through the grate? That didn’t seem possible.
Madison scrambled to her feet and climbed up onto the sink to get a closer look, carefully putting Polo on the counter first.
“No way,” Madison breathed. “No way.”
Those were definitely eyes. And they were looking right back at her. If she didn’t know better, she’d say they looked just like the cat and bird and rat that she’d been taking care of. But that was ridiculous.
“Do you have a plan?” Polo squeaked from her new perch on the soap dish. “We have an hour.”
“Um. Maybe?” Marco didn’t sound like he had a plan.
“Don’t worry—we’ve got a rescue all planned out,” Walt said. Her voice was much more reassuring. “Just wait there. We’ll be back soon.”
Polo cheered and did a little dance on the soap dish. Carefully, so she didn’t slip. But this was the best news she’d had all day, and a small celebration was in order.
Madison watched Polo’s dance number and then sat down on the cabinet with a thump. That had definitely sounded like a cat. And now the rat was dancing. She was losing it.
“We’ll be back! Just hold on,” Marco squeaked. “Bye!”
As Polo and Madison watched, the three faces disappeared from the grate.
Madison stared at the empty grate until a small pattering on her hand caught her attention. It was the rat, and it looked like it was patting her on the hand to console her.
“It’ll be okay, Madison!” Polo squeaked.
Madison gave a small smile. Even if she was crazy, the rat looked so optimistic. She hoped it knew something she didn’t.
* * *
“Okay, Walt, what’s up?” Oscar said after they’d slipped back down to the eighth-floor vents. “That all sounded good, but do you really have a plan?” He tried his best not to sound disapproving, but he couldn’t see how Walt could possibly have a plan. “I don’t want to give Polo false hope.”
Walt sat down with a sigh. “I do have a plan, and I think it could work. But you’re not going to like it. You’re not going to like it one bit.”
Oscar puffed his feathers out indignantly. If the plan saved Polo, how could he not like it? “Well, what is it?”
“I can only think of one thing that will work.” Walt’s face was grim. “We need to pull off another heist. An anti-heist. We need to give the coins back.”
16
“YOU WANT TO DO WHAT?” Butterbean sat up abruptly, gold coins sliding off her tummy. “Give it back? Back back? Are you crazy?”
They’d found Butterbean in the office, rolling in the bag of gold coins. She was obviously taking her guard duty very seriously. She hadn’t let them out of her sight. Butterbean stood up, slipping on the pile as she trotted out of the office and over to Oscar. “But we can’t give it back, can we, Oscar? We’re independently wealthy now. We need them.” She blinked with her best puppy dog eyes.
Oscar cleared his throat and looked away. “I think we have to,” he said reluctantly. He couldn’t believe he was saying it. The whole heist had been such a success. It was his greatest achievement. And now it was all going down the drain, just because of one little slip up.
Oscar had seen heist shows on the Television before, so he thought he’d known all the possible pitfalls. But he’d never once seen an organized crime gang have to pull an anti-heist and return the money.
But they were going to do it. It was already in the works.
Walt had run the plan by Chad, who had agreed to help out, as long as there were no more comments about his butt. Oscar wasn’t sure what that was about, but he was happy to agree. He’d never even noticed Chad’s butt. (Although now he felt like he needed to take a look.) Once they’d all solemnly sworn not to say a single word about his backside, Chad was in.
Now all they had to do was get Butterbean on board.
Luckily, Marco knew just what to sa
y. He stepped forward and took Butterbean by the paw. “Butterbean, we have to do this. For Polo. And for Madison. We can’t let those men win. Don’t think of it as giving the coins back. This is a rescue mission.”
Butterbean’s ears perked up. She’d always wanted to go on a rescue mission. It was practically her dog destiny.
Butterbean licked Marco’s paw in excitement (along with half of his middle section. Marco pretended not to notice).
“Why didn’t you say so? Rescue mission? Sign me up!” Maybe she’d get one of those little barrels to wear around her neck—she’d seen Television dogs wearing those on lots of rescue missions. Of course it would have to be a small one, but Butterbean didn’t mind.
Walt patted Butterbean on the back. “Good. Oscar, you’ll need to get these coins back in the bag.”
Oscar nodded and hurried back into the office.
Walt sat down. “Now, Butterbean, what we’re planning is a three-pronged attack. Part one, Operation Distract. Part two, Operation Divide and Conquer. And part three, Operation Outside Authorities. Got it?”
“Got it.” Butterbean hoped she would be part of Operation Distract. Distracting was her specialty. She wasn’t so great at division.
“You’re Operation Distract, with me,” Walt said. Butterbean gave a small cheer. Walt ignored it. “Oscar, are the coins ready?”
“Done,” Oscar called back from the office, one foot on the coin bag.
“Good. Chad’s in place, so if you could just fly them up, we’ll be set. Wallace, Marco, ready for vent duty?”
“Ready!” Marco fist-bumped Wallace (who wasn’t quite ready) and raced into the vents. He was feeling much more optimistic now that he knew that Polo was alive.
“Wait, what? Me?” Wallace looked around nervously. He hadn’t realized he was part of the plan. He was thinking of himself as more of an interested bystander.
“Wallace, COME ON!” Marco yelled impatiently, his voice echoing in the vent.
“Oop. Okay. I mean… okay.” Wallace scurried toward the vent after Marco.
“Um, Walt?” Oscar’s voice came from overhead. “Potential problem here.”
Oscar had the bag in his claws and was hovering in the air. He wasn’t going anywhere, just hovering. “I’m having some trouble getting airborne,” he said. “I can’t seem to gain altitude.”
Walt’s eyes widened. Oscar was approximately three feet off the floor, which was not going to cut it. Not when they needed to go to an apartment on the ninth floor. “Well, you’re going to need to gain five stories of altitude. Fast. Or the plan won’t work.”
“Yes, I do realize that,” Oscar said, flapping his wings energetically. He still didn’t move.
“Um, about that,” he said finally. “I don’t see myself gaining five stories of altitude.”
“But you did it before!” Walt couldn’t believe Oscar was being so difficult. What was five stories to a bird? Five stories was nothing!
Oscar gave a sad smile. “Yes, that’s true. But before I was going down. Down isn’t a problem. Up is.” He flapped even more enthusiastically and rose another six inches off the floor.
“I volunteer!” Butterbean barked suddenly. “I’ll do it! Oh, please let me. I just have to take it upstairs, right? It’ll be fine! I can do it!”
Walt and Oscar both looked at Butterbean doubtfully.
“There’s no rule that it has to go in the window, right? We just need to get the bag up there?”
“Oscar?” Walt said.
“I think that would be best,” Oscar said, sinking to the floor. “I’ll stay here and watch the surveillance cameras. You’ll need to know if the Coin Man comes back.”
“That’s actually a better idea,” Walt said grudgingly. “We do need to know that. Okay, ready, Bean?”
“YAY!” Butterbean cheered, jumping up and dragging the bag away from Oscar.
“Keep cool, Bean,” Walt said, going to the door and pushing the handle down. “Let us know the minute he comes back,” she called to Oscar over her shoulder.
“Will do,” he said, walking slowly to the remote. He really did have a bad back.
* * *
Butterbean was already halfway down the hallway when Walt slipped out of the door. Butterbean jumped up and hit the elevator button.
“Hope it’s empty!” She hopped nervously from one foot to another while she waited. “Man, I hope the Coin Man isn’t in it when it opens. That would be the worst!”
“Don’t be silly,” Walt said, but she felt just as anxious. So many things could go wrong. She hadn’t had time to think though all the possible problems. Anything could happen.
The elevator binged, and Walt held her breath. The doors opened.
It wasn’t empty. Mrs. Power Walker was there, marching in place.
Butterbean didn’t hesitate. She dragged the bag into the elevator and sat down next to Mrs. Power Walker, wagging her tail and lolling her tongue out of the side of her mouth. Walt slipped in behind her.
Mrs. Power Walker looked down at Butterbean and smiled. “Oh, hello again. Eighth floor, right?” she said, pushing the button for Butterbean.
Butterbean wagged her tail harder. Eighth floor was not right, but she wasn’t going to say anything. She didn’t want to attract attention.
“Sixth floor,” the elevator voice said.
The doors opened. Bob the maintenance guy was standing in the hallway. He looked from Mrs. Power Walker to Butterbean to the bag. Then he looked at Walt. Walt shrugged.
“I’ll, uh, take the next one,” Bob said awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.
“Bye!” Mrs. Power Walker said cheerily, pushing the close door button.
“Bye.” Bob frowned at Butterbean and Walt. “Hey, wait a minute,” he said, narrowing his eyes as the doors closed.
“Oops!” Mrs. Power Walker said to Butterbean conspiratorially. She giggled. Butterbean thumped her tail on the floor.
“Seventh floor,” the elevator voice said.
“Bye, you two,” Mrs. Power Walker said as she power walked out of the elevator.
Butterbean waited until the doors had closed before she jumped up and hit the button for the ninth floor. Walt rolled her eyes.
“What? I didn’t want to be rude!” Butterbean said, sitting back down.
* * *
Marco and Wallace peered through the grate into the Coin Man’s apartment.
Wallace looked like he might throw up. “I shouldn’t even be here. I can’t believe you talked me into this. I ONLY GO TO THE EIGHTH FLOOR! I TOLD YOU THAT.”
“Yeah, but it’s fine, see?” Marco said, patting Wallace on the shoulder. “Nothing’s happening yet! It’s just that guy. Number Two.”
Through the grate they could see the second man perched nervously on the couch, cradling a drink in his hands. He also looked like he might throw up.
“Oh and look, it’s Chad! Hi, Chad!” Marco screamed, sticking his arm through the grate and waving.
Chad pulled himself up into the sink. He put two of his tentacles to his eyes and then pointed at the grate in a classic “I’m watching you” motion.
Marco waved a little less enthusiastically. “Looking good, Chad. Thanks for doing this!”
Wallace clutched Marco’s arm. “Should you be yelling and waving like that? With THAT PERSON sitting there?”
Marco didn’t get a chance to answer.
The elevator dinged outside. Marco looked at Wallace. “Here we go.” He put his fingers in his mouth and whistled.
* * *
Butterbean dragged the coin bag into a shadowy nook near the elevator. “Same plan as before?” She didn’t really love the idea of another mouthful of dirty sock, but for Polo? Number Two’s dirty socks were no problem.
Walt grinned. “I thought we’d try something different this time.” She bent down and whispered in Butterbean’s ear.
Butterbean wagged her tail. She liked the new plan.
When they heard Marco’s whi
stle, she stood on her hind legs and rang the bell.
* * *
The Number Two Man was so startled by the doorbell that his hand jerked, sloshing part of his drink down his front. Muttering to himself, he put the drink onto the coffee table and hurried to the door, wiping his hands on his pants as he went.
He opened the door cautiously and looked out into the hallway.
Marco and Wallace pressed their faces to the grate to get a clear look.
There, in the hallway, sat Walt and Butterbean. They sat perfectly still in front of the door, staring silently at the man.
He went pale. “Oh no. No,” he said, backing away. Then he slammed the door in their faces.
Marco and Wallace looked at each other. “I wonder if that’s what was supposed to happen?” Marco said.
* * *
“Well, shoot. That’s not what was supposed to happen,” Walt muttered, twitching her tail. She’d been sure that if they sat quietly, he would come out to see what was going on. But no. “How are we supposed to get him out here? Ring the bell again, Butterbean.”
Butterbean stood up and rang the bell again.
No one answered.
“We should’ve just gone for the ankles,” Butterbean said. “Or we could’ve knocked him down, and I could’ve done the nostril probe.”
“Hey! Hey, Walt! It’s Marco! Up here!”
Walt and Butterbean peered up at the ceiling, following the voice to the corner, where they could see Marco peeking out from a small grate.
“Boy, you freaked him out,” Marco said. “Was it supposed to happen like that?”
“Obviously not,” Walt said grouchily. “I didn’t think he’d have such bad manners.”
“Okay, well, don’t worry. Chad said he has a plan,” Marco explained. “When I whistle, try the doorbell thing again. Chad said he’s had it with this guy, and he’s not wasting any more time. He’s going to take him out.”
