The Great Pet Heist

by Emily Ecton

  “Oookay,” Walt said. That didn’t sound terrific. In fact, “take him out” sounded really, really bad.

  “So Chad… um. He’s okay, right?” Marco interrupted her thoughts. “ ’Cause he sounded super grumpy. I mean SUPER grumpy. And maybe a little scary.” More than a little, actually.

  Walt hesitated. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. Octopus. Good octopus,” she corrected herself. But now that she thought about it, how well did she know Chad? Not that well, to be honest. And a grumpy octopus was capable of doing, well, anything.

  “I guess we’ll just wait for the signal, then,” Walt said, trying to sound confident. The whole thing had gone completely off the rails.

  She just had to hope for the best. It was up to Chad now.

  17

  CHAD INCHED HIS WAY THROUGH the pipe. He couldn’t believe he had gotten mixed up in this whole mess. And for a few measly sardines! It absolutely was not worth it. Still, it would be a good story later on, as long as the others didn’t get themselves killed. Actually, it would be a good story either way. But he might as well try to keep them alive. Make himself the hero. Happy endings always went over better in octopus circles.

  Chad slipped up the pipe and out through the sink drain overhead. Just as he’d thought, he was in the bathroom. And judging from the terrible decor, he was still in the Coin Man’s apartment.

  A girl gasped. Madison, he guessed. Nice to see that she was alive, but he didn’t have time to chat.

  “Holy cow, what is that?” Madison squealed, staring at him. Rude. Chad ignored her and slithered up to the medicine cabinet. He didn’t have a lot of time to waste. He rummaged around on the shelves, examining medicine bottles and tossing them aside.

  “Oh, that’s just Chad!” A voice from the floor piped up. “Hey, Chad! It’s me, Polo!” Chad looked over his shoulder and saw Polo hopping up and down and waving. He gave a polite wave with one of his unoccupied tentacles while he uncapped a medicine bottle with the others. Just what he was looking for. He broke a pill in half.

  “What are you doing in here?” Polo crawled up onto the cabinet next to him. “Are you rescuing us? Can I do anything to help?”

  Chad frowned and tossed the rest of the pills aside. “No, I’ve got what I need. Sleeping pills. I’m going to drug his drink.”

  Polo looked at the broken pill. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  Chad snorted. “I’m not even giving him a whole pill. Just enough to knock him out while we set up the room. Sheesh.” Rats could be so jittery.

  “Oh, good,” Polo said, trying to look relieved. “So we just wait here, then?”

  Chad slid back into the sink. “Right. Stay alert. You may need to move fast.”

  He disappeared down the drain, and then one eye popped back up. “Polo.”

  “Yeah?” Polo peered down at him.

  “Glad you’re not dead.”

  Polo smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

  * * *

  When Chad crawled back up into the kitchen sink, the man was on the couch, looking from the front door to the bathroom door, like he was watching a tennis match. He seemed nervous, to say the least.

  “I don’t get it,” Wallace said, watching the man. “What’s he so freaked out about? Walt and Butterbean aren’t scary. Well, maybe Walt, but Butterbean? Her name’s BUTTERBEAN, for goodness sake.”

  Marco shrugged. “Humans are weird.”

  Chad had already made his way over to the edge of the couch and was waving a tentacle at Marco in an irritated way, like he’d been doing it a long time. He was also making gestures with his other tentacles that Marco was pretty sure were bad words.

  “Sorry, Chad!” Marco yelled.

  He put his hands in his mouth and whistled.

  The doorbell rang.

  The man’s hand clenched the sofa so hard his knuckles turned white. He stared at the front door like it was going to explode.

  The bell rang again. And again. And again. It sounded to Marco like Butterbean was just bouncing between the floor and the doorbell over and over. She could be very enthusiastic.

  Finally, the Number Two Man had had enough. He got up, braced himself for a second, and then walked slowly toward the door.

  Marco whistled again.

  The man cautiously put his hand on the door handle, and then, taking a deep breath, he pulled it open. The cat and the dog sat in the doorway, just as they had before. And just as they had before, they silently stared back at him.

  No one moved. No one except Chad.

  In a flash, he slithered up to the coffee table and dropped the broken sleeping pill into the man’s drink. Then he speed-inched his way back to the sink. Once he was safely inside, Marco whistled again.

  Without a sound, and without even looking at each other, Walt and Butterbean turned in unison and walked away down the hallway.

  The man stood slack-jawed, watching them go. Then he slammed the door, raking his hands through his hair. He lurched back across the room, threw himself onto the couch, grabbed his drink, and gulped it down in one swift movement.

  Marco and Wallace watched from the grate.

  Chad watched from the sink.

  Number Two’s eyelids drooped. In just a few minutes they had shut, and his head flopped back onto the sofa.

  Marco whistled again as Chad scooted across the living room floor.

  “Stupid carpets,” he muttered as he went. “Do you realize I have rug burns on THREE of my tentacles because of this? THREE. And I hardly even KNOW you guys.”

  He reached up and opened the door. Walt and Butterbean rushed in, dragging the bag behind them.

  “These rug burns are going to cost you EXTRA SARDINES,” Chad grumbled.

  “Operation Distract is complete!” Butterbean trotted to the couch and dropped the bag with a thump. “In this end table here, Chad?”

  “Right.” Chad unzipped the bag and then crawled onto the man’s lap. He reached a tentacle down toward the bag. “Actually, scooch it over a bit first.”

  Butterbean nudged the bag closer to the man’s foot. Chad grabbed a bunch of coins with his tentacles and stuffed them into the man’s pockets. The man didn’t even move.

  “He’s not dead, right?” Butterbean said, jumping up and examining him.

  “With half a pill? Hardly. We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here before he wakes up,” Chad scoffed, passing coins from tentacle to tentacle. It was like he had his own relay system set up. It was very effective.

  “Hey, Chad?” Walt said, peering inside the end table. “Was this stuff in here when you took the bag originally?”

  “What stuff?” Chad flung the last few coins onto the man’s lap like he was throwing confetti and inched his way over to the end table. He peered inside. “Oh, that stuff? Yeah, I guess. Why, did you want that, too?”

  Walt shook her head. “No, we’re not touching this.” She turned to Butterbean. “This is bad news. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  Butterbean cocked her head. “Why, what is it?”

  “Trouble,” Walt said. “Big trouble.”

  * * *

  Oscar sat on the floor in front of the Television watching the surveillance feed.

  “This is fine,” he said to himself. “This is fine.” He didn’t feel fine, though.

  He knew that watching the feed was important. And he knew that criminal masterminds usually left the grunt work to their minions. But he didn’t like the idea that the others were up there alone.

  A figure on the Television caught his eye.

  Oscar jumped up with a squawk. He’d only seen him through the grate, but he would recognize him forever.

  The Coin Man was back.

  * * *

  Butterbean pawed at the inside of the end table. She could see what looked like winter hats, and something metallic underneath. She frowned. “Why are hats trouble?”

  She pawed at the hats again. A black ski mask fell onto the floor. “Should I try it on? I’ll look like a robber
!” Butterbean joked, and then caught herself. “Oh. I’ll look like a robber.”

  “Exactly.” Walt didn’t sound like she was joking.

  Butterbean nosed the metallic things. “And these must be?”

  “Guns,” Walt said. “Those are guns of some sort.”

  “Then that means—”

  “That means we need to go. Now.”

  “Okey dokey, then,” Butterbean said, trotting over to the door.

  Walt looked around for Chad, who was examining the contents of the kitchen cabinets. “Chad? Time to—”

  “OUT! OUT NOW!” Oscar flew in through the window, collapsing on the couch in a dramatic crash landing that made everyone duck for cover. “The Coin Man is on his way.”

  “What?” Walt and Butterbean stared at Oscar in panic.

  The elevator bell dinged in the hallway.

  Oscar’s eyes widened. “The Coin Man is here.”

  18

  WALT LEAPED TO HER FEET. “Oscar, GO! Start Operation Outside Authorities!” she screeched. “It’s all up to you now!”

  “Operation Outside Authorities, check,” Oscar echoed, launching himself out of the window.

  Chad scooted into the kitchen sink in record time. “I’m out of here. Good luck,” he called, sliding into the drain. “You’ll need it.”

  Butterbean turned to Walt. “What about us?”

  Walt looked around the apartment in desperation. She had some options—high places were always a good bet for a cat. But Butterbean had limited choices. The apartment didn’t seem to have any hiding places that would fit a small dog.

  “He’s coming!” Marco yelled from the vent. “Do something! Get out!”

  Walt turned to Butterbean. “Okay, we need to do a little distracting again. Operation Mini Distract. I need your nostril-licking skills.”

  Butterbean wagged her tail. “Sure thing!” She was always up for a good nasal probe. “This guy?” She nudged the sleeping man on the couch.

  “Go for it,” Walt said. If they woke the man up, there was a good chance he and the Coin Man would fight. And if they were fighting, they might not notice a smallish dog and cat slipping into the hallway.

  It was a chance, anyway.

  Butterbean leaned over and, with surgical precision, licked up the sleeping man’s nose. He wiped at his face with his hand.

  She licked again, doing the power move she liked to think of as the “brain lick.”

  The man swatted sleepily at his face, and his eyelids fluttered. Butterbean looked deep into his eyes and licked again. The man shrieked and staggered to his feet, scattering coins everywhere.

  Butterbean nodded. “Three licks usually does it.”

  The key turned in the lock.

  “BEAN, RUN!” Walt raced toward the front door.

  Butterbean leaped off the couch and skidded down the hallway, coming to a stop behind Walt just as the door started to open.

  Walt and Butterbean pressed themselves against the wall behind the door. The space was so small that the door was almost touching Butterbean’s nose. She turned her head to the side and squished herself flatter.

  “What is this?” The Coin Man’s voice was cold.

  Butterbean cringed. They’d been caught. She didn’t think she’d be able to cute her way out of this one.

  But nothing happened. She slowly opened one eye.

  The Coin Man was standing in front of the couch with a gold coin in his hand. He flipped it up into the air and caught it. Then he did it again. And he never once stopped staring at the Number Two Man, who was cringing back onto the sofa cushions and looking confused.

  “I… don’t know where this all came from. I just… it was just there.” Number Two winced as he said it. No one would ever believe that, especially not the Coin Man.

  He didn’t.

  “This all just appeared after you decided to ‘nap’?” He flipped the coin into the air again and caught it.

  “I must’ve been drugged?” Number Two watched the coin and swallowed hard. No one would believe that, either. Because it was ridiculous.

  “Yes, of course,” the Coin Man said, taking a step forward. “Drugged. By whom?”

  “I don’t know,” Number Two said softly.

  Walt nudged Butterbean hard. “Bean! Now! While we have a chance.”

  They stepped out carefully from behind the door. The Coin Man didn’t look around. Neither did the second man.

  Walt and Butterbean turned and ran down the hallway as fast as they could. When they reached the elevator, they stopped and looked back.

  There was no one following them. They’d made it. They were free.

  * * *

  Oscar kicked the phone in frustration. He’d called the police three times. He’d double-checked the number. He’d seen it on the Television, so he knew he was doing it right. But for some reason it wasn’t working the way it did on his shows.

  He dialed again.

  “District Eighteen Police Department, how can I help you?” The woman’s voice came through the phone lying on the table.

  Oscar cleared his throat. “I’d like to report a kidnapping please. The address is—”

  “I’m sorry, what? I can’t understand you. Speak up, please.”

  Oscar’s feathers puffed in frustration. He spoke as clearly as he could. “I. Would. Like. To. Report. A. Kidnapping.”

  “This number is for police matters, not for funny voices and jokes, young man. Don’t call again unless you have serious criminal activity to report.” The line went dead.

  Oscar stared at the phone in despair. The others were in danger, and there was nothing he could do. Operation Outside Authorities was going to fail. He couldn’t get anyone to understand him, let alone believe him. And he’d been so proud of his Human language skills.

  The door to the apartment opened, and Walt and Butterbean raced inside.

  “We did it!” Butterbean said.

  “Operation Divide and Conquer seems to be working well,” Walt said, hopping up onto the desk next to Oscar. “How’s Operation Outside Authorities?”

  Oscar gave Walt a pained look. “A failure. They won’t talk to me. They either think I’m prank calling, or they don’t understand me at all.”

  Walt nodded sympathetically. “Humans are terrible on the phone. Let’s try the software. They like talking to computers.”

  Walt went to the computer keyboard and typed carefully. She was a two-paw typist, but Oscar was surprised at how quick she was. She gestured toward the phone. “Could you dial for me? Call the emergency number.”

  Oscar nodded. “Good plan.” Maybe they’d be more helpful than the police.

  They slid the phone closer to the computer speaker and waited while it rang. “Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

  Walt hit a key on the computer.

  “I’d like to report a kidnapping,” a woman’s computer voice said.

  “IT’S THE ELEVATOR LADY!” Butterbean gasped.

  Walt frowned at her. “It’s not the elevator lady.”

  “What is your address, please?” the 911 operator said.

  Walt hit the computer button. “The Strathmore Building. The kidnappers are on the ninth floor of the Strathmore. Apartment 9B,” the computer voice said.

  “But, Walt!” Butterbean said, standing up to get a closer look at the computer.

  “It’s not her,” Walt said.

  Butterbean nosed at the speaker. “But… is it her sister?”

  Walt and Oscar exchanged glances.

  “Yes. It’s her sister,” Oscar said. He was going to need Walt to explain all of this when it was over. He didn’t even know if the elevator lady had a sister.

  Walt hit the button again. “The kidnappers have kidnapped a girl. She’s in danger. They are also coin thieves. They have stolen coins. Please hurry.”

  “May I have your name, ma’am?” the 911 operator asked.

  “Hang up, Oscar,” Walt whispered.

  “Ma
’am?”

  Oscar disconnected the phone.

  Walt sat back on her haunches. “Operation Outside Authorities complete.” She twitched an ear. “Let’s just hope it works.”

  * * *

  Marco had promised to keep watch over what happened in the apartment. And he would keep his promise. But nobody said he couldn’t cover his eyes and peek through his fingers.

  At least he hadn’t left his post at the grate. Wallace had retreated farther back into the vent and was sitting by the down vent, dangling his feet. It was all too intense for him.

  Nothing bad had even happened yet. But that almost made it worse. Marco was sure the Coin Man was going to snap at any second, and he definitely didn’t want to see what would happen to the Number Two Man then.

  “Has he killed the other man yet?” Wallace yelled to Marco. He didn’t want to see anything that was going on, but he didn’t want to miss any of it either.

  “Not yet,” Marco squeaked. It was only a matter of time, though. That was obvious. That Number Two Guy was super dead.

  “This is why I don’t come up here, Marco!” Wallace called over his shoulder. “THIS!” He stared down the vent tube. “I don’t enjoy carnage, Marco!”

  “Shh,” Marco said. He had to focus.

  “You think you can double-cross me?” The Coin Man loomed over the other man. He was speaking so quietly that Marco had to strain to hear him. Marco shivered. Yelling would have been easier to take, somehow. “You have made a mistake, my friend. You realize that? A very big mistake.”

  “I understand,” Number Two said. His eyes were on the floor.

  “When I left an hour ago, I had one problem and no coins. Now my coins are back, and I have two problems. So you know what that means?” The Coin Man carefully put the coin he’d been flipping on the coffee table and started to roll up his sleeves.

  “What?” Number Two whispered.

  “Soon I will have no problems. Because I’m going to make those problems go away.”