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.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]
16
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
[Êàðòèíêà: img_36]
“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 say. 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.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_37]
“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.