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.
[Êàðòèíêà: img_39]
“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.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_3]
18
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
[Êàðòèíêà: img_40]
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.