— 3 —

“SO THE FIRST THING WE need to do,” Oscar said, watching Mrs. Food carefully, “is to come up with a plan.”

Mrs. Food and Madison were in the dining room having breakfast. Oscar usually had his breakfast then too, but these were special circumstances. If the white cat was right, they didn’t have much time. His stomach would have to wait.

“Right,” Walt agreed. (She’d had her breakfast earlier.) “We need to figure out how Butterbean can make contact. Once we’ve done that, we can set up the meeting.”

Oscar cocked his head. “Butterbean, where do you usually run into Biscuit? Do you see him on your walk every day?”

“No,” Butterbean said, her mouth full of kibble. (Her stomach wasn’t worried about special circumstances.) “I mean, sometimes. But not always. It doesn’t matter, though.”

“I think it does, Butterbean,” Oscar said thoughtfully. “It will make planning harder.” Butterbean had never been the head of an International Crime Syndicate, so she obviously wasn’t aware of the detail involved.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” Butterbean said, drooling a little as she finished the kibble. “I have a plan already. It’s all set.”

Oscar blinked.

“You have a plan,” he said.

“Yup,” Butterbean said.

“It’s all set,” Oscar said.

“Yup,” Butterbean said, licking her food dish. “I worked it out with Marco and Polo. We’ve got it all figured out.”

“You worked it out. With Marco and Polo?” Oscar looked at the rats questioningly.

“We’re STEALTHY SPIES now, Oscar!” Polo said proudly. “We came up with a SUPER-SECRET PLAN.”

Marco nodded, doing some stretches. It was important to warm up before a super-secret spy mission. “We thought since it was our first mission—”

“Second mission,” Polo interrupted.

“Second mission,” Marco corrected himself. “We thought we should keep it simple. We could use extra help, though.”

“Are you in?” Polo asked, bobbing anxiously on the balls of her feet. “We need you, Oscar.”

“You too, Walt,” Marco said, doing air punches as he ran in place. “We need all the help we can get.”

“Trust us—it’s a solid plan,” Polo said. “It’s pretty much guaranteed to succeed.”

“Pretty much,” Marco agreed.

Walt shrugged. “We’re in,” she said. There was no point in arguing, not with those kind of odds. “Pretty much guaranteed success, Oscar,” she said with a raised eyebrow.

“So you’re, what, just hoping that you’ll run into Biscuit on your walk?” Oscar didn’t think that sounded like pretty much guaranteed success, especially given how easily Butterbean was distracted. It sounded like pretty much guaranteed failure.

“No,” Butterbean snorted. “Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, good, because—”

Butterbean sat up straighter. “I’m going to his apartment.”

Oscar stared at her. “You’re just… going to his apartment?” Well, it was a simple plan, he had to give them that much.

“Wait, what?” Walt tried to keep her expression neutral.

“Isn’t that perfect? We’ve got it all worked out,” Polo said.

“But you can’t fit in the vents,” Walt said slowly.

“We’re not using them,” Marco said. “Butterbean’s just taking a little detour on her walk. That’s all.”

Walt and Oscar exchanged a look. Oscar sighed. “Okay. Sure. What do we do?” He could already think of a million ways this could go wrong, but he wasn’t going to say anything. They weren’t supposed to be investigating things anyway. They were supposed to be retired.

“Okay, I’ll fill you in on the TOP SECRET PLANS,” Butterbean said, spraying a fine mist of kibble dust as she hurried over to Oscar’s cage. When she got there, she looked around carefully before leaning against the cage stand in her most casual way. She didn’t want to be too obvious.

“So this is the plan,” Butterbean whispered once she was sure no one was watching them. “When Mrs. Food and Madison finish breakfast, we’re going to—”

“Okay, Bean!” Madison called, getting up from the table and picking up Butterbean’s leash. “Come on. Time for your walk!”

Butterbean’s eyes got wide. “OH NO. OSCAR! OH NO!” She jumped to her feet, bumping Oscar’s cage and making it sway dangerously from side to side. Oscar clung to his perch. When he’d thought of a million ways that things could go wrong, he hadn’t thought of that.

Butterbean lolled her tongue out of her mouth as she trotted over to Madison. “You’ll know what to do. Just wait for the signal!” she called over her shoulder.

“Just follow our lead, okay, Oscar?” Polo shouted as she ran to the far end of the cage. “POSITIONS, EVERYBODY! Your position is, um, your cage, I guess, Oscar.”

Oscar got in position, which was pretty much the same place he’d been standing before.

“Don’t worry, Butterbean!” Marco yelled, as he took his position at the other end of the cage. “We’ve got you covered!”

Madison clipped the leash onto Butterbean’s collar. “Ready to go? We can’t waste time today. I don’t want to be late.” Even though Madison was living with Mrs. Food while her aunt was overseas, she still had to do regular human things like go to school.

Butterbean threw a significant look over her shoulder at Marco and Polo as she trotted behind Madison to the front door. She stood perfectly still as Madison put on her jacket and unlocked the door. But as soon as the door opened, she gave a low bark. “NOW!”

Marco and Polo sprang into action. Marco immediately started jumping as high as he could, so that he hit the lid of the cage. (He was particularly good at hitting it so that it made a hollow WHOOMP noise.) Polo’s specialty was doing running kicks at the water bottle, so that it clattered against the glass. It was pretty effective. The aquarium was vibrating so much, it looked like it might fall off the table.

“What the heck?” Madison said, looking back at the rat cage. “You guys! What are you doing?”

Oscar nodded to himself. “Distraction… I see. I can do distraction.” It wasn’t his usual assignment, but he was more than able to improvise. With a loud squawk he leaped from his perch and fluttered against the bars of his cage, making it sway back and forth.

“WHAT THE HECK?” Madison’s eyes grew wide. “OSCAR?”

Mrs. Food came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “What in the world?”

Madison dropped Butterbean’s leash and let go of the door as she hurried toward the animal cages. That was all the opening Butterbean needed. Taking a deep breath (and scooping up her leash in her mouth), Butterbean made a dash for it, slipping out of the door just as it swung shut. She was in the hallway before Madison even realized what was happening.

But she wasn’t alone. Walt was right behind her.

“Walt? You’re coming too?” Butterbean gasped as she raced for the elevator.

“Think of me as insurance,” Walt said.

Butterbean jumped up to hit the call button for the elevator, keeping one eye on Mrs. Food’s door at the end of the hall. She had to make it into the elevator before Madison noticed she was gone, or the whole plan would fall apart. And the elevator was slower than ever.

Walt sat and watched the numbers over the elevator. “So what happens if Madison comes out before the elevator gets here? Do you have a contingency plan?”

“Improvise,” Butterbean said. She’d seen a show about improvising once, and it seemed like a fancy way of making stuff up. She was good at making stuff up. Or at least she hoped she was.

The apartment door opened a crack. They could hear the ruckus inside. It looked like they were out of time.

Butterbean set her jaw. Time to improvise. She stood up. Not that she knew what she was going to do, that is. But standing up seemed to be an important first step.

But just as she did, the elevator dinged and the doors opened.

“RUN!” Butterbean yelled, dashing inside with Walt close behind. She jumped up, hitting the button for the second floor, and pawed at the close doors button. The doors started to close. Butterbean slumped against the wall. They’d made it.

The doors were almost completely shut when an arm shot into the elevator between them, making them bounce open again.

“HA!” Madison said, pushing her way inside. “Not so fast, you weird dog.” She bent down and picked up Butterbean’s leash. “What is wrong with you all today? You’re not going for a solo walk, Butterbean. Sheesh.” She leaned against the back of the elevator.

“So your plan is to just run out of the elevator?” Walt asked from her location behind Madison. She didn’t think she’d been spotted yet.

“When I get to the second floor, yeah, pretty much,” Butterbean said under her breath. She watched the numbers. Madison being in the elevator was not part of the plan, but she wasn’t giving up. Not yet.

“Second floor,” the elevator voice said. Butterbean leaned forward, her muscles tensed and ready.

The doors opened. Butterbean could hear Biscuit’s barks echoing from down the hall.

Butterbean sprang forward. And immediately flopped back as she reached the end of the leash. She didn’t even make it out of the elevator.

Madison shook her head and gave her a grim smile. “Nice try, dog,” she said. She had the leash in a tight grip and was holding it extra close. Madison had thought of everything.

“Well, shoot,” Butterbean said, standing up. The doors closed again. She was out of ideas. The next stop was the lobby. She didn’t know how to get back to the second floor once they got to the lobby.

“Ahem.” Walt stepped out of the shadowy corner and winked at Butterbean. “See? Insurance,” she said, sitting down and licking her paw.

Madison gasped. “Walt? You got out too?”

“Lobby,” the elevator voice said as the doors opened.

Madison blocked the exit. “Sorry, Bean, we’ve got to go back. We can’t go out until we take Walt back.” Madison hit the button for the fourth floor and then leaned down awkwardly to hold on to Walt to keep her from running away. “Stay here, Walt.”

She glanced at her watch. The last thing she needed was a tardy.

“Are you addressing me?”

Madison looked over her shoulder into the lobby and turned red. A middle-aged woman was staring at the three of them with a pinched expression. “Oh, I-I’m sorry,” Madison stammered. “I just—”

“Yes, I can see,” the woman said. “Quite the zoo. Thank you, but I’d prefer to wait.” She frowned at Butterbean with distaste.

Butterbean glared back. “Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six,” she muttered under her breath. They had a history.

“Thanks, I’m sorry, they just…” Madison said apologetically before trailing off and staring down at Walt. Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six raised an eyebrow.

Butterbean stared stonily at Mrs. Hates Dogs on Six until the doors started to close. Then she jumped up and hit the button for the second floor. She looked over at Walt. “Ready?”

“Ready,” Walt said.

“Second floor,” the elevator voice said.

The doors opened.

Walt and Butterbean both made a dash for the doors. Butterbean’s hind feet were moving so fast that they almost passed her front feet. The leash jerked, catching Madison by surprise this time and yanking her forward. The leash flew out of her hand.

“BUTTERBEAN!” Madison squealed as she hurried after them. This was not the way she had planned to spend her morning.

“BISCUIT! BISCUIT!” Butterbean yelled as she raced to Biscuit’s door and threw herself against it, clawing at the handle. “OPEN UP!”

It wouldn’t budge. “WHY DO PEOPLE LOCK THEIR DOORS!” Butterbean wailed as she tried again. “I CAN’T GET IN!”

Walt jumped up and rang the doorbell as she looked behind them. Madison had almost caught up. “Talk fast, Bean, we only have a second.”

“BISCUIT, IT’S BUTTERBEAN,” Butterbean barked through the door. “YOU NEED TO—”

She stopped abruptly. Because the front door had been thrown open.

In the doorway stood Biscuit’s human, Mrs. Biscuit.

“Um,” Butterbean said. She didn’t know what to say to Mrs. Biscuit. They’d never officially met.

“Um,” Mrs. Biscuit said, looking down at the dog and cat standing at her feet.

“Um,” Madison said, racing up behind them and looking back and forth between Mrs. Biscuit and Butterbean and Walt. This was pretty bad. She was definitely going to get in trouble for this.

Biscuit stuck his head out from behind Mrs. Biscuit’s legs. He had a wild look around the eyes, like he hadn’t slept at all. He stared at Butterbean in confusion. “Butterbean?”

“Biscuit, we need to talk,” Butterbean said. “Excuse me.” She pushed past Mrs. Biscuit’s legs and squeezed into the apartment. Walt slipped in on the other side.

Mrs. Biscuit blinked at Madison, who blinked back. “Um, hi?” Madison said after a long second. “So… I guess my dog wants to play with your dog?”

She was definitely going to be late.