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.”
“No, please…” the second man whispered again. “Please.”
Marco stood up. He was already going to have nightmares for a month, and he didn’t see how watching this was going to help Polo. He wasn’t even sure how she was going to get out. It didn’t look like Walt’s plan was going to work after all.
“Can you watch the living room for a minute?” Marco asked. “I want to check on Polo.” Even if he couldn’t help her, he could be there for moral support.
“I can’t watch! You KNOW that!” Wallace said. “I never should’ve agreed to this.” Wallace didn’t know why he’d gotten mixed up with those weird apartment rats. He didn’t need new friends. He had plenty of friends on the loading docks. Sure, they didn’t have sunflower seeds, but who cared about that? He’d been meaning to give up sunflower seeds anyway.
Marco glared at the back of Wallace’s head. He felt like punching something. “Come on, Wallace, I just need—”
With a loud crash, the door to the apartment burst open. Marco gasped.
“What? What is it?” Wallace called, twisting around to look.
“WHOOHOOO!” Marco climbed up onto the grate to get a better view. “Wallace, LOOK! It worked!”
“What worked?” Wallace hopped to his feet and took a few steps toward the grate before stopping. He didn’t want to go back. But he really didn’t want to miss out. “What is it?”
“It’s the police!” Marco stuck his face through one of the holes in the grate and cheered. Not that anyone inside noticed him, but he thought it was appropriate anyway.
Wallace rushed to stand beside him. The apartment was crawling with police officers. The Coin Man and the Number Two Man were both handcuffed. Number Two was sobbing, with what Marco secretly suspected was relief. (Because if those police hadn’t shown up, he would’ve been totally dead.)
Wallace pointed toward the bathroom door. “Marco, look!”
A police officer moved the chair away from the door and pushed it open. A very dazed-looking Madison stepped tentatively into the room. Two more officers rushed forward and helped her to the couch.
“Do you see her?” Marco said, craning his neck to get a better view. She had to be okay. “Can you see Polo?”
“There!” Wallace pointed again. “Look at the pocket!”
Polo’s head had popped up out of Madison’s pocket. She was grinning from ear to ear, and when she saw Marco and Wallace in the grate, she gave them a thumbs-up.
Marco gave her a thumbs-up too, then leaned down to put his head between his knees. He needed to take some deep, cleansing breaths.
“I’d get you a paper bag to breathe into,” Wallace said. “But it would be too big.”
“I’ll be okay,” Marco said. “I just need a minute.”
Wallace patted him on the back. “I understand. Hey, what’s Polo doing?”
Marco stood up and looked into the room again. Polo was hanging out of the jacket pocket and clutching the material of Madison’s sweater.
Madison didn’t notice, and neither did the police officer taking her statement.
In just a few seconds, Polo withdrew back into the pocket. Looking up at the vent grate, she held up her hand triumphantly.
She had a new button.