by Deanna Kent
The CCIA agent listened intently to Ophelia, occasionally panting. He was oblivious to the work she was doing with the mop and the file. When he spoke, he seemed pleased with himself. “What you and the FFBI do is constantly break rules. The CCIA must maintain paw and order at all costs! It is our one and only mandate. Our motto! And now we’ll finally have you behind bars!”
“Well, live and let live is what I always say.” Ophelia smiled and stood up to look him in the eyes. “I’m all for paw and order, sir,” she stated, “but the thing is, I’ve got a very important competition to win today.”
She’d outwitted the silly dogs! Above her, Ophelia could hear the chaos and mayhem. There was yelling and the thudding of paws and feet as everyone ran around, panicked by the alarm bells she’d set off. Ophelia wasn’t home free yet. She knew she had to keep her cool. It wouldn’t take the guards too long to realize what had happened.
Carefully, Ophelia freed her file from the mop head. Then she grabbed the massive gem.
There was only one other annoying detail to worry about. She still had to get the fish. “Oscar!” she said into her microphone. “I got it! And I have a very good story for you. It involves dogs and the woof. I mean the roof. Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
The Mew-seum’s alarm was still blaring as she ditched her disguise and crawled through an air vent that led to the main floor. Quickly (but with an appropriate amount of elegance), she got lost in the mass of people exiting the building.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of frustrated CCIA members sniffing the crowds. Head lowered, she continued to the door. Just before the entire Mew-seum was locked down, she vanished.
She couldn’t help but strut a bit as she walked toward the bakery where Oscar was waiting. It was a lot of excitement for one day! She felt exhilarated and exhausted.
Her plan was to shop for a new hat, then head to Brussels and claim her prize. After that, maybe she’d treat herself to a fancy spa where she could unwind. But first, she’d collect her pesky inventor and gloat about the diamond before she (once again) sent him packing.
Near the bakery, she looked for the fish. Suddenly, her stomach sank like an anchor.
Pierre! In one hand, he held a cookie. In the other, he held a small plastic bag. As Ophelia got closer, she confirmed that the little bag had a small fish inventor inside—and from the amount of frantic bubbles he was churning up, he was obviously distressed.
“There are plenty of fish in the sea. And that’s where they should stay.”
—Ophelia von Hairball V
13
TIP THE SCALES
Pierre’s single eyebrow was larger-than-life, and Ophelia wanted to tell him that his blue satin suit wasn’t appropriate for a bakery patio—or anywhere on Earth. Instead, she simply gave him her very best glare.
“Well, hello, cousin! Do take a seat.” Pierre oozed smugness. He set the plastic bag on the table but kept it close. Inside, poor Oscar looked terrified.
Ophelia’s first instinct was to tell Pierre to flush the fish, and she could keep walking with her diamond. But her insides were sparking with FUR-Y! How dare Pierre steal her inventor?!
Ophelia sat down in angry silence, and Simon the waiter approached the table. If he knew something fishy was going on, he didn’t show it. “I do hope you got to view the diamond?” Simon inquired innocently. “There was quite a kerfuffle across the street….”
“I was lucky enough to see the gem,” she responded quietly. “It’s impressive.” She wished she could safely signal Simon to grab the plastic bag and save Oscar, but Ophelia thought that in Pierre’s desperation to win the Purr-fect Heist Competition, he might go to extreme measures. Ophelia decided she needed to handle the situation delicately. After taking their snack orders, Simon walked away.
“Cat got your tongue, cousin?” Pierre hissed. “You might win the staring contest, but if you want your little finned friend back in one piece, I’m going to need that diamond from you.” His sneer made Ophelia’s stomach churn. “Have anything to say?”
“Like what, Pierre? Like you were too chicken to go get the diamond yourself? So, as usual, you waited for me to do the hard work? You call yourself a cat burglar, but you don’t deserve the title.”
Pierre’s eyes narrowed. Close up, his furrowed brow was menacing. “I do deserve it! I’m as fancy and classy as you are! You’re just mad because I outsmarted you this time. You see, once I realized you weren’t going to give up, I decided to make it easy on myself.”
Ophelia knew what she had to do. “I’ll give you the diamond but not the bag.”
Her cousin scrunched his face. “Oh! You’re so mean! I still don’t know why Grandma gave you that bag and me an ugly sweater. Fish for the bag. Fair trade.”
Oscar, who had been silent during the negotiations, piped up. “Um … slightly embarrassing, but if you don’t mind, Pierre, can you please give Ophelia my suitcase as well? I don’t have any other clean underwear with me.”
Pierre placed Oscar and his small suitcase in the middle of the table. “I don’t want your ridiculous inventor or his soggy underwear. For your information, I was just awarded an amazing inventor of my own. His name is Norman.”
Ophelia choked down a giggle and suppressed the urge to tell him to get an exterminator and start loving knock-knock jokes. “Pierre, even if you take this diamond from me and win the Purr-fect Heist Competition, you’ll never be the FFBI’s number-one cat burglar. Not ever.”
He sneered. “Really? For this particular competition, the FFBI only requires that I get the diamond to their Brussels HQ first. They don’t care how it all happens. And once I win even one of these big competitions, doubt will be cast on your superiority.”
She knew he was right. For a moment, Ophelia seriously pondered the possibility of saying no—of leaving the fish with Pierre. Did she really care if Oscar became sushi? He was her seventeenth inventor after all, and if he disappeared, the FFBI might finally realize that she shouldn’t have one. Besides, the fish had brought this on himself. If he hadn’t stowed away in her travel crate, he wouldn’t have ended up trapped in a plastic bag!
But a couple of thoughts swirled around in Ophelia’s mind. If Oscar hadn’t come along, I might be in Norway! If Oscar hadn’t built that boat, I might have been stranded forever … on a garbage barge! And if Oscar hadn’t transmitted the message about the Mew-seum’s new security, I might be in CCIA custody!
“All right, all right,” Ophelia conceded. Reluctantly, she put her special-ops handbag on the table. “My bag for the fish.”
Pierre smirked. “I guess this is good-bye, then. To celebrate me getting the diamond, I’m throwing myself a very fancy party on my yacht tonight at the Port of Le Havre,” he bragged. “Then, as I sleep, my captain will transport me to Brussels. I’ll arrive just in time—and well rested—to give my victory speech!” He frowned and his eyebrow formed a V. “I was thinking about mentioning you but decided against it.” He gave them a wave. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
Ophelia’s whiskers twitched as her archrival trotted off. She quickly freed the tiny inventor from his small plastic prison.
Oscar straightened his collar. “Well done! Thank you for making the trade. I have to say, when that rascal scooped me up, I thought I was shark bait. The odds of you trading the Himalayan diamond for me seemed minuscule. I’m so glad I was wrong!”
“Zip it, fish.” Ophelia looked deep into his bulgy eyes. “Tell me you are still carrying that ridiculous scuba suit you made. Also, give me assurances that it’s scientifically guaranteed to be COMPLETELY waterproof.”
“Well, yes. Of course I brought it. Take a look for yourself!” He popped open his suitcase and two matching scuba suits emerged. “I actually made two, so we can be a team. Do you just love the logo? O2! Oscar and Ophelia! Get it? We have a team code name!”
Ophelia shook her head. “You’re a fish! You don’t need a scuba suit!”<
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Oscar blinked and looked offended. “Obviously. But it’s a fashion statement, Ophelia. It shows I’m a team player. Unlike some cats I know.”
Ophelia rolled her eyes. “Is mine really water-proof?”
“Of course it’s waterproof,” he chided. “I told you, I’ve got the best gadget gills on the planet.” He perched his fins on the table and his eyes twinkled. “So are we going swimming together or what?!” Oscar asked.
Ophelia’s tail swished. “Indeed we are, small-fry. Pierre said he was on a yacht, right? Your team dream is about to come true. You will assist me in stealing that diamond … again.”
“When all hope seems lost, check the last handbag you used. It might still be there.”
—Ophelia von Hairball V
14
GOLD-FIN-GER
Oscar’s smile was magnified through his S.P.I.T. “Are we really going to steal back the diamond as a team?” They sat together, waiting for Simon to lock up the bakery.
“You bet your gold fins we are,” Ophelia vowed. Oscar beamed. “But we’re going to have to time this just right. The moment Pierre goes to sleep, we’ll have a small window to take back the gem. If we wait too long, his yacht will be gone.”
Simon chimed in. “I’ll drive you to the Port of Le Havre now.”
Oscar checked his clock. “We’re really cutting this close. What if we can’t find his boat?”
Ophelia nodded. “Trust me, it won’t be hard to see Pierre’s boat. What I’m worried about is the CCIA. Even if we’re careful, Pierre probably hasn’t been. I’m sure those dogs have followed him. Simon, do you know a route down to the Port that bypasses the main road?”
“But of course.”
As the sun set, Simon dropped the duo off by the water. “Good luck, friends! If you ever need more help—or baked goods—look me up!”
“We owe you,” Ophelia told him.
“Vo-treh coolay la form de la fermay de poms de tear de ma grand-mare!” Oscar bellowed at him, and waved good-bye.
“You know,” Ophelia advised the fish, “you just told him that his butt is the shape of your grandmother’s potato farm.”
“Oh.” He shrugged. “I guess I’ll need to come back to Paris again to practice my French.”
From the road, Oscar and Ophelia walked down to the dock. They were hidden by large trees and shrubs. Once they got to the water, they changed into their matching scuba suits. The moon was full, and it cast a beautiful light onto the waves. As Ophelia had predicted, Pierre’s yacht was a bobbing beacon of tacky, neon lights.
“We’ll hide in these bushes,” Ophelia told Oscar when she’d scoped out a spot. “Leave your suitcase here; we’ll pick it up after. As soon as the fancy lights turn off, it’s go time! We need to get the diamond off that boat before it leaves for Brussels!”
“Ow!” Oscar exclaimed, trying to settle into the bush. “It’s a fact that foliage and fish don’t really go together very well.”
“Being out in the field is not always luxuri-ous,” Ophelia agreed. “Despite the fact that I always look the face of glamour, I sometimes have to perform purr-fect crimes sans my fur products!”
“I can’t even imagine the horror,” Oscar teased. “I’ve never been to a fur salon.”
“Shhh! There he is!”
Pierre was out on the bow of his ship, cavorting wildly in his gaudy, striped pajamas.
Ophelia reminded Oscar of the plan she’d devised. “Remember, when we get to the boat, I need to steal my whole special-ops bag back.”
“Why the whole bag?” he asked. “It’ll be easier to swim back with just the diamond. Surely Pierre’s already taken out the gem.”
“I don’t think so,” she said. “That handbag isn’t easy to get into. There’s a heavy-duty lock on the zipper. To get it undone, he’ll need some time. Right now, he’s too focused on celebrating.”
“Maybe.” Oscar nodded. “But if that was me, I’d just rip the bag and grab the diamond.”
“Trust me, fish. Pierre can’t stand that Grandma gave me that premium thief’s bag and he got that one-of-a-kind sweater. His dream is to steal it and flaunt it at every family reunion.” She looked determined. “That will not happen.”
They watched from the dock as Pierre continued to dance. The sound of the waves slapping the boats made Ophelia yawn. She longed to be at home in her own bed, getting the beauty sleep she deserved.
“Hey, Ophelia? Do you like the scuba suit I made?” Oscar asked out of the blue. Ophelia stretched.
“It does make me feel rather powerful.” She admired herself in the sea’s reflection, impressed with Oscar’s design. “It’s comfortable, too.”
“I was thinking that once we’re home, I could design a classic cat burglar outfit for you out of really durable fabric. I could make you a custom mask, too—if you want.”
She nodded and felt a fizzle of something unfamiliar. Comradery?
“I’d like that. Where did you learn about fashion?” she asked.
Ophelia could see Oscar’s grin through his S.P.I.T. “I was always interested in designing things—fashion included! And the feeling when I come up with an outfit and integrate the perfect gadg—”
The lights on the yacht started to go out, one by one. Oscar’s (already very bulgy) eyes got wide. “I think Pierre is going to bed!”
Ophelia took a deep breath. “All right, fish. Himalayan Heist part deux kicks in now. Lead the way through the water. This suit better not leak.”
“It won’t! I’m the best scientist and inventor you’ll ever meet.”
Ophelia’s determination won out over her dread, and she jumped into the water behind Oscar. She was breathing hard to keep up with his swimming fins, but the suit gave her buoyancy and kept her dry.
Once at Pierre’s boat, they found the ladder and silently climbed aboard.
“Watch where you step!” Oscar whispered. Mismatched and tarnished lanterns, tacky pictures, and ugly knickknacks lined every available space. “With all this junk, I’m surprised this yacht hasn’t sunk.”
“We can only hope,” Ophelia replied, “that its sinking will happen soon—after we’re long gone, of course.”
Naturally, Stealth was Ophelia’s middle name (really, that’s her middle name) and as Oscar stood guard, she tiptoed her way inside around Pierre’s trinkets. Room by room, she searched for her bag. Alas, it was nowhere to be found. There was only one room left to search. She returned to the fish.
“My bag must be in his bedroom,” she reported.
Oscar was optimistic. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re a cat burglar. Just remember to be ultra-quiet! And fast!”
“It’s not that easy,” Ophelia admitted. “My whole family is known for sleeping lightly. If I even breathe inside his room, Pierre will wake up. But I might have an idea.” Ophelia beckoned for Oscar to come around the side of the boat. “Pierre left his window open….”
Sure enough, through the porthole in his bedroom, they could see a nodded-off Norman and a snoring Pierre hugging Ophelia’s bag. “Look what he’s snuggling! My Captain Claw-some action figure!” she exclaimed with fury. “I want it back!”
She looked around the deck and grabbed a fishing rod. “Can you use one of these, Oscar? You seem very precise.”
Oscar gasped. “Never! It’s against my principles.”
“Please?” Ophelia asked him.
With disdain, Oscar stared at the fishing rod. “Nope.” The fish held his ground. “I’m not doing it. But you go ahead. If you cast it at just the right angle, you’ll have no trouble.”
Behind them, the engine of the boat started to rumble, and they heard the anchor being pulled up. They were out of time!
“HISS! I have to leave Captain Claw-some here.” As she cast a perfect line and hooked her bag, Ophelia whispered, “I’ll get you back one day, Captain Claw-some!”
Ophelia carefully folded her note into a miniature paper airplane and sent it sailing through Pierre’s b
edroom window. It hit his forehead and got stuck in his unibrow. He belted out an angry howl as Ophelia and Oscar dove back into the water and headed for shore.
Dry as a bone inside her scuba gear, Ophelia happily swam behind the fish, the gem once again hers. She couldn’t be sure, but Ophelia thought they swam right past a boat with the CCIA logo on its stern.
When they were safely on land, the pair made their way to the airstrip at Le Havre and Ophelia arranged for a tiny chartered plane. “Please get us over to Brussels, ASAP!” Ophelia told the pilot. “We have a rather important party to attend.”
“Stay classy, world.”
—Ophelia von Hairball V
15
CRIMINAL MEWS-TERMIND
Remember this! Dramatic entrances—or exits—always matter,” Ophelia said, admiring her fabulous new wingsuit.
“Well, you better hope the wind doesn’t work against us. We’re racing the clock here. As you requested, I put in a call to MEW to let her know you got the gem. She’s expecting you onstage in ten minutes.”
“I’m never late. It’s a fact. Therefore, the wind shall cooperate fully. Look at the amazing things this breeze is doing to my fur!”
As she flew through the clouds, Ophelia practiced her Purr-fect Heist Competition speech. She was careful not to move her lips, because Oscar had attached a video camera to her helmet so she could take stunning aerial selfies.