Henry chirped his agreement and they wandered through the crowd in the opposite direction of Ms. Luther. As Liz meandered around the room, Henry did his best to greet curious patrons as if he were nothing more than an ordinary tom. It made inspecting the artifacts displayed difficult and reading the ancient texts impossible. So much for my brilliant plan. He closed his eyes to slits as an elderly woman rubbed bony fingers beneath his chin, trying not to let on that it felt like dull knives caressing his jaw bone.

  Across the room, two men surveyed the gathering. Something about the way their gazes shifted from person to person, straying upward toward the recording devices mounted discreetly in the corners of the ceiling, made Henry suspicious. They ducked into a room behind a door marked “employees only” and he glimpsed one of the strange objects he’d seen on the story box that made loud noises and killed people. Alarmed, he patted Liz’s cheek to get her attention.

  “An affectionate little fellow, isn’t he,” the elderly woman said.

  “Yes, he is,” Liz said, patting his shoulder and ignoring him. Henry tried again, patting her cheek with a little more force.

  “Persistent, too,” the woman said and chuckled.

  “He may be hungry.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised, what with all the seafood canapes.”

  Henry tried not to growl as he shifted to jump to the floor. Liz clamped her hand on the scruff of his neck, pulling the skin upward like a mother cat.

  “I’m sorry, Michelle, but I need to take him somewhere to feed him.”

  “Not at all, my dear. Tah tah, little fellow.”

  Once they were out of earshot, Henry pretended to sniff Liz’s hair to get closer to her ear.

  “Two suspicious looking men went through the door in the back marked employees only.”

  “What makes you say they were suspicious?” Liz whispered.

  “Other than they were studying your security recording devices? One of them had a projectile firing contraption tucked into his waistband.”

  “A projectile—you mean a gun?”

  “If that’s what you call those things that kill people on the story box, then yes.”

  “Are you sure they weren’t security?”

  “I suppose that’s possible, but they weren’t acting as if they were here to protect the artifacts—or these people. If anything they acted as if they were in a hurry to do whatever they came to do and leave.”

  “We should tell someone,” Liz said, turning and searching the crowd.

  “And tell them what? That your publicity stunt cat saw two men enter a back room and he thinks one of them might be carrying a gun? As you continue to remind me, cat’s don’t talk.”

  “I could say I saw them.”

  “What if they ask for a description or other details?”

  “Well what do you suggest?”

  “Let me follow them.”

  “And what am I supposed to tell people when you’re not perched on my shoulder?”

  “You shut me in a private room to do my kitty business and have a snack. Humans in this era would understand that, wouldn’t they?”

  Liz shook her head. “I don’t like it. How are you going to protect yourself if they decide to shoot you?”

  “Firstly, I have magic, remember? Secondly, what is the likelihood they’ll risk firing their weapon here? The noise alone would bring security running. And lastly, who will suspect a cat of eavesdropping?”

  Henry gripped Liz’s shoulders with soft paws as they slumped.

  “All right, fine. You win. But be careful, okay?”

  “I’m nothing but careful.”

  Liz strolled toward the door, pausing from time to time to shake a patron’s hand or answer a question. Henry wanted to growl at the time wasted getting across the room, but he knew it would draw unwanted attention if he leaped from her shoulder, trotted to the door and magically opened it. How would Liz explain the door opening for him? After what seemed like much longer than it was, Liz placed her hand on the door knob. Henry checked to see if anyone was watching.

  “All clear,” he whispered.

  Liz pushed the door open just wide enough for him to jump through. He heard its soft click behind him as he padded away in the dark. Stopping to let his eyes adjust, he shifted his ears to catch any sounds.

  Filing cabinets stood like sentinels, creating two halls. The one to his left was the length of the room behind him. The other stretched into the distance, most likely the length of the library, and ended in a wall of shelves. Somewhere down that aisle was his prey. He heard soft scraping and shuffling, broken by the occasional whisper of paper. Henry padded down the makeshift hall toward the sounds.

  “Still don’t get why we don’t just grab everything and go,” said a male voice.

  “Shut it,” said another. “Boss wants one item. We get more’n that and we blow the deal. Blow the deal and we don’t get paid. Now do your job.”

  “All right. All right. But why we gotta wear these monkey suits?” Henry peered around the corner to see the man speaking pulling at his collar. “I feel like I’m bein’ strangled.”

  “How else we gonna pull this off at a classy event like this?”

  “We coulda broken in later.”

  The other man smacked his partner on the back of his head, making him overbalance into the filing cabinet he was rifling through and slamming his fingers in the drawer. The younger man yanked his hand free and hopped in place, clutching his wounded fingers.

  “I already told, ya, stupid. The Boss wants one thing and no attention. We break in, we draw attention. And then what happens?” the one in charge asked, towering over his partner.

  “We blow the deal.”

  “And what happens to us if we blow the deal?”

  “We don’t get paid.”

  “And if we’re lucky that’s all that happens. Now get back to work.”

  “Fine, but I still don’t see why we can’t go back there and bag it. Can’t be that many fancy cat collars in that junk.”

  He flattened himself against the filing cabinet he was peering around as the man in charge turned, his flashlight beam illuminating the floor a whisker width from his nose. The thieves went back to shuffling through files in silence.

  Curiosity prickled through Henry’s fur. While all the exhibits he’d seen in the displays were priceless as far as history went, he’d seen nothing of value worth stealing, let alone a feline medallion. Henry stared down the makeshift hall toward the shelves lined with artifacts. Whatever they were looking for would be on one of those shelves. He glanced at the men, making sure they were busy and wouldn’t look in his direction, then bellied forward. Henry gaped at the number of shelves running the length of the room. More lined the wall to his left, down another short hall of filing cabinets. How am I going to find whatever it is they’re looking for?

  A file drawer closed behind him, followed by footsteps and the men’s soft voices. Henry thought fast. If he squeezed behind the dog sized statue on the shelf beside him, he’d have a decent view of the men as they searched the other shelves. He tucked his tail around his paws before the flashlight beam crossed the floor where he’d been.

  Henry peered around the statue as they passed and watched them intently. The men ambled down the makeshift hall, shining their flashlights on the paw-sized labels on each shelf as they passed. The one in charge stopped about a third of the way down. He raised his beam upward for a moment, then back down to the small piece of paper he held.

  “This is it,” he said.

  The other man stared upward. “How we supposed to get way up there?”

  “With a ladder, stupid.” He smacked the back of the man’s head again.

  “Go get it,” the older man said, pointing in the opposite direction toward a triangle shaped ladder on wheels.

  Henry slunk into the open, careful to keep an eye on the men’s turned backs. He glanced upward, calculating the amount of power he’d need to help make the jump to the right row of shelves, then whispered the incantation to boost himself to the shelf. He snaked past artifacts, eeling his way closer to whatever medallion the two thieves were after, hoping he would get there before they did.

  The younger outlaw popped into view. Henry froze. He could have reached a paw out and shaved the man’s day-old growth with a claw. When the man turned his attention the other direction, he sat up straight. Think statue. Think statue. As the flashlight beam crossed toward him, he shut his eyes.

  “Well?” called the one in charge.

  “I’m lookin’.”

  The light passed over him again. He opened his eyes a slit to watch the thief search the boxes half a cat length in front of him. The young man grew more agitated the longer he searched. Finally he looked back at his partner.

  “It ain’t here.”

  “What do ya mean it’s not there?”

  “I mean it ain’t on this shelf.”

  “You must be blind. Get down and let me have a look.”

  The thief disappeared from view, leaving Henry in the dark again. He heard the two men jostling below as they exchanged places and knew he’d no more than a few heartbeats before the man in charge appeared.

  Henry opened his mage sight and searched the nearby objects, hoping whatever they were looking for would have a tell tale magical signature. There was a flash from a small round disk within paw reach. He snagged the little object by its string and tucked it under his foot, freezing again as the older man came into view. The man’s beam swung toward him.

  “What the—? There’s a cat up here.”

  “What kinda cat?”

  “Brown... long-hair... I don’t know. A cat.”

  “Maybe its got the necklace.”

  “Why would it have the necklace?”

  “Maybe it likes pretty things.”

  “What are you sayin’? This thing’s a thief?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Yeah, right. It’s a regular cat burglar. You got some wild imagination,” the man in charge said. “Scram, cat.”

  The man made a shooing motion. Henry ducked, but stayed where he was. The man rolled his eyes and turned his flashlight toward the boxes his partner had rifled through earlier. He shifted the artifacts around with a meaty hand, then frowned. The man grabbed his paper from his jacket pocket and shown his beam on it. He leaned back to read the shelf label.

  “Somebody’s messin’ with us. It’s not here.”

  “That’s what I said,” called the younger thief from below.

  “Shut up.” The man in charge turned his flashlight downward. “For all I know, you pocketed it while you was up here.”

  “What? Are you nuts?”

  “Turn out your pockets,” the older thief said, his voice lowering to a growl.

  “I didn’t take the blasted necklace.”

  The man reached into his coat and drew the gun Henry had seen earlier.

  “I said, turn out your pockets.”

  “All right. All right.”

  Henry heard the sound of cloth moving and small objects being laid on one of the lower steps. He bent to pick the medallion’s string up in his teeth, watching the older man for any sign he noticed his movements, then backed away. Something jangled as Henry brushed past. The thieves’ beams spotlighted him, the medallion dangling from the string in his mouth.

  “The cat. He’s got the necklace,” shouted the younger robber.

  “I know he’s got the necklace, you moron. Get over there in case he jumps.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Catch him, stupid.”

  Henry wondered if the young man was nimble enough to catch a tossed ball, let alone a leaping feline. Either way, it didn’t matter. He focused on the man on the ladder, watching the hand holding the gun as he backed further away.

  “Here kitty, kitty. Give me the pretty necklace.”

  Henry backed away. The scrape of metal against the floor alerted him to another ladder being moved behind him. He glanced back to see the young thief reaching toward him. A moment more and there’d be no escape. Henry gathered himself and leapt toward the floor, bracing himself for a three-legged impact.

  Rough hands wrapped around his stomach in a vise-like grip. Henry wriggled and twisted, growling through teeth clenched around the cord. He felt his claws rip through soft flesh. Man-in-charge let go with a curse and Henry fled down the makeshift hall, hearing the two men argue about shooting him.

  He skidded around a corner and ducked between two filing cabinets, curling into a ball over his prize and closing his eyes. Henry listened intently as the thieves searched for him, catching the sound of the door locking. His mind raced. There’d be no help from the party.

  Footsteps approached. He scooted back as far as he could, forcing his body to curled tighter despite his screaming shoulder. The footsteps passed by and Henry took a shuddering breath. An idea whispered through his mind. He swiveled his ears, checking to see where the thieves were, then darted out. With fear spurring him on, Henry bellied to the statue he’d hid behind earlier and switch its medallion for the one he carried.

  He said a quick prayer that the thieves weren’t observant and headed toward the locked door, dropping the switched medallion in plain sight on the way. Aided by real fear, Henry scratched on the door, putting his full weight behind each slide of claws to draw the thieves. The men pounded up behind him and their beams illuminated him like a performer on stage. He turned, hunkering down and growling.

  “Nice kitty,” said the younger thief. His beam lowered, showing he was bending over. The man’s hand inched into the light, beckoning him. “Just give us the pretty and we’ll let you out.”

  “You’re stupider than you look if you think that cat’s gonna give it to you just ‘cause you ask it.”

  “You got a better idea?” The young man’s light flashed toward Man-in-Charge, brushing over the medallion on the floor.

  “Wait. What’s that.”

  “What’s what?”

  Man-in-Charge’s beam searched along the floor, stopping on the necklace. He stepped toward it, picked it up in his bandaged hand and studied it. Henry held his breath. The older thief’s light turned back on him as he pocketed the medallion.

  “Looks like you ain’t as dumb as you look. Let’s go.” He switched off his flashlight and headed in the opposite direction.

  “Wait,” the younger marauder said, swinging his light on Man-in-Charge, “What about the cat?”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s locked in.”

  “That’s his problem,” Man-in-Charge said with a one-shoulder shrug. He turned again to leave.

  “But what if someone doesn’t find it in here?”

  “So what?” the older thief said, turning and throwing his hands out.

  “He might die.”

  “And that’s a problem?”

  “But—”

  “Look, we got what we came for. We stay any longer and we risk getting nabbed. Now—” He grabbed the young man’s shoulder and shoved the gun in his chest. “Let’s go.”

  The young man’s beam trembled. Henry’s eyes widened. He felt like he’d been dropped into a story on Liz’s TV. He waited for the explosion of sound from the gun. The room remained silent. The young criminal nodded and shifted toward the back of the room.

  “Good boy,” Man-in-charge said as he pushed the gun into the back of his waistband. The young thief took two steps and stopped.

  “What if someone comes looking for it?”

  “Oh for the love of—. Forget about the cat already.”

  “But you said the boss doesn’t want any attention on this. If someone finds the cat in here, wouldn’t there be questions about how he got locked in?”

  Man-in-Charge stared at Henry, then looked down at his injured hand. When he looked back at him, his top lip lifted and his nose wrinkled as if he were looking at something foul.

  “You deal with it. But—” he said, shoving his finger into the young thief’s chest, “do it quietly. No witnesses, got it?”

  The young man nodded. Man-in-Charge jabbed his finger into the other’s chest once more and strode away toward the back. At the quiet sound of a closing door, the young criminal turned his light back on Henry. He inched his way forward, the beam aimed slightly away as if he didn’t want to blind him, until he was no more than a cat length away. Henry tensed to run. The young man leaned forward.

  “It’s okay, kitty, I won’t hurt’cha,” he said, his hand near the door handle over Henry’s head. He stared at the man’s hand, waiting for it to swoop downward. He reached farther, placing his hand on the dead-bolt. The locked clicked open. Henry blinked.

  “I’m gonna let you out now,” the man said. “Don’t go followin’ strangers into locked rooms no more, K?”

  He stopped himself before he nodded. The young thief opened the door wide enough for him to squeeze through and he darted out. Once on the other side, Henry licked his ruff to calm himself and trotted into view. He paced among the elegantly clad legs, pausing when someone wanted to pet him, until he found Liz.

  “There you are,” she said, picking him up and placing him back on her shoulder. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d fallen asleep after your snack.”

  “Oh, my little dearies do that,” said the elderly woman Liz had been talking to.

  “It’s time to go, Mother,” another woman said, gently touching the elderly woman’s arm. She smiled at Liz. “Thank you for the lovely evening. Mother’s always been a staunch supporter of the library.”

  “That’s good to hear. We appreciate all our patrons.”

  With a nod, the women left. Liz stroked Henry’s head and turned away.

  “Did you figure out who they were?” she whispered.

  “They snuck out the back before I caught them,” he lied.

  “Were they thieves? Maybe they took something.”

  Henry patted at her fingers with soft paws, drawing them toward his mouth as if he was intensely interested in their scent.

  “I don’t think so. They were probably security going outside to check the perimeter.”

 

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