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“I thought you said left, Ma’am?” Bart inquired respectfully.

“Turn left but stay in your lane!”

He coughed deferentially as the other car zoomed past. It, too, was in the wrong lane.“Ma’am, in this country we drive on the left.”

She uttered a startled little laugh.“Of course. I totally forgot.”

“Good thing you’re not driving, huh?” said Chase with a smile. He was rubbing her lower back and she was glad he was with her. Even if they struck out, she had to keep moving. If she just sat there on that couch she’d go nuts.

“We’re approaching a crossroads, Ma’am,” said the driver.

“Straight ahead,” she said.

The driver didn’t question her judgment. He simply did as he was told, which was a good thing, for she had absolutely no idea where she was going!

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Okay, so there was no way we could open that door from the inside, that much we’d ascertained. But how about the window? I pushed the button that operated the window and lo and behold! It inched down ever so slowly.

“Who’s going to jump?” asked Harriet.

We were going pretty fast, and jumping now would probably get us killed. Unless we could aim ourselves onto the shoulder, into the high grass.

I glanced out the window, but all I could see was a guardrail.

Not the best landing spot for a sensitive cat.

“I’ll go first,” said Brutus bravely.

“In this country it is customary for women and children to go first,” said Sweetie. She glanced at Harriet. “Which means we get to go first, then the prissy white cat, then the gray one and finally the fat, red cat.”

“I’m not a woman,” said Dooley.

“No, but you’re a child,” the corgi explained in a kindly tone.

“I’m not a child!” said Dooley.

“Fine, then you can go last,” Sweetie snapped.

The corgi darted a peek out the window, saw that guardrail, and retreated.“I’m not doing it,” she announced. “Not a chance. That jump will end me.”

The others seemed to agree, and darted expectant looks at me.

“You go, cat,” said Molly. “You go and call the police.”

“I’m not jumping,” I said. “I’ll break my neck.”

“No, you won’t. You’re fat. All that blubber will act like a cushion.”

“I’m not fat—I’m big-boned!”

“Of course you are,” said Sweetie. “Now jump already, will you? Cats have nine lives, while we dogs only have one. So what if you get smushed? You’ll still have eight lives left.”

“Unless he’s done this before,” Fr?ulein pointed out. “In which case he’ll only have seven lives left—or six.”

“Six lives is better than none,” Sweetie pointed out.

“It’s a myth!” I said. “We don’t have nine lives! If I die, that’s the end!”

“Max!” said Brutus. “Never tell our deepest secrets to a dog!”

He was right. We don’t spill the beans to dogs. Just like dogs will never open up to a cat about what makes them tick. It’s not done, trust me. It might give the other species the upper hand and that’s a big no-no in pet world.

“A collar,” I said. “Quick. Someone give me a collar.”

The corgis stared at me.“We’re not giving you our collars,” said Sweetie. “Do you have any idea how much these collars cost? This is gold plating, in case you didn’t know.”

“We’re leaving a trail of breadcrumbs!” I said. “Quick. Before the doofus finds out the window is open!”

“Why don’t you use your collar?” said Molly suspiciously.

“I don’t have one!”

“See?” said Sweetie. “I told you they’re street cats. Only street cats have no collars.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” I grunted, then took a firm grip on Sweetie’s collar and yanked. Of course the thing didn’t budge.

“Help!” she yelped. “He’s gone mad! He’s trying to kill me!”

“Oh, just give him the collar already,” said Fr?ulein. She pressed a paw to her friend’s collar and it clicked open. And as I swung it through the window, the driver glanced back, noticed the window was open, cursed and closed it.

I looked back at the collar, which was lying in the road. I just hoped Odelia would find it. Or else we were royally screwed.

Chapter 26

Odelia and Chase were still in hot pursuit, even though Odelia had a hard time trusting her instincts. Every road she took had the potential of leading them further and further away from her cats and the corgis. On the other hand, it might lead them closer and closer to where they were taking them…

“Police will catch him,” said Bart, as if he’d read her mind. “A network of sophisticated cameras covers a large part of the city. If he passes a camera they’ll be able to track him. He’s driving the Queen’s car, so he won’t get far.”

“Doesn’t the car have a tracking device?” asked Chase.

“It did. They took it out last year. The Queen’s husband didn’t like the idea of being tracked all the time. He likes to take the car for a spin, you see.”

“Too bad,” said Chase.

“It is,” said Bart. “Then again, you have to respect a person for not wanting to be tracked. There is still such a thing as privacy in this country.”

“Sometimes staying safe trumps privacy.”

“The Queen and her husband are set in their ways, sir.”