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“Ninth floor,” the elevator woman said as the doors opened.

Butterbean and Walt cautiously peered out into the hallway.

It was empty.

Butterbean dropped her squeaky carrot in front of the elevator-door sensor, gave it an affectionate pat, and stepped over it into the hallway. She’d always liked that carrot, and now it was going to make sure they had a clean getaway.

Walt was already by the apartment door. (She was less sentimental about the carrot.)“Everyone should be in place,” Walt said. “Now we just wait for the signal.”

“Okay,” Butterbean said. She listened as hard as she could.

From inside the apartment, they heard a thin, shrill whistle.

Butterbean and Walt looked at each other and nodded. And then they opened their mouths and started to scream.

Walt’s screech sounded like she’d gotten her tail caught in the elevator door. Butterbean decided to alternate between howling and rapid-fire barking that lifted her off her feet. But the noise was incredible. The hallway had great acoustics.

They’d only been at it a minute when the door to the apartment jerked open, and the Number Two Man inside stared at them in surprise.

“Get ready,” Walt yowled.

Butterbean braced herself. This was the part of the plan where the man ran out of the apartment and tried to grab them. She’d even come up with some fancy evasive maneuvers. Bouncing off the walls—that type of thing.

But there was one problem. The man didn’t move. He just stood in the doorway and stared at them like they were animal carolers with too much holiday spirit (and a defective calendar).

Butterbean frowned.“Now what?” she howled at Walt.

Walt shot a sidelong glance at Butterbean.“Me, head. You, feet.”

Butterbean nodded and threw herself at the man’s feet, grabbing at his pants leg and tugging him into the hallway. Walt waited until he started staggering forward, then launched herself at his face, grabbing on to his ears with both paws and twisting around his head.

“AAHHHHH!” the man screamed.

“This should do it,” Walt screeched, nipping the fleshy part of his ear. She made a face. It wasn’t clean.

Butterbean barked in approval and grabbed at his shoes. They weren’t clean either, but a little dirt never bothered Butterbean.

When he heard the commotion in the hallway, Oscar sprang into action, pushing the curtains aside and hopping onto the table.

He scanned the room, but he didn’t see Chad. That wasn’t good. Chad was his contact. Without the octopus, the whole plan would fall apart.

“Curtains! Look on the floor by the curtains!”

Oscar peered up at the grate. A tiny rat arm was waving at him, and he could see a sparkly flash. Polo. Oscar looked down just in time to see part of the curtains detach and move away toward the living room. It changed color as it walked, slowly turning from a muddy-brown piece of curtain to a lighter grayish-beige octopus. Chad.

Oscar flexed his wings. He hoped he was up to this. After all, he did have a bad back.

Chad quickly pulled himself across the living room, ignoring the commotion in the hallway. Oscar decided to ignore it too. He didn’t even want to know what Butterbean and Walt were doing out there.

Chad whipped a tentacle around the handle of the cabinet end table and jerked it open. The small duffel bag was there, just as Marco and Polo had said it would be. Oscar caught his breath. The treasure was real.

Chad dragged the duffel bag out, and Oscar tugged at the zipper. Gold coins spilled onto the floor.

“Nice haul,” Chad said.

Oscar nodded, picking up the loose coins with his beak and dropping them back into the bag. They couldn’t get sloppy. If this went well, the men wouldn’t even know they’d been robbed until the animals were long gone. They couldn’t leave a single trace of evidence behind.

Oscar zipped the bag back up and grabbed the handles with his feet. Then he braced himself. This was it.

He took a deep breath, flapped his wings, and lifted up into the air. Then, using every bit of strength he had, he flew slowly over to the window. Going slow wasn’t part of the plan, but Oscar couldn’t go any faster. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it to the window in time. The bag was much heavier than the handbag he’d been practicing with.

But just when Oscar thought he’d have to give up, he made it to the window. With one last burst of strength, he flew outside, looked down, and plummeted out of sight.

Marco and Polo watched Oscar drop like a stone.“Was it supposed to go like that?” Marco whispered.

Polo stared at the empty window. She wasn’t sure. It sure didn’t look like part of the plan, but she didn’t want to be negative. “I think so. Looked good to me.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Marco said. “Give the signal.”

Polo nodded and leaned as far out of the grate as she could. She put two fingers into her mouth and gave a long, low whistle.

Butterbean had a mouthful of sock when she heard the whistle from the living room. She immediately spit it out and backed away. Socks were not her chew toy of choice.