Chapter -11-


A resounding knock at the door awoke everyone in the darkened bedroom. Keri grunted, Javari muttered under her breath and began to stretch a bit. Sergei rolled over, burying his face into the pillow. DJ sat up calmly and looked around the room. There was another knock and she yawned.

The tigress slid out of bed, clad in simplistic yet elegant silk pajamas. Wrinkleless pink pants came all the way to her ankles, the cuffs brushing against the carpeted floor ever so slightly. The plain pink button-up pajama shirt showed the shape of her shoulders well and sloped out to the swell of her breast then dropped straight down, hiding the shape of her lower torso.

She approached the door, gazed into the peephole then opened it. She tilted her head and a weary grin tugged at the corner of her muzzle. Extravagant curls, piled on her shoulders, tumbled down her back, not pinned or put up in any particular way at this hour. DJ came face to face with a slender, fully dressed Conner who looked chipper, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. The tigress licked her dry lips and, in a husky voice, said, "You guys locked your door and put up a sign last night." She tilted her head the other way, eyeing him. "You've got some pep in your step this morning… So, you did the deed after all, huh? I hope you two used protection."

"The best protection on the market – we decided to wait. That doesn't mean nothing has changed." She grinned at his use of a double negative. The teenager looked different today to her. His eyes were wider and his chin was higher. His shoulders were broader and his tail was fluffier. This morning, he carried himself more like a man and less like a boy.

Her curious eyes and expression asked all the questions in the world. He lifted a paw in subtle gesture and told her, "We've decided to date, officially, and we're very happy about it. I know I am, that's for sure. We also bought plane tickets for everyone for today's flight to Miami, Florida. It has one connector in London – a short ride, since we're taking a Concorde II. The flight from England to Miami is a conventional aircraft and will take quite some time."

Again, she eyed him suspiciously then she licked the palm of her paw. The mature twin reached out and used her saliva-dampened palm to slick back one of Conner's cowlicks. She shook her head at him and smiled. "Your hair looks like a rooster's ass exploded. Other than that, you look like a new man this morning – that's why I thought you'd done the deed. What time do we depart and why do I think you've planned something for London by the way your eyes are gleaming with mirth?"

"You're perceptive!" The young man offered her a brilliant grin.

"And articulate, prepared, calm and collected, not to mention I'm ready at a moment's notice." Tiikeri drew in a long, slow breath and added, "I'm proud you remained a virgin last night. After all she's gone through, she was ready to lay down with you and I tried to tell her that her emotional state-of-mind wasn't where it needed to be. She's lost too much and undergone too many things in too short of a time – it's one of the most famous subplot tricks in novels and action movies. All this crap happens all at once, the girl is overwhelmed and there's typically a sex scene involved with her and the hero. It's either that or… every female character to hit the big screen of an action sequence film must have been a slut. At any rate, Dawn was in that sort of funk yesterday."

"I… had no idea." He frowned thoughtfully and placed his paw outward, as if offering a handshake. DJ blinked in confusion then took his offered paw. The teenager cleared his throat and said, "I'm glad she could turn to you for advice. Waiting is the best thing we can do for this new relationship."

"You didn't know because of two reasons," replied DJ. "One, you're a guy – I can't expect you to understand. Number two: girls don't typically run into the bedroom and just jump into the sack. That sort of thing only happens because they say the right things, do the wrong things and wind up on their back. If I didn't talk to her while you were out on that heist, I would imagine you'd be confused this morning."

"W…what about?"

DJ folded her arms across her chest, causing the pink silk shirt to bunch up. It offered a hint of her midriff to show. She leaned against the doorway. "If you'd have slept with Dawn last night, you wouldn't have talked things out, which means you probably wouldn't be in an official relationship. Then you'd be questioning yourself about your first time, because you gave your virginity to someone you're not even dating. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you'd be asking yourself… did it mean anything to her? Does it make you guys an item now, even though you'd never discussed it? Is this what love is supposed to be, and if not then how does one come to know? There's always more questions, if things go wrong that first time.

"But today, you're full of ego – testicular confidence." She grinned at him, lifted a paw from her folded arms, wrapping the backside of her knuckles against his shoulder. She refolded her arms and continued speaking. "You're radiating and, honestly – from a girl's prospective – you're quite dashing when you're happy and standing tall like this. No, I'm not flirting with you – I'm already in love with someone. I'm just being honest with you. That's why, when someone is light on their feet after an incredible night, they glow. People notice that they're a little different than before and that leads to receiving more attention. That leads to confidence, which has aided in countless high school jocks knocking up countless schoolgirls for ages."

"But you initially thought that her and I did it… So, what you're saying is… I'm glowing because of the confidence and happiness, not the sex then?"

"Duh." DJ's eyes narrowed, offering him a dull glare. "If you're still a virgin this morning, how could you be 'glowing' for that reason."

He paused and, in a quieter tone told her, "There could have been just foreplay or something. Sexual glowing can come from simply getting off, right? Being flushed from blood flow? I mean, even simulating it causes the heart to pound."

She unfolded her forearms and lifted them up and out, as if covering her face in defeat. "Touché." The twenty-two year old woman sighed through her nose. "This is why I could never date someone younger than me, let alone someone as sexually comfortable as yourself… I like the strong silent type. The kind of guy that could break you in half but doesn't because in knowing that women are fragile, he treats them with respect. Err, never mind."

"You think I'm sexually confident?"

She closed her eyes and expelled a slow breath then drew it in through clinched teeth. Then, in a calm voice, told him, "For a virgin. I'm not sure if it's nature or nurture. Either a family of Casanovas raised you or you're in touch with the Casanova blood of a long-line of player-boys. Either way, the way you walk, talk and carry yourself says that you're sexually comfortable and you exude passion. You have charisma and you walk around with your little-boy chest puffed out. This morning, you were a caricature of your normal self, so I assumed you two couldn't get through that 'test'."

"No, we aced it. I told her that despite your suggestion, we didn't need to take a shower together just so we could 'see if we're capable of restraint'. She told me that's what she needed to hear all along, kicked off her clothes and hopped in the tub. I couldn't keep my eyes off of her but we never lost restraint. And, to answer your earlier question… yes, I have plans for London so I need everyone to get up, wash their face, hair and tail… then get it together. I just wanted to pull a little speed test during our one hour overlay."

DJ eased her finger forward, poking him in the chest. "You treat that girl nicely. You keep it in your pants until she pulls it out for you. Metaphorically, of course. If you have any questions, you come and see me. Knowing you can turn to good advice when in your time of need is vital. Having a support group like that is usually an expectation of the child – he or she wants to know that their parents are the right people to ask about anything. Yours, well… until we find them, you ask me before you go and do anything stupid, okay?"

"We're waiting until the right time. Whether it's when I get her a ring, or when we both feel more than just our instincts talking – we've decided to wait. I appreciate your advice up to this point but assure you that I won't suddenly loose control of my body just because I want to get off. If I just relax my mind, it's pretty easy to suppress those urges."

She looked him over again then rubbed her chin. "All those damn fancy moves you supposedly have… you probably meditate don't you?"

"Yeah, a few times a week… but what's that have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with everything. It has to do with your ability to control yourself. Your ability to reflect on your inner actions. I didn't realize it until now – I guess I'm not as perceptive as we both thought, huh? I never took you for a meditation kind-of-guy. I'm impressed."

"If I don't do it every so often, I lose focus." Conner shrugged nonchalantly. "Without focus, I can't do half the things I learned from the Thievius Raccoonus. But honestly, I don't meditate nearly as often as I should."

"That whole 'control of your mind and body' crap probably kept you from rushing into a foolish mistake last night. Good job, kiddo."

"Thanks," he replied softly. "So everyone'll be ready in forty minutes?"

DJ nodded. "See you shortly." She closed the door, turned on the lights to her room and clapped her paws loudly. "Up and at'em, everyone! It's time to make some more money today! Get it together, everyone! We need to get our vitals under the shower faucet, so we don't give away our positions via body odor; I want professional, clean soldiers out on the battlefield, today! Get it together!" She continued clapping her paws while walking through the small room, chanting, "Move it, move it, move it!"


"What're you doing?" asked Conner, kneeling on the mattress behind Dawn. She typed furiously on her laptop, waved her paw then made a gesture above the keyboard to manipulate the images on screen using its integrated virtual mouse. She cracked her knuckles then began typing again.

"Alibis, hon." She never skipped a beat, typing then waving a paw then typing some more. "I've issued date-hacked credit cards to the team. It shows they've had these credit cards but used them seldom over the last few years."

"Why?"

She cleared her throat but never stopped working her keyboard. "When we arrive in America, Sergei took Javari to a movie in Dallas around three in the afternoon today. On her credit card, she paid for the snacks about six minutes after the time-and-date stamp of him having paid for the tickets. There will be a real charge on file and when I hack into the theater's database server, I'll add those transactions to the theater's profit sheet. The theater will actually make money for a ticket sale that never got sold at the booth. It's an alibi. Now those two could not possibly be involved in today's future heist. It creates the perfect alibi."

"That's freakin' awesome." Conner grinned and placed his paws on her shoulders, rubbing his palms into either side of her collarbone with a firm touch. "What about Keri and DJ?"

"Keri and Deborah Jean Tiikeri are in Boston and Chicago, respectively. Keri is buying lunch at two in the afternoon today – she gets fast food at seven in the evening and buys thirty-five dollars in gasoline around ten minutes later. She leaves a trail of gasoline purchases down the east coast every three hours. The trail stops around Richmond, Virginia where her credit card shows a charge for staying at a Motel-6 not far from the airport around three or four in the morning, tomorrow.

"DJ buys an energy drink at a convenience store around nine in the morning in Chicago. At around six in the late afternoon, she makes an online purchase of music from a public library then uses the credit card one more time an hour later to place a long distance pay-phone call to a Motel-6 in Richmond, Virginia. If someone is going to trail them, it will be assumed that DJ made hotel reservations for her sisters at around seven in the evening. There won't be a charge – that's for Keri's card. But there will be a reservation hold placed on DJ's card to back up that story, just in case someone wants to examine all the fine details."

The teenage male pulled his paws from her shoulders and eased down on his side, near her. He looked up at her, propping himself up on an elbow. "You're really good at this sort of thing. It sounds like some sort of government cover up."

"It's a good way to stay alive," she said, still typing her fingers furiously against the small notebook keyboard. "Next, I'll have to do something a little more difficult… Once we all arrive in America, I'll need to get into the passport agency's computer and alter the time-date stamps to make it look like those four arrived in the country about a year ago at differing dates, differing times. When we get to Miami, everyone should split up for a few days… take a little vacation."

Cooper tilted his head. "What about us."

"No, not us. Keri and DJ will split up, Javari and Sergei will go off together for a little while. You and I will stay in Miami to look for your folks. Then, at the end of the week or something… we can get back together and figure out our next course of action."

"I'm just… really impressed." Conner grinned at his girlfriend then stretched with a yawn. After a moment, he asked, "What's our alibi?"

"We're in town looking for your mom, after receiving an anonymous tip that she and your father went state-side. We arrived in America the day after you came to Russia, according to what the passport agency computers will show when I'm done with them. I've not given us credit cards, because we're both too young. I've altered the Air France records to show that we both flew out of Lyon on your mother's dime. After a double connector, we both showed up in Florida… this will have happened about, oh…" she paused and tapped a lacquered fingernail against her chin. "A week ago – does that sound good?"

"Perfect." He grinned again and looked over the sixteen-year-old girl while her attention was on the monitor. His eyes lifted, watching her facial expressions for a moment before lying back and stretching out. After a short silence, he said, "I'll call my sister and see if she's heard anything."

"Sounds good to me," replied the young lady, returning her boyfriend's grin. She closed the lid of her laptop and leaned towards him until her lips brushed against his own.

He met her kiss firmly, slanting his mouth against her own with fervor. Quite suddenly, Dawn's work was forgotten and she allowed herself to be drawn to him again. It was similar to how they'd woken up this morning, in one another's arms. She recalled that the kissing started as soon as she felt him stir against her body, shortly after sunrise. Now it was happening again. She relished it.


A bit later...

"Splitting up, huh?" Javari nodded her head slowly and turned her gaze towards Dawn. "If she can pull off what she says she can, without getting caught for digital forgery then… then we might have a chance. It's worth a shot – it's a good heist and then by hiding out in America, our probability for success increases immeasurably."

The 'less mature' twin sat up and ruffled her hair with her paws. "The word 'immeasurable' coming from the living calculator is a novelty moment – everyone enjoy it while you can." Keri scooted to the edge of the bed then stretched. "What's the credit limit on these cards?"

"Twenty-five hundred bucks." Dawn glanced from Javari back to Keri. "After talking it over, we don't want you guys getting implemented in anything serious. Conner's mother is a cop. If we manage to find the Cooper family members in a day or two, trust me guys… meeting her wouldn't exactly be in anyone's best interest."

"Fair enough." Sergei shrugged. "Let's go over the heist plan for London's crossover flight."

"Yeah, all right – just pay attention, everyone," Conner moved towards Dawn, rubbing his paws together. "Those crooks who own the casino are getting their money laundered illegally from a group of unethical slime balls in London. They operate out of the basement of an undercover brothel that moonlights as a shelter for homeless women. Talk about sleazy. These women are exploited because they have nowhere to go and are paid meager wages – their only compensation for a good day's work is three square meals in a day."

Dawn continued where he left off. "Some of these girls have never been given the chance to do better for themselves. Why save up for bigger and better things when they can barely afford liquor, which will at least alleviate the pain of reality going day to day. So we're going to smash the operation and shut down the goons."

Conner picked up in her place. "Then we're going to give these women a reasonable share of the money we take and point them into the direction of the police for witness protection. We take our portion and head to America… all in under an hour."

Javari frowned, glanced to the twins then to Sergei. She cut her gaze back to Conner and Dawn and asked, "Who is to say these girls don't self destruct with that money? They'll go out and buy booze and drugs and get lit up because it's all they know."

Dawn frowned. "It's not our job to hold their hand or be their sponsor in getting their lives together. We're just offering them an opportunity. We open the door, it's up to them to go through. I'll work out a deal with one of them to cover our tracks… I'll try and convince one of them to offer fake details to compose a future fake composite sketch."

"Why would you need that?" asked Keri.

Dawn frowned a second time and her voice lowered somewhat. "Because some of these guys own these women like property. They'll surely have a bent cop on their payroll. If they're losing out on an investment, they'll want that property back. The bent cops will want to know who was involved and ask some of these girls for a composite sketch. We make sure we don't interact with many of these girls. The ones we do talk to, we'll arrange a faux image for them to remember, so that they spread disinformation. It's part of the whole 'cover your tracks' sort of thing."

"Fair enough, I hope it goes as planned." Keri offered a thin smile then added, "So, after we finish playing Robin Hood, we go back to the airport and fly out to the states?"

"Right!" Conner stretched then added, "We'll split up and get back together at a predetermined place and time. Everyone will have to lay low and stay out of trouble so as not to draw any attention. When we get to America we should get us some…"

"…Acquire," interrupted Dawn.

"Acquire some pre-paid phones so we can stay in touch with text messaging – no names, no mentioning anything incriminating. At the very least, we'll use them in case someone gets into major trouble, that way we can act accordingly. They can't be traced easily because there's no billing address or anything like that. Right?" He turned to Dawn.

The female raccoon gave his idea some thought then nodded in reply. "Not a bad idea. So long as no one puts anything incriminating into any of the text messages, we'll be just fine." She reached for her boyfriend's paw and captured it with a slight grin and a wink offered to him.

"Sounds like you two thought this out." DJ slid off her bed and stretched. "I'm convinced." She stood up straight then stretched her midsection by twisting from left to right then back the other way. "Girls? Sergei? Any questions?"

Javari and Keri shook their heads. Sergei said, "Not yet. I'm looking forward to all of these things and saying das vadanya to Russia." He still had his dampened bath towel around his neck, like fluffy shoulder pads. He grasped the fabric over his right shoulder and used it to dry a section of headfur behind his right ear. "Sooner the better – too many recent memories, if you know what I mean."

Javari winced, knowing that he referred to the recent assassination of his father – a hit put out by Mister Gurlukovich's own mafia buddies.

Conner offered a sour expression as well then shook his head slowly. The raccoon slid off the dresser adjacent to the television and Dawn leaned back against the wall, releasing his paw.

Cooper cleared his throat and announced, "You guys have become good friends over the last few days. New Years was awesome, we looked out for one another and everything went really well. Let's pack up and head to the airport. We're all taking the same plane so that Dawn only needs to fudge one set of documents and blur one set of in-flight surveillance footage tapes. When we land in Miami, we'll have enough time for everyone to go to the store, dispense the pre-paid phones… maybe a group hug then we all split up."

"Question." Everyone turned to DJ who asked, "Wouldn't it be more professional and less dangerous if we do the group hugs now and we all go to separate stores to buy these pre-paid phones? Then we can pair off into two groups. We'll exchange numbers with everyone in our group and the group leader will meet with the other group's leader. We exchange numbers on paper, report back to our group then split up and burn the paper evidence. Doesn't that make more sense? You're going through all of these outrageous steps to cover everyone's tracks… why mess it up by letting us be seen hugging one another in public? Or going to a store together, or anything else?"

"She makes good sense," said Sergei. "A simple cell phone camera or a public eye from the wrong person is all it takes – such things can kill your family, even if you disliked that family member to begin with. It's best that we separate right from the plane, which is the riskiest part but… as you said in regards to reducing the footprints that Dawn has to change… taking the same plane is a necessary evil. Once we land, no one should even make eye contact with one another."

Javari placed her paw on his wrist. "What about getting one another's number in our phones?"

Keri lifted a paw. "I saw this in a movie once." She cleared her throat to get their attention and said, "We pick a predetermined place of interest and time, say for example, the Miami Beach boardwalk… we bump into one another and drop something, like a beach towel. Then we both kneel down to collect our belongings and hand one another a small scrap of paper with all the numbers on it. We leave and hand out the numbers to our groups, like Deej suggested and do it just as discretely with preset arrangements made with those in each group."

Dawn waved her paws to grab everyone's attention. "I'm covering our tracks to keep the government off our tails. Who cares if the American mafia groups happen to see us? That's why we're keeping pre-paid phones, just in case we get into trouble. The government and international police forces won't be watching our every step until they start an investigation here and, eventually, those clues lead them to start looking around. Which may or may not lead them to America. You guys are being paranoid. It'll take weeks before they even have a clue about anything other than hearing the casino was hit, let alone a brothel, where those people probably handle their own business and hide that sort of thing from mainstream police agencies."

Conner shrugged. "Everyone is right in their own opinion. Those who want to split up and drop below the radar, send a person in to meet up with the rest of us, who aren't trying to go 'super stealth'. Really, we're branching off into four directions – Keri one-way, DJ in another… Sergei and Javari stay as a pair, while Dawn and I make another pair. I mean, if you guys want… we can all meet up on the beach among a throng of other people. We'll never even get anyone's attention if we're all out swimming at the same place at the same time with thousands of others."

"I suppose." DJ gave it some thought then nodded and turned to Javari. "What's our chances of being caught together out on the beach, so long as we don't turn it into 'buddy-fest 2026' while we're out there?"

"It's pretty slim we'll even draw attention if we had a group orgy on the beach at sunset. At least not the attention that would give our location away to the European police or the casino's mob. In the end, we should be just fine."

The room froze and everyone turned to look at Javari in silence. Sergei cleared his throat and Conner blushed, knowing he was the only virgin in the whole group.

"What?" The wolverine shrugged somewhat. "I'm just saying, if we did something that actually draws attention… mathematically speaking, it still wouldn't get back to the people who want to kill us for taking their money. Percentage-wise, it wouldn't change anything. If one of us was a celebrity, then yes… it would become the front page of next week's tabloids. Stop worrying so much."

DJ lifted her left paw casually and offered an airy chuckle. "I'm convinced we're safe, if our odds are that damn good."

"So it's settled." Conner rubbed his paws together. "We'll stick together until everything is settled then have a proper goodbye, over a few drinks on the beach or something."

A grin tugged at the corner of the Russian's muzzle. "A few drinks? So we're all going to be naked like Javari suggested?" Sergei chuckled. "Most of the group is female; I wouldn't argue."

"You two deserve each other," said Keri.

DJ added, "We wouldn't meet at sunset anyhow, let alone in the buff."

"Remember the time," Javari began, "When the three of us had to go topless, wearing thongs to distract the US Coast Guard when they wanted to board our stolen yacht? That was hilarious. I remember when…"

DJ reached her paw out, cupping Javari's muzzle with one paw and clamping fingers around the wolverine's jaw and snout with the other paw. The tigress drew in a slow breath then hissed out a sharp, "Shh!" A pause, then, "You need to learn to put the pirating past behind us."

"Besides," added Keri, "You remember the details wrong, anyhow. Javari, you were the only one in a thong. Remember? It was because DJ and I had were those ugly-ass granny-panties." She cowered at her sister's sudden glare.

Debbie Jean narrowed her eyes sharply, still holding Javari's maw shut. "I don't even wear those anymore, thanks to that fiasco."

Sergei came to the twin's defense to some degree. "They're easy to acquire, affordable and don't draw any attention."

Keri nodded somewhat. "Which is why we took'em off before the Coast Guard got out to us in their little PT boat."

Gurlukovich shook his head with a grin. "I'd have loved to have been there. Nude sisters and a nearly nude wolverine… who was barely legal at the time, as it were."

Javari mumbled through her clamped lips. "Nuh-uh, I was sixteen back then." She murmured something incomprehensible, feeling DJ's paws tighten over her maw.

"Let's uh…" Conner cleared his throat and scratched the nape of his neck. "Let's get to the airport, guys. We have a brothel to close. And I'm not sure how much more of this story I want to know, anyways."

"Good idea," said Keri with a grin. "Because that story was far from over."

DJ glared at her sister. "Quiet, you. The Lieutenant heading up the search was my ex-fiancé. Don't make it sound so damn dirty; I'm not a whore and, to this day, I'm still in love with him. THAT makes it okay."

Keri lifted her paws defensively. "Whoa, I never said you were a whore, nor did I ever even suggest it in even the most remote way. I'm sure if you weren't such a good pirate and he wasn't such a good officer, you two would be married by now."

Javari's muffled response came through half-clinched teeth. "I'm sure he's out there, still looking for you with love in his eyes, DJ." She ended her statement with a resounding, "Mmph!"

Dawn drew in a deep breath and slid off the dresser. "Yeah, so… we'll all be headed to the airport. Sergei, what are you going to do with your car?"

"I'm shipping it with dad's money. It's already taken care of and en route. No worries."

Keri approached Conner and Dawn. In a quiet tone, she told them, "He's stationed out of the Fort Lauderdale area. She's insanely in love with him. Like… fairy-tale story-book romance-movie kind of love. That's why she's acting so weird and defensive – she's nervous."

"Will you shut up and stop spilling my business to them?"

Keri ignored the other tigress and added, "He got her pregnant seven years ago. He joined the Coast Guard to provide for what he thought would be his future family. She was barely fifteen and had a miscarriage. They stayed together because they loved one another – it was the whole 'law' thing, and it was his whole 'duty to uphold it' that tore them apart. That's why she didn't want you two having kids at such a young age. It's hard on the body and on the emotions. So keep this abstinence thing going, if not for one another, then at least wait until your body is mature enough to handle it."

Debbie Jean released Javari's mouth and approached her sister from behind, wrapping her paws around Keri's neck. "I said hush! Stop airing my dirty laundry, Keri! Believe it or not, once we got out of the womb, we started living our own lives – stop living mine for just five minutes. Please! Damn, I swear; you're such a bitch sometimes."

"Eat me," returned Keri with a smirk.

Javari Ahma shook her head and sighed. "…Twins." She turned her attention to Dawn, who looked somewhat pale.

The teenage raccoon nodded decisively and took Conner's paw. "Let's get going, then. So is everyone excited about the warm weather?" She desperately wanted to change the subject, despite Sergei wanting to know more about what had happened two years ago out on some Yacht in American waters… The group gathered their belongings and headed for the white van. DJ fished out the keys and took the driver's seat. Her sister took shotgun and the other four huddled in the back on the floor…


The elegant Concorde II touched down gracefully. The group eyed one another in silence, their body language somewhat belying their general lack of experience and maturity.

Conner waited until foot traffic swelled then thinned out before getting up and reaching for his 'bass guitar', which remained hidden in the guitar case. He'd told security that it was his walking stick and that he had a permit to travel with the expensive heirloom. After showing a sneak peak to one of the security officers, to let them see it's golden coloration, he had told them it was too expensive to allow it to become anything less than 'carry on' luggage. The rest of the public was allowed to believe he carried a longneck bass guitar over his shoulder.

The aging airport had construction crews throughout most of the hallways. Scaffolding platforms were constructed against the wall in some of the larger areas. The group followed Conner to the baggage claim area, which appeared recently restored. New floor tiles gleamed, as if freshly waxed. The conveyer belts were new and effortlessly fed a line of bags to the people gathered from Cooper's flight.

Everyone gathered their belongings and silently headed for the door. They went through customs without incident and made their way to the promenade. They followed signs out to the car rental garage, easily fitting in with the other throngs of people.

At the far end of the overflow garage, DJ moved to the front of the group. They approached a gray SUV with a third-row bench seat. She pointed to the front tire and Sergei responded in silence by crawling beneath the vehicle. He rolled onto his back and pushed his right paw up into the underbelly. His left paw slid out beneath the driver door, palm open.

DJ placed her makeup kit into his paw then fished through her carryon bag, withdrawing a digital camera. Keri opened a duffle bag full of clothes and removed the only coat hanger available, bundled up with the balled up clothing. She handed it to DJ.

Javari stepped away from Dawn and Conner, putting her back against the SUV's grille, assuming the position of watch guard. She lit a cigarette to look inconspicuous but only took two or three drags from it.

DJ slid the coat hanger down between the rubberized window lining and into the doorframe. She then removed the battery from her digital camera and touched the rechargeable battery's positive and negative plates against the end of the metal hanger.

Conner sniffed at the air, able to smell burning plastic, even over the cigarette. The driver door opened. Javari pushed off of the front of the SUV, walked down besides DJ and blew a plume of cigarette smoke over the door to mask the smell of burnt plastic.

Debbie Jean switched the hot battery to her other paw, blowing cool air on it for a moment before replacing it into her digital camera for safekeeping. She handed it to her sister and in a soft voice, said, "Charge that; we may need it again." She pulled the coat hanger out and passed it to her sister, adding, "Get that back into its original shape." She pinched the cigarette from Javari's muzzle and slid into the SUV's driver seat.

She took a quick puff off the small cigarette then pulled a plastic molded panel from beneath the steering wheel. She fiddled with the wiring for a moment then took the cigarette into her fingers and used the heat of the burning cherry ember to burn two wires until their plastic coated wire jackets burned away. With the exposed wires now touching, she returned the cigarette to her muzzle, cocked her head and spit the butt out of the vehicle.

Javari stubbed it out, picked it up and used her foot to wipe away the ashes on the concrete ground. Sergei, underneath the SUV, grunted. Seconds later, the two connected wires, held by DJ, went live with current. They sparked and the engine came on. The Russian coyote crawled out from beneath the vehicle, stuffing small pedicure tools back into the makeup bag. He handed it to Javari.

Keri finished reshaping the coat hanger, a practiced art by the looks of her handiwork. She stuffed it into her back, took the makeup kit from Javari and put it into her bag then zipped the canvas container and shouldered it. Her sister unlocked the back doors and she motioned for everyone to get into the automobile.

Once everyone was inside and the doors were shut, DJ put the truck-like vehicle into gear and pulled forward. "Good timing, gang. Girls, I see you still got it. Sergei, you did a great job redirecting the AHW mechanism from the battery. Does anyone have directions to this place?"

Dawn pulled a cellular phone from her pocket, changed the settings from 'flight mode' back to 'normal' then opened the GPS application. She passed the phone up to the front. DJ placed it on the instrument panel, blocking the digital fuel gauge.

"What's AHW stand for?" asked Conner.

Sergei, in the middle seat, turned about, putting his arm along the backrest, behind Javari's head. He glanced back at Conner and said, "It stands for 'Anti Hot-Wire' mechanism. It cuts power to the cabin, so that you can't hotwire the car. If you override it the old fashion way by physically routing leads from the battery to certain wires, it becomes possible to jump the engine. After that, you're off the alternator and power cell. The starter battery design in these newer cars set back car theft by… well, by a lot. It takes several people to steal a single car, now. Plus, it's time consuming."

"Seemed pretty quick to me," said Dawn. "Good job, guys. Listen, this whole brothel thing is seriously dangerous. We actually have to disable the staff. At this hour, only the security detail is in place, which is our best bet. All the girls are in their little 'rooms' in the basement and the money is in the first floor office."

DJ adjusted the rearview mirror and asked, "Where did you get your intelligence from, hon?"

"A friend." Dawn offered a meager smile. "A friend who has the inside scoop." She lifted a paw, shook her head and told them, "I'll explain that later. For now, let's go over the details so everyone knows the score and the layout. Then we'll put together a plan, all right? It's seven minutes away from here, that leaves us with forty minutes, to be safe, before we have to head back. Since we're taking a different plane to America, let's not forget to stop by and drop off our luggage."

"Yeah, minor details, sis." Keri glanced over her shoulder and smiled at everyone. "Let's talk about this heist, huh? I'm ready for it."


Twelve hours later… London, England.

The dark-furred grizzly bear rubbed his empty wrist, favoring the naked spot where a Cartier wristwatch used to be, approximately one week ago. He lifted his head, glancing at a clock on the wall then folded his arms. A bobby nodded to him in passing but he didn't return the gesture.

Another man approached him from behind. "I'm Sergeant Thomas Jennings; can I ask what you're doing here, sir?"

The bear turned about and looked the man over. "Scotland Yard?" He fished out a wallet and showed the Sergeant his identification. "ICPO, Inspector Thomas Gerard. Your mother had the good sense to give you a good first name, so she must have raised you well, too. Can you tell me why there are no security cameras here?"

"Don't you know that security cameras would leave a trace of incriminating evidence in a place like this?" Sergeant Jennings, a cliché Terrier, put his paws on his hips.

"But they'd want to watch to make sure the girls don't leave," said Gerard. "Even if they don't keep tapes, having cameras is a good way of making sure business continues forward and money is being made."

"I suppose, but no – there are no cameras." The canine cleared his throat and asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with, Inspector?"

"No. I'm following a trail, Sergeant. If I find anything that will help you with your case, I'll forward it to you right away. However, I'm just here to look around. Thanks for your cooperation." He walked away from the gray-furred dog and stopped in a hallway.

There were two photos taped to the wall. In them, police photographed two guards lying on the ground, found unconscious. One of the people in the picture had a tear on the back of his shirt. Gerard closed his eyes, envisioning what might have caused the tear… he deduced a melee object of some sort.

A chalk circle on the wall caught his attention. He pulled out his wallet and closely inspected the split in the leather. His eyes lifted to a small gash in the wall circled with police chalk. He glanced back down at the cut in his leather wallet. The markings were both made from something with a thin, hooked end. He recalled the raccoon teenager back in Russia at the computer store. The kid wore some sort of guitar case over his shoulder – possibly to hide some sort of staff with a sharpened end.

Gerard leaned back against the opposite hallway wall and pulled out his PDA. The grizzly opened the file on Carmelita Cooper and began cross-referencing information on her equally missing spouse. Sly Cooper's file showed a golden cane in one of the attached photographs. It had a thin tip at the end of the hook.

The inspector's eyes slowly glided back to the hole in the wall, down to the wallet in his left paw then he gazed back at the photographs taped to the bulkhead not far from the encircled hole. Sliding his wallet into his left pocket and his PDA into his right one, he closed his eyes again and paused.

A blurry flashback played out before him; he imagined what might have occured… The golden hooked cane twirled about, flying upwards. The hook caught a guard by the back of his shirt and propelled him upwards. He slammed against the wall then dropped to the floor. The attacker twirled the cane again; it glanced against the wood panel of the narrow hallway. Gray-furred paws took it by the fulcrum then thrust it forward, grabbing the other guard by his neck. With a quick thrust from left to right, the second guard had his head slammed first against the left wall, then against the right one. The cane was relinquished from the man's neck just in time for a quick physical attack… Gerard deduced that the next strike to follow the stun move would have been a quick kick, an uppercut or possibly a head butt.

His eyes opened and he leaned in close, looking at the photograph taped to the wall once more. The second unconscious man in the picture had an unruly shirt collar where he'd been taken by the neck from that cane. There was blood around his muzzle from having his nose broken. Gerard moved further down the hall, folding his arms again.

He took the stairs down to the cellar. There was an indentation in the wall adjacent to a podium. Papers were strewn around the floor at the base of the pedestal. A single flip-flop was abandoned on the ground next to an overturned box of Chinese food. The handle of a fork jutted out from underneath.

Gerard approached the podium and found three police pictures, labeled, 'Evidence A', 'B' and 'C' taken at various angles. In them, a hyena with spot markings that ranged from the neck to the back of his ears was lying back in a corner. His ears were lowered; body slumped over with his head down. Rice stuck to his disheveled shirt and vest. He wore one flip-flop in the photographs. In picture 'C', the angle showed his other flip-flop several feet from where he lay.

Again, the Inspector looked back to the empty corner. Only flecks of white sticky rice remained. He closed his eyes and saw the guard looking up from his position at the podium. His muzzle dropped and Chinese food, mostly rice, fell from his gaping jaw just in time for the blunt end of a golden cane to strike him in the face. His knee caught the bottom of the podium and all the neatly organized pages slid from it, spilling to the floor. A second strike from the cane and the man dropped his food container. The weight of the metal fork handle helped it to overturn in midair. It dropped to the ground.

The man stumbled, unable to get his footing or balance. He tripped over one of the flip-flops that slipped off his right foot. The cane eased around his neck then, with incredible force, the man's head was slammed into the wall, leaving an indentation in the drywall. Stress cracks spread out around the deep dent. Taken by surprise, the guard now slumped back into the corner and slid down to his rump. His head dropped, depositing the rest of his rice-speckled lunch onto his shirt and vest. His paws dropped to either side of his hips. Gerard's eyes fluttered open and he inspected the corner closely then lifted his head and studied the indentation in the wall.

He stepped over the overturned food container and headed down the hall, coming to a line of wooden doors. Inside each room was a duet of police officers, casing the place with handheld cameras and sidewalk chalk. Thomas flashed his badge to anyone who bothered to look up and continued to the end of the hall.

The dry walling turned to painted concrete blocks. He continued to the left and entered a large square room with jail cells along the left and right side. The end wall was a host to three metal doors with small rectangular glass portholes. Every cell and door was ajar. There was a small red cylinder on the floor. He knelt down to study it for a moment then called out to one of the junior officers. "C'mere, son."

The young man approached him and tilted his head. The grizzly grinned and said, "Thomas Gerard – Interpol. Look, get an evidence baggy and pick up this small red thing."

"What is it, sir?" The beagle was polite and enunciated well.

"It's the broken heel of a woman's dress shoe. It looks like someone left here in a hurry."

The brown and white-furred canine shrugged. "We're not worried about the women – we've rounded up a few of them, the rest turned themselves in, asking for amnesty and witness protection. They were freed, sir. By a group of people looking to rob the joint."

"This was a brothel, right?" Thomas stood up and dusted off his knees.

"Upstairs, it was a brothel." The beagle cleared his throat and said, "Sir… Mister Gerard, this first floor area was a holding pen." He pointed back to the three metal doors. "That was solitary confinement for bad behavior. These cells were for new girls. The rooms in the hallway, back the way you came… that was for the seniority girls who behaved. They got to stay in a room and received half-decent meals in exchange for, well… you know."

Gerard narrowed his eyes. "Disgusting."

"It bloody-well is disgusting!" The beagle shook his head. "I don't know what to make of it. Every single woman to leave this place was carrying no less than ten thousand Euros. Some of them had as much as fifteen thousand Euros."

"Yeah?" Gerard tilted his head. "How much is that in Pounds Sterling?"

"Sir?" The beagle appeared confused. "We've not used Pounds Sterling for almost a decade, sir. At least eight or nine years, it's been."

"Funny how that works," said Gerard with a thin smile. "Did any of the girls describe their liberator? Teenaged raccoon, perhaps?"

"No, nothing of the sort, Mister Gerard."

"Inspector, Gerard." The grizzly tilted his head a bit. "No identification at all?"

"Only three girls actually saw anyone from the group who stormed this place. They said it was mostly females, and however many men there were, perhaps two; they all spoke different languages. There are different reports coming from the three girls. None of their stories match in species, only in gender. Mostly women, and two males. None of them mentioned a teenaged raccoon, though."

"Interesting." The grizzly rubbed his chin for a moment. "Are there any raccoons in this immediate group of officers?"

The perplexed beagle shook his head. "No, sir. There's one from my office, but he's on dispatch duty, today."

"I smell raccoon," said Gerard. "What about any of the women who were down here?"

"Mostly vixens, an ewe, two felines and a few various breeds of canine. No raccoons, sir."

"I somehow expected as much – no raccoon captives. No raccoon officers." Gerard placed his paw against his chin again, remaining otherwise stoic. "The premises, the whole damn building …is owned by the casino." He began to circle the room, looking for anything that might have been out of place.

"What casino, Inspector Gerard?"

Thomas turned around and glared at the junior officer. He re-approached the beagle and narrowed his gaze. "Check your international news when you get off shift today, kid. Crime happens outside of Scotland Yard's reach. There was a casino in Russia that was hit recently. They owned this filthy little hole of," he threw his paws out, exclaiming a vituperative word that best described the dank underground setting. "Where are these women? I need a statement from the three who had contact with this group of people. I need them to lead me to a missing Interpol employee and it's very Goddamn important, understand?"

"Talk to the Captain, sir. They're up on the first floor," said the beagle. "Last I saw them, they were in the main office, where the safe is."

With a huff, Gerard walked back down the concrete hall, heading for the stairs. The hallway turned to drywall then changed to wood paneling as he reached the stairway. Thomas took the steps two at a time and walked down the hall, turned right then left and stepped into a rather spacious office. Two men were hunched over an opened safe. One of them stood up, wearing the 'Captain' rank on his lapel.

The grizzly offered a paw. "Inspector Thomas Gerard with ICPO. I'm looking for the three ladies who encountered the liberation team – I believe this group may be headed in the general direction of a missing Interpol employee. I need to know everything they can tell me about these people."

The Captain placed his paws on his hips with a smirk. "You're looking for the missing Interpol lady? Carmelita Fox, right?"

Thomas' demeanor changed. "Finally, someone who knows what the hell is going on outside of his or her jurisdiction. Yes, that's exactly who I'm looking for."

"I don't know much about the people who broke into this place and trashed it… but they did us a service," said the Captain, an aristocratic looking collie, well dressed and neatly groomed. "But so far as Carmelita Fox, she's in America. I helped her head into Russia about a month or so back – last I heard, she was headed across the Atlantic."

"You called her by her maiden name, Captain… You do realize she's married, right? How do you know she's headed to America? It's been on the news that she's missing."

"Yeah," said the Captain with a smirk. "I saw where Interpol claimed she was on vacation. I didn't know that ICPO was into lying to the media, now. She'll always be Carmelita Fox to me. I never cared for that scoundrel fleabag Procyon Lotor thief. Did you know Christopher Columbus discovered those furballs? He was the first to have a written record about the filthy species. Can I just tell you that I dislike Sly Cooper and I'll never refer to her with his surname."

"Captain…" Thomas trailed off in shock. "I didn't realize racism was still so very prominent in the professional circuit. I'm going to pretend like I didn't hear what you said, and I certainly hope you don't treat today's dispatch officer like a 'scoundrel fleabag furball'. Also, if you knew of her whereabouts, why didn't you report it to us?"

"No one asked," said the man. "You guys claimed she was on vacation – a very bold lie. I figured you people already knew she was hot on the trail. Listen, Inspector… do me a favor, as I'm trying to work here and don't need you getting in my way… Head to Florida, and you'll find your woman. I didn't even know Interpol was looking for her. She was never lost to begin with."

"What part of Florida? There are many large cities. Tampa, Orlando, Jacksonville, Tallahassee, Daytona Beach, Key West, Fort Lauderdale, Miami," he rambled on.

"Stop!" The collie turned back to the safe and knelt down in front of it. "The latter of your ridiculous rant. Now, good day, good sir. Don't hassle my witnesses. They've come to us for protection; I'll require paperwork if you want to speak with them. And if you ask me, you shouldn't bother wasting your time – they all have a different story. Now get out of here; go west, young man." He waved a dismissing paw at the grizzly and turned his attention back on the empty safe.

Thomas rubbed his chin for a moment. "I'll tell her you said hello, Captain…" He trailed off, expecting a name.

"Captain Get-the-Hell-out-of-my-Sight, of Scotland Yard." The reply was sharp and nasty in tone.

Gerard growled under his breath and stepped out of the office and back into the hall. He took a cellphone out of his pocket and dialed a number. After a moment, he said, "The trail heated back up – I thought I was chasing a loose end. Somehow I got lucky and ran into someone who recently worked with her, here in London. ….No, sir. Correct. No, she's in Miami, Florida – this is according to an apparent contact of hers, a Captain working for Scotland Yard. …Yes, sir. No, I'll head to Heathrow right away, sir."

The Captain, back in the office, called out after Gerard in a sarcastic voice. "It's in the London Borough of Hillingdon! You can't miss it!"

"Yes, sir – I'll head there right away, sir." He shut the cellphone and called back, "Oh, is that in Middlesex County, Captain? I'll be sure to look for it!" He stormed out of the brothel and began walking to the end of the block, paw extended outwards to hail the next incoming taxi service.

A voice came from behind, startling the grizzly. "You shouldn't argue with him, he's a good man. In fact, he's been awarded the George Cross two years ago."

Thomas turned about, coming face to face with a weasel in his mid-to-upper forties. "Can I help you?"

"You don't even know me," said the man, shaking his head. "I used to work for Interpol, young man. You're the one looking for Carmelita Cooper, correct?"

"Yeah, it's suddenly public news – yes, I'm looking for her."

The unidentified man shook his head slowly with a sigh. "Like me, Captain Gerry Moss has a life-long crush on Carmelita. I finally got a clue though."

"When she was married?"

"No, when her second child was born, I knew I truly lost my chance." He offered a paw to the bear. "You can call me Winthrop. I worked for her a few years ago. Well, a bit longer than a 'few' years ago… I worked for her back when she was a young Inspector. I overheard Gerry Moss telling you that she went to Miami. I've been trailing you because I wanted to find her, too. I want to know she's all right. Do you mind if I tag along?"

"…I suppose that would be acceptable. You really used to work for her?"

"I can prove it. For now, perhaps we should head west, to America. And yes, I really used to work for her. It's silly – I get so nervous around her. Even still, she has that effect on me. I'm perfectly fine and sometimes I'm not even clumsy. Then she comes into the area and I become a bumbling idiot. I hate that… but I still adore her. I want to make sure she's not in deep trouble."

"Fair enough," said Gerard, eyeing the weasel for a moment. "But you've got to pay your own way to go with me to America."

"That's fine. I'm glad you'll let me go along with you… oh, and in case you wanted to know…" He looked around, glancing about furtively. The weasel leaned in close a whispered, "Her son is out looking for her, too. He was here, earlier. I can't sufficiently prove it, but mark my words. What happened in there has Sly Cooper's style written all over the place. That kid is a chip off the old block. Trust me. Conner Cooper was in there, I have no doubts in my mind about that."

Thomas Gerard nodded slowly. "Thanks… I was starting to doubt my instincts, but you gave me a sort of renewed strength in my gut… I had a feeling that Conner was behind this… he was behind the casino, too… right?"

"He's a slippery one, Inspector; the casino turned out to be a precisian heist. Here's something you don't know about the new Cooper Gang… They only came here to rescue a single girl. All the others were a bonus. The girl they came for is the only living blood relative of the teenage raccoon girl who is helping Conner Cooper."

"Really…?" The grizzly frowned. "That means there was a raccoon female here at the brothel… that idiot cop lied to me, or was mistaken. Needless to say, that's interesting. So how long have you been shadowing me?"

"The girl was a hybrid, they may not have realized she was part raccoon." Winthrop offered a weak smile. "I was at the casino while you were there, working the case. But I pushed on in half the time… perhaps I picked up a few good things from Carmelita back in the day but… I don't hover like yourself. After a single day, I found the new Cooper gang and trailed them to the airport. I followed them here. Funny that I bump into you, again. That's just a sign to me… maybe we can help one another."

"Very well." Thomas saw a taxicab at the end of the street. He thrust his paws out and waved at the incoming car. It pulled over. The grizzly approached the open passenger window and said, "Two headed to Heathrow, please." He opened the door for Winthrop then scooted in behind the older gentleman. Now he just had to set up tickets to fly out to Miami… he was ready to move forward on the case, energetically charged with a new sense of purpose and excited by the prospect of being back on track again. He felt enlightened by this new information and cracked his knuckles. He was getting closer…


A/N: Okay, another long chapter… sorry about that! So I've implemented Winthrop Weasel! He's grown up a lot since the comics and, while he still occasionally wears bow ties and suspenders, he's also more mature and shows some measure of promise. All that time around Carmelita, he probably knows a little bit about how to work a case. Now Gerard has Weasel and the two of them can team up, huh?

I wonder how Winthrop knew Conner was involved in the Brothel gig? I'll let you in on a secret… he managed to catch up with Conner back in Russia and arrived on scene in London just in time to watch the new Cooper gang work. He's not yet told this to Gerard… but Winthrop was THERE, IN PERSON, when Conner took down the Brothel. I know I didn't write out ALL the details of that heist, but I actually PLAN to do so in a more formal flashback scene later on. For now, I did the little flashbacks, ala 'CSI' the television show…Or something. xD

Take care! I'm on vacation in Orlando right now… it's wonderful, the weather is great and I'm having a blast! :D

-k