"I've finally decided on what my new leap will be this Leap Year," Launchpad announced to Drake as they cleared the table. Gosalyn had already left for school.

"Oh, really? What?"

"I'm going to win something."

"Like what? A contest?"

"More like a game. The only thing I've won in my life was the title of Most Airplane Crashes Survived in the Guinness Book of World Records."

"Hey, not everyone gets in there, LP."

"So, what are we doing?"

"We're doing nothing." Drake straightened his green sweater-vest. "I'm going to Nales. They're having a sale on engagement rings."

***************************************************************

Steelbeak glared at the open lab door. "Aren't youse finished YET?!"

Fifteen year old Norwood Quacktenstein, FOWL's youngest agent, poked his head out. "That old bag's pretty strong. Took me forever to hold him down. But come on in."

"I don't know why High Command partnered us," the rooster sighed.

"Look, I'm here, so concentrate on making me happy," retorted Norwood. He gestured to the comatose J. Gander Hooter lying on the couch. The chest was rising and falling at equal intervals.

"You'll note that he's still alive," came a female voice. A slender woman wrapped in a blue gown and her raven hair in ringlets stroked the unconscious director's head. "He almost reminds me of my father."

"Miss Ghastly," began Norwood. "Explain to my coworker here how my little device works."

"The avian as we know it has three parts: the body, the mind -- which processes basic functions, and the soul -- the center of our personalities all blended together. This device separates and extracts the soul components from the others. It can then be transferred to another body."

"I plan to transfer our captive's soul into a computerized body. It'll obey FOWL's every command, even if the personality doesn't want to."

"So we'll attack SHUSH with its own leada?" observed Steelbeak. "Cruel irony."

"Like brainwashing, only better." Norwood handed the sorceress, whose first name was Shelley, a briefcase. "Five hundred thousand dollars, as promised."

Shelley scanned the case to confirm it did indeed contain the right amount before she accepted it. "I should probably mention that if the new body is destroyed, the soul will instantly return to the original body but only within forty-eight hours. Otherwise the original body will die." She clutched the money to her chest and vanished, with only a shimmer in the air to mark her departure.

Steelbeak shrugged. "Sure this will woik?"

Norwood smirked. "Why? Feel threatened?"

"By a little pipsqueak like youse? Nevah! Just anticipating that promotion I've been working on."

"Chief Agent First Class?" asked the teenager. "Nobody's attained that rank and lived to brag about it. Except the members of High Command. You've got high ambitions."

"Speaking of ambition, how the heck did ya get into the Fiendish Organization for World Larceny?"

"Haven't you noticed? Those old fogeys at High Command decided they needed new blood."

"If you're gonna stay in this organization, watch what you say about High Command. If you say something out of line, dey WILL find out. And when dey do--" Steelbeak stopped short. Why do I care about what happens to the little brat anyway? "Never mind."

**************************************************************************

"I hear we're getting a new coach," Tank Muddlefoot whispered to Hamilton String the Second. School had ended for the day.

"We are." Hamilton pointed toward the athletic shed. "She's over there."

Tank surveyed the lean figure coming toward them. She was dressed in black shorts and a black-and-white referee's shirt, with a whistle around her neck. "Looks a little delicate for a football coach. Seriously, what's next? A female fullback?"

"Guess what position I'm trying out for?" came Gosalyn's voice as she joined them.

The coach came up to the bunch. "All right, you young grunts!" She cast a glance at Gosalyn, the only girl among the thirty-odd boys. "And gruntette. I'm Coach Gridiron. You are to either call me 'Coach' or 'Gridiron.' Nothing else. Not 'Ms.' and especially not 'Mrs.' Understood? Now, for our first test." She took out a football and led the way to the school's field.

Honker slammed his math book shut. "Three pages of arithmetic done in ten minutes."

"Honker?" came a soft voice. "Mind if I sit here?"

"Sure, Penelope. Go ahead."

Penelope Pinfeather sat down. She was a small bird, with ivory feathers. A matching ribbon topped her blond-brown coiffure. Bright, inquisitive eyes peered from behind round glasses. "Nice presentation in class today."

"Thanks, but anyone could have lectured on the role of the atmosphere."

A football bounced off the library window, startling the two ducklings.

Honker breathed a sigh of relief. "Good thing Principal Farnsworth installed shatterproof glass." He peered out the window. "I don't know why Gosalyn wants to risk her neck like that."

"Gosalyn? Oh, yes. The redhead. I'd have no idea. I prefer chess myself."

"Me too."

"Honker?" began Penelope. "There's something I wanted to ask you."

"What?"

"Well, the Elementary School Knowledge Bowl is tonight, and I don't want to be the only SCE representative there. I know you're shy -- I am too -- but I've been to these quiz bowls before. They're really not that bad."

"Well, Gosalyn's always telling me to be in the spotlight more often."

"Is she your friend or your boss?"

"She's not that bad. OK, she kind of is -- but it's not her fault. But sure, I'll play."

"Really? Thank you! With your knowledge of science, and mine of literature and the arts, we'll win it--"

"Together!"

******************************

"A few of my previous employers say my methods of choosing members for a team are dangerous, cruel, and sadistic," Coach Gridiron informed her tryouts. They were on one edge of the football field. "However, I want only the best." She gestured to the goalposts a hundred yards away. "The final practice will be to run across the field carrying the football. If you drop it, pick it up. You'll also have to get past some obstacles." She whistled. "Oh, boys!"

Several members from the St. Canard High School football team took positions around the field.

*****************************************************************

Gryzlikoff entered the Director's office. "Director Whipham?"

Elsie looked up from the files she was going over. "Yes?"

"Director Hooter should be in Pato Alto by now. I tried calling him on his cell, but it's dead."

The temporary director turned to her laptop and began typing. "Sigma Airlines, Flight 196. Hmm...bomb threat on plane by FOWL agents, kidnapping of unidentified passenger. No explosives found on plane."

Gryzlikoff groaned. "Guess I'm going to have to be taking over. Is SHUSH procedure: when director is missing, Chief Agent takes over."

"Oh, stuff it!" snapped Elsie. "You know that when a temp's been sent over is the only exception to that rule! You can start by filing a missing person report."

"We can't. Not twenty-hour hours yet."

"And this is a government agency after all. Any ideas?"

"I'm ashamed to say I am not thinking of any."

TBC