Here we are...Chapter 2.
Yesss...Hyperion does know some things, of course, what he does know are things he doesn't realize are connected to this ;P And until that comes up in story, I'm leaving that cryptic.
Flu bugs are evil and need to die...I"m just thankful the world stopped wobbling ^_^.
*****
Hyperion and Carmelita were just coming into the Paris airport and off the charter field, when a gruff voice to one side growled, "You missed him again - I had a run in here, in this city." Carmelita twitched around.
One of Hyperion's ears ticked, but otherwise his reaction was very calm. "Ah, Nalphyr. I take it you headed straight here from Green Island?"
"Of course - what better place to corner him than in his home territory?"
"You could have at least done us the favor of letting us know - we might have been able to catch him if you'd cooperated.", Carmelita snarled.
One of Nalphyr's ears ticked. "Somehow, given your track record, I think my chances are just as good alone."
"So Cooper is in town?" Hyperion cut in, keeping a calm tone, although he was clearly derailing the budding argument.
"Yes. He tried to lose me on the Champs de Laissez, snuck into a tour group, and got away among the gargoyles and old buildings in the back alleys of town. He claimed he would be back to return the Firebird Stone, but I have my doubts."
"Whether he was truthful or not, we should keep an eye on the spot he said he'd meet you at just in case. In the meantime, we need to keep track of any routes out of town he might use in case he decides to bolt."
"I'll see what I can do with the dockmasters, if you can contact the airports; that only leaves the highways as an escape route." Carmelita was talking to Hyperion, half-ignoring Nalphyr.
"Then I suppose I will talk to the consulate about measures to keep him from escaping that way. I am, of course, assuming that you two will keep up your ends at the docks and the airport." Nalphyr looked to each of them in turn, nodded curtly, turned, and walked away.
"Does he try to be frustrating?"
"He's only doing his job; he's just slightly impatient is all." Carmelita noted the unconscious tail twitch he'd picked up when Nalphyr had made himself known that hadn't died down yet. He adjusted his glasses, then took them off and started cleaning them again. "Do you think he'll show as he said?"
"I can't entirely say...I would know for sure if Nalphyr had told me the exact words he used. If he simply said, 'sure I'll return it', I'd expect him to disappear. If he gave his word or swore upon something, then he'll be there."
Hyperion cocked his head thoughtfully. "If he tries to bolt...which way out is he least likely to use?"
"It depends on where he's planning to go next. He tends to vary his means of travel, although he invariably includes his van, hiring cargo carriers and such to carry it as well. Him and his partners have customized it quite a bit, and it's something of a mobile base for them. I know he has contacts at the docks; the airport would likely be easier to regulate." She paused, briefly moving to fidget with the choker that wasn't there anymore - almost a reflex. "Murray is the least cautious of their group; usually either Bentley or Sly himself deal with outside contacts. Bentley would be the hardest to pin, as he tends to work over phone and computer lines instead of speaking face to face, so that would be what to watch for - either the ringtail himself, or a charter arrangement sight unseen."
The cat nodded. "In that case, I'll arrange for airport security to watch this avenue, and I'll find out where he said he'd show up from Nalphyr and stake it out myself. He's cocky, and if he has near as much of an honor complex as you've claimed, he'll likely make some kind of appearance - probably plotted enough to make it hard to catch, so one of us should be there in person."
"I'll head for the docks then. Keep your cellphone on." Carmelita nodded, and walked out.

Sly went through helping reset the traps and the security systems in a sort of daze, staring off at some point in space. When Murray asked if he was alright, he almost didn't respond, then blinked and nodded, slipping back into the distant stare. When everything was back in order, Bentley sat at his desk and set to work re-designing the base's security, while Bentley sat down only half paying attention to a video game, Sly sitting under the skull-marked sign from the Isle of Wrath, still staring off into space.
"I suppose we know what our next target is?"
"Eh?" Sly broke out of the trance, blinking broadly at Bentley, who'd moved his chair enough to the side to be able to see his partner around the monitor.
"I said I take it we have a positive next target in this Macavity." Bentley pushed his glasses further up onto his beak.
"Yeah...we need to get that stone back." Sly started. "Crud...we need to get that stone back!"
"What's wrong?" Murray clicked off the game.
"Some cop from Green Island collared me - that wolf that was tailing us - I gave my word I'd return the stone, since I don't have much of a use for it anyway..said I'd give it back tomorrow."
Bentley sighed heavily. "It's already late evening. We know nothing about the person who stole it from us. There is quite simply no possible chance of getting it back and making it to your rendezvous on time, even with some miracle of luck. Also, might I say that it's a rather stupid idea to arrange a meeting with an officer that's out for your arrest - you're asking for a trap."
"Stupid or no, I gave my word as a Cooper that the stone would be returned, and the stone will be returned."
"The most feasible option strategically would be to simply return the stone directly to Green Island after we retrieve it from Macavity, without going to the police; they wouldn't expect us to go back there, and would be tracking us wherever we chased that feline. It would require skipping your meeting, but it was a bad idea to go in the first place."
"I'm going to make at least an appearance...just enough to tell them there'll be a delay."
"You're a fool Sly...I'll see what I can do to find out what they're going to have set up for you." Bentley stopped, hrrmed, adjusted his glasses, and looked closer at his screen. "Most curious..."
"Find something?"
"Macavity does not exist."
"He was in the hideout. You saw him when he left."
"The cat who stole the jewel from us most certainly exists, but Macavity, according to all records, has been around as long as the Coopers or Clockwerk...however, the descriptions are horrendously inconsistent, and it seems most likely if anything that the name is more of a buzzword alias than an actual identity; a name dropped when a criminal cat doesn't wish to give out any name or alias that could be traced back to them."
"Only cats?"
Bentley nodded. "Only cats."
"There's got to be more to it than that..."
Bentley favored Sly with a dull, dry look. "I'll chase the name 'Macavity' in due time. However, first I think it a more profitable approach in the long run to change tactics and look for someone matching the description of our fellow felon."
Sly stood up and started pacing across the train car while Bentley focused on his searches. Sly was wearing a visible path in the dust on the floor; Murray rummaged through the fridge, setting a microwave burrito to cook. The microwave dinged, and Murray made short work of the food while Sly continued pacing. Sly stopped to adjust the balance on the neon sign from Mesa City, then resumed pacing while Murray turned back on his game, doing dismally; he was having a hard time concentrating on it. Ten more circuits of the train car later, Sly readjusted the balance on the neon sign, then nudged the plug behind some paneling so it'd be out of sight; then resumed pacing again. Murray shut off the game and pulled out a walkman, turning up the volume while trying to doze; Sly stopped to dust off one of the skulls on the skull-and-crossbones sign from the Isle of Wrath.
"A-HAH!" The headphones were off Murray, and Sly snapped around, both of their attention fixed on Bentley. "I found his criminal record!"
"Well?"
"Parking violation in Tokyo."
A breeze blew through the train car. "That's it?" Sly's tail was twitching.
"That's it. The guy's a master at covering his tracks. A few minor accusations, but nothing's managed to stick."
Murray drooped; Sly turned and banged his head against the train car wall between the displays for the Isle of Wrath and Mesa City.
"It gets even more amusing...from this, I've tried to track down birth certificates, home addresses, anything."
"And?" Sly was still slumped against the wall.
"With enough digging, all of his records are fabrications...as far as any real investigation goes, he doesn't exist."
"Which leaves us with?"
"A very formidable foe."
Sly turned, slumping with his back against the wall. "So in other words, you can't find anything?"
"Not exactly...I can track use of some of his falsified records through airport passenger manifests, charter records, and similar...it seems he globe-trots as much as we do. Hm...There is an interesting correlation between his travels and some other affairs..."
"Oh?"
"Well, there's a list of unsolved crimes that seem to follow his movements. Also, there's a few cases where it seems that he used someone else's heist as cover for his own movements...huh...that's interesting..."
"What now?"
"In a couple of the older manifests I've pulled up, he wasn't travelling alone; it looks like he had a mentor...that one I can pin down." Bentley tapped a couple keys and waved Sly over; Sly jumped over the desk to stand over Bentley's shoulder, as Bentley pulled up a police file on a trim white cat. "Algus 'Silvermane' Bransworth. Responsible not only for some rather sizable thefts, but also a few assassinations and other, more dangerous machinations...killed while resisting arrest six years ago."
"That's something to track down later...can you find our Macavity now?"
Bentley tapped keys in another window; Sly counted five different windows open. "Hmm...he hasn't taken a boat or ship out of Paris; however, he could've easily driven without leaving any trail in the records, so he may still have skipped town. I can't seem to track any of his known aliases to any hotels in town, but that doesn't rule out smaller bed and breakfasts, or calling in favors, which would seem like a valid avenue given his mentor's connections."
"Any clues to habits, patterns, preferences, quirks, anything we can take a chance on?"
"Mmm..." He spent a minute working in three of the five windows. "Not that I can really determine. I'm afraid my information is too sketchy; he's done an impressive job of avoiding leaving a paper trail." Bentley leaned back, taking off his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. "I'll keep at this...there's an outside chance I may be able to find some lead I hadn't expected, possibly through the Silvermane angle."
"Alright...I'm going to go for a walk around the ridge, get some fresh air." Sly left through a window, weaving a crazy zig-zag across the field avoiding booby traps by memory.

The next morning, Bentley poked him awake, curled up in the middle of the floor on the hideout. The trash can next to Bentley's desk was brimming; the turtle had propped himself up on caffeine, working through the night.
"I'm afraid I haven't found much; I have more openings to chase, but nothing concrete enough to be of use yet."
Sly nodded blearily. "So no go on nailing this kitty before I deal with the cops?" Bentley shook his head; Sly pulled up, sitting.
"On that subject, I've managed to get a few worms into their personnel rosters and other files; I'll be able to back you up from the van as usual."
Sly nodded as Bentley handed him a mug of coffee. "Thanks, Bentley."
"The van will be by Notre Dame instead of the usual place, just in case." Bentley walked back to his desk, then stopped. "Sly...be careful."
"I will."

Around noon, Sly dashed in over the rooftops, ducking down building ledges and along a couple power lines. He paused now and then to peek about through the binoc-u-com, confirming the locations of the various police that were arrayed out to catch him. It was a rather impressive setup.
"Sly - do you read me?"
"Of course I do, Bentley."
"There's one thing that worries me...I can't locate the officer who's spearheading this."
"Carmelita?"
"No...her new partner. Be on the lookout for a black cat in a suit; I haven't finished digging up data on him, but he was just transferred to the case."
"Seven years bad luck...good thing I'm not superstitious. That wolf around anywhere?"
"No...according to the police database, the agent from Green Island is trolling the highways looking for us. They've got the airport nailed down too, and Carmelita's got a team at the docks...they don't want us leaving the city."
"This could be interesting."
Sly clicked off the binoc-u-com, then made a quick dart down to the same gargoyle he'd talked to Nalphyr from.
"I can't return the Firebird Stone right now; some creep calling himself Macavity swiped it, and I have to get back from him first." There were the clicks of many rifles and blasters being trained on him. "Geez, bit of overkill...", he muttered. "The stone will be returned, on my honor as a Cooper."
"Macavity doesn't exist." Sly snapped around to look behind him; standing in the window of the abandoned apartment, not four feet from him, was the very black cat Bentley had warned him about, standing calm and stoic, with a light pistol in one hand. "And this is about more than the stone; you have many more thefts to account for, and the lives of five law officers of the Republic of Green Island."
The accusation hit him like a pile of concrete out of nowhere. "Lives...wha?"
"During the theft of the Firebird Stone, five officers were murdered. You are the lone suspect."
Sly pulled his jaw back into place. "Murdered?"
"Yes." The cat's tail was lashing, as he levelled a glare that could have melted titanium.
"I didn't kill those officers, and I will return the stone." He dashed off to the side, trailed by gunfire, until Nocturne called a halt, and ran out along the ledge after him itself. Sly darted straight up a rain gutter; had he looked back, he would've seen Hyperion blanche slightly, then continue pursuit. Sly was barely off the pipe when it broke off the wall, sending a very surprised Inspector Nocturne two stories down to the ground. Hyperion managed to land with some measure of dignity, as Cooper's tail vanished over a rooftop a block down. Hyperion found himself gaining a great deal of respect for Carmelita and what she put up with, as he set up calls over radio and cellphones to bring Carmelita and Nalphyr out to cut Sly off.

Sly made a breathless dash across the rooftops of Paris, acting more on mechanical reflex than paying attention. Murder? He'd avoided being even seen by the officers, had gone through the entire heist without a fight. Something was seriously wrong here; someone else had interfered, killing the cops and framing him. He almost choked and slipped on a ledge as he remembered Bentley's words - using other thefts as covers for his own dealings...Macavity had been on his tail on Green Island, had been there during the theft, and had to be the one responsible for the deaths, and he'd stake his cane on it.
He glimpsed the blue van across the Seine; dashed down the side of the building, across the bridge, then screeched to a halt in front of Notre Dame as Carmelita dashed in from the other side. Darting sideways, he went straight up the gargoyles on the wall of the great cathedral, up to the rooftop where he crouched down, scanning to find a way out, as a familiar black rental car pulled in and stopped.
The wolf proved to be a better climber than Sly expected. Nalphyr scrambled up the gargoyle-lined ledge, standing and taking aim - to find Sly standing resolutely, seemingly undisturbed by the heavy revolver that was trained dead center on his face.
"I didn't kill those cops."
"Who did then?", Nalphyr snarled, not buying it.
"Macavity."
"Doesn't exist. An old wives' tale used to scare rookies and excuse incompetence."
"If you truly believe that I killed your comrades, look me in the eye, call me a liar, and shoot me."
Nalphyr glared down the muzzle of the revolver at the young thief, cold green eyes meeting brown; there was no fear nor guilt there, but an odd wounded pride and a self-righteous resolve he wouldn't have expected of a thief. He pulled back the hammer of the revolver, never once breaking the staredown. It thudded into place with an ominous, heavy 'click'; Sly didn't flinch or tense in the slightest.
"Liar.", Nalphyr growled.
Then there was a shot, and Sly buckled at an impact from behind, blacking out on the image of burning green eyes and the barrel of a revolver.
*****
I considered continuing this chapter a bit further...but sadism won out. ^_^ (It being spring break now, I shouldn't take too much time before I update again; if the sudden stop is bugging you, check the last passage over carefully...)