Chapter 27

"Mon Lieutenant! Over here, s'il vous plait!"

Lieutenant Trish Connelly, Interpol, turned her reddish-blond head in the direction of that excited voice, and spotted her most junior constable waving at her animatedly. She---and her team, which consisted of six constables, as well as Uma and six of her regular QRF lads---had been ordered to the Japanese Consulate this evening…in part, she knew, as a result of a singularly most curious and anonymous phone call received by her fellow lieutenant, the rascally Kitty Petro. "Easy now! Hold your shirt on, lass," Trish called, nodding over at Uma, who nodded back and joined her. "We're a-comin'!"

The excited constable, a young gazelle woman whose name happened to be Genevieve Beauchamp, nearly drug poor Trish by the elbow toward the heavily foliated woods just outside the Embassy proper in her zeal. "Come! It is over here, Mademoiselle Lieutenant…come quickly!" Constable Beauchamp proclaimed, her big doe-like brown eyes nearly algow in her excitement. She began to lead both Trish and Uma down the narrow two-track path into the woods.

"Faith, lass…slow down," Trish cautioned, removing her elbow from the excitable woman's grasp. "Just you lead us there, luv…we're right behind you, so we are."

Genevieve fairly bubbled as she strode along…as only an gazelle could. "This is my first case, Lieutenant," she admitted in a rush, "and you cannot imagine my surprise---oui?---when I stumbled upon this, no?" Constable Beauchamp dashed ahead, disappearing from view.

"She's an enthusiastic sort, isn't she?" Trish hazarded to Uma, casting her a grin and a look of slight exasperation.

"Ja," Uma answered with a soft chuckle, adjusting the sling of her FN-11 shock rifle over her shoulder. "But, meine Freundin, were we not all when first we start our careers?"

Trish grinned at that, admitting to herself that Uma did have a pretty valid point. "As you say, Uma…an' you're right o' course," Trish replied. Then, she stopped, blinking a bit owlishly at the sight before her. "God save Ireland," Trish said in an awed voice. "Would you look at that now?"

"Mein Gott!" Uma proclaimed as she joined Trish in the clearing. "Was ist los?" The big bobcat commander pushed her service cap back on her head, her big green eyes wide now in her surprise.

"What's happenin' is right, darlin'," Trish offered, agreeing with her German friend.

"See, Lieutenant?" the excited Genevieve announced, nearly bouncing up and down on her feet. "Did I not say it was tres manufique?"

Trish walked slowly over and then stopped to take in the sights she found before her now. For, in the clearing, stood a sleek and very yellow Lamborghini Diablo Roadster---Trish knew this only from Kitty's continual ravings about the fool thing!---over the back of which had been draped the apparently unconscious forms of four men and two women clad in some sort of black form-fitting uniforms. Each of the unconscious figures lying across the broad back of the Roadster were bound at both the wrist and ankle with white plastic flexi-cuffs. "What have we here, I'm fair wonderin'?" Trish said in hushed tones. She then moved forward again toward the low, racy-looking sports car and its 'passengers'. "Very nice work, Constable Beauchamp. I'll be sure to mention you favorably in me report, so I will," Trish then said to the expectant Constable Joubert, who positively beamed at Trish's words of praise.

"Ah, merci…but wait, Lieutenant!" Genevieve proclaimed then, smiling an ear-to-ear grin. "It gets better yet, no? Please, look inside! Go on…"

Trish frowned at Uma, who merely shrugged, and did as the bubbly Constable had asked. Trish took her flashlight from her belt, turned it on, and pointed it to the interior of the Roadster---after making sure the beam was lit, of course!. "Mary, Mother of God!" Trish gasped, then laughed, her green eyes twinkling. "Is that---? Nay, it can't be!" Trish grinned, then redirected her flashlight in again, then positively beamed in triumph. "Uma luv…do you have any idea just who that wee lass is?"

"Nein," Uma answered, shaking her head after she had joined Trish to peer in at the sleeping woman in the sports car. She gave Trish a small expectant grin of sorts. "Should I, Trish?"

"Hmm, perhaps not," Trish admitted, then grinned again. "Well, then…Uma Metzer…meet Keiko Zuikawa, the Japanese heiress and alleged scam artist and purveyor of counterfeit classic automobiles, darlin'…" Trish nearly shivered at realizing this would bust her case wide open!

"Ah, the woman from that case that has been vexing you, nicht wahr?" Uma questioned, grinning slightly now.

"Aye, luv…one in the same!" Trish acknowledged, then tried the handle of the sports car. It was unlocked, and Trish grunted softly as she worked the odd doors up and forward until they locked in place. Trish then leaned in looking Keiko over. "Well, I'm guessin' the wee lass is naught but sleepin'…but it never hurts to check, don't you know..." Trish prudently reached out and laid her first two fingers of her hand against the unconscious Keiko's throat. She smiled when she felt the healthy throb of the woman's pulse beneath her fingers. "Aye, she's alive all right…thank heavens," Trish announced, nodding her head in her satisfaction.

Uma nodded in relief as well. "Das ist gut, ja?" she asked. "Er..that's good, right?" she said in English this time.

"Very good indeed, Uma," Trish agreed, then frowned. "But, what's botherin' me, darlin'," Trish added a moment later, "is I can't seem to figure out just how all this got here in the first place…"

Uma shook her head at first, but then grinned as she spotted something beneath the car's windshield wipers just then. She reached out one hand and pulled the two cardboard cards free. "Ach, here you are, liebchen…I think this may answer your question, ja?" The cute yet muscular bobcat gal grinned almost indecently at her friend.

Trish quirked up an eyebrow, then lifted her head free of the inside of the Lamborghini. "What's this yeh say, Uma?" she asked, then blinked as the big bobcat woman somewhat dramatically dropped the pair of odd business cards into a querulous Trish's hand. Trish picked up the first card, grinned, then finally laughed out loud. "Sly Cooper! I should of known…"

"Sly Cooper?" Uma questioned, then looked down again at the card. "Ach, ja…I remember now. That blue card…that would be his, ja?"

"Aye, so it is, darlin'," Trish affirmed, gazing down at the blue oval card that sported a stylized image of a smiling racoon's face.

"Ich sehe das jetzt," Uma objected a moment later. "Er, but meine Freundin…if that is indeed Herr Cooper's card…then, whose would that red card be then, hmm?"

Trish had her suspicions as to the answer to her big friend's question, but prudently kept her peace. She owed nothing less to her dear friend than to muddy the waters a bit, and that's precisely what she did. "Faith, girl, how should I know that?" Trish replied with a shrug of her slender shoulders. "Who knows…maybe Cooper's gone an' got himself an accomplice?" Trish waited a long moment, then offered an alternative scenario. "Or, maybe he's hooked up with some other Master Thief…"

"Ja, that could be so," Uma replied, through she frowned. "But, whatever the case, this is most odd. I had always thought that Herr Cooper preferred to work alone, nicht wahr?" Uma peered over at Trish for confirmation.

"That's his M.O. to date, Uma," Trish agreed, then added, "But…do I look like some sort o' mind-reader, darlin'?" Trish wearily shook her head. "Take more than the musin's of some flat foot like meself to ever figure that rogue out…"

"Hmm," Uma grunted, frowning still. "Point taken, Trish."

"Metzer! Connelly! Report!" came the unmistakable voice of Chief Rob a moment later. "What in blazes is going on here?" Interpol's irascible Chief of Paris Station was not one for beating around the bush, it seemed.

Trish turned and moved toward her superior. "A grand evenin' to you, Chief," Trish greeted him with a grin. "Well, so far at least...it looks like Kitty's luck is still holdin', so it is."

"I'm not in any mood for word games this evening, Connelly," Chief Rob growled, reaching into his pocket for another antacid tablet. "Speak English for once."

Chief Rob was in a prickly sort of mood this evening, Trish quickly deduced, though she took his implied slight in stride. "That tip that Kitty received this evenin' seems to of panned out nicely for us all, Chief," Trish explained. "Seems that the anonymous caller told her a tale that Ms. Zuikawa here---"

"Who, incidentally, is the Japanese Cultural Attache here in Paris, by the way," Chief Rob supplied with a growl.

"---has finally slipped up…an' slipped up good," Trish finished a moment later.

"Oh, really?" Chief Rob said as he chewed his much-needed tablet. His stomach was paining him awful this evening. "All I can say is this had better be good, Connelly…"

"Oh, aye, Chief," Trish said, even as she ducked inside of the Lamborghini to fish around briefly inside of Keiko's white obi, where she had seen an odd seeming round bulge beneath…and thereby extracted the CD that contained all the incriminating evidence of Keiko's misdeeds. "All the goods---except the fake Roadster, o' course!---is on here…or so I'm told at least, Chief."

Chief Rob sighed in partial relief. That would definitely make his job of informing the Japanese government why there cultural attaché was being detained that much easier. "That's helpful. So…anything else, Lieutenant?" he added, feeling a bit better as the antacid finally kicked in.

"Aye, Chief…now that you mention it," Trish said, albeit reluctantly. "Er, we found this too…under this wee car's windshield wipers, you see…" She held out the two by-now most familiar calling cards to her boss…rather tentatively indeed.

Chief Rob groaned aloud, feeling a new pain appear his already aggrieved stomach at the sight of those two infernal cards. "Cooper again? Dammit!" he growled, rubbing a hand over his paining stomach. "Great, that's just great. Oh, one from his new ladyfriend too? Wonderful…just wonderful."

"So it would appear, Chief," Trish reluctantly agreed. "So it would appear…"

Chief Rob glared at poor Trish, then sighed when he realized he could hardly blame the Irish vixen for tonight's developments. "All right," he finally managed to get out somewhat civilly. "You know the drill, Trish…get these criminals out of here, process the evidence, and---heaven help you, missy!---get me some iron-clad convinctions."

"Aye, I'm on it, Chief," Trish responded, pushing a wispy tendril of her attractive strawberry blond hair out of her eyes. "I'll be givin' you an open-and-shut case against our Japanese lass soon enough, so I will."

"You do that, Lieutenant," Chief Rob growled, grimacing as his stomach surged anew with acid this evening. He then popped yet another antacid, and surveyed the scene before him with a practiced eye. "Oh, and Trish...?" he added as he turned to walk back to his car, a mid-size Renault this time.

"Aye, sir?" Trish replied, looking up from where she was about to cut Keiko's cuffs with a pocket knife.

"Good work, Lieutenant," Chief Rob said begrudgingly, then climbed into his car, and drove away.

Trish grinned at hearing that...a rarity from the Chief, and that's a fact. She then used her small lock-blade knife to cut Keiko's flexi-cuffs apart and rubbed the woman's wrists which were a bit swelled. "Uma?" Trish called out from where she knelt beside the unconscious leopardess.

"Ja, what is it, Trish?" Uma answered, ambling over to her side, curiosity and a sense of odd satisfaction in the woman's eyes just then.

"Do you think I could impose on you, darlin'?" Trish asked, nodding to the nearly laying down Keiko in the driver's seat of the Lamborghini.

"Ja, it would be a pleasure," Uma told her with a chuckle. The big bobcat woman knelt down, and bodily pulled Keiko out and over her shoulder. Uma then carefully got to her feet, the slight Keiko draped over her shoulder now. "Where to, liebchen?"

Trish giggled softly. "That's easy, luv! To the back seat o' my Citroen, o' course," she answered. "Oh, do you think I could ask yer bonny lads to help me constables haul this 'trash' away, my friend?"

Uma grinned, patting Trish on the shoulder gently. "Jawohl! It would be our pleasure, Leutnant Connelly." Uma turned and using her index finger and thumb whistled a quick shrill series of notes. Her alert QRF troopers turned and hustled over to their commander. "Quinlan, take our team and assist Constable Beauchamp with hauling these suspects in to headquarters, ja?"

"Understood, Lt. Metzer," Officer Garrett Quinlan, an Englishman, replied with a quick salute. "LeBeau, Killian, Dortmund, and Brown! Front and center," Quinlan barked, and his four QRF comrades nodded. "Let's get these decorations off, over to our cars, and properly dressed…" he added, then growled at the end, "…and smartly now!"

Trish watched as three of her constables helped Uma's strong QRF lads cart the still unconscious suspects away, with Uma in the lead. As she waited, she again looked about the clearing she found herself in this evening. Her quick green eyes---now adjusted to the darkness---looked about…and finally detected the faint signs of another set of tire tracks…different from those of the Lamborghini, whose broad tires and tread were easy to spot. "Way to go, Carmelita lassie," Trish whispered with a grin. Her heart swelled with pride in her friend, who she loved more like a sister than a friend. "Thanks…I owe you one, luv…"

A half-hour later, downtown Paris, Interpol Headquarters...

"This is preposterous!" a still a bit woozy Keiko Zuikawa demanded. "I demand to be released at once! I am a diplomat, damn it!"

Trish moved to within centimeters of Keiko's face, her green eyes narrowed and threatening. "You're naught but a criminal, lass…and are bein' treated as one." She turned to a burly canine QRF trooper---named Brown, Trish thought---and ordered, "Take her to Interrogation Room One, trooper."

"Right away, Lieutenant," Trooper Brown replied, placing a firm yet ominous hand on the startled Japanese heiress' shoulder. "Come along, you…"

"I am Keiko Zuikawa!" she screeched. "I demand to see my attorney! At once! Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Trooper Brown, an American, replied in amusement. "Tell it to the judge, honey…"

Trish grinned, shook her head, then moved back to her desk. She then began to remove all the evidence she had collected from her shoulder bag, and began transferring the sealed envelopes to interoffice correspondence mailer…so that she could get it off to Interpol's CSI guys and gals.

"Connelly!"

Trish blinked at that familiar growl, then turned her head toward her chief's office. "Aye, Chief?" she called in return.

"Get in here…now!" Chief Rob growled again.

Trish sighed expansively, then closed her eyes, composing herself…knowing that she was about to endure yet another verbal jujistsu match with her cranky superior. "Lord have mercy," she whispered, then louder added, "I'm comin', Chief…fast as I can!" Trish hustled her way over, mentally girding her arguments as some sort of armor. "Aye, Chief…you asked for me?"

"Come in, and shut the door, Lieutenant," Chief Rob instructed, beckoning her forward, even as he was finishing up a phone call.

Trish entered, took a deep breath, and tried to relax as she shut the door, and moved to take one of the two chairs before the Chief's desk.

Chief Rob watched Trish take a seat as he finished up his phone conversation and hung up. "Connelly…" he began, leaning forward on to his elbows on his desk.

"Aye, Chief? Is their something I can do for you?" Trish asked carefully.

"Yes. Yes there is," Chief Rob declared, then surprised Trish by thrusting his big meaty hand out to her. "Congratulations are in order, Lieutenant Connelly," Chief Rob said, shaking her hand proudly.

Trish was flustered by his praise. "There are?" she managed to say, then grimaced at how she sounded. "I mean, thanks, Chief…"

"Interpol's been after Ms. Zuikawa for years now, I'm sure you know," Chief Rob elaborated for her. "However, no one's been able to bring her up on charges and have enough evidence for a convinction to stick." Chief Rob then grinned at Trish, "That is…until now!"

"Um…" Trish mumbled, unsure where the Chief was going yet.

"Don't be so modest, Lieutenant. I mean…Trish," Chief Rob then said, appearing to be a bit embarrassed just then. "In case you were wondering, that was the Japanese ambassador. I explained why we had detained Ms. Zuikawa, as well as giving him some idea of the evidence we had against her. He promised that his government took a dim view on their diplomats performing criminal acts, and that he could almost---almost, mind you!---promise me that our request for her extradition to France would be looked most favorably upon."

Trish was elated! "Why, that's jus' grand, Chief!" she opined, smiling.

"I've reviewed your case with the Judiciary too," Chief Rob went on, chomping his unlit cigar in his exuberance. "And, you'll probably be happy to know that they think we've got quite a case. They're pretty confident of getting a conviction against Ms. Zuikawa…though, as she's a first time offender…there not quite sure how hard a sentence she'll get just yet."

"I hope they throw the wee book at that scamp, so I do!" Trish declared, thumping her small fist down on the Chief's desk in her vehemence.

"You'd be in pretty good company then, Trish," the Chief replied, grinning. "Well, that's all I've got…I just sort of thought you'd like to know…"

Trish got to her feet, and smiled winningly at her boss. "Why, thank yeh, Chief, I do appreciate it, so I do," she told him. "Well, I'll be off then…work to do, you know how it goes, Chief…"

"Oh, one last thing…" Chief Rob threw out then, reaching into his desk drawer a moment.

Trish halted, grimaced, then slowly turned back around. Okay, she told herself, this is when I catch it hot… "Aye, Chief?" she somehow managed to sound curious instead of frustrated.

"Here, you deserve it, Ms. Connelly," Chief Rob announced, then cleverly tossed a black cardboard box over to spin to a halt in front of a most startled Trish.

Trish blinked, then---against her better judgement!---picked up the box, and opened it. She looked down, gasped in shock, then quickly found a seat, her green eyes wide, a hand now covering her pretty mouth. She looked up with wide green eyes at the still smiling Chief. "Faith, Chief! Is this...?"

"As a matter of fact…it is indeed," Chief Rob said proudly. "Congratulations, Captain Connelly!"

Trish blinked, realizing she now had tears in her eyes. She wiped them hurriedly away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Chief," she apologized, sniffing slightly.

Chief Rob laughed softly. "Don't worry about it, Trish," he said proudly. "After all, it's not everyday a girl's becomes a Captain now, is it?"

Trish laughed then, "No, I suppose yer right there, Chief," Trish answered. "Thank yeh, Chief…I'll do me very best to not let yeh down…ye've me word on it!"

"I know," the Chief told her, getting up and escorting his newest Captain to the door. "Now, get! I don't want to see your face in this office until tomorrow. You get me, Captain?"

Trish beamed! "Aye, Chief!" she said. "I'll see you bright an' early tomorrow mornin', so yeh will!"

Chief Rob watched Trish dash through the door, and out of his office. "Well, that was the fun part," he told himself, as he lifted the phone from its cradle. "Now, I've got to call the Director-General…which, I'm sure, isn't going to be much fun at all…"

It wasn't!

Meanwhile, back at Yuri's chateau…

Svetlana Umanova moved on cat's paws in Yuri's darkened home, sighing as she knew she must reek of stale sweat and acrid gunpowder. Her big brown eyes could see quite handily in the darkness, and Svetlana silently thanked Madame again for having painted her walls in light colors. She padded softly up the stairs, her shoes in her backpack…along with her trusty rifle. Bozhe moi, she thought to herself, feeling her heart race in her chest. Oh, what if Maria, or Naomi---even worse, Madame herself!---happened to be in the hallway as she was? She fervently hoped this would not to be the case! In two minutes---which seemed at least a half-hour to her frightened mind!---she finally ducked into the room she shared with her best friend, Maria.

"Mmm," Maria murmured in her sleep. "Is something the matter, my Svetlana?"

Svetlana's brown eyes were huge with fright…she thought her poor heart would beat entirely out of her chest that moment! "Um, nyet," she murmured back---hopefully in soothing, reassuring tones, "I just need to use the restroom, tovarisch."

"Mmm," Maria muttered then, smiling. "That's nice…" She turned over, snuggling her cheek to her pillow.

Svetlana blinked as she allowed her pulse to slow to normal. She then opened the cedar chest at the end of her bed, and knelt down. She smoothily eased her Steyr---disassembled and it its sealed case---into the bottom of her very full chest, and closed it without a sound. She sighed silently once, then moved into the bathroom the two shared.

Svetlana looked at herself in the mirror, which was no mean task in the darkness. She then removed her form-fitting trousers and stuffed them along the line at the bottom of the bathroom door. It was only then she flicked on the light. She now saw that her eyes were all red, and that her hair was an absolute fright. She quickly peeled off her tight top, wrinkling her nose at the stink of her sweat and gunpowder as she did so. Now, to take a shower…or not? she wondered to herself. She decided to risk it, and removed the last of her clothing. She reached into the shower, worked the knobs to get the water good and hot, and stepped inside. "Mmm," the weary, sore little tigress sighed as the blissfully hot water cascaded down over her, her thick wavy black hair flattening across her face and shoulders as it did so…

Five minutes later, Svetlana hurried---oh, but it would have been simply heavenly to just soak! she thought to herself---after quickly shampooing her hair, then soaping her body with the most heavily fragranced soap she could find…one that smelled of lavender, by chance. She rinsed off quickly, then shut off the water slowly, so as to not cause any errant sounds in the chateau's pipes at that early hour. Feeling much more herself now, Svetlana toweled herself off, and then patted her thick hair with the towel, drying it best as she could. Most of the time after her shower, she would blow-dry her hair…but---and here she smiled at herself---it would be unkind to do such a thing this evening, nyet? She then picked up her clothing, and frowned. It still stank of sweat and gunpowder.

What to do? she mused to herself, seeking guidance. Ah, I know, she silently told herself. Svetlana picked up the fragrant lavender soap, and quickly filled the sink basin with cold water. She then picked up all her clothing…her black shirt and trousers, as well as her black bra and underwear and thrust them into the sink, and began to lather each garment up, kneading it and rinsing it again and again. After each wash, she would raise the garments to her sensitive nose, and sniff. The first time didn't do it…that was for certain! But, after three washes, she thought her clothes to now be acceptable. She wrang them out, then rolled them in a towel and stood on it until the garments were nearly dry. Then, and only then, she tossed them down the laundry chute in the bathroom, where Madame's staff would launder them. Done!

Svetlana then padded back into the bedroom, and smiled as she heard her Maria softly snoring. As she slipped beneath her covers, she sighed in absolute heaven, her big eyes drooping as sleep finally claimed her.

Three hours later…

"Bonjour, amis!" Naomi called out cheerfully as she waltzed into Svetlana and Maria's bedroom. "Come now, cheris…rise and shine, no?"

Maria rolled over and smiled at the bright blond-haired beauty. "Ah, Naomi…good morning, tovarisch!" she replied, flipping her covers off of herself.

Svetlana only moaned, pulled the covers over her dark-haired head, and sighed.

"Svetlana?" Naomi asked again, moving over to sit beside the comforter-covered lump she knew the tigress to be. "Come, ami…why are you having such trouble waking this morning, hmm?"

Svetlana sighed, but pulled the covers down to expose her head once more. Her eyes were bleary and red. "Naomi…may I be excused from work today? I am…er, I am afraid I did not get much sleep last night," she explained.

"Da, I remember," Maria offered a moment later, frowning slightly. "Didn't I hear you wake up and move around, Svetlana?"

"Da, I am sorry, Maria," Svetlana admitted, silently thanking her innocent friend for providing her with a perfect alibi. "I could not sleep…no matter what I tried. I even tried to take a shower…in hopes it would relax me, but…it did not work, I'm afraid." She looked over to Maria. "I hope I did not keep you awake, Maria, my friend…"

Maria grinned at her friend, shaking her head. "Nyet, dear," she assured her. "I slept like a log."

"Poor Svetlana," Naomi proclaimed softly, reaching down to softly caress the sleepy little tigress hair with her hand. She then grinned. "Perhaps you could try to catch up on your rest, no? As fate would have it, Madame was up late last night as well…assisting her Bentley with a mission of some sort for the Cooper Gang."

"She did?" Svetlana asked in an excited voice, guilelessly…the consummate actress this morning, apparently. "Ooh, what heist?" she added.

Naomi smiled indulgently at the excited Svetlana. "Oh, and I thought you too tired, eh Svetlana?" she teased.

Svetlana had the good grace to yawn just then. "Aw, Naomi!" she protested.

Naomi laughed softly. "I'm sorry, mon petite," she told her, "but you will have to ask Madame when she awakes. I will write her a note asking her to awaken you when she arises. How does that sound, hmm?"

"Merci!" Svetlana said around yet another yawn. "Thank you, Naomi," she added, yawning again. "I do not know why I am so tired…"

"Eh, it happens from time to time, Svetlana," Naomi soothed. "Just try to get your rest, hmm?"

Svetlana reached a hand out to squeeze Naomi's knee in her thanks. "I will…and thank you," she told her, thankfully.

"Ah, I will also tell Madame to send a car for you, if you like," Naomi suggested.

"Nyet, thank you," Svetlana murmured. "I can just take my moped to work, Naomi. I don't want to inconvenience Madame Yuri."

"Hmm, very well then," Naomi agreed, then leaned over to gently kiss Svetlana atop her head. "Adieu, and sweet dreams, mon ami."

Svetlana closed her eyes, and murmured, "Bye, Nomi…"

"Nomi?" Naomi questioned, grinning over at Maria, who was hustling to get dressed.

"Oh, da," Maria began to explain with a smile. "About that…you see, my Svetlana…she likes to give her friends nicknames."

"I see," Naomi answered wistfully. "But…Nomi?"

"Just an abbreviated, and easier, version of Naomi, da?" Maria explained further, even as she brushed her teeth and ran a comb through her bright white hair.

"Ah, I suppose that does make some sense then," Naomi admitted, then giggled softly. "You know…I do sort of like it. Nomi…" She giggled again. "I will allow you to finish your morning routine, Maria. While you prepare, I will be downstairs writing Svetlana her note." Naomi left, her long legs propelling her at a quick pace.

Maria finished up her preparations five minutes later, and quickly dashed down the stairs, holding her heeled shoes in her hand as she did so. "I am ready now, Naomi!" she called out, even as she daintily sat on the steps to put her deep blue heels on.

Naomi signed her name to the note, and folded it thrice, putting Yuri's name on the upraised side. "There, I am finished too, cheri," Naomi said cleverly. "Shall we go then, hmm?"

Maria laughed, drawing on her periwinkle blue overcoat. "Da! My budget's await, nyet?" she teased.

"Ah, of course they do!" Naomi laughed. She led Maria to where her Lamborghini rested, and the two entered. Even as Naomi twisted the key to bring the car to life, she turned to Maria. "Maria? Might I ask what Svetlana's nickname for you might be?"

"Mmm, maybe…but only if you promise not to laugh," Maria countered, grinning.

Naomi grinned back, and eased the sleek Lamborghini out and toward their destination. "Oh, but of course, cheri!" Naomi replied.

"She calls me 'Ria'," Maria told her, then giggled softly.

Naomi smiled, then shook her head. "Oh, very cute. Ria…what will that girl come up with next?"

"Naomi?" Maria then asked a bit shyly. "Do you mind if we listen to the radio?"

"Heavens no…please do," Naomi replied, smiling again at the polite vixen beside her.

Maria turned on the radio, and tuned in the news station. As both girls listened, the announcer began, "…now, in recent developments…last night, in downtown Paris, Interpol made a daring raid in the area just outside the Japanes Embassy. Seven are now being held on various charges…the most surprising being the arrest of noted socialite and Japanese Cultural attaché, Keiko Zuikawa. According to the Surete, Ms. Zuikawa has been charged with fraud, grand theft auto, as well as several counts of assault on JSDF Marine troops that were incapacitated last night. The Surete, as well as Interpol itself, have not provided the media with any substantial news on this raid, but rumor has it that the notorious Cooper Gang may have proved instrumental in making a case against the Japanese heiress herself. Now, here's Madeline with Sports…"

Maria smiled, nodding her head, pleased. "So, Comrade Cooper and his Gang strike again, nyet? Counterfeit cars this time, eh Naomi?" Maria then laughed softly, clapping her small hands together. "Ah, I bet your Murray must have been in paradise, nyet?"

"Hush, Maria…though, perhaps you are right," Naomi replied, smiling at just the mention of her beau. She continued her drive through the streets of Paris, finally driving up to park in the Executive Director's parking spot behind C'est Sing. "Come, my friend…it is time to earn our wage, nes pas?"

"Da, it is," Maria agreed, smiling as Naomi provided her with a hand up to get out of the low-slung racing car.

Once inside, Maria moved off to her cubicle…where her budgets and numerous supporting documents awaited her clever and ever-working mind. Meanwhile, Naomi moved into Yuri's office, sat down, and then---first thing!---opened the intercom to Yuri's admin, Desiree. "Desiree? Could you be a dear, and come in?" Naomi asked.

Desiree smiled, then moved inside to see Naomi sitting at Yuri's seat. "Oui Naomi?" Desiree asked, then grinned. "May I say you look very comfortable in Madame's chair?"

Naomi blushed, but smiled at the clever little margay woman. "Hush, Desiree! I am no Madame Sing," she countered. "Now, speaking of Madame…I would appreciate it if you would send out a company-wide email…informing everyone that Madame will be off at home today. As such, I am in charge…hmm, Madame seems to think it an excellent opportunity for me to practice for later."

"Madame, as always, is correct," the perky Desiree replied, her eyes twinkling.

"Hmmpf," Naomi snorted, not believing it for a second. Fill in for Madame? she told herself…perhaps. Replace Madame? Never!

Desiree smiled, almost knowing what was going on in the pretty cheetah woman's head just then. "Oui, Naomi…I will take care of that immediately."

"Merci, cheri," Naomi replied, then nodded. As Desiree left, closing the door behind her. Naomi placed a call to Maria.

Five minutes later, Maria poked her white-haired head inside the door to Naomi's temporary office. "Da, Naomi? You wanted to see me, tovarisch?"

"Oui! I would love to have a small talk with you…if you have a moment, of course," Naomi asked sweetly.

Maria frowned a moment, then shrugged. "Of course, Naomi," Maria replied, not sure what her friend wanted to talk about just yet. "Now, my friend…what would you care to discuss?"