PROGRAMS OF BETRAYAL

Job 7: Make Yourself At Home

Sly leaves the safe-house with a cheery wave back at the others and swings himself out the window. The moon shines high overhead as he makes his way through the fields, just barely avoiding the urge to whistle; even the guards around him aren't a problem at this point. Sly wall-hooks up the hill and makes his way up the castle with ease, though he has to pause and make sure no one's in the meeting room with the large windows before easing past them.

Once he's on the roof of the castle, he pulls out his binoc-u-com. "I can't believe I get to do this, Bentley."

"I can't believe I'm letting you," Bentley gripes. "You're going to be insufferable for weeks."

"Oh come on, pal." Sly tosses his cane from hand to hand. "A real secret passage! This is almost as good as stealing a pirate ship!"

"Just be careful in there," Bentley says. "The guards know their way around that place, but you don't; if anyone sees you, we won't get another chance. Plus, unless you find that secret passage, there are only two exits: the trapdoor and the front door."

Sly frowns and crosses his arms. "You mean I could get cornered down there."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. The second anyone notices you in there, or thinks there's anything wrong, this mission's a bust. I don't want you within sneezing distance of those guys, Sly."

"Okay, I won't," Sly says. "Not even to pick-pocket. Now relax, Bentley. Any last-minute advice before I go in there?"

"Well..." Bentley consults the blueprint in front of him. "Based on the most common model for buildings of this time period, there should be an upper floor, the ground floor, and a cellar. You should probably explore the top floor first, since you'll be able to get back out the trapdoor; then locate the exit on the ground floor before searching the cellar, and make sure you can get back up the stairs or ladder and away when you do."

"I'm on it."

Sly tucks his binoc-u-com away and lifts the trapdoor. A ladder awaits him, with no one directly below. He climbs down to the flash of a LOADING screen.

When the screen clears, Sly is standing in a rather small hallway, the staircase to one side, and doors—closed, their locks huge and perfect for skeleton keys or lock picks—on the other three sides. On a hunch, he creeps first to the one directly in front of him and cracks it open.

Sure enough, it's the room in the front of the castle, the one with the two large windows where the Black Baron would pace while discussing his strategy. Where Penelope, in disguise, would discuss her strategy. However it's described, it's a large room, with three deep red, plush carpets covering the ground and fancy hangings on the walls. It's also completely empty.

Sly leaves that door cracked open and exits the room. As he approaches the next room, Bentley can be heard saying, "Hold the circle button when you approach to look through the keyhole."

Good advice, Bentley. Sly does so, and can see a fox going in circles around the room. Sly waits until the guy's back is to him to slip in. Sly tails the guy around the room. Like guards everywhere, he doesn't notice that the door is open now, just keeps going. This room is simpler than the audience chamber; it has a couple couches, one rug in the middle of the wooden floor, a fireplace in one wall. If castles had living rooms, this would be one.

In his three circuits of the room, Sly uses the circle button to check under the couches, under the rug, and pull on the candle holders set into the walls. No secret switches, no trap doors. It's not here. Sly slips out and shuts the door behind him.

On to the last room on this floor, then. A glance through the keyhole reveals... weird flashing lights, but no guards. And, when Sly tries it, it's locked.

But there's a rotating lock above the keyhole, instead of it taking a, you know, actual key. Which is good, because Bentley's forbidden Sly from even touching these guards.

Which, if any of them had anything valuable, Sly would immediately ignore.

Not that he'd tell Bentley that.

A few moments of turning the dial this way and that and feeling for the vibration of falling tumblers later, Sly pushes open the door.

He closes it behind him and takes a moment to pull out his binoc-u-com. "Hey, Bentley?"

"Bentley's not here," says Carmelita. "You got something?"

"Take a look at this," Sly says, pointing his binoc-u-com around the room. It is impressive. The row of computer monitors, the desk with electrical components tucked underneath, the security cameras monitoring the door to the hotel, the airfield, and all the bridges... It's really quite impressive.

"There is no way that's legal," Carmelita mutters. "Only, we learned this by breaking and entering, and—"

"Sting operation," Sly reminds her. "Just the way you need to get proof of stuff like this. I'll snap some photos."

"Try not to get any of the camera images that show things that are—well—from now." Carmelita groans. "I don't know how we'll explain that to Interpol."

"Nothing that shows the time period but lots of images of illegal surveillance, coming right up," Sly says.

Based on the labels of the pictures he takes, they include a computer array, a weapons control switchboard, a Spice dispensary, and more mind-control gems. Terrific. Just what we want to see pictures of.

With that accomplished, Sly peeks out into the hallway and lets himself out, quiet and unseen as a shadow.

That does it for the upstairs. He makes his way down the stairs slowly, even though rail sliding down the banister would be much faster and significantly more fun. A guard's on the ground floor, pacing up and down the hallway the stairs empty out on; Sly waits halfway up, watching him. A switch to control the drawbridge is right next to the door leading outside, no problems there, and four other doors. No way to go down further, so even though Bentley said to go to the cellar, Sly waits for the guard to turn his back and presses his eye against the closest peephole.

He can't look long, not with the patrolling going on, but he does see that the room's empty. He lets himself in and shuts the door behind him.

From the looks of it, this is another meeting room, like the one Penelope used as the Black Baron upstairs. It's smaller, and less formal, but still very similar. And like the last one, it's unguarded, the candles unlit. Sly tests them all, even jumping on the couch so he can reach the chandelier and tug on that. Nothing even wiggles.

Not this room, then. Time to move on to another.

Sly watches through the keyhole until the patrolling guard turns around, then ghosts out of the meeting room and presses his eye to against the keyhole across the hall. There's movement in this one, another guard; Sly waits for them to move away before letting himself in, just missing the guard patrolling the hallway. He finds himself in a kitchen, a fireplace—no fire in it, but still—set in one wall, cupboards underneath all the counter tops, and a hatch in the floor in the corner. The guard here is another fox, walking in slow, steady circles around the central counter.

Sly moves past him, to the trap door, and lifts it. No light, no nothing down below, so he drops down and looks around.

It's a root cellar. Cans and jars line the shelves on the walls; there's scarce room between them to swing a cane. Sly tries, and makes enough noise that the guard above stops patrolling with an audible yelp. Sly doesn't move, barely breathes, until the guard relaxes again and continues on his way.

So, this is the cellar. But there's no passage down here.

Sly climbs halfway up the ladder and waits until the guard's not looking to climb the rest of the way, then systematically explores the rest of the room, checking every cupboard and even poking his head up the fireplace. He emerges with a hat blackened in soot and has to fight the urge to sneeze, finger jammed against his nose, until he makes it back to the door and peeks out into the hallway, waits his chance and slips out, darts down the hallway and into the next room without checking for guards.

He's in such a hurry that it almost gets him caught, but the fox in there is... sleeping. Not even the sort of dozing, been-a-long-day thing that they've seen some guards do in the past, where they'll close their eyes and lower their flashlight for one or two precious minutes, leaning against the wall behind them, then jerking awake. No, this guy is taking full advantage of guarding a bedroom at midnight: he's sacked out on the bed, limbs spread in all directions, flashlight loose in one hand, mouth wide as he snores. He isn't using any blankets, but that doesn't seem to impede him any.

Sly shakes his head and checks the armoire, the closet, the clothes chest, and the bedside table before getting on his hands and knees and crawling beneath the bed. It's almost as dusty down here as it was in the chimney, and Sly lets out a sneeze before he can stop it.

On the bed above there's a snort.

Sly sighs and settles in to wait until the guy is snoring again. It doesn't take long. That's this room clear, unless the passage is triggered by moving the bed... but that seems unlikely, given the canopy.

One more room to check, the room across from the bedroom. Sly waits for the patrolling guard to turn his back and checks the keyhole this time, but the last room seems to be empty. Sly lets himself in and glances around.

A dining room, it seems like. There are hangings on the wall, a long table, and chairs—twelve of them, four on each side and two each at the head and foot—pushed in neatly. The dangling edges of the long tablecloth, white patterned in green spirals, brush the floor; on top of it, not even covering the table all the way, another cloth was thrown, the familiar orange tipped in white pattern covering it and clashing horrendously with the rest of the room. A dumbwaiter is set into the far wall, almost large enough to be a full elevator.

And Sly doesn't remember seeing anything like that in any other room.

Seconds later, Sly climbs inside the dumbwaiter and pulls the door shut. It's almost too dark to see. It should be completely black, but it's not, because when the door closed the roof opened. Sly stands up, his head and shoulders poking out, and looks around.

There's a rope there, like a clothesline, attached to his little box. He grabs it and pulls; the dumbwaiter moves.

The LOADING screen covers up the sight of Sly pulling himself along, grunting with the effort. It goes back as, with a last heave, Sly pulls the dumbwaiter to another hole in the wall, a place designed for it to come out. "Have you found the passage yet, Sly?" asks Bentley over the binoc-u-com.

"I think so," Sly says, looking around in the dim light. "Pretty difficult to move the thing, though."

"Penelope probably uses a portable engine of some sort, and hides it when it's not in use," says Bentley. "I should be able to put one together here."

"Great. I think I'm at the hotel. I'll take a quick look around, then head back to the safe-house." Sly puts his binoc-u-com away and sits again, so he can listen at the dumbwaiter's sliding door before he opens it; as the door slides open, the roof slides closed.

Sly emerges in a kitchen patrolled by another fox. He slides the dumbwaiter closed and shadows the fox around the room, looking in all directions. Spotless counters, cutting boards lined up and ready to use, knives gleaming in wall-mounted knife racks, cupboards galore, stoves and ovens and everything you'd need or want or expect in a kitchen in this time period.

When the fox passes the door, Sly pauses by it—the keyholes here aren't near big enough to look through—and slips out. He emerges into a room recognizable to anyone who's played Sly 3. He's behind the bar in a large hotel lobby, empty now, though tables are set up as though expecting an influx of guests at any moment; once closed, the door looks like just another wall panel. To one side is the hotel entrance, and near it, flights of stairs; hallway balconies, one side against the wall and the other with a railing, line three sides of the area, with hotel rooms leading off from them.

There are no guards on the lobby floor, though when Sly moves across it, he can see there are guards by the entrance. Three of them. Making sure no one comes in... or, presumably, out. Like the spotlights were supposed to.

Sly examines three separate (empty) hotel rooms before Bentley comes on the line. "Sly, you can explore more later. You have to get back to the safe-house."

"Why?" Sly asks, even as he leaps over the railing and lands soundlessly on the lobby floor. "Do we have another lead?"

"No, but—there's been a bit of a problem."

Sly's fur stands on end. "Bentley, if anyone else has gotten captured, or—"

"No, no, nothing like that, but if we don't figure out a plan now we're going to be in serious trouble."

JOB COMPLETE

Sly practically sprints into the dumbwaiter, closes the door, and starts hauling on the rope like his life depends on it.

Author's Notes

Heads up, people: I'm disabling the PM feature for a week or two. If any of you have been in my profile, you may have seen me update it about someone who won't stop irritating me. Pleasant conversation turned into 'Can I use your fic in my stuff I haven't read it' evolved into comments I deliberately turned on Safe Search to google (it was a good idea) and I'm updating this chapter because I just blocked this guy on an EIGHTH account. He's now following my story and me as well, even though I blocked him, e-mailed alerts that will not be going in my 'Cool Sly 5 reviews and such' folder.