PROGRAMS OF BETRAYAL

Job 9: Hotel California

Sly puts on his fox disguise before stepping out into the hallway. "Remember Sly," Bentley says in his ear, "this is a stealth mission. Do not, under any circumstances, do anything that stands a chance of letting someone know you're not one of them."

"Relax, Bentley," Sly says, wrapping his scarf more firmly around his neck. "I'm a cop too, remember?" A snort that may have been Carmelita echoes in his ear. "I'm just a thief first, where they're criminals second."

"They could still get you put in prison if you're caught," Bentley says. "Or worse. No one knows who they are, but they'll sure know you, buddy."

"You're forgetting one thing, Bentley." Sly makes his way down the stairs to the main room, where a lone, bored guard patrols. A way-point flickers above him; he's got a key. "These guys are sub par cops and average criminals. And I am a master thief."

Carmelita takes over from Bentley. "Doesn't matter how good you are, Sly. They're still cops and you're outnumbered."

"If the best cop in the history of law enforcement couldn't catch me, what do I have to be afraid of?" Sly asks.

"You think I couldn't catch you?" Carmelita demands. "If you recall, I caught you—"

"Well, you did catch my eye, I admit," Sly says. Carmelita's sputtering echoes in the maskpiece as Sly relieves the guard of everything in his pockets, including a very plain key. "And eventually, my heart."

"Okay, I'm stopping this before it gets gross," Bentley says. "Just... take some pictures if you see anything interesting. Sheesh!"

Sly chuckles to himself as he steps away from the guard and over to the wall panel Bentley thought contained a secret door; it's a slightly different color than the rest of the wall, noticeable to anyone who thinks to look (which most people never do). He was right. And the key fits perfectly. Sly turns it and lets himself inside.

...Sly is just a little disappointed when it turns out to be a laundry room. Four rats are working there, in their gas masks and hazard suits, two hunched over tubs of water while one carries dripping clothes from the tubs to the wringer, where the fourth rat takes care of them. They all grumble while they work, irritated at having to do menial labor; it seems the foxes get the better jobs. Sly snaps a picture anyway; knowing what's behind the door will be useful for Bentley's plans.

But there's another door Sly can slip through, and he does so, ignoring all of them and closing the door behind him.

Sly appears to be at the top of a staircase, and he heads down it at a trot, tail swishing. It leads to a hallway with five doors: two to the left, two to the right, and one straight ahead at the end of the hall. There'll be no peeking through these keyholes; they're not big enough. Not that it matters, because all but one of them are locked.

Sly shrugs and opens it.

It seems to be some sort of office, meant for a hotel manager or... something; to Sly's eye it looks more like the principal's office where he spent far too much of his early years. An imposing desk, important-looking plaques and diplomas and degrees on the wall, a filing cabinet, and a very large, comfortable chair facing a rather plain straight-backed wooden chair. A rat trooper is dusting the desk, grumbling, pocket gleaming invitingly with a key.

Sly helps himself to it, snaps a photo, and exits the room, looking for the best spot to try that key out. The door straight ahead doesn't open still, but the one across the hall does, and it opens... into a very plain, ordinary conference room. Blackboards and chalk stand where whiteboards or projectors would be in his time, and the long table sits empty, all the chairs pushed in. A single fox walks around it in endless circles, stopping every now and then to yawn.

Sly moves around the room, not bumping tables or chairs, and claims the contents of that fox's pockets. Not much, really; a few coins, enough for a soda but not a meal, and a key. Perfect. Time for another photo.

Sly slips back out, still unnoticed. The first door on the right opens this time. Sly slips inside.

Bingo.

Sly isn't an expert on flying. He isn't an expert on a lot of things, really; he knows the underworld as well as his name, and he's got a decent idea of the law, but he relies on Bentley for most solid knowledge on stuff. So, while he can fly a plane, he has no idea about the wisdom of storing them underground.

But there's no doubt: this is an underground air hangar of some form. A huge door, like a garage door, is built into one wall; targets, set high out of sight, out of even Carmelita's normal range, need to be hit to open it. A biplane launcher sits to one side, one plane already in it, ready and waiting. A handful of other planes wait here, mostly biplanes, but one is a modern day fighter jet.

Sly takes pictures of it all: the targets, the launcher, the door, the planes, and the guards walking in lazy circles around the planes. Bentley hums in his ear, responding for the first time since he got in the laundry room. "That air base is awfully close to completion."

"No kidding," Sly says. "But why are these in here, then?"

"Possibly because they're used by Winthorp and Penelope," Bentley says, "and other guards. Didn't he mention something about flying being a reward?"

Sly grimaces. "Guess so. Look Bentley, I hate to say this, but... it's looking more and more like Penelope isn't acting of her own free will."

Bentley's voice cracks as he says, "I agree. But..." He takes a deep breath. "There's no doubt we'll get a lot of information by questioning her, maybe get to the bottom of this whole mess."

"Do you think we could get that from Winthorp?" Sly asks. "It'd be easier."

There's a commotion in the background. "Winthorp received Interpol training, so no, it wouldn't," Bentley says. "Please don't say that sort of thing where Carmelita can hear, it never ends well."

"Sorry."

"I've been considering for a while, but it might be possible to create a device that'll prevent the disruption of the dimensional anchor from affecting her. Then we could get rid of everyone else and she'd have nowhere to turn." Bentley taps his fingers together. "I'll have to think about this."

"Take all the time you need, buddy. And remember—you're not alone."

Sly puts his binoc-u-com away and sets about picking pockets. He gets some good stuff, including a very nice ring that doesn't have a brainwash stone, but has to pick every pocket before he finds the guard with the key.

Sly tosses it up and down in his hand as he leaves the room. To his surprise, the room at the end of the hall opens next; it would seem logical for that to be last, since it practically has 'IMPORTANT' emblazoned on it by its position, but no.

Sly opens the door to find him in the large open chamber the tower is in. The sewage drain is visible, as is the tower itself, and of course, the single guard patrolling the area. Another fox.

Sly snaps a picture, just so Bentley knows what's down here, and relieves the guard of his key, then retreats. One more room. Given the way his night's gone so far, what are the odds it's something useless, like a pool?

Sly steps in and stops.

It isn't a pool.

It's a security office.

A wall of monitors showcases places around the area: the front door of the hotel. The tower: both the tower base and its workstation, on separate screens. The entrance to the guard compound. Several on the airfield. One overlooking the fields; one watching the wooded area. There's even one watching the base of the castle.

None of which matters to Sly right now. No, what matters to Sly is three very basic things.

One, the fox wearing headphones and watching the screens. Sly doesn't need Bentley to tell him they must be able to listen in on one station or another.

Two, the top central screen. The room is unknown; they've never been there, they haven't found it. But the flashing lights, restraints, and mouse in the center of it, twitching slightly, all say 'Brainwashing Central' rather eloquently.

Last, the bottom central screen. Showing the castle's communication area. With Winthorp currently in residence, and using it.

"Sly," Bentley says in his ear, "take out that guard and put on the headphones. We need to know what he's saying."

Sly's already moving, has the fox unconscious on the floor before Bentley's finished speaking, ties the guy's hands and feet and pushes him in a corner. Headphones on, he looks at the mass of buttons before him and sees a likely-looking dial, turns it slowly.

The rattle of machinery he hears comes from the airbase. The whimpering isn't something he wants to think about; he can't do anything now anyway. The rumbling tanks are from in front of the hotel. The coughs and quiet gossip of the guards comes from their building.

"—finally finished. We'll do our test flight in the morning, and have the contract signed by the end of the week," Winthorp says. Sly glares at the bottom screen. The grainy image shows the weasel nodding, everything in his bearing and manner smug. "I have a dozen planes in the air right now, ready to defend it from the air. Nothing can touch it."

Carmelita growls through the binoc-u-com. The dial seems programmed to cycle through stations on its own; Sly has to work constantly to keep it in position, a nudge one way, then the other.

"Your device is finished as well. We'll pack it up shortly and deliver it on your next visit."

"Visit?" Bentley mumbles, scarcely heard over Carmelita's growling.

"This thing doesn't have a volume button, guys," Sly says.

"When will you arrive on your blimp?... Excellent! In addition to my jet, I'll have my best fliers escort me in biplanes at noon. The mouse can stay behind; leaving her here will tie up any loose ends. The authorities will need a target, after all."

Sly's tail thrashes with anger, but he keeps his hand steady on the dial, not letting it move to another station, listening intently, over Bentley's angry mutters and Carmelita's growls and, heck, even Murray can be heard through this, being Rather Unhappy.

"You'll authorize my promotion? Thank—I mean, it's an honor, sir. I know I'll make you, and Interpol, proud." Winthorp hangs up the phone.

Now Sly growls. Winthorp leaves, going off camera, with the entire Cooper gang knowing exactly how much they hate him.

"Head on back to the safe-house, Sly," says Bentley. "We have three things to do now, and once you're back here, we can get started."

JOB COMPLETE

Sly continues glaring at the screens, even though there's no sign where the room Penelope's in is located, or way to tell where Winthorp is, until it fades to black.

Available Jobs

Fanciful Flight

Tower Terror