Ernie Grapple waited in the malt shop with his three friends Skip, Orville, and Humphrey, who were a rabbit, stork, and hippo respectively. Today was the day that Kit Cloudkicker was supposed to have completed his pilot's license course with the old creep, "Love to Flunk 'Em" Throgmorton.

Ernie and the gang had planned to meet Kit at the malt shop afterwards to celebrate, as Ernie was certain that Kit of all people could complete that course with even "Love to Flunk 'Em" Throgmorton as his instructor. After all, he'd learned from the best, and although there was a time when Ernie would have mocked Kit for idolizing a simple cargo plane pilot like Baloo, the lanky hyena and his three cohorts had come to respect Baloo after he saved his life from that loony scientist, Dr. Axelottle.

But now, as it was getting on noon, they sat at their usual table by the window - Frank the soda jerk was nice enough to reserve it for them - but there was no sign of Kit. A bunch of empty and half-empty malt glasses and sundae bowls sat on the table, that the four teens had ordered so they could have something to slurp on to pass the time.

"So where is he?" Humphrey finally said, breaking the silence finally. Until he spoke the only sounds had been Skip sucking noisily on his straw. Orville, for his part, didn't say a word and looked half-asleep.

"You already asked that like five times, genius," said Ernie, "and like I told ya before, I don't know. When are you gonna quit askin'?"

"Until he shows up, stupid," said the hippo, indignant as he got from his chair and went to the counter. "I'm gonna buy me another soda."

"Get me one, too!" said Skip, sucking noisily on his straw again and prompting Ernie to snatch the decidedly empty glass away from him.

It was only two years after Skip, or "Skippy" as they once called him, joined that they decided they were too old for a "club" like the Jungle Aces, prompting Ernie to, somewhat pompously, declare them an official "gang" now. Gone were the cooking pots and colanders, in was casual dress.

"You keep eatin' those things and you're gonna explode!" Ernie said, prodding Skip in the stomach lightly with his finger.

As Humphrey was returning with three more sodas on a tray - two for himself and one for Skip - Kit finally came into the malt shop. Ernie was amazed he'd actually gotten there at all. A minute later, a pig wearing a policeman's uniform entered the shop and stood behind the young bear, looking mildly intimidating.

"Kit!" he exclaimed. "Where in the heck have YOU been! We've been waitin' all day for ya! What happened to celebratin' you gettin' your pilot's license?"

Kit looked listless. "Sorry, guys," he said, his voice barely a whisper as he looked down at the floor.

"Well, how'd it go?" asked Humphrey, serving the new round of sodas.

Ernie said, "You didn't flunk the test didja?"

Kit shook his head, "I never even took the test." Before his friends could respond, he told them the whole story. About how he'd been followed home from school, about how Baloo had gone missing, and about had happened to Higher For Hire. The four boys were speechless. "I missed the test 'cause I was busy looking at photos trying to pick out the three bozos that did it," he finished as he went and sat at the counter.

Ernie pointed at the pig, "And who's this joker?"

"Officer Malarky," the pig replied in a thick Irish accent. "I've been assigned as young Master Cloudkicker's escort due to potential danger to his physical well-being."

"Say what?" Humphrey asked, blinking.

"He means he's Kit's bodyguard, stupid," said Skip.

"Eh, basically," said Malarky. "But only temporarily."

He then walked to the counter and sat beside Kit, as Frank served them both sodas. Malarky immediately set to work on his, while Kit didn't touch the one the soda jerk placed in front of him. He was too miserable to think of food, and he wished Officer Malarky would just go away. In the back of his mind, he understood the need for the detective's presence at his side for the time being, but at the moment Malarky was a painful reminder of what had happened.

Similarly, he wasn't that keen on Ernie and the gang being there, and found himself wondering what he was doing in the malt shop in the first place. Finally, he took a sip of the soda, and felt a little better.

"Case, Case, Case," he said quietly to himself, trying to place the name, but couldn't. Although he had every confidence in the police, he couldn't just sit here and do nothing, waiting for those crooks to make another grab at him. He had to do something; anything! he HAD to know the identity of this mysterious foe that had intruded upon his life and taken away his chance to fly AND his Papa Bear! He turned to his "baby-sitter," and cleared his throat. "Officer Malarky?"

"Hmm?" Malarky said, in the middle of drinking his soda. After swallowing he said, "What is it?"

"How exactly does this whole bodyguard thing work? I mean, do I have to do what you say, or do you just follow me around wherever I go?"

"That depends," the pig officer replied. "You only have to follow my orders if your life is in immediate danger. Say one of those creeps came in here lookin' to snatch you. Then if I told you to run and hide, you'd have to. Otherwise, yeah, I guess you're free to go wherever you want to, provided that I accompany you no matter what."

Kit pondered this for a second. "All right," he said, "then I wanna go back to Higher For Hire, or... at least what's left of it."

"Why? What for?" Malarky asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, what for?" Ernie chimed in as he, Skip, Orville and Humphrey suddenly crowded around Kit and the cop.

"I need to check something out," Kit replied as he got up from his seat and headed for the door.

Grumbling, Malarky hurriedly threw some shaboozies at Frank and got up, hurrying after his young charge. "Look, kiddo," he said as he finally caught up to him on the sidewalk outside, "the whole 'do what the bodyguard says' thing also implies to perceived dangers. You wanna play junior detective, fine, but I'd prefer you not go back someplace that the perpetrators have already visited."

"Humor me," Kit said sourly, narrowing his eyes at the pig. "Why would they come back to a burned-down building crawling with cops?"

Malarky scratched his head under his hat. "Okay, you got a point, kid, I'll give ya that. All right, I'll drive ya back to Higher For Hire, but at the first sign of trouble we split, got it?"

"Got it," Kit said, smiling.

As he and Malarky were walking to the patrol car, Ernie came trotting out of the malt shop, with Skip, Orville and Humphrey hot on his heels. "Wait for us!" he hollered, making Kit and Malarky turn. "We're going too!"

"Yeah!" the other three said in unison contemptuously, making Kit smile despite his glum mood. Some things never changed.

"Aw, no!" protested Malarky, holding his hands up. "No way! I'm not gonna be responsible for all you boys!"

"No way, copper," said Ernie. In a flash, he and the others were piled into the back seat of the detective's car. "Kit's our buddy! And besides, this is all way too good not to check out first-hand!"

Malarky groaned and palmed his face. He didn't have time for this. There was no way he could force all four teenagers out of his car, and he'd look foolish calling for backup in a case like this. Finally, he gave in. "Fine," he muttered. "But like I told Kit; first sign of trouble and we vamoose. ALL of us. Got it?"

After the four boys had shouted unanimously in excited agreement, Malarky and Kit got into the car. Malarky started the motor, and they were off. Officer Malarky was a good guy, Kit thought. He hoped nothing did happen that would require Malarky to put his life on the line for him, and although Kit was conflicted about potentially placing his caretaker into harm's way, there was something he HAD to check for. The name "Case" rang a bell, and there was one thing he was sure could potentially shed some light onto the situation, and it was in Papa Bear's old newspaper collection.

Meanwhile, halfway across town, Detective Thursday and Wildcat arrived at Tiny's.
As they got out of the car, Wildcat looking at the sign above the entrance and asked, "Who's Tiny?"

"He owns this dump," Thursday said contemptuously as he walked around to the trunk of the car and opened it. Reaching inside, he removed a trenchcoat and hat. "I always keep a spare in case of emergencies," the detective said. Suddenly he tossed the articles of clothing at Wildcat, who caught them. "Put these on," Thursday instructed as he closed the trunk, then approached the entrance to the tavern.

"Uh, why?" asked Wildcat even as he was putting the fedora on his head and slipping on the trenchcoat.

"Because, since I don't have any of my guys with me you'll have to substitute," Thursday explained as he removed his revolver, checked it, then returned it to his shoulder holster concealed under his coat. "Just don't say anything or do anything."

"Right," said Wildcat, turning the collar of the trenchcoat up and buttoning it to hide the fact he was wearing mechanic's coveralls instead of the usual dress shirt and tie normally associated with plain-clothes officers. "Wow," he said, "I feel like Humphrey Dogart in this getup."

Thursday stared at him for a moment, fighting back the urge to burst out laughing at the mechanic, who was obviously enjoying himself. "Okay, let's go," he said.
And with that, they entered Tiny's. Tiny's only really came alive at night, and during the day was actually pretty dull. The only customers in the pub right now were a pelican and a couple of badgers, obviously seamen or dockworkers from the nearby dock district. Tiny himself was behind the bar. He eyed the two trenchcoat-clad figures with his one good eye as they approached.

"What can I do ya for, fellas?" he rasped.

"Wow," said Wildcat, staring up at the huge polar bear. "He's not tiny at all! You should think about changin' your name!"

Ignoring Wildcat, Thursday said, "Hiya Tiny. My, uh, partner and I wanna have a little chat with you."

"Yeah," said Wildcat, trying to sound intimidating.

Tiny gave Thursday a disarming smile. "Well, well, well," he said, "if it ain't Detective Thursday. What's it been? Two years? And I see you got yourself a new partner, too. Although by the look of him I'd say he was a rookie."

"Oh, yeah," Wildcat said, grinning from ear to ear, "I just started today in fact."

Tiny raised a brow at this, then turned his attention back to Thursday. "Can I offer you a drink on the house, Detective?"

"Can it with the pleasantries, Tiny," Thursday said, "I don't exactly have time to shoot the breeze with you, so I'll be blunt: I need some information."

"Oh really? What about" Tiny put his massive hands on the bar and leaned over closer to Thursday.

"Your old pals Sparky and Nigel are wanted for questioning in a pretty nasty case of arson that happened last night," replied Thursday.

Even Wildcat noted the brief glint of recognition in the polar bear's eye at the mention of those names. "And lemme guess," Tiny said, "you wanna know where they are, right?"

"Not exactly. I happen to know they're apparently been hired by somebody named 'Case,'" said Thursday. He put his hands on the bar now and leaned forwards until the tip of his snout was a mere two inches from Tiny's nose. "The name doesn't ring any bells, by any chance, does it?"

"Nope," said Tiny flatly. "And anyway, why're you askin' me?"

"Because you have a pretty bad reputation for putting desperate people into contact with some pretty unscurpulous hired guns. Now, either you tell me what I wanna know, or else I'll have have the precinct down here before you can blink your one good eye. Savvy?"

"Why don't you crawl back to the filthy basement you came from?" said Tiny, any pretense of friendliness gone now.

"That wasn't a nice thing to say!" Wildcat said, frowning. "You guys are mean! And mean people never get ahead in life. So c'mon, let's all sit down and be friends and talk over some coffee, whaddaya say?"

Tiny turned and glared at him, then looked back at Thursday. "Fine," he said, clearly not wanting any trouble with the law. "But remember, you didn't hear any of this from me."

"Right," said Thursday.

"I didn't catch the guy's name," Tiny said, and then, noting Thursday's scowl, hurriedly added, "It's the truth! Anyway, I put 'im in touch with Sparky and Nigel. And there was a lotta suspicious talk about Thembria..."

Jack Case sat in the back seat of the car parked on the curb outside of the small grocery store that was just down the street from Rebecca Cunningham's apartment building. While they waited, Jack felt another migraine coming on, and took out his bottle of painkillers, dumping several of the pills into his hand and then stuffing them into his mouth, chewing them noisily.

After a time, Rebecca Cunningham did emerge from inside the store, carrying a large bag of groceries, followed by that little girl of hers whose name Jack didn't know, nor did he really care at the moment. Or so he thought. As the young bear cub held the door for the uniformed dog police officer, who came out carrying two large bags of groceries, Jack frowned. Just what he needed. The police.

"Is that her?" asked Sparky, sitting behind the wheel.

"Yeah, that's her," replied Jack, rubbing his hands together and actually licking his lips in anticipation, resisting the urge to let loose a mad cackle. "We'll follow her back to her apartment building, and then we'll grab her!"

"But what about the cop and the little girl?" asked Nigel, seated beside Sparky up front.

"Take the girl if you can, knock out the cop if you have to," Jack said, leaning forwards in his seat and prodding his finger into the back of Nigel's neck, making the hound yelp. "But remember, no killing!"

"Uh, rright, Mr. Case," whimpered Nigel.

"Come on, come on," Kit intoned as he stood in the phone booth, silently begging Miss Cunningham to pick up. He'd been trying for the past five minutes to reach her at her apartment, but nobody was answering. Where could she be? He hoped that with the policeman that Detective Thursday had assigned to watch her, she would be safe, but he would feel a heck of a lot better if he could just get in touch with her and let her know that he knew - or at least thought he knew - who was behind the whole ordeal they were being put through.

As he waited impatiently in the phone booth, listening to the endless rings, Kit looked outside to where Officer Malarky and the others were waiting. Ernie stood expectantly beside the phone booth, while Skip, Humphrey and Orville were both reading the newspaper article they'd driven all the way across town to get. Malarky, for his part, was leaning against the front fender of his car, arms crossed, looking bored.

Finally, when Kit decided that there was no point in waiting for Miss Cunningham to pick up the phone, he hung up and exited the booth.

"Any luck?" asked Ernie.

"No," replied Kit, scratching the back of his head. "She must be out."

"Yeah, well, so am I," said Ernie, patting himself down, "of nickels, anyway."

"If it's that important," said Officer Malarky suddenly, "why don't I just drive you boys to Miss Cunningham's apartment building?"

"I was just about to say something like that," Kit said, smiling.

"Well, then, I think we should quit lollygagging and get on over to Miss Cunningham's apartment and let her know that this Case guy has got it in for her."

"Right," said Kit.

Together, they all piled into Malarky's car and sped off with the siren wailing.

"Thank you so much, Officer Gertalin," Rebecca said as she, Molly, and the policeman rode the elevator up to the floor of the apartment building where they lived.

"No trouble at all, ma'am," Gertalin said, holding a bag of groceries in each arm.

After telling Detective Thursday everything she possibly could, Rebecca had gone straight home with Molly, who was currently holding a miniature grocery bag of her own as she had insisted on her mother at the store. Detective Thursday had been insistent, as well, that Officer Gertalin accompany Rebecca and Molly home, just in case the criminals responsible for Higher For Hire's destruction tried to get her while she was at home.

However, Rebecca had flat-out refused to simply sit in her apartment and wait for something to happen. She had to do something, anything, to keep herself occupied, so she had talked Officer Gertalin into letting her leave the house to go to the bank, and then to the market.

She hadn't paid much attention to the strange car that seemed to be shadowing them as they walked down the street, until it burned rubber and sped on ahead, with Gertalin remarking that the driver was asking for a speeding ticket. Neither she nor the officer had noticed the same car parked outside the apartment building when they arrived. But who could blame them? There were a thousand cars exactly like it throughout Cape Suzette.

Rebecca almost regretted that she'd gotten her shopping done, because it meant that once they got back to the apartment and put up all the groceries, she'd have nothing to do but sit and wait for either Thursday to call with some news about the case.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open open her floor, and Rebecca walked to the door. After unlocking it, she went inside, Molly and Officer Gertalin close behind her. Immediately Rebecca sensed that something was wrong. The lights were off and the curtains were closed. She'd left the lights on and the curtains open when they'd left earlier, of that she was certain. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Officer Gertalin suddenly looked suspicious as well. She was about to ask the officer whether or not they should leave when when suddenly someone else was in the room with them, slamming the front door closed.

Officer Gertalin spun, dropping one of his grocery bags, and Rebecca heard a muffled smacking sound, like someone being hit. Sure enough, Gertalin went stumbling backwards past her, crashing into an armchair and flipping it - and himself - over, spilling groceries everywhere. She heard Molly scream.

Dropping her own bag, Rebecca ran to a table lamp and turned it on. It didn't illuminate the entire room, just the foyer, but that was all Rebecca needed to see. She beheld two enormous canines, a hound and a bulldog, wearing fedoras and trenchcoats, standing between her and the front door. The hound was holding a squirming and whimpering Molly in the air by the back of her shirt. Rebecca's heart leapt into her throat.

The bulldog spoke first. "Rebecca Cunningham, I presume," he said.

Rebecca nodded shakily, unsure of how to express with words the feelings of anger and fear that mixed inside her. Without a doubt, these were the ones responsible for burning down Higher For Hire, and now they had come into her home, and had her daughter.

"Thought so," the bulldog said, grinning.

She backed up, almost tripping over the prone form of Officer Gertalin, who was laying unmoving alongside the overturned armchair. For a moment, Rebecca thought, irrationally, that the policeman was dead. "Officer Gertalin," she whispered, desperately. "Wake up!" But the policeman did not respond.

The bulldog walked towards her, reaching out with enormous hands that looked capable of crushing her head like a grapefruit. Speaking of grapefruits, she tripped on exactly that, one of the many items that hd spilled from the numerous dropped grocery bags. With a cry, she fell backwards and landed on her backside. She looked up to find the bulldog standing over her. He looked ten feet tall in the dim light.

"You're comin' with us," he said.

"Yeah," added the hound, who hadn't moved from where he stood by the door. "Or else the little girl gets it!"

Rebecca felt her anger overtaking her fear. "You leave Molly alone!" she yelled.
At that very moment, Jack Case was waiting in the back seat of the rented car parked outside the apartment building, checking his watch and wondering how long it was going to take those two idiots to grab that one woman. Finally, losing his patience, he got out of the car and went inside.

Molly, meanwhile, wasn't about to go quietly. As she dangled in the hound's grip, she suddenly declared, "This looks like a job for Danger Woman!"

"Danger Woman?" the hound said, blinking. Molly's teeth suddenly sank into his hand, making him shriek and drop her to the floor. "YEEEEOOOOOWWWW!"

Molly landed hard at her ex-captor's feet, but shook the dizziness off and stood. The hound was jumping up and down, clutching his bitten hand and whimpering, muttering curses under his breath. Molly quickly kicked him in the knee, and down he went with a loud thud, crashing to the floor. In response, the bulldog spun around around, wide-eyed, giving Rebecca the opportunity she needed. She was on her feet in a flash, and jumped onto the goon's back, yanking his fedora down over his eyes, and began to pound her fists into his head.

"Hey! I can't see!" he yelled. "Ow! Stop that!"

"Molly! Run!" Rebecca yelled as the bulldog tried unsuccessfully to pull her off of himself.

Molly looked indecisive. "But, Mommy"

"Do as I say!" Rebecca screamed, harshly. She'd apologize for yelling at her. Right now she wanted her daughter out of this apartment NOW.

Beside Molly, the hound was sitting up, shaking his head. This was all the persuasion Molly needed, as she bolted for the door, turned the knob, and was in the hall. As she went, she yelled over her shoulder, "Don't worry, Mommy! Danger Woman will get reinforcements!" She bumped into Jack Case in the hallway.

"Hello there, little girl," he said, crouching down to be at her level.

"A-are you a policeman, llike Mr. Thursday?" Molly asked nervously.

The rabbit grinned widely, and nodded eagerly. "Uh, yeah! Exactly like Mr. Thursday. I'm, uh, Detective Case. Yeah, Detective Case. Don't worry, you're safe with me." He suddenly reached out to put a hand on her shoulder.

"Where's your badge?" Molly suddenly demanded, backing away from him as she remembered how Detective Thursday had shown her his badge.

"My what?" said Jack. His eyes widened in surprise, but he recovered quickly. "I, er, left it at home."

But he wasn't quick enough for Molly. She backed up further. "You're not a policeman!" she said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Y-you're one of the bad men!" She realized she was right when Jack's expression darkened and he became angry.

"Come here, you little brat!" he growled. He spread his arms wide and dove at her, but she ducked and crawled between his legs and then ran down the hallway quicker than he was able to turn around.

Inside the apartment, Rebecca was still clinging to the bulldog's back. "Ow! Owie, owie, owie!" he yelped as Rebecca continued to pound on him. "Get this crazy dame offa me, Nigel!"

"Duh, okay Sparky!" Nigel, the hound, said, rushing forwards. He was much bigger than Sparky the bulldog, and Rebecca knew there was no way she could even hope to break away if he managed to get ahold of her, so she dismounted from Sparky, ducked under Nigel's swinging arms, and grabbed the table lamp she'd turned on earlier, and flung it at Nigel as he was in the process of spinning around to face her.

The lamp collided with his head and shattered, plunging the room into darkness again, although from the light flooding in through the open front door Rebecca could see as the big hound stumbled forwards and crashed into Sparky, sending both would-be kidnappers crashing to the floor. She didn't wait to see whether or not she'd succeeded in knocking them out, turning and running through the front door and into the hallway, just about slamming into Jack Case, who caught her arms.

"Hello, Rebecca," he said. "Long time, no see. How've you been?"

"You! What are YOU doing here?" Rebecca demanded, struggling, but Jack's grip was like a vice.

"Aw, what's wrong? Aren't you glad to see me?" he leered, chuckling.

She stomped on his foot, making him yelp and release her, and then she shoved him backwards. He stumbled, but didn't fall. Just at that moment, she heard the sound of scuffling feet and spun to see both huge goons come stumbling out into the hall, Nigel without his hat and rubbing his head groggily, while Sparky was still trying without success to pull his hat back up from over his eyes. Pointing at them, Nigel said, "There she is!"

Outside, Detective Thursday and Wildcat pulled up in Thursday car, parking alongside Jack's, although they didn't know it yet.

All the talk about Thembria and a mysterious Mr. Case made Thursday suddenly anxious to check in on Gertalin and see how Rebecca Cunningham was doing.

"Wow," said Wildcat, still in his fedora and trenchcoat "disguise." "I could get used to this detective-type stuff, Mr. Thursday. I hope we'll catch those bad guys real soon!"

"Me too," said Thursday as they got out of the car and started towards the building. "Which is why I brought you along, remember?"

"Yeah," the lion mechanic replied. "'Cause I can identi-ma-fy the suspects. And believe me, Mr. Thursday, I got a reeeeeeally good look at 'em." To emphasize, he pulled his lower eyelid down so his eyeball bulged creepily from its socket.

Suddenly, none other than little Molly Cunningham came out, tears flowing from her eyes. "Wildcat!" she said, suddenly smiling with what looked like mixed joy and relief, running and leaping into the mechanic's arms.

"Molly-cat!" Wildcat said, hugging her. "What's wrong, why're you crying?"

"There's bad men in our apartment!" she said breathlessly. "The-they're after Mommy!"

Wildcat looked questioningly at Detective Thursday, who suddenly reached into his trenchcoat and pulled his revolver. "Come on!" he said, and rushed for the emergency stairs. "We'll take the stairs! No way these goons would use the elevator!"

"You wait here, Molly-cat," Wildcat said, setting Molly down gingerly. "We'll go save Rebecca for ya!"

He then turned and trotted after the detective, and the two disappeared around the corner of the building, headed, Molly knew, for the door where the emergency stairs were. Molly sniffled and rubbed her nose, worried sick, hoping that her mother would be all right.

Back upstairs, Rebecca was struggling as Sparky and Nigel held her between them. Sparky had managed to finally pull his hat up from over his eyes. With his arms folded behind his back, Jack Case marched up to the captive bear woman and sneered at her. "Didn't expect to see me again, didja?" he said. "Thought you'd seen the last of old Jack Case?"

"Look, buster, I had completely forgotten about you in the five years since you tricked me and Baloo into flying your sorry butt to Thembria," Rebecca said. More fiercely now, she said, "Why are you doing this?"

"Because of what you did to me! Because of what you caused to have happen to me!" Jack said. "I was arrested and held as a spy, and even when I was able to prove I wasn't a spy, they still threw me into prison anyway, for violating one of their idiotic laws. Something about needing a permit to try and give the High Marshall a present."

Rebecca sighed. She hated when villains did this.

Jack continued, "It was the worst five years of my life! I ate nothing but hot steam, the warden used me to pedal his ceiling fan, I got stuck in the sweatbox, and worst of all, the showers! Oh, my God, the showers! Every horrible rumor you've ever heard about the showers in Thembrian prisons is true!"

Rebecca blinked, not liking where this was going. "You don't mean...?"

"I DO!" Jack cried. His eyes narrowed and he suddenly shuddered visibly with disgust. "Mildew. Oh, it was awful!"

She rolled her eyes. "Look, Jack, anything bad that happened to you, you brought on yourself! You lied to us, you ran away and left us like a coward! You almost got us killed, all just to try and deliver one lousy package! You deserved those five years in prison!"

Jack suddenly grabbed her face, hissing, "Nevertheless, I will have my revenge!"

At that moment, the stairwell door burst open and Detective Thursday and Wildcat emerged. Jack, Rebecca, and the goons spun around, startled. Acting quickly, Jack grabbed Rebecca and yanked her out of the goons' grasp, holding her in front of himself, using her as a shield as Thursday trained his revolver on them. "Back!" he said. "Get back!" Blinking, Thursday lowered the revolver and nodded, backing away slowly. Wildcat did the same.

"You're only making this worse for yourself, Jack," Rebecca said, suddenly trying to sound sympathetic. She figured if she appealed to his better side, provided he had one, she could persuade him to give up. No dice.

"Shut up," he said, maneuvering her towards the stairwell, Sparky and Nigel following at a distance. "You're my ticket outta here!"

Suddenly none other than Officer Gertalin emerged from the open apartment door, gun in hand, looking disoriented. "Freeze!" he yelled, aiming his pistol at the kidnappers and firing. He missed by a mile, the bullet hitting the top of the stairwell doorframe and splintering the wood.

"Go!" Jack yelled, shoving Rebecca ahead of him, forcing her to run down the stairs, Sparky and Nigel right behind them.

"Gertalin, no!" yelled Thursday, stopping his confused officer from firing again. "They've got Miss Cunningham held hostage!"

To be continued...