the only person around was Wildcat. The lion mechanic was on his houseboat's porch, up to his elbows in sudsy water in his wringer washer.

"Wildcat, have you seen Baloo?" Rebecca asked, climbing down the ladder to the houseboat.

"Yup."

A triumphant 'caught ya' look appeared on Rebecca's face. "Where is he?" she asked eagerly.

"I dunno." He rolled a soapy sock through the wringer. "But I've seen him before. Just not today."

Rebecca gritted her teeth in frustration. "Of course you can't see him today. He's in-vi-si-ble."

Wildcat hung the sock on a clothesline along with his other mismatched socks. "That explains why I haven't seen him. Say, do you think maybe Baloo borrowed some of my socks? 'Cause some of them seem to be invisible, too."

Then he jumped into the washer's tub, spraying Rebecca from head to toe.

"Wildcat, what are you doing?" Rebecca exclaimed.

"Washing my overalls," he replied matter-of-factly.

Rebecca gave him a wary look and swiftly scrambled up the ladder. Try as she might, she could never seem to understand the workings of Wildcat's mind.

Standing on the dock, she re-read the dripping, crumpled note. "Not at Louie's, not eating, not sleeping, not fishing. Maybe Baloo was telling the truth...for once."

Meanwhile...
The People's Glorious Republic of Thembria
Air Vector Checkpoint #24

A hulking, solidly-built Thembrian airplane plowed a wide path through the snow as it recklessly skidded to a stop in front of the air vector checkpoint.

The short warthog who opened the cockpit door looked extremely small in contrast to the huge airplane that he piloted. He put one leg out of the plane, then quickly withdrew it, deciding that it was too big a step for him. "Sergeant Dunder!" he bellowed.

"Sorry, Colonel Spigot, sir." Sergeant Dunder jumped out of the airplane and touched his toes, creating a step for his superior.

With some difficulty, the colonel jumped from the plane to Dunder's back, then slid down to the snowy ground. He stomped to the guardhouse, lisping, "Open this checkpoint immediately!"

The checkpoint guard didn't bother to look up from his whittling; it was a miniature of the High Marshall in ice. Automatically, as if he had said it a thousand times, he stated, "This is a closed air vector."

"Whatever that is," Sergeant Dunder murmured. Spying a soda pop machine, he hurried over to get a root beer.

Bristling with indignation, the short warthog drew himself up to his full height and announced impressively, "I'm Colonel Spigot. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

The checkpoint attendant immediately snapped to attention. "Of course, Colonel Spigot, sir, but..."

The remainder of his sentence was drowned out by Falcon Wing whooshing by very low and very fast.

Spigot snatched at his hat, which had blown off his head. "Sergeant Dunder, I demand that you have that plane shot down for speeding through a closed air vector!"

A bottle of pop in hand, Dunder scanned the sky. There was nothing in sight but the ever-present slate grey clouds. "What plane, sir?"

Khan Towers

In his massive penthouse office, Shere Khan bent over one of his humongous Venus flytraps, pruning shears in hand. From jungles to corporations, pruning was a natural part of life. Dead weight has to be cut away to encourage new growth, he thought, giving a gentle, yet decisive clip to a dead leaf. Such as that sub-par golf tee company in Winger City. He picked up the dead leaf and deposited it in the trash.

He flicked an eye towards the elevator when he heard it open.

"Mr. Khan, I must speak to you," Rebecca said breathlessly, making her way across the room as fast as she could with Mrs. Snarly, his secretary, clinging to her ankle.

"Sorry about the intrusion, Mr. Khan. I tried to stop her, but she was so persistent." The elderly shrew gave Rebecca's leg a savage pinch.

"Ow!" Rebecca cried out in pain. She continued to limp across the office, dragging Mrs. Snarly behind her. "It has to do with Baloo."

Khan's lips twitched with an expression akin to amusement. This was the first person who had gotten past his secretary. In his opinion, a person that determined had a right to be heard. "It's all right, Mrs. Snarly. Let Ms. Cunningham speak her piece."

"Yes, Mr. Khan." Mrs. Snarly released Rebecca's leg and stood. She shot the bearess a venomous look before heading to the elevator.

Rebecca hobbled over to the tiger. "Thank you, Mr. Khan."

Khan continued to cut away foliage. "Now what's this about Baloo?"

"Is he working for you today?"

Khan considered before replying. "In every business one must take certain risks to get ahead. Sometimes those risks succeed and sometimes they fail." Snip! "Surely you as an entrepreneur can understand that."

"Where is he? What's he doing?"

Instead of answering her question, the most powerful man in the world said, "I'm sure you know what 'top secret' means."

Snip! Snip!

"Of course," Rebecca replied wonderingly.

He turned his cool eyes on her. Not unkindly, he said, "Then you'll understand why I can't answer your questions. However, I can assure you that my scientists are doing everything possible to return your pilot to normalcy...as it were."

"I appreciate that, but as his boss can't you at least tell me...?"

"Good day."

Snip!

The sound of the shears had a tone of finality.

Flatly, Rebecca said, "Thank you, Mr. Khan. I'm sorry I disturbed you."

After the elevator doors had closed behind Rebecca, Shere Khan murmured, "The only thing that will be disturbed will be the Wulff's Wunderbar Company." When the Venus flytrap snapped at him, he easily dodged it.

The Really Black Forest
Hounsland

Kit peered out the window at the sea of trees speeding by below them. "Why do they call it the Really Black Forest? It looks green from up here."

"Yeah, but it's blacker'n a bottomless pit down there 'cause all of those green leafys block out the sun."

"Swell. And we have to get a root beer formula from a factory in the middle of a dark forest crawling with Swatzis?"

"Swatzis who can't see us, kid," Baloo pointed out. "We'll pop in, grab the formula, and pop out. What could go wrong?"

At that moment, without warning, a series of explosions rocked the plane!

"Whoa!" Baloo and Kit yelled.

End of part 2

Here's to Your Stealth
Part 3

Above The Really Black Forest, Hounsland

"Either this is Independence Day or we've been spotted!" Baloo exclaimed. He yanked Falcon Wing's control yoke this way and that in an attempt to evade the bombs that were bursting all around them.

Kit, who was being flung from side to side despite the seatbelt, shouted over the deafening noise, "That's impossible! Falcon Wing is invisible!"

"Tell that to them."

"Whoa!" Baloo and Kit yelled.

The latest explosion had been so close that it shattered the starboard window, causing glass to rain in on the two bears.

"We've been hit!" Baloo swiped shards of glass from his goggles.

Kit felt something warm and wet run down his muzzle. To his surprise, it didn't taste like blood. "By root beer?"

"Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', Li'l Britches?"

"That only the Wulff's Wunderbar factory would shoot off root beer-filled pop bottle rockets?"

"Bingo. Only one way to find out."

Mindful of the jagged glass framing the large hole in the passenger side window, Kit gingerly stuck his head outside. Below them, between the blinding flashes of the bombs, he caught intermittent glimpses of a small mountainside clearing that was mostly filled by a large building. "But there's not enough space to land. The forest grows too close to the factory!" he shouted over the bombs, the engines, and the rushing wind.

"We've gotta get down there somehow, an' this falcon ain't the treetop-perchin' kind."

"Too bad, because all I see are trees, trees, and more...wait! There's a lake. Two o'clock low."

A moment later, a pair of frightened geese took wing when a tall plume of water seemed to magically sprout in the middle of the calm lake. They honked frantically at the invisible, roaring intruder as it plowed a watery path towards the shore. The geese alighted on their favorite tufts of grass just in time to hear the monster stop growling, the slam of a door, and a disembodied voice say:

"Now I see why they call it the Really Black Forest."

"Yeah," Baloo agreed. "It's darker than the inside of my empty tummy."

"It's sure looks spooky," Kit said nervously. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the pitch-black, ominously silent forest. "Who knows what might be hiding in there."

Baloo jumped from the plane, splashing into the shallow water near the shore. "Brr! This water's colder'n a Thembrian Jacuzzi." The big bear grabbed at the trees overhanging the crystal clear lake to keep from slipping on the rocks polished smooth by time and water. "Put your fears to rest, Li'l Britches. We aren't going through the forest."

"What do you mean, Baloo?" Kit asked, also hopping into the frigid lake. Losing his footing on the treacherous rocks, he frantically clutched at Baloo's shirttail to steady himself. "We have to get to the factory to get the root beer recipe for Shere Khan so that he'll give us the antidote to the invisibility formula, and the factory is through that forest."

"Right on both accounts, but we'll have a better chance of findin' the factory if we follow the river that I spotted. According

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