her face.

Baloo, Rebecca, and Kit whipped around at the sound of Leo Stedman saying, “No, give methe stone.” The grim-looking secret agent had shed his 'Shere Khan' disguise. To his extreme annoyance, he didn't look as handsome as he had that morning. His navy suit was crumpled, and, horror of horrors, his hair was a complete mess.

“Who is that?” Rebecca whispered to Baloo.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing,” the big bear replied.

“The paperclip man!” Molly said brightly.

“Shaddup, you,” Trader Moe growled, pressing the gun closer to her temple.

“I am notthe paperclip man!” Stedman said angrily, running both hands through his bedraggled hair until it stood on end. Crisply, he stated, “I happen to be...”

Trader Moe cut him off with, “No one cares who you are, pretty boy. Give da stone to me.”

“No, me,” said Stedman.

“Me!”

“Me!”

Rhino Goon, standing behind his boss, pointed down. “Him.”

“Yeah, him,” Ape Goon echoed, pointing at Rhino Goon. The rhino moved the ape’s finger so that it pointed down at Trader Moe. Ape Goon giggled inanely. “Oops, him.”

“Three ta one. Looks like you lose, pretty boy.” Trader Moe smirked.

Stedman whipped his switchblade and gun from his pockets, smiling smugly down at the short alligator. “We’ll see about that, shorty.”

Trader Moe lips spread into an evil grin. “I'm gonna enjoy dis. Terminate him, boys.”

“No!” Rebecca yelled. "Don't shoot!"

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Trader Moe retorted, shifting his focus to the trembling bearess.

“You can’t tell da boss what ta do, lady,” echoed Rhino Goon.

“Yeah, lady, tell da boss what to do,” said Ape Goon.

“Just give him the stone, Baloo,” Rebecca ordered curtly. She was near hysterics. The only thing keeping her from running to her daughter was Baloo’s restraining paw on her arm.

“Which one?” His mind racing to formulate a plan to escape from this explosive situation, Baloo’s gaze flitted from Trader Moe and company’s semi-automatic rifles to Stedman’s weapons then back to Molly’s large, frightened eyes. He looked to Kit for help, but all the boy did was shake his head slightly.

“The one with my daughter!” Rebecca snapped, tears beading in her eyes.

Baloo pulled the stone from his shirt pocket. He held it in his hand for a few moments as if he was pondering what to do.

Then he did something completely unbelievable.

End of part 4

The Return of the Stone
Part 5

Feeling a light tap against his foot, Baloo looked down. It was one of Buzz’s latest inventions - a robotic floor sweeper/polisher. The round, beetle-like machine, which gurgled like a coffee machine, glided on a rotating polishing pad. It had two vacuum hoses that stuck out its sides like two arms. It repeatedly, relentlessly bumped against Baloo’s foot.

Shooting a sly grin at Trader Moe, Baloo dropped the stone. It was sucked up by one of the vacuum hoses, crunched up into a million fragments like ice in an ice-crusher, then ‘swallowed’ with a loud ‘slurp’. Without knowing that it had done anything wrong, the robot continued on its merry, mechanical way around the corner of the corridor.

Everyone’s jaws dropped in amazement.

“Da stone!” cried Trader Moe. Distracted by the appalling turn of events, he lowered his handgun. Molly bit her captor’s hand and kicked him in the shins hard, prompting a loud, “OW! Stupid kid!” from the alligator. The little girl ran like crazy into her mother’s outstretched arms.

“My career - crushed to dust!” shouted Leo Stedman. In a flash, he took off after the robot.

“Baloo,” Rebecca gasped, hugging Molly tightly; “I can’t believe you did that. All that money...”

“Aw, it was nuthin’, honey,” he said with an enigmatical twinkle in his eyes. The big bear slung an arm around Kit’s shoulder and grinned down at the boy.

But their smiles quickly faded.

Glaring at the four bears, Trader Moe said menacingly, “Youse just cost me a load of cash.”

“A load of cash,” echoed Rhino Goon, frowning.

“No money,” added Ape Goon.

“Now yer gonna pay for it,” Trader Moe growled.

As he and his goons slowly closed in on the four bears, guns at the ready, Baloo pushed Rebecca and the cubs behind him.

“Freeze!” shouted a panther security guard.

As if on cue, one hundred security officers - all look-alike grey panthers - poured out of the elevators, the stairways, and the hallways from all directions.

“He told us to freeze,” said Ape Goon. “I’m not cold.”

“Me, neither,” agreed Rhino Goon, shrugging his broad shoulders. “But dere’s some ice in da food place. Dat would make us cold.”

The head security officer ordered, “Put up your hands and put down your weapons.”

“What do we do first?” Ape Goon asked Rhino Goon.

“Uh...put up da hands, I think,” answered Rhino Goon, more confused than usual by all of the firearms pointed at himself. He wasn’t used to being on that end of the gun.

Trader Moe slid his gun towards the security guards and raised his hands. However, the stupid goons raised their hands, still holding their firearms.

“Put down the guns!” yelled one security guard.

“But put up your hands!” shouted a second security guard.

“But put the guns down!” said the first security guard.

The goons raised and lowered their hands until they didn’t know which way was up or down. “Whatta we do, boss?” they finally murmured.

“AGH!” Trader Moe snatched the guns from the goons, roughly backhanded them across the snouts, and screamed, “Put yer hands up now, ya ding-dongs!”

Rhino Goon and Ape Goon grinned at each other. “Oh, we gets it!”

While the threesome were handcuffed and being led away by the security officers, Trader Moe pleaded, “Incarcerate me fer life. Put in me in solitary confinement. Just don’t make me spend the next ten ta twenty with dose dumb goons!”

After the crowd of officers had dispersed, Baloo, Rebecca, Kit, and Molly trooped into the elevator.

“Thank goodness that’s over,” Kit mumbled, wearily leaning against the elevator wall.

“Did you see Trader Moe jump around when I kicked him?” Molly giggled. “That was funny.”

Rebecca caught the little girl’s hand in hers. “Your being held at gunpoint wasn’t funny, Pumpkin.”

“Goin’ up!” Baloo sang, pushing the button for the topmost floor.

“Why?” Rebecca and Kit cried.

Grinning, Baloo pulled the sub-electron amplifier from his pocket and kissed it. “I told ya it was nuthin’, Becky.”

“But...but...how?” She shared a quizzical look with Kit.

“That other sparkler was a fake I got at Louie’s Treasure Island blowout. This here’s the real deal. The ol’ switcheroo. Richville, here we come!”

“Woo-hoo!” the cubs cried.

Shere Khan’s Office

When the elevator doors opened on the far end of his opulent office, Shere Khan swivelled in his chair, saying laconically, “You’re fifty-four minutes late, Stedman.” He snapped his pocket watch shut. His eyes narrowed when he saw the four bears. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I think we got somethin’ you wanna see, Khanny,” Baloo said, holding out the stone.

Khan’s steady gaze passed from bear to bear to bear to bear. His right eyebrow lifted questioningly, but all he said was, “I see.”

Ten minutes later, Rebecca sat in the low-seated armchair in front of the desk with Molly on her lap. Lightly leaning against Rebecca’s shoulder was Kit. He, perched on the arm of the chair, watched as Baloo paced back and forth, wringing his cap in his hands. They waited quietly, yet impatiently, while the stone’s inventor, Dr. Debolt, a small apricot-colored rabbit with a shock of grey hair wearing a white lab coat, scrutinized the stone under a magnifying glass.

“Well, Dr. Debolt? Is it authentic?” Khan drawled, peering over his large desk at the scientist.

The rabbit’s small head was comically large as he looked through the magnifying glass at his boss. “It seems to be, Mr. Khan, but this method of testing is inconclusive. To be absolutely, one hundred percent sure, I’ll need to do further testing on it.”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?”

Dr. Debolt pushed his round spectacles up on his nose and counted on his fingers. “X-rays and fluoroscopes and microscopes and electroscopes and stethoscopes and...”

Khan interrupted with, “Mmm-yes. And how long will this testing take?”

“Three,” Dr. Debolt smeared some floor wax around on the stone, perplexed; “maybe four weeks.”

“Four weeks?” Baloo exclaimed, slumping over the back of the chair, dangling his cap right in front of Rebecca’s face. Peeved, she snatched the cap out of his hands and shoved it on his head.

“Oh, yes. It’s a very involved, delicate process.” Dr. Debolt examined the stone for a few minutes more under the magnifying glass before saying, “Or I could

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