“I want you to get a lot of rest tonight, Baloo, because we’re going shopping tomorrow.” She chuckled. “I can’t believe I told you to get sleep!”

Baloo grimaced in distaste. Shopping was one of his least favorite activities. “Aw, do we hafta?”

“Yes, we have to. We need to do some preliminary wedding shopping. Six months doesn’t give us very long to plan. I want to check out a few stores and compare prices on a few things.” Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. “See you tomorrow.”

He pulled her into his arms and returned her kiss. “See ya, sweetheart. Do we really hafta go shoppin’?”

Rebecca chuckled, giving him one last embrace. “Yes! And don’t invent a silly excuse to get out of it either.” After kissing Kit’s cheek, with a “Goodnight, sweetie” she took Molly in one hand and her briefcase in the other. “I’ll call you later, Baloo,” she said, smiling, before closing the door.

Tiny’s Grill

At first glance, Tiny’s Grill appeared to be an average, upscale restaurant in the downtown area. However, things aren’t always as they appear. Few denizens of Cape Suzette, least of all the police, knew that this particular place was the popular hangout of gangsters. Some of the most infamous names in organized crime drifted through Tiny’s Grill - big names like Owl Capone, Heimlich Menudo, and Babyface Half-Nelson.

This evening, the restaurant was crowded with the dinner rush. Every high-backed booth was full, and there were a few people sitting at the bar. Behind the bar stood an extremely tall polar bear with very broad shoulders in a black tuxedo and red bow tie. It was the proprietor - Tiny. As he mixed drinks, his beady, hawk-like eyes flitted around the restaurant, making sure that his waiters were doing their jobs and making sure that there were no troublemakers. All of the customers were familiar except for a strange trio - a small alligator, a burly rhino, and a hulking ape - in the corner booth. Tiny’s habitual frown deepened. This odd trio looked like riffraff to him. He decided to keep a sharp eye on them.

Trader Moe leaned back in his seat, straining to hear the conversation in the booth behind him. Because of all of the background chatter and silverware clattering against dishes, it was difficult, to say the least.

It didn’t help that the two goons squeezed into the booth across from him were slurping noisily on lemonades.

“Where’s we’s goin’ next, boss?” asked Rhino Goon loudly.

“Yeah, like where’s we’s goin’?” echoed Ape Goon, rattling the ice cubes around his empty glass.

“I thought we’s were gonna hold up da Cape Suzette National Bank,” said Rhino Goon.

“Do we’s need chickens?” said Ape Goon, confused.

Trader Moe, who had a short temper to match his short stature, slapped the two goons across the noses with his floppy brown hat. “Shaddup, ya lunks! Cancha see I’m listenin’?”

In the booth behind them, a gravelly voice whispered, “To the right bidder, this stone could be very valuable. Worth thousands!”

A deep bass voice said, “But it ain’t no real jewel.” The voice grew slightly louder with skepticism. “How can a piece o’ glass be worth somethin’?”

“Shh!” hissed the gravelly voice urgently. “See them markings on it? Here? An ‘SK’ in a circle? Shere Khan!”

Trader Moe’s ears perked up at the mention of richest man in Cape Suzette.

“Shere Khan?” whispered the bass voice, impressed.

“Yeah...an’ I bet he’ll pay a pretty penny to get this ornament back.”

“I bet Miniversal Corporation would pay a prettier penny to get their hands on it,” the bass voice said, “just to get one up on Khan Industries.”

Both voices chuckled ominously.

“We’ll split the reward sixty-forty,” said the bass voice.

“You wanna bet? I spent half my life in that harbor for the past year,” protested the gravelly voice with a menacing undertone. “I found it. That means I get sixty percent plus a finder’s fee of ten percent.”

While the two voices argued, Trader Moe grinned. “We’s gonna be rich as soon as we swipe dat stone! I got me a plan. I’ll chat dese bozos up an’ when I grab da stone, youse guys rough up dose two? Got it?”

“Uh? Which two?” asked Rhino Goon, scratching his head as he looked around the restaurant.

“Yeah, dere’s lots of twos here,” added Ape Goon.

“Which two do we two rough up, boss?” said Rhino Goon.

Trader Moe slapped his forehead. “Dose two guys sittin’ in da booth behind me, ya peach pits!” he hissed loudly.

“Oh...dose two!” Both goons grinned stupidly. In unison, they said, “What are we’s s’posed ta do wid ‘em?”

The alligator gritted his teeth. “Knock ‘em out when I grab da stone!”

“Knock ‘em out. We can do dat, boss,” said Rhino Goon with a grin, swinging at Ape Goon's chest.

Ape Goon agreed. “Yeah, we’re good at knocking out.” He took a punch at Rhino Goon's jaw.

After an extended amount of time, both goons complained, "Ouch! Dat hurt!"

Trader Moe casually slid from the booth, grumbling to himself, “I gotta get me some new goons.” He flashed a very toothy smile at the inhabitants of the adjoining booth - a scruffy tan bear in his thirties and an old panther with grey hair slicked back with oil. Both sported well-worn suits and ties. “We’s don’t have no pepper at our table. Ya’s mind if we borrow yours?” he asked, eyeing the red stone clasped in the bear’s paw.

Before they could answer, Trader Moe picked up the pepper cellar and dashed it in their eyes. Sneezing and yelping in pain, the bear dropped the stone. Swiftly, the alligator snatched it up and stowed it in his pocket.

Rhino Goon remembered, “Bonk their heads together on da count of three.”

“One...two...what comes after two?” asked Ape Goon.

“Three!” shouted Trader Moe impatiently. “Three! Three!”

“Da boss said ‘three’,” said Rhino Goon.

Ape Goon counted on his beefy fingers. “Yeah, he said ‘three’, uh...more’n two times.”

“Knock ‘em out already, ya bozos! What are ya waitin’ for? Sheesh!”

The two goons bonked the bear’s and panther’s heads together, causing them to slump to the floor.

Tiny stomped over to Trader Moe and his goons. He towered over the trio - even over the goons by a few inches - seething with indignant anger. Brawling wasn’t allowed in his restaurant, because he didn’t want publicity. Publicity meant exposure. Neither he nor his clientele wanted their popular hangout to be raided by the police.

He seized each of the goons by an arm and dragged them towards the exit. In a surprisingly high voice, he growled, “If you were lookin’ for trouble, you found it. Don’t let me ever catch ya’s in here again.” One after another, he tossed the goons into the alley where they crashed headlong into trash cans. Trader Moe sailed over their heads and smashed into the brick wall of the neighboring building.

After sliding to the ground, Trader Moe staggered to his feet. He was seeing miniature Tinys circling his head. Shaking his head to clear it, he said smugly, “I’ve been thrown outta better joints. Once we cash in dis stone, we’ll come back an’ buy his stupid restaurant just ta throw him out. C’mon, boys.”

As was wise, no one in Tiny’s Grill took notice of the proceedings, except for one of the waiters, a burly brown bulldog, who was moonlighting as an undercover informant.

The waiter hurried to the back room and picked up the phone. “Operator, get me Mr. Khan.” He grinned, revealing his gold-capped canines, as he waited to be connected. He would be paid handsomely for this information.

Khan Towers
Later That Evening

Shere Khan, multi-billionaire and CEO of Khan Industries, stood at the gigantic ceiling-to-floor, wall-to-wall window in his opulent office. Much like an emperor surveying his dominion, he apathetically watched the peons of Cape Suzette go about their humdrum little lives. The automobile headlights on the streets far, far below looked like pinpoints of light from his perspective from the penthouse of Khan Towers, but that was how he liked it. His lofty position signified the successful completion of his goals of achieving unlimited wealth and power. It gave him great satisfaction to know that he was above everyone and everything else in Cape Suzette.

Another thing that gave him great satisfaction was the fact that his sub-electron amplifier had been located. Of course, he wouldn’t be completely satisfied until he held it in his own two hands.

He crossed the room in purposeful strides to his desk and pushed the intercom button. “Mrs. Snarly, get me Leo Stedman.”

The secretary’s voice answered briskly, “Yes, Mr. Khan.”

With a trace of a smile touching his lips, Shere Khan gave one last glance out the window before pushing the button that closed the heavy maroon drapes, blocking out the moonlit city. Soon he would have more money and power than even he had ever dreamed of. All he needed was that stone.

End of part 1

The Return of the Stone
Part 2

Downtown Cape Suzette
Friday
Mid-Morning

It was another beautiful day in the southwestern coastal city of Cape Suzette. The view of the bright sun and puffy white clouds was occasionally blotted out by a passing zeppelin or airplane. The downtown area was bustling with the usual workaday activities. Cars zoomed up and down the streets and people of all species walked in and out of the the pedestrians traversing the sidewalks was a diminutive alligator overshadowed by a large ape and a big rhino. The trio was unaware of a figure trailing them.

“Dere it is, boys. Da stuff dat dreams are made of,” said Trader Moe, grinning greedily at the plain cedar box in his hands.

“Uh, nice box, boss,” said Rhino Goo, peeking over the alligator’s head.

“What box is nice?” parroted Ape Goon.

“Ya ratchet heads! It’s what’s in da box dat’s valuable.”

“What’s in it?” asked Rhino Goon, mirroring Ape Goon’s quizzical

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