wash up.

A few minutes later, Stedman pulled his dripping head out of the sink when he heard the Sea Duck’sengines. He brushed his sopping wet hair from his eyes and listened intently. A door slammed. Two male voices - a deep, gruff voice and a higher boyish voice - grew closer. Drat! This place is busier than Grande Central Station, he thought angrily.

Naturally calm Leo Stedman was becoming really steamed. This mission was supposed to be simple - grab the stone without being seen. How could he prevent being seen when there were always people around? He rued the fact that his boss had explicitly told him not to kill anyone on this mission. Bumping off a few people would have made it so much easier. He snatched a can of hairspray and a comb from a shelf. For the second time that day, the agent went to the window, shoved the hair care items in his pocket, and climbed out.

As the lion exited by the bathroom window, two bears entered by the office door.

“Hey, Becky, we’re home on time! Ain’t ya proud of me?” Baloo stubbed his toe on the colander. “Yeowch! Man, Molly’s gotta learn ta pick up her toys!”

“Maybe Miz Cunningham’s over at Wildcat’s to get him to fix the door,” Kit suggested, prodding at the sagging door with one finger, a questioning expression on his face.

“Swell,” Baloo murmured, hobbling across the room. He sank into his easy chair and propped his feet up on a crate. “It figures that when I’m on time, she ain’t even here.”

Kit picked up the Cape Suzette Tribune from Rebecca’s desk. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Snatching it up, he read it twice before exclaiming, “You have got to be kidding me!”

“What? Did the Sox lose?”

“Baseball in January? No, Rebecca and Molly have been kidnapped.”

At the word 'kidnapped', Baloo sat straight up in his chair. He crossed the room in a few strides. “Karny again? Didn’t we just go through that rigmarole last week?”

Kit shook his head. “This time it’s Trader Moe, Papa Bear.”

He snatched the paper from Kit and squinted at the cramped writing. “Man, he spells worse’n me!”

We’s got da ladee and kid. If yas want ‘em back alive, bring a tousand bucks to da werehouse on da corner of Crawford and River Streets. No coppers or dey die.

Veree serously yers,
Trader Moe

“All right, Li’l Britches. Looks like we gotta save the gals again. Man, kidnapped twice in two weeks? That’s gotta be a record or somethin’.”

“It’s getting so old,” Kit sighed wearily as they hurried out to Rebecca’s grey car.

Salazar’s Seafood Warehouse

Down by the wharves, across from the cannery, was the warehouse district. A sign creaked above the door of one particular warehouse. On the sign was a peeling picture of a mackerel sandwiched between faded letters that spelled out ‘Salazar’s Seafood’. A stale odor of fish, brine, and dust emanated from the weathered boards of the old wooden building. At first glance it appeared abandoned, but, from the scuffling and shrieking inside, one could tell that it was inhabited - at least for the day.

Rebecca’s indignant shout of “Don’t you dare hurt her, you big bullies!” came from within.

“Ya got dat backwards, lady! Dat spitfire’s da one dat’s hurtin’ us!” Big bruises and a few bleeding wounds on the kidnappers attested to where Molly had bit, scratched, pinched, and pulled their fur when they attempted to bind her with ropes.

Once subdued and tied up, Molly was shoved into a small closet beside her mother.

Pointing a gun at the hostages, Trader Moe threatened, “I don’t wanna hear one peep outta youse two.”

“Peep,” Molly murmured derisively and stuck out her tongue.

“Do ya want dat tongue blown off?” Trader Moe snarled.

With wide eyes, the girl quickly shook her head and withdrew her tongue.

“Dat’s better.” He slammed the door shut, leaving the bearesses in darkness. Only a few slivers of pale light glimmered through the chinks in the walls.

“Mommy, I don’t like this place,” Molly said softly, scooting over to lean against her mother.

“I know, sweetie. Be brave like Danger Woman,” Rebecca cooed, working with cramped fingers at the knots that bound her daughter’s wrists.

“Shaddup in dere!” Trader Moe yelled, pounding on the door. He didn’t like to be interrupted when he was gloating over his latest ‘acquisition’. “Gimmee da stone.”

Ape Goon opened the jewelry box, but it was empty. He stared down at it stupidly. “Oops.”

“Whattaya mean ‘oops’?” Trader Moe seized the box from Ape Goon’s hands. Seeing that it was empty, his face turned a brilliant shade of purple. “Where’s dat stone!” he roared. He tore the lining out and shook it upside down. Infuriated, he beat the goons across the noses with the box before hurling it across the room. “Youse blockheads! Can’t do nuthin’ right!” He flung the closet door open, demanding, “Where’s da stone, lady?”

“What stone?” Rebecca said innocently. “The only stone I know about is my engagement ring, and you’ll take it over my dead body!”

“Which can be arranged,” Trader Moe said darkly. He slammed the door shut. “I’m goin’ back to dat office. I bet she hid it somewheres. Youse two stay here and watch dose two.”

“Okey-dokey,” both goons said, grinning stupidly.

Rhino Goon opened the closet door. Both goons stared at the bearesses, who stared back.

“What are ya doin’, ya chuckle heads?” Trader Moe spat.

“Watchin’ da two bears like ya told us to,” the big rhino answered.

“Yeah, watchin’ good.”

Trader Moe slammed the closet door shut, causing the goons to jump in startled surprise. “Not like dat! Keep da door shut!”

Perplexed, Rhino Goon said, “But how are we s’posed ta watch ‘em with da door shut? We can’t see ‘em.”

“Da door’s in da way,” added Ape Goon.

Trader Moe ground his teeth together. “AGH! Make sure dey don’t escape from dat room. Got it?”

“Got it,” answered Rhino Goon.

“Yeah, we’s gots it.”

“An’ keep dat closet door shut! Remember dat!”

Both goons nodded like bobbing-head dolls. “We’ll remember, boss.”

Outside the Warehouse

A grey sedan pulled up beside the warehouse. Baloo and Kit got out and warily walked around to the front of the building.

“What’s our plan, Papa Bear?”

“I’m thinkin’, kiddo. What we need is a dumb plan ta outsmart those dummies.”

“Outsmart,” Kit scoffed. “That’s an oxymoron.”

“Moron’s right,” mumbled Baloo.

They ducked behind a pile of crates when Trader Moe exited the building.

“Remember, youse two keep an eye on da hostages.”

“Which eye? Right or left?” Rhino Goon wondered.

“What do we do wid da other eye?” Ape Goon asked.

“Just...agh!” Trader Moe gnashed his teeth. “I need new goons! Wonder if Goons R We’s have any available.” He stomped to his car, got in, slammed the door angrily, and sped away.

“Now’s our chance,” murmured Kit.

“I got me a brainstorm. What we do is...” Baloo whispered his plan into the boy’s ear.

A few minutes later...

“Open up!” shouted Baloo authoritatively, pounding on the door with his fist. “Warehouse inspectors.”

Rhino Goon opened the door a crack and peered out at the two bears. He pointed an accusing finger at them. “Hey, youse don’t look like inspectors.”

“Who don’t look like inspectors?” Ape Goon asked, throwing open the door. He also glared down at the two bears. “Yeah, youse don’t look like inspectors!”

“We’re undercover inspectors,” Kit supplied confidently in an affected deep voice. “We handle surprise inspections. If we looked like inspectors, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

"Hey," Rhino Goon said slowly. "Don't we's know yas from someplace? Ya's look familiar."

"Dey do?" asked Ape Goon.

"Yeah, dey's do."

"Do you know any warehouse inspectors?" said Baloo.

"No." Rhino Goon shook his head.

"Well, then, ya don't know us," Kit said.

While the goons were puzzling this out, Baloo said, “Let us in, or we’ll report you to the uh...Bureau of Better Warehouses.”

“Yeah, and they’ll confiscate your warehouse,” added Kit with a covert wink at Baloo.

“Confiscate?” Both goons looked at the bears blankly. They weren’t familiar with that word. In fact, they weren’t familiar with any word containing more than two syllables.

“We’ll take it away. Warehouse goes bye-bye,” Kit clarified.

“Don’t take our warehouse!” Rhino Goon exclaimed.

Ape Goon added, “Da boss wouldn’t like dat!”

Once inside the warehouse, Baloo bellowed, “Becky!”

“Baloo?” came Rebecca’s muffled, relieved reply.

“Whatcha doin’?” inquired Rhino Goon.

“Checkin’ the warehouse acoustics,” Baloo averred, nervously eyeing the handles of guns protruding from the goons’ pockets. “Can’t have a warehouse without proper acoustics, ya know. Violation of the warehouse code.”

“Yeah, it’s got a real good echo. It passes.” Kit, making a checkmark on his left hand with his right forefinger, cleared his throat to hide a laugh. “Show us around.”

Baloo and Kit pretended to note the solidness of the structural beams and the soundness of the floorboards. What they were really interested in, however, was a door in the corner.

Deducing that the two bearesses must be in there, Baloo ordered, “Open it up.”

“Da boss told us not to open da door,” Rhino Goon said stubbornly,

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