Seeing Trader Moe with the stone, Stedman cried, “Hey, stop, thief! Get him, officer! The thief’s getting away!”

“Nice try,” the policeman ripped off a ticket and handed it to Stedman, “but it won’t work.”

Angrily shoving the ticket into his jacket pocket, Stedman drove slowly until he was out of the policeman’s range of vision, then he floored it. Two streaks of smoke billowed from his tires.

Meanwhile...

“Baloo, slow down!” Rebecca screamed for the fifth time in as many minutes. The grey Chevrolette sedan was zooming down the street at a breakneck speed, weaving in and out of slower traffic.

“There goes Trader Moe!” Kit shouted from the backseat. “To your right! Back there!”

“Aw, dang it!” Baloo swore. He whipped the car down the next alley. “This woulda been lots easier in a plane.”

Rebecca, clinging to the seat as the car bumped down the rough, narrow alleyway, asked, “Where are you going, Baloo?”

“Shortcut!”

They spotted Trader Moe’s black Doozyburg zoom down the street that intersected the narrow alleyway, going left.

“There he goes!” the cubs cried as the grey sedan grazed a trash can, sending the metal can and its contents flying over the top of the car.

“I see him!” Baloo said, simultaneously sticking his head out the open passenger window and turning on the windshield wipers to clear the newspapers from the windshield. The big bear spit an apple core from his mouth.

Seeing a cat jump out of their path, Rebecca screeched, “Baloo, slow down!”

“Whee! This is fun!” Molly giggled.

At the end of the alley, they were cut off by a silver car.

“Hey, buddy, I’m drivin’ here!” Baloo honked his horn as he pulled onto the street behind the sporty automobile.

The four bears watched in horrified amazement as the lion in the silver Porche stuck a handgun out the window.

“Baloo!” Rebecca shrieked, clutching at his arm.

“Boy, some people sure get all fired up about a little blast on the beep-beep.” Baloo eased off of the gas until they were a full half a block behind the silver car.

But the agent wasn’t aiming for the Chevrolette. In fact, he hadn’t even noticed it in his pursuit of the stone. With the confident air of a man who had done this sort of thing countless times, Stedman steered with one hand and took a few well-aimed shots at Trader Moe’s back tires, inciting frightened screams from onlookers.

POW!

With shredded rubber flapping from the left rear tire, the black Doozyburg slowed, then stopped. Trader Moe, seeing that his tire had blown out, got out and ran for it, but was no match for the secret agent, who took a flying leap and tackled him to the ground. With a triumphant laugh, Stedman wrenched the stone from Trader Moe, passed his hand over his crispy-with-hairspray hair, and hurried back to his car.

“Who was that?” Rebecca asked.

“The paperclip man!” Molly answered readily.

“The paperclip man?” Baloo, Rebecca, and Kit cried in unison. All stared at the little girl, perplexed.

“How do you know him, Molly?” Kit asked.

“Who cares? He’s got our stone!” Baloo stomped the gas pedal to the floor, causing all the bears to be thrown back in their seats.

“Baloo, slow doooooowwwwn!” Rebecca screamed at the top of her lungs.

Khan Towers
A Typical Saturday Workday

Inside the large, airy lobby of Khan Towers, the doorman who guarded the elevators, a brawny tiger in a grey uniform, cracked his thick neck and glanced at his watch. Only a half an hour until his lunch break. Standing there for hours on end, for years on end, had taken a toll on his legs. He didn’t see why he couldn’t sit down and do the same job, but Shere Khan was adamantly opposed to the idea of a sitting security guard.

Yawning, the tiger shifted from one aching foot to the other, wishing that something exciting would happen, something that would break up the boring monotony of his job and get his mind off his tired feet.

He was about to get his wish.

Through the large windows, he saw a silver Porche stop in front of the ninety-story skyscraper with a deafening squeal of brakes. A well-dressed lion got out without completely shutting the car door and sprinted through the revolving doors.

Leo Stedman flashed an identification badge at the security guard. “Secret agent. Important business!”

Just as soon as the elevator doors opened to admit Stedman, a grey car careened around the corner and also screeched to a stop in front of Khan Towers. Four bears hurried into the lobby.

“We gotta split up,” Baloo said. “Becky, you an’ Molly go in that elevator. Me an’ Kit will take the stairs.”

“Be careful, both of you,” Rebecca said, giving his paw a quick squeeze.

Returning the squeeze, Baloo said, “You took the words right outta my mouth, honey.” He and Kit disappeared through the door labeled ‘stairs’.

When the bearesses went to get into the elevator, the guard cordially said, “Morning, ma’am,” doffing his cap at Rebecca and winking at Molly.

“Good morning.” Rebecca pressed the ‘up’ button, causing the second elevator’s doors to slide open. Both bearesses stepped in.

A split second later, a taxi pulled up to the curb, sideswiping the Porche with a terrific ‘crunch’. An alligator, who had been holding the driver at gunpoint, got out.

Gun in hand, Trader Moe ran through the revolving door, straight for the elevator, but was detained by the doorman, who demanded identification and an explanation of the handgun.

“Dis is a free country. I got a right to own a gun or two or three.”

“Not in here, ya don’t.” The security guard picked him up bodily and carried him to the door.

Trader Moe slipped out of his brown jacket and dropped to the floor.

“Come back here!” The guard shot at him as the alligator sprinted across the lobby to the elevator. Dodging bullets, he dove into the elevator that was just opening.

An evil smile crossed Trader Moe’s face when he saw who was in the elevator with him. “Long time, no see, pretty boy. Hand over da stone.”

“Why should I?” asked Leo Stedman coolly. He had been gloating to himself over the success of his mission so much that he had accidentally pushed the wrong floor number. He automatically held the stone above his head so that the short alligator couldn’t reach it.

From his shirt pocket, Trader Moe pulled a pistol.

“Big deal.” Stedman whipped a smaller, but more powerful gun from his jacket pocket, smirking.

“Oh, yeah?” Trader Moe said, poking the barrel of his gun into Stedman’s stomach.

“All right, I’ll buy it - yeah,” retorted Stedman, poking the barrel of his gun at Trader Moe’s temple.

With an angry “aargh!” Trader Moe leapt for the stone. He bit the agent’s hand, causing the stone to drop to the floor just as the elevator doors opened. In the ensuing scuffle, the stone was kicked into the hallway. Both dove for it. There was a mad scramble for the stone with Stedman coming out the winner - for a few seconds. Trader Moe stomped on the agent’s hand, causing the him to scream in pain. The alligator then got back in elevator, smiling smugly at the lion while the doors closed.

“Better luck next time, sucker,” Trader Moe said. He laughed derisively, because he heard Stedman yelling and pounding on the elevator door.

Fourteen floors up, the elevator car halted. Six nearly identical panther businessmen carrying briefcases crowded into the elevator, squishing the small alligator to the back.

“Ready for the conference, Jenkins?” asked one of the businessmen.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. The last one was...” He didn’t dare finish the derogatory sentence about his boss Shere Khan for fear that he was listening in. There were hidden microphones all over the building. Instead, he made a cutting motion across his throat.

Both panthers exchanged knowing grins.

When the elevator finally stopped six floors up and more people piled into the elevator, Trader Moe pushed his way through the crowd of legs and hopped off the elevator, disgruntled. Instead of being in a hallway, he was in a large office with two rows of desks stretching as far as the eye could see. Women were methodically clickitty-clacking on typewriters.

A woman, a long-legged crane, on her way to the mimeograph machine, tossed her stack of papers in the air and screamed hysterically at the sight of Trader Moe’s gun. “AAAAAHHHHHH! GUN! GUN!”

“Shaddup, or I’ll blast you an’ yer big mouth ta kingdom come!”

Of course, threatening her made her even more hysterical. All of the women joined in on the chorus of frantic shrieking. With his hands over his ears, Trader Moe stood there, dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, Baloo and Kit were racing up the numerous flights of stairs that wound their way around and around the central elevator system. Like the remainder of Khan Towers, the stairs were finished completely right down to a narrow strip of dark walnut edging each solid oak step.

Of course, the two bears barely noticed the detailed steps in passing. They had more important things on their minds.

Baloo puffed, “Man, kid, tryin’ ta find the stone in this place is harder than

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