it!”

Muttering to himself, this time about crazy air pirates, Mayor Tuskany charged through the revolving doors of Khan Towers.

Shere Khan’s Office

Located on the top floor of ninety-story Khan Towers was the incredible office of the CEO of Khan Industries - Shere Khan. The entire office was impressive from the large window that offered a magnificent view of Cape Suzette to the lush jungle foliage that lined both sides of the room to the expensive, tasteful furnishings. However, the most impressive object in the room was Shere Khan himself. The mere presence of this austere tiger, who commanded a large chunk of the world’s finances from this very office, demanded everyone’s respect, if not admiration.

He certainly had Mayor Tuskany’s respect. The walrus had come to ask advice of this shrewd, levelheaded multi-billionaire. As he nervously paced in front of Khan’s scratch-marked mahogany desk, he waved his hat in the air. “What are we going to do? I can’t give Don Karnage the Cape Suzette Hero of the Year award. What the...?” A hungry Venus flytrap had chomped onto his hat.

“Mmm...yes, it does seem rather unseemly that Don Karnage is saving people instead of killing them.” Shere Khan, who was dressed impeccably in a tailored navy suit, laid down the paper featuring the picture of the latest rescued pilot - a bewildered-looking warthog. An amused gleam came to his eyes as he watched his ‘pet’ playing tug-of-war with Tuskany over the hat.

“Exactly,” said a small tan canine sitting in the chair on the opposite side of the desk as Khan. Detective Thursday wore a beige suit and cadet blue bow tie. A greyish-brown fedora reposed on his knee. “I don’t trust that pirate as far as I can throw him, no matter how many pilots he saves.”

“Me neither. Whoa!” The mayor, giving one last fierce yank on his hat, toppled head over heels after the Venus flytrap gave up its prey. With difficulty, he got to his feet and ruefully inspected the teeth marks in the hat’s brim. “I wouldn’t be surprised if those pilots had been brainwashed by that murderous marauder to fool them, and us, into thinking that the pirates had done some good deed.”

“Do you really think that Don Karnage would go through all that trouble just to get the Hero of the Year award?” Khan asked coolly.

“Well...maybe,” the mayor said uncertainly, feeling all of a sudden that his suggestion had been extremely stupid. “It’s a very prestigious award.”

Thursday stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Can you bring in one of these pilots? I’d like to get a first-hand statement.”

“Certainly,” Khan agreed amiably. He pushed a button on the interoffice intercom system. “Mrs. Snarly, get me Captain James Spaulding.”

“Yes, Mr. Khan,” said the secretary’s no-nonsense voice.

A few minutes later, a panther pilot stepped from the elevator into Shere Khan’s office.

“So glad that you could join us, Captain,” Shere Khan purred as the pilot made his way across the large room. “I assume you know Mayor Tuskany, and this is Detective Thursday.”

Spaulding bobbed his head politely.

Pressing the tips of his fingers together, Khan said, “Could you please tell these gentlemen what happened on May 5th?”

“The air pirate rescue, sir?”

“Mmm...yes.”

“Just the facts, please,” Detective Thursday added, pencil poised over his notepad.

Three sets of eyes intently watched the pilot as he began his tale. “That night, I was flying a shipment of nutmeg from the Spicy Islands to Cape Suzette when my port engine caught on fire.”

“Why didn’t you just land?” asked the mayor.

“I couldn’t, not in the thunderstorm.”

“Continue, Spaulding,” Khan drawled languidly, shooting an annoyed, pointed look at the walrus.

“Yes, sir. I attempted to extinguish the fire by cutting the fuel flow to the engine, but it didn’t work. And then my lights went out. I radioed for help.”

“And Don Karnage responded?” interjected Mayor Tuskany.

“He was the only one who did. The time was 0200 hours.”

“What were air pirates doing flying around in a thunderstorm at two o’clock in the morning?” Detective Thursday wondered.

“Saving my pilot, obviously,” Khan said wryly. “Proceed, Captain Spaulding.”

“A few minutes later, the air pirates came in five CT-37s. My plane was beyond repair so I jumped into one of their aircraft, and I was carried to their gigantic airship.” He shot a nervous, apologetic glance at Khan. “I’m afraid my plane and cargo were lost.”

Khan waved a dismissive paw as if losing a shipment worth five thousand dollars and a top-of-the-line, one hundred thousand dollar airplane meant nothing to him. “Yes, yes. We’ve already been over that. It couldn’t have been helped, Spaulding. You did all you could.”

“Did the pirates hold you at gunpoint or lock you up?” Tuskany asked, eyeing the pilot over his water glass.

“That’s the odd thing, sir. They were kind of...uh, friendly.”

“Friendly?” Mayor Tuskany spluttered, spilling water down the front of his suit. “That’s not possible! They’re pirates! It’s not their job to be friendly!”

Spaulding reiterated firmly, “They were friendly.”

“Hmpf! When pigs fly,” muttered the mayor. He dabbed at his damp suit coat with a large, blue handkerchief. “I suppose, technically, Don Karnage has earned the Hero of the Year award after saving one hundred twenty-seven...”

“One hundred twenty-eight,” Detective Thursday corrected, gesturing to that day’s paper.

“Yes, one hundred twenty-eight cargo pilots from crashing and burning in the ocean.” Tuskany mopped his brow with the handkerchief before returning it to his jacket pocket. “But it’s wrong that Don Karnage is saving people instead of hijacking them. I mean, it’s unnatural, against the pirate law.”

Nodding in agreement, Thursday said cynically, “Karnage and his crew turning legit is as likely as Thembria thawing.”

“What do you think, Mr. Khan?” Tuskany asked.

Khan rose from his chair and walked to the window overlooking the sun-baked, coastal city of Cape Suzette to hide the hint of an enigmatical smile on his lips. “It does seem rather odd, but we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt.”

The mayor frowned. “I’ve given him plenty of doubt. One hundred twenty-eight airplane malfunctions over the span of a month is too many. Do you think it’s a conspiracy?”

Thursday said, “Negative. My men and I checked up on all of the pilots that Karnage rescued. All were employed by different companies. A few were even from outside Cape Suzette. There’s no apparent connection between any of them.”

The mayor sighed in defeat. “It looks like we can’t deny Don Karnage his award. What do you say, Detective?”

“I agree, but something still smells fishy about the whole situation.”

The mayor brushed a few crumbs from his suit coat. “Oh, I had a tuna fish sandwich for lunch.”

“Then the award ceremony will proceed tomorrow at 11:00 AM as scheduled?” Khan asked, returning to his chair.

The mayor said helplessly, “I don’t see what else we can do, but I want extra police protection.”

“Affirmative,” said Detective Thursday with a decided nod. “I’ll see to it.”

“Excellent. Good-day, gentlemen.” Khan swivelled in his chair, signifying that the meeting was concluded.

Higher for Hire

Across the sparkling blue harbor, away from the noise and the heat of the crowded downtown area, a small wooden building stood by the docks. It was home to an air cargo company aptly named Higher for Hire.

Mounds of cardboard boxes and crates of various sizes were stacked up beside the door leading into the office. However, these boxes weren’t destined to be delivered to some faraway place by the yellow Conwing L-16 seaplane that was moored to the end of the dock. They contained the belongings of the cargo service’s owner Rebecca Cunningham and her seven-year-old daughter Molly.

The small building was undergoing big changes. The next day’s wedding and forthcoming adoptions were going to turn Rebecca, her pilot Baloo von Bruinwald, her young navigator Kit Cloudkicker, and her daughter Molly into a family. But, first, Rebecca and Molly’s things had to be moved.

The vehicle used for moving, an orange and white U-Tow truck, pulled up beside Higher for Hire. The passenger side door opened and a petite brown bearess wearing a magenta cardigan over a white turtleneck and purple pants hopped down from the cab.

“Oh, Baloo,” Rebecca said in the overly patient tone of a woman that had hashed this argument out many times. “You’re just sore, because I didn’t hire professional movers. You know we couldn’t afford it after paying for all of the wedding and adoption expenses.”

“Sore is right,” replied the big grey bear in a yellow flight shirt and red pilot’s cap as he painstakingly, painfully climbed down from the driver’s side of the cab. Baloo slammed the door in frustration. “My back’s achin’ from movin’ your junk, an’ no matter how many trips we make we don’t seem ta be makin’ a dent.” He pushed up the sliding door on the back of the truck, which was crammed full with furniture and boxes. Just in time, he caught a box that was teetering precariously. He set it carefully on the cobblestone path and swiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

“We’ve made a big dent, and I’m not referring to the dent that youmade when you smashed the dresser into the doorway.”

“Hey, can I help it if takin’ out the drawers didn’t make it any lighter?”

“I meant for you to carry the drawers separately, not put them on top of the dresser when you were trying to move it.”

“Now she tells me,” Baloo muttered sullenly. The dresser wasn’t the only thing that had smashed into the doorway. His left hand was still throbbing from the collision.

“Anyway, all

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