“Can you see to walk?”

“Oui,” Marin spat. He crumpled the empty tube and tossed it aside before getting to his feet.

“We must get back to headquarters and fill out a report.”

“He’s probably halfway to Mustgo by now. Zut! I hate art!”

Moments after the policemen had vacated the alley, the thief emerged from a second story window and stepped out onto the fire escape landing. He cautiously listened and looked around before climbing down the creaking, rickety ladder. He then grabbed a blue cloak from the clothesline and draped it over his broad shoulders. Pulling a grey fedora from his overalls pocket, he put it on and pulled it low over his eyes.

He calmly stepped out into the street, the epitome of a respectable citizen and strolled down the block, towards a waiting car. Upon passing the artist toting her easel and painting supplies back home, he politely tipped his hat. When he did, lamplight glinted off a large, gold signet ring on his right hand.

Georges stepped into the car, and it sped off through the peaceful Pearee streets.

A Remote Island Somewhere in the Pacific Ocean
Sunday June 12, 1938
Dawn

If there’s such a thing as a tropical paradise, Rebecca thought, this is it.

The petite brown bearess paused in pouring water into the coffee pot to admire the scenery. The palm trees silhouetted darkly against the sunrise. A cluster of cottony pink clouds drifting on the warm breeze. The ocean waves lazily slapping against the shell-studded beach. The serene whoosh of the nearby waterfall. The overlapping chattering of birds. Not to mention the intermittent sightings of the local whale frolicking in the surf.

I have to hand it to Baloo for choosing a romantic place for our honeymoon. Who knew he had it in him?

As she hung the coffeepot over the campfire, Rebecca glanced up at the Sea Duck bobbing on the waves. Through the open back hatch, she could hear the sonorous snores of her new husband.

For once, his snoring didn’t annoy her.

SSSSSNNNNNNNXXXXXXXXZZZZZZZ!

Rebecca cringed.

At least, not much.

She poured herself a cup of coffee, then leaned back in her lawn chair. Mysterious smiles flitted across her face as if she knew a wonderful secret.

Her smile widened when the object of her thoughts - a large grey bear - emerged from the seaplane and lumbered across the beach to her. Despite his rumpled hair and wrinkled shirt, not to mention his uncouth habit of scratching his belly, he’d never looked more handsome to her.

With a shy grin, Baloo sank into the lawn chair beside hers and murmured, “Mornin’, Honey Lips.”

“Good morning, Butterball.” She quickly got another cup out of the picnic basket and filled it with coffee. “Sugar and cream?” she asked more from out of habit than from necessity.

“Mm-hmm, an’ a kiss.”

After sharing a lingering kiss, Baloo draped an arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. She, in turn, leaned her head against him. They sat there, sipping coffee and gazing out over the ocean..

Following a long, comfortable pause punctuated by happy sighs, Rebecca said softly, “Baloo, I’ve been thinking.”

Baloo chuckled and tenderly caressed her shoulder. “How’s my Becky gonna get rich this time?”

“Nothing like that.” She looked up at him with mock annoyance. “We have two and a half whole days to ourselves. No kids.”

“No work,” he pointed out, finishing his coffee in one gulp.

“I’d thought it would be nice to go somewhere, just the two of us. Who knows when we’ll have another opportunity like this, and with the Sea Duck we can go anywhere we want.”

“But I was plannin’ on spendin’ our honeymoon here. This is the best fishin’ spot this side of the other side.”

“Please, Baloo, for me?” She batted her eyelashes coquettishly.

After a moment’s consideration, Baloo shrugged. “Oh, all right, sweetheart, but there’s one very important thing we gotta do first.” He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand and gazed deeply into her eyes.

“Yes?” Rebecca whispered expectantly, her heart thumping with wild exultation.

“Eat breakfast,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her nose. “I’m starvin’.”

Exasperated, Rebecca playfully whacked him on the chest. “Oh, Baloo!”

Baloo caught her in his arms with the low laugh of a triumphant lover.

Meanwhile...
Pearee
Mid-Morning

A police car pulled over to the curb in front of Le Laboratorie d’Atomique. From out of the car stepped a stocky canine of medium height. Like all the Pearee police, he wore a navy blue uniform with a double row of brass buttons on the coat. However, his buttons were polished to a perfect sheen. He thoughtfully gazed up at the building, twirling the tip of his thick, luxuriant moustache and sniffing the air. There was the distinct scent of crime. His nose was never wrong.

He plucked a pear from a tree and walked into the building swiftly. As soon as he entered, the policeman who had been examining the floor with magnifying glass stood at attention.

“At ease, Larousse.”

The poodle’s arm dropped to his side and his manner clearly relaxed. “Find anything at the thief’s apartment, Inspector Deuseau?”

“Just three empty rooms and a bath. He didn’t even leave an incriminating fingerprint.”

Astonished, Larousse exclaimed, “What did he do, wear gloves all the time?”

“Apparently.” Deuseau looked the pear over carefully before biting into it. “We’re dealing with no ordinary criminal. The man is absolutely untraceable. As far as we could discover, he had no vehicle registration, no bank accounts, and his landlady said that he always paid his rent in cash. She said that he was very quiet, kept to himself, and, in the three months he lived there, he never had a visitor. He didn’t even have a telephone. If it hadn’t been for the landlady and the fact that he worked here, it would be easy to say that Georges the janitor never existed. In fact, ‘Georges’ is probably an alias. Any developments here?”

Larousse, processing all that he had been told, slowly shook his head. “Nothing, Inspector. Nothing except that scrap of paper.”

“What scrap of paper?” the inspector asked around a bite of pear.

“I believe Marin has it.”

“Marin?” The inspector swallowed and smiled knowingly. “Naturellement. He is eager to make captain. As you were, Larousse.”

“Yes, sir.” Saluting, Larousse returned to inspecting the floor while the inspector went in search of Marin.

Following the sound of voices, Inspector Deuseau quickly found Marin, who was interrogating Dr. Bonet in his office.

As he stood in the doorway, listening, Deuseau had to stifle a chuckle at Marin’s appearance. There were still traces of paint in the fur of the normally impeccable giraffe.

Under the close scrutiny of Officer Marin, Dr. Bonet acted as jumpy as a puppet on a string. “It’s like I told you before. The only thing Georges, the janitor - at least I thought he was a janitor - stole was the top-secret plans.”

Marin flipped through his notebook and nodded. “What were in the top-secret plans?”

The scientist glanced past Marin at Deuseau, who was apparently engrossed in the pear he was eating. “Well...” he stammered, “they’re top-secret. No one is supposed to...”

Frowning with frustration, Marin drew himself up to his full height until the crown of his cap brushed the ceiling. He shouted, “Do you want me to lock you up for the obstruction of police business?”

The rhino scientist shrank in his seat.

Deuseau, who had seen enough, tossed the pear core into a trash can just inside the door. “I’ll handle this, Marin.”

Startled, the giraffe spun around. From his expression, he was obviously surprised and flustered at his superior’s presence. “Inspector Deuseau...I didn’t see you there. I was just...”

Deuseau jerked his head towards the door, gesturing for Marin to leave. As the giraffe sidled past him, the inspector held out his hand. “The scrap of paper, s’il vous plait.”

“Mais oui.” Marin willingly handed over a crumpled half-sheet of paper, saluted, and scurried out the door.

Deuseau studied the clue as he took a seat opposite the scientist. “Curieux.Trés curieux,” he muttered under his breath. Hearing the clatter of the scientist’s spectacles hitting the floor, he looked up and smiled disarmingly. “You say that the thief dropped this, Monsieur...?”

“Dr. Andre Bonet,” the scientist supplied, hurriedly retrieving his glasses from the tile floor. “And, yes, I believe Georges - the thief - dropped that. It certainly isn’t mine. Makes no sense whatsoever.”

“What can you tell me about what was stolen, Dr. Bonet?”

The scientist shook his head. Sotto voce, he said, “Top-secret.”

Deuseau got up, closed the door and drew the blinds. Then, drawing his chair close to Dr. Bonet’s, he whispered, “What if I promise that what you tell me won’t go beyond this room?”

Dr. Bonet, who was nervously fiddling with his glasses, merely shrugged his huge shoulders.

“I’m assuming that the project you were working on was dangerous, non?”

“Oui. Extremely dangerous.”

Leaning back in his chair, his eyes focused on the scrap of paper, Deuseau said matter-of-factly, “It will be easier to catch the thief if we knew what he stole. It will help to narrow down what he might have done with your papers. In other words, it will help us to retrieve them.”

After a long pause, Dr. Bonet donned his glasses and hesitantly asked, “You promise that you won’t reveal it to anyone?”

“I promise.” Deuseau leaned forward to catch the scientist’s whispered words.

In a voice barely above a murmur, the scientist said, “I and three others were developing a weapon so terrible that it could completely destroy a city the size of Pearee.”

“Mon Dieu! A force like that must be of massive proportions.”

Once again, Dr. Bonet shook his head. “Non. In fact, it used something minuscule, invisible to the naked eye. The atom.”