in fear like everybody else did?

Baloo mumbled louder and hopped in the chair. One of the chair’s legs came down on Gus’s foot hard.

“Ow!” Gus screamed in pain, hopping about the room.

Baloo saw a chance to make his escape. He hopped towards the open door.

Gus gave chase.

Garth tried to ignore the loud scene behind him. After all, it was imperative that he be polite to Shere Khan. One didn’t want to arouse the businessman’s wrath. “Yeah, we did like you asked, sir. Nah, he’s not hurt...yet.” Baloo’s mumbling and Gus’s shouting was so loud that he couldn’t hear Khan’s instructions over the line. He yelled accidently into the phone, “Will you shut up!”

Khan murmured a cold, threatening remark. One never, ever told Shere Khan to shut up.

Sweat poured down Garth’s face as he stammered out, “No, not you, sir! Yes, I do like my knees very much, sir.”

Baloo plowed right over Garth, knocking him to the floor. He screamed in agony, “Ah! Ah!” He was sure that every bone in his body had been shattered. Despite the blinding pain, Garth said politely into the phone, “And have a nice evening.”

Gus caught Baloo and shoved him into a pitch-dark anteroom. He bolted the door with a large beam. “There, that should take care of him.” He said with self-satisfaction, brushing off his hands.

A few seconds later, Baloo kicked down the door, strong board notwithstanding, propelling Gus and Garth behind it. The big bear headed for the door and basically bounced/careened down the stairs, screaming, “Whoa!” despite his gag.

After a few dazed moments, Garth picked up Gus by the lapels and demanded, “Go get him!” To add insult to injury, the retractable bed fell out of the wall and bonked Garth squarely on the head.

Higher for Hire

It wasn’t difficult finding a buyer for the Sea Duck. After all, it was a classic airplane with a wonderful reputation. A few well-placed phone calls and that was that. Fifty thousand dollars was in Rebecca’s hands, and the Sea Duck had a new owner. After it was sold, the seaplane - back to its familiar yellow and orange paint - was towed to the dock in front of Higher for Hire to await its new owner.

Rebecca added the fifty thousand dollars to what the garage sale brought in.

“How’d we do, Miz Cunningham? Good news?” Kit asked, hoping against hope. He peeked at the paper Rebecca held in her hands.

But Rebecca crumpled the paper so Kit wouldn’t see the huge amount they had to obtain. “I’m afraid we’re still short by a lot.” Rebecca stared into the blue waters of the harbor, thinking. She had no idea how she was going to get almost one hundred fifty thousand dollars that fast.

“But we sold everything.” Kit took off his cap and crushed it in his paws. “Even the Sea Duck.”

“Well, there’s still one thing that hasn’t been sold.”

“But I’m only a kid!” the boy exclaimed, panic rising inside him.

“No, Kit,” Rebecca said gently, kneeling beside him. Smiling sadly, she gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

“But what’s left to sell?”

Glancing over her shoulder at her business, she said quietly but resolutely, “Higher for Hire.”

One hour later, Kit watched as Rebecca nailed a ‘sold’ sign next to the building formerly known as Higher for Hire.

“I’m sorry, Miz Cunningham,” the boy said softly, looking up at her with mournful eyes.

Rebecca pushed the sign with her finger, causing it to sway. Her business, in which she had invested so much time, energy, and money, was gone. “Oh, it’s just a dumb old business anyway.” Fighting down tears over the loss of Higher for Hire, she tossed the hammer away and hugged Kit close to her.

Kit returned her hug, knowing how much her ‘dumb old business’ had meant to her.

“The important thing now is we get Baloo back,” she murmured. Her expression was a mixture of sorrow and determination.

Midnight

Clapton Bridge was located in the bad part of Cape Suzette. It was a filthy place inhabited by tramps, prostitutes, drunks, and gang members. Not a nice place to be during the day. During the dead of night it was downright dangerous, especially for a petite bearess and a twelve-year-old boy. The occasional patrol boat did little to dispel the dark doings there.

Rebecca stepped carefully around piles of rubbish and accidentally put her foot into a mud puddle. She shook the water off her foot and pulled her trench coat closer around her throat, stifling a scream when she spotted a jumbo-sized sewer rat scurrying over a dumpster a short ways from her. She hated rats! A few paces behind her, Kit dragged the heavy bag of money. The coins clinked as he scraped it along the pavement.

“Shh...you want to scare away the kidnappers?” Rebecca hissed.

“Sorry, but all Molly’s pennies are heavy.”

“Well, we’re just lucky she had enough to put us over the top.”

Kit tripped over an old mattress and fell headlong on it. He sighed with weariness. It had been a long tramp from Rebecca’s apartment. He was glad that they had finally reached Clapton Bridge.

Ahead of them was an elderly, grey-bearded shrew in rags. The rags were secured about the man’s waist with a piece of rope. He wore an old pot on his head. He was rummaging furiously through a garbage can.

“Look! It must be the kidnapper,” said Kit.

Rebecca assisted Kit to his feet and dusted him off. “Judging by his attire, he’s not a very good one.”

Kit approached the man, lugging the sack of money. “Excuse me, mister. I think I have what you’re looking for.”

“Fish sticks? Mmmmmm!” cried the man.

“No, two hundred thousand dollars.” Kit opened the bag to reveal the money inside.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” The man clapped his hands for joy. He snatched up the money and pranced away quickly. “This will buy a lot of fish sticks.”

“Wait! Where’s Baloo?” asked Rebecca, with an arm around Kit’s shoulders.

Both bears spun around when an authoritarian voice said, “We have Baloo. Did you bring the money?” Garth stood there, tossing and catching a quarter as if he were a professional gangster.

Rebecca and Kit stared at each other in confusion for a second. If he was the kidnapper, then who was that other man?

“Uh, excuse me.” Kit ran off to detain the homeless man before he spent all their hard-earned money on fish sticks.

“Give me that!” Kit exclaimed, grabbing the sack. A game of tug-of-war ensued over the money.

“Hey, no!” the homeless man cried.

“Ow! You bit me!” With a sharp yank, Kit wrenched the sack away from the homeless man’s grasp. He took off like a shot.

“No, let go! My fish sticks!”

Kit returned triumphantly with the bag of money and a bite mark on his left hand.

Rebecca took the sack from Kit and opened it in front of Garth. “It’s all here. Now, where’s Baloo?”

Garth smiled, took the money, and pointed up. Above his head, Gus was babysitting Baloo - more like reading a newspaper. He was unconcerned about the big bear’s plight. Baloo was still bound hand and foot to the chair; now he sported a stylish blindfold. But the blindfold hadn’t stopped him from trying to escape his captors. He bounced along the railing of Clapton Bridge blindly.

“You’re not taking me alive!” Baloo hollered. He toppled off of the bridge, headlong into a police patrol boat. His landing forced the officer out of the speedboat into the water. Baloo accidently bumped the throttle into high gear with his knee, and the boat shot down the river like a flash. “Help!”

“Baloo!” cried Rebecca and Kit simultaneously, breathlessly.

Sprinting down the sidewalk, they spotted a rope trailing along behind the speedboat. Kit and Rebecca jumped into the water, grabbed hold of the rope, and were dragged behind the runaway boat. “Whoa!” they both exclaimed.

Kit thought fast. Reflexively, he pulled his airfoil out, flicked it open, and slid it under his and Rebecca’s feet. The airfoil was designed for one person. Two, if the other person happened to be as small as Molly. Rebecca was small, but not small enough. Kit found it difficult hanging onto the rope and Rebecca’s waist at the same time. It was one of the wildest rides he had ever experienced.

A bridge loomed before them...and they had no choice but to go under it.

“Miz Cunningham!” Kit shouted in warning. He forced all his weight down and yanked down on Rebecca, causing the airfoil to decrease in altitude. They sailed safely under the bridge.

“Ah!” Rebecca’s screech echoed under the viaduct.

To get closer to the boat, they started walking along the rope hand over hand. Unfortunately, the rope snapped, and they dropped into the river. “Whoa!”

Dripping wet, Rebecca and Kit pulled themselves up onto a dock where a small fishing boat was moored.

“We’ve got to head him off!” Rebecca gasped, climbing into the boat. She helped Kit in before starting the engine.

“Come on. Faster, faster!” Kit urged as Baloo’s speedboat sped by them. The boy spotted a large cargo ship dead ahead. “Oh, no. Pull up!” It looked like the end for Baloo; his boat was on a collision course with the ship.

Stopping their boat, Rebecca spied a fishing pole at her feet. “Wait, I’ve got an idea.”

Meanwhile, Baloo had wriggled out of his bonds. “Ha, ha! I’ll be free in a minute.” Taking off his blindfold, his triumph turned to fright. A massive ship loomed before him, and there was no time for him to correct the speedboat’s course.

A split second before the speedboat smashed into the ship, Rebecca cast her line, snagging Baloo by the back of his tuxedo. Upon impact, the speedboat burst into flames. Baloo, being towed through the water by the fishing line, took a few deep breaths to calm himself. That had been way too close! Kit and Rebecca hauled him into their boat with an ‘oof’ from the big bear.

“Baloo, are you okay?” Kit asked urgently, embracing his Papa Bear.

Rebecca affectionately tousled

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