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“WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE’S another guy?” Walt said, lashing her tail in frustration. Butterbean stepped quietly to the side. Walt had already hit her in the face with it three times. It kind of stung.

“That’s what we saw! There’s another guy!” Marco insisted. “He was counting the coins!”

“He’s not as creepy as the main guy. But we still have to get past him, too,” Polo pointed out. “That’s TWICE as many guys.”

“Not to mention figuring out how we’re going to carry such a HUGE bag of coins. That thing was as big as Butterbean!” Marco said. “I was thinking Oscar could grab it, but how could he fly with it? It’d be so heavy!”

“He has a bad back!” Polo said, pointing at Oscar.

“It’s not that bad,” Oscar said, shifting awkwardly. So he had a few twinges every now and then. It’s not like he was totally incapacitated.

“We thought maybe we could pass the coins under the door and drag them down in the elevator,” Marco said.

“But we still have to get someone on the inside! And how do we do that? Again, we were thinking Oscar, but how do we get those open?” Polo said, waving her arms at the windows.

“And again, bad back!” Marco squeaked.

Polo slumped against the table leg.“We have a lot of issues to work out.”

“Hold on,” Walt said, pacing back and forth in front of the Television. “Hold on.”

“Okay,” Butterbean said uncertainly.

Everyone watched as Walt stalked across the floor, head down, obviously deep in thought.

“Hold on,” Walt said again, even though nobody had said anything. The others kept watching.

“Hold on to what?” Butterbean said finally.

“I’ve got it.” Walt sat down on the carpet. “Problem solved. We can do this.”

“Wonderful,” Oscar said cautiously. “Mind telling us how?”

“I’ve got a guy,” Walt said. “He can help us. He can handle the inside work.”

“You’ve got a guy,” Oscar said.

“I’ve got a guy.” Walt lashed her tail in satisfaction.

Oscar opened his mouth and then shut it again. Butterbean cocked her head to the side.

“We’ll have to ask him, but if we present it the right way, I think he’ll do it,” Walt said confidently. “It’s perfect.”

Butterbean cocked her head even farther to the side.

“You’ve got a guy,” Oscar said again.

Walt nodded.

Butterbean erupted.

“YOU’VE GOT A GUY?” Butterbean lifted off the ground with every word. “WHO ARE YOU? You’ve got a guy! You’ve got a secret vent! You have computer skills! THERE ARE RATS AND YOU KNEW! It’s like I don’t even KNOW you anymore, Walt!”

“The dog has a point,” Oscar said dryly.

“Calm down, Bean,” Walt said. She’d never seen Butterbean get so worked up. The stress was obviously taking a toll.

“DON’T ‘BEAN’ ME!” Butterbean yelped. “YOU HAVE A SECRET LIFE.”

“Is it Bob?” Marco asked. “Is he your guy?”

Walt blinked.“Bob? No. Why would it be Bob?” The idea that she’d have a secret connection to Bob was more than a little disturbing. What kind of cat did they think she was?

“Just asking. We saw him through the grates. He LIVES here. In the building.” Marco’s eyes gleamed.

Walt made a face.“No, it’s not Bob. I didn’t even know he lived here.” She was going to have to make a note of that. Apparently, she didn’t know the building as well as she thought. “It’s a guy upstairs. He lives on eight.”

Butterbean gave a sputtering, weird bark.“You have a GUY on EIGHT? There’s no GUY on EIGHT. Except for Mr. Axe Body Spray. Is it him?” Little flecks of spit were flying out of her mouth as she barked.

“He’s on eight,” Walt said calmly, flexing her claws.

Butterbean stared at her for a minute, then turned her back and marched huffily to the door.“Then let’s go see him. Right now.” She tapped her feet impatiently.

“Butterbean, wait,” Oscar said. “We don’t know anything about this guy.”

“Trust me. He can get this done,” Walt said dismissively.

“But who is this person, Walt?” Oscar asked, snapping his beak a few times. “This all seems very strange.” He wasn’t going to lose control the same way Butterbean had, but Walt’s attitude was making him very uncomfortable. She was much more secretive than he had realized. It threw the whole heist situation into a new light. Was she a cat to be trusted?

Walt sighed and sat down.“Okay. Remember when I used to slip out to explore the building?”

Oscar nodded.“Mrs. Food was frantic that you’d get into the elevator.”

“Well, I did. And at one point I made some contacts. One contact. This is him.”

“And he is?” Oscar said, hopping closer to her. She seemed sincere, but this was a whole new side of Walt.

“They call him the Octopus.”

“Because it’s like he’s got eight arms?” Butterbean scoffed.

“Because he’s an octopus,” Walt said.

“Right,” Butterbean said. “And I’m a poodle.”

Walt stalked over to the door.“You want to meet him, Bean? Then fine, let’s go. If anyone can help us, he can. And if he can’t… well, I don’t know what we’re going to do.”

Butterbean looked at Oscar. His shoulders sagged.“Report back what you find out. And please, try not to get caught.”