Catopolis. Part 20

Like the princess that lives here, he added. Robie looked around the apartment once more, wondering where the Siamese was. Kept cats lived longer but only at the whim of capricious humans. Had her human taken the lovely Siamese to the pound? Why, he couldn't say, but what they did was always a mystery.

Deciding the Siamese still lived here-scent and incredible toys and food and refrigerated drinking water proved it-he slid his head through the handle on the bag and began his slow progress to the window. It took all his strength and cunning to rearrange the chairs and tables so he could make the ascent to the window ledge in easy steps when, otherwise unburdened, he could have easily jumped.

Robie peered down into the street, then edged outside. The ledge was hardly wide enough for the bag he dragged. More than once he had to stop and use back paws and even his tail to keep the bag securely on the ledge. If it slipped, he would find himself with a noose around his neck ten stories up. Such a fall would eat up all nine of his lives. He wasn't sure how many were left, anyway, since he hadn't kept count.

Carefully putting his feet down two at a time, Robie walked along the ledge. His confidence grew with every step. This was going so well. Then it happened.

The ledge gave scant warning that it was at the breaking point. Without his weight as well as the loot on it, the ledge might have remained in place for many more years. As he stepped, the concrete made a grinding noise that caused him to rear backward onto his hind legs just as it tore free. The concrete tumbled down to the street below. Robie found himself on his hind legs like a human, fighting to keep his balance.

With a deft twist, he turned and flopped belly-down on his stolen treasure.

Now what do I do?

Robie arched his back and started to step across the bag he was dragging when he felt the distinctive tremors, like the one that had preceded the other part of the ledge collapsing. Scrambling fast, Robie got over the sack with its food as the spot where his hind feet had been crumbled.

He let out a screech that turned into a strangled whine when the bag tumbled down with the ledge. His feet were on solid ledge but the sack's two handles strangled him. The weight around his neck pulled him flat. Robie chanced a quick look ten stories down. Cats had survived such a fall.

I won't make the fall at all. I'm too good for that!

All he had to do was lower his head and let the sack fall. Determination hardened within his mind. That would be a breach of duty. His honor would be gone. How could any proud cat hold his head up after losing such good food?

With a snort of determination, he heaved hard and strained to stand. The bag dangled under him. Robie began retracing the path he had already traversed, his neck muscles knotting from the exertion. When he reached the corner with the gargoyle, an idea came to him. He used its stony skull as a lever to pull up the bag. He turned around, got all four feet against the far side of the gargoyle, and pushed hard. The sack inched upward and then flopped down once more on the ledge.

Am I THE cat! Robie purred with pleasure. He had done more than survive. He had kept his loot from getting away from him. Neck stiff and chafed, he pa.s.sed the open window. Robie took a final deep whiff of her scent and pushed on.

Uncertain where he was going, Robie circled the building until he saw it. A rope dangled from a pulley on the roof. Exhausted from hauling the bag behind him, he judged distances and wondered if the rope would extend all the way to the ground. Why else would it be here? The crazy humans always did things impulsively, but he had to give them one thing. They built apartments and bridges well.

Robie got his back feet under him, estimated the distance, then leaped powerfully. His front claws raked the end of the rope, scrambling for purchase. When his claws caught hold, he felt himself falling. Fast. Faster. He swung close to the rope and dug in his back claws, making sure he had maximum grip.

And the rope ran faster and faster, taking him toward the ground. He looked down and then back up. He had fallen six stories. Seven.

With a twitch, he let the bag of food fall free. He caught sight of the picture he had stolen. Although it wasn't in 3-D and lacked the proper scent, he felt his heart twitch. Then he reacted with the full speed of his feline reflexes. Jumping from the rope wasn't easy since there wasn't anything to push away against, but he succeeded in landing in a Dumpster atop piles of trash.

He sank to the bottom, claws working hard to halt his descent. Then he fought to surface in the sea of garbage and stood for a moment, triumphant, on the metal edge before hopping down to paw through the fallen bag. Some of the food cans had burst open. He made sure the picture wasn't soiled, then began dragging the loot to a spot where he could jump onto a box and let out his "Come and get it!" yowl.

Within a few minutes a dozen stray cats crowded close.

"Eat up. Enjoy yourselves," he called. Robie watched in satisfaction as the scrawny cats, some with ribs poking against their fur, hungrily ate what he had brought.

He shouldered a couple aside and found unopened cans. Using a quick claw and a push with his other paw, he opened these for his adoring crowd, too. Then he gathered the feathered toys and batted then around, deciding on which he liked best. These he gave to the mother with her kittens.

"You're so good to me, Robie," the female said, pus.h.i.+ng aside what he had brought. "But the other cat's already brought all the toys we can use. More food, too."

Robie's fur rose.

"The other cat?"

"You didn't think you were the only savior for us in this alley, did you?"

He howled loudly and turned away, angry. Not only did this interloper give food, he also supplied toys and other things that made life just a little better in the alley. Robie found one stray who remained after the feast to bat an empty food can around. He listened to its clanging as it struck a brick wall and rebounded.

"You get food from the other cat?" Robie asked.

"Sure, we all do. Usually better than you get us, but this time, well, you outdid yourself," the stray said, taking one last sniff at the licked-clean can before strutting off, tail high.

Robie flopped onto his belly and fitfully groomed himself. What was the use of risking his life to get food for the starving when they didn't care? Worse, they gave all the credit to another cat who furnished even better food.

Looking up at the tall apartment building, Robie felt a surge of determination. He hissed and stood, arching his back. The anger wasn't at the recipients of his charity or even at the other cat who always trumped his largesse, but at the humans. Forcing decent cats to starve in alleyways was terrible. If any of Robie's wards-and he had to think of them as such-strayed too far from this alley, Animal Control would swoop down on them. Those few who returned would carry RFIDs to constantly trace them. More than a simple ID implanted beneath their fur, the chips tracked and charted, spied and probably even listened into conversations.

It was the humans' fault. Cats ought to be free to roam as they chose, climb trees, and daintily pick through garbage unhindered. Robie remembered the last time he had climbed a tree, and snarled. The humans' park a few blocks away had become a deathtrap for stray cats: Animal Control prowled through it like packs of dogs. He had ventured over there a few months ago and had almost been caught in one of their traps.

Robie wasn't sure, but he thought that moment when the trap closed prematurely was when he had vowed to never let another cat go hungry if he could help it.

He looked at the picture of the Siamese and batted it about until he got it standing upright against the building wall. It had been so alive when it was in its frame and in 3-D, but it had also shared half with a human. The human had looked at the Siamese as a slave. No matter how fine the prison, that apartment was still a prison.

Refrigerated drinking water!

The thought of such a sweet-smelling Siamese in that pleasure prison caused his tail to ruff. Robie stretched until his back arched high, then he set off again for that apartment with only a quick look back to the picture for inspiration.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do, but at the least he could get more food for the alley strays. There had been all kinds of cans in that pantry, enough for a dozen cats. Robie purred as he thought of actually seeing the Siamese too, even if he had to dodge her human to do it. He threaded his way through the maze getting back into the stairwell. This time he knew better than to waste time in the hall, and went directly to the window leading out onto the ledge that would take him around the building to another open window.

As he stepped out, he inhaled, and froze. The faintest whiff came to him. He was close to the Siamese. Robie turned around and studied the window.

This is an air-conditioned building. The temperature was set a little low for his taste. So why is a window open?

He shrugged it off. A crusading feline like him deserved luck now and then. Robie curled around the corner and went directly to the open window. The scent of the female came stronger now.

She's home!

Robie slipped into the apartment and sampled the air in all directions, looking for humans and listening for another cat. Curiously, he did not hear her. He jumped to the floor and made his way to the pantry. Her scent here was stronger.

"You're in the pantry. Getting food?" Robie flicked out his paw, pulling open the door. It was dark inside, but he saw as easily as he did outside.

"Are you in here?"

The words barely purred past his lips when he heard a quick padding behind him. He started to turn, only to be bowled over. He rolled into the pantry and came to his feet. Too late!

The door clicked shut.

"You should never have come back," came a voice as pleasant as he had imagined. "It's not right that you steal food from my lady."

"What's your name? I saw your picture."

"I know. You broke the frame."

Robie dropped to his belly and thrust his paws out under the pantry door. She touched one paw tentatively from the other side. He purred.

"You tore the picture in half, too."

"I wanted a picture of you. I'm Robie."

"I... oh, why am I doing this? I'm Grace."

"Grace," he said, letting the name slip out slowly, lovingly. "A name befitting you. All Siamese are graceful."

"Not all," she said. "I want you to promise never to come in here again. You'll ruin everything."

"Ruin?" Robie yanked his paw back. "Do you need so much food?"

"Of course not. My human spoils me, but you can't steal it. It will cause problems."

"Problems," Robie snarled. "What do you know of problems in your fine nest at the top of an expensive building? You've got water that comes from a cooler. You don't have any problems."

"I have a conscience. Don't you?"

"Are you going to starve if I take another bag of your food?"

"Why'd you come back?" Grace sounded peeved now. Her words almost hissed at him. This made Robie all the angrier at her.

"For you." He hesitated, then added, "For more food."

"All right, enough of this. I've got you trapped. If you promise to leave and not come back, I'll let you go free."

"You'll give me my freedom?" he scoffed. "I'm free. You're the one in a prison. It's a posh one, but you're the captive held by fancy food, clever toys, and chilled water."

"Promise."

Robie paced around inside the pantry, knocking over things and creating a ruckus. When some of his anger pa.s.sed, he went back and flopped by the door.

"What if I don't?"

"My lady will find you and turn you over to Animal Control."

Robie heard just a tremor of fear in Grace's threat.

Is that because she wants me?

"Let me out and we can talk this over."

"You have to promise to leave and never come back. You'll get us both into big trouble."

"I can stay in here for a long time," Robie said. He batted a can of food off a low shelf and used his claw to pop it open. The fragrance intoxicated him. He was sure Grace smelled it, too, and knew what he was doing.

"You're incorrigible!"

"How sweet of you to say that." Robie sampled the canned food and wondered how Grace stayed so thin. If he had food like this available, he would eat until he exploded. Going to sleep with his chin on the food bowl would be the next thing to heaven. It would be heaven if Grace were beside him.

"Someone's coming! Oh, it's too late!"

Robie's ears perked up when he heard a grinding sound and m.u.f.fled curses. Grace's human seemed particularly clumsy. He puzzled over the noise a moment longer, then heard two humans speaking in rough voices.

"We might get more for the cat than anything else in this dump."

"Shut up and help me open the safe. Who wants to steal a d.a.m.ned cat? The grinder's not taking off the lock like it's supposed to."

"The cat's a purebred, I tell you. My ex raised 'em. Worth a fortune. Maybe more than the cheap a.s.s knickknacks around here."

"Help me get this safe open!"

Robie heard Grace let out a squeal of anger. He slammed himself against the pantry door and backed off. The door was too solid and the lock too secure for him to barrel through. He stepped back, then jumped to a high shelf so he was level with the k.n.o.b. Opening this was easy for a cat accustomed to breaking and entering. His claws left deep scratches on the k.n.o.b as he gripped, dropped with his full weight and turned. The snap lock opened and the door swung wide.

"d.a.m.n, look at that. Another cat's-"

This was as far as the burglar got before Grace clawed his face. Robie saw blood spray from the triple wound she left on his cheek. Hitting the floor running, Robie shot forward and leaped, claws working furiously at the man's groin. Between this attack and Grace's quick paws, the man had met his match. Grace hit the floor and spun about, shoulder to shoulder with Robie.

"These aren't your humans," Robie said. It wasn't much of a guess.

"Thieves."

"Not my kind," Robie said. "They steal and keep it for themselves." He looked around. The injured burglar swung a short pry bar back and forth to keep them away. The other one fumbled with a cloth bag. Robie judged how difficult it would be to add a few more claw marks to the first human's face and maybe take a bite out of his worthless pink hide.

Grace looked at him curiously, then turned toward the open window.

"Follow me," she said.

"Anywhere," Robie answered. They jumped to a table but did not go out the window. Grace hesitated long enough to claw at a small gray box.

"Now." She sinuously moved, a blur of cream fur, out onto the ledge as the two burglars began arguing. Robie was immediately behind her.

"You set off the alarm, didn't you?"

"I had disabled it and left the window open."

"Why?"

"We need to get down. Those two are going to fight like cornered rats."

"I've fought cornered rats," Robie boasted.

"I'm sure you have," Grace said, looking back at him. He caught the twinkle in her bright blue eyes. They were slightly crossed, but he had never seen more beautiful ones. Ever.

"How do we get off the ledge without going back into the room?" Robie doubted the rope and pulley would provide a way to the ground a second time.

"How brave are you?" Grace stopped at the corner of the building just past a gargoyle. Without another word, she jumped out into s.p.a.ce.

Robie howled and hurried to where she had stood only an instant before. Then he saw what she had done. Grace leaped out toward a flag pole, caught the rope and swung around, landing on a ledge two stories below. She looked up at him, waiting.

He never hesitated. For an instant he thought he had jumped too far, then his claws caught the tattered rope and he was afraid it wouldn't hold his weight. Robie swung back and forth once before letting go. He had to scramble to join Grace on the ledge.