FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Later generations would name the waning years of the nineteenth century the_Gilded Age_. To Jin Ji, it was the Grime Age, the Age of Inequity, or his personal favorite, the _Age of Extremes,_the chiefest of which were the sharp socioeconomic distinctions exemplified few places as starkly as in America on the island of Manhattan. Luxurious mansions and the offices of wealthy financiers were frequently separated by just a few garbage strewn alleyways from opium dens, whorehouses, and pawn shops.

It was down one such urban passage just before dark that Jin made weary progress, huddled within the protective cocoon of his overcoat and beneath the sagging brim of his rain soaked fedora. Despite his garments' weatherproof design, the relentless downpour found every gap and leaky seam. Rivulets of water trickling over his brow and into his eyes obscured the already confused landscape of trash bins, broken wooden boxes, and filth. Visibility, little better than that at the bottom of the nearby polluted harbor, explained his tripping over what he assumed was no more than a bundle of rags under a weather beaten tarp.

The pitiful mewling whine accompanying the sharp jab of his boot argued otherwise. Off balance, he stumbled for several yards before recovering. Momentum and purpose carried him further along his intended path until some stirring of his conscience, or more likely a selfish sixth sense alerting him to a serendipitous opportunity, turned him back to the living heap.

Jin noticed upon closer inspection that it rustled slightly as if a shivering body lay cloaked beneath. Using a broken broom handle, he cautiously lifted one corner of the fragment of oil cloth in the event a rabid dog lay in hiding. To his relief, instead of a foaming muzzle full of razor sharp teeth, a brightly reflective pair of feline eyes stared back.

Alley cats were a lesser danger, though the size of these glowing green orbs hinted at something bigger, and the feral intensity they radiated sparked deep within his primate brain a fleeting, primal fear of a dagger toothed jungle predator. Too rational to believe anything so improbable as a big cat existing in this dense urban core, panic quickly ebbed. No other portion of the creature was visible, but he correctly deduced it was a catgirl.

Harnessing the last murky threads of daylight, Jin raised the cover higher and squatted on his haunches. Glimpses of silver and black striped fur, mostly hidden by ragged bits of cotton and wool, barely deserving to be described as clothing, were briefly revealed before twilight failed. In the near absolute darkness, only the unblinking eyes, catching stray traces of distant lamplight, remained. From an unseen mouth, the voice of a frightened child spoke.

"I ain't selling, so leave me alone."

Her words were intended as a command, but no authority betrayed her soul crushing, weary despair.

"Wouldn't that depend upon what I'm buying?" asked the man with the slightest trace of an East Asian accent, though his command of English was far better than many native denizens of the lesser boroughs of New York City.

"I got no money or goods ta steal, and there's only one other reason I know why men prowl alleys at night."

"Hmm. You're a mighty picky little kitty considering your circumstances."

"What would you know of my circumstances?"

"I know that catgirls are rare and expensive to acquire. Thus, they belong only to wealthy households...unless, of course, they are later found to be of unsuitable temperament. Perhaps you are inclined to scratch or bite? Aggressive or hostile towards children? Disobedient? Lazy? Am I getting close?"

"No, and it ain't none of your business."

"No matter the cause. The result is the same. Once evicted, no respectable family will take you in, bereft as you are of references. Your kind are forbidden legitimate employment, so your only options are the brothels, with all the horror that entails; the church shelters, where the price for food and warmth is endless penance and menial toil in the service of God as punishment for being a soulless devil spawn; or lastly, you try to make it on your own, thieving, scrounging, and hunting for scraps of food until you starve or die of exposure."

For the first time since the newly-met strangers locked eyes, the disembodied emeralds blinked to swipe away a watery film.

"Fuck you."

"An ironic response considering your earlier affirmation, but I take your real meaning and offer you my sympathy. In fact, I will go further and offer to ease your plight somewhat."

"I don't want no charity."

"I have none to give. I propose a fourth alternative instead, a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The eyes blinked again, but this time signaling a grudging willingness to listen.

"A task I need doing requires one of your size and agility. As with any illicit endeavor, there are personal risks, no greater in my opinion, however, than sleeping in alleys, but the reward is more than adequate compensation.

"You want me ta steal somethin'?"

"Precisely. You're smart for a pet."

"I'm ain't no one's pet...not no more. Certainly not yours."

"Yet you haven't said no."

"No...I ain't."

"Excellent. I know a dining establishment, not far, that will turn a blind eye to your presence. You can fill your empty belly in warmth and comfort while I explain enough detail for you to decide. Don't like what your hear, you're free to return to this tarp owing me nothing. Do we have a deal?"

The eyes shifted back and forth between him and the sopping squalor of the alley as if indecisive.

"The current weather is anathema to my good health," declared Jin. "I'm leaving now. Follow if you are interested."

Dropping the corner of the tarp, Jin stood, strode out of the alley and turned right. Little else stirred on the narrow street save for a horse drawn cab and several pedestrians too intent upon reacquiring shelter to pay close attention to Jin or his diminutive, sail draped shadow. If they had given the catgirl a lengthy appraisal, they would have noted the digitigrade form of her legs, standing as she did upon the toes of her shoeless, paw-like feet. Instead, the few surreptitious glances thrown their way focused upon the sinister foreigner swathed head to toe in black and not the presumed harmless human child trailing in his wake.

Resisting the urge to glance backward, Jin maintained a rapid but silent stride. The soft tread and occasional splash from behind told him his quarry was hooked.

Brick edifices with street level storefronts and upper story apartments bore an unremarkable similarity on every block they passed, until, without warning, Jin descended a short flight of steps to a basement door above which hung a sign so grime covered, the establishment's name and purpose could barely be discerned in daylight. In the rainy gloom of night, the advertisement became no more than a nebulous hint of possible shelter inside.

Opening the door, Jin motioned for his companion to enter first. Unaccustomed to deference from a human, she hesitated.

"Not wet enough?" Jin asked. "Well, I am, so go already."

The allure of food goaded her forward with greater impetus than his sarcasm. Entering a room hardly better lit than the street, her superior night vision and acute sense of smell revealed details invisible to most of the human patrons. The long, narrow space housed a mismatched assembly of tables, chairs, benches, and stools sporadically occupied by nearly two dozen male human customers, leisurely drinking and smoking alone or in small groups. From behind a wooden bar spanning most of the left wall, a mustached man with greasy hair in tight black curls dispensed drinks.

His associate, a tall, spindly, stork-like woman in a shapeless dress covered by a grimy apron, alternated between hustling the fresh libations he poured and delivering trays of food retrieved from the kitchen hidden beyond a pair of swinging doors located behind the bar. The chaotic floor plan and sloppily seated customers made navigation with the waitress' burdens a challenge, but like the water striding bird she resembled, her long legs found a sure-footed path through the sea of obstacles.

With eyes open wide, the catgirl absorbed the novel experience of a restaurant. Humans, especially of the lower orders, disdained sharing their meals with beings they considered little better than clever animals. Fear of angry patrons screaming for her expulsion stood the fur up high along her back, and the razor sharp daggers hidden within her forepaws crept from within their fleshy sheaths. She desired to back out the way she had come, but Jin pushed her forward, along a path farthest from the other customers, leading her to a rear booth angled so as to shield its occupants from prying eyes.

Jin took her improvised covering and hung it upon a row of hooks alongside his hat and cloak. They sat on opposite sides of the table, and the catgirl was able to observe her benefactor for the first time. He was of middling height, lean of build, swarthy of complexion, with heavy, lidded eyes that might have made him seem bored or sleepy if not for the burning intensity of their dark brown centers.

The harried waitress appeared as if by magic. Recognizing Jin, the taciturn, horizontal slash of her mouth curled up slightly at the edges before slumping in the opposite direction when she noticed the catgirl.

Drawing breath to speak, the waitress' objections were forestalled by Jin placing a generous quantity of coins in her palm.

"It's okay, Vicky. Just a hungry waif not bothering anyone, right?"

The waitress' eyes widened as she summed the payment, then narrowed to suspicious slits.

"Why so much? Ya know'd I'd a ignored her for far less."

"Part of that's for food. Part's for two sets of reasonably clean clothes that'll fit her, one suitable for a girl and the other work clothes for a boy. You can keep the rest."

"Ya need these garments tonight?"

"Yes."

"In that case, gotta send the cook's simple son instead. I'm swamped 'til closin'."

"Doric? He can hardly remember his own name." Jin quickly scribbled a note on some paper and passed it to Vicky. "Have the boy give this to the ragman to ensure nothing gets lost in translation."

"Done. What'm I servin' ya whiles ya wait?"

"What's guaranteed not to gag or poison?"

"The chowda'. 'Bout the only thing Cook does right. It's mostly taters and paste, but there's some clam in it. We also got pork sausages straight from the butcher this mornin'. No cat..." She glanced at Jin's companion with mild embarrassment. "...no bags o' mystery, I swear."

"Two bowls of chowder, four sausages, and a loaf of sourdough if you got any...and throw in a big slab of butter."

"Sure. Any drink ta wash it down?"

"A pitcher of ale. Two glasses. Not that it wouldn't be otherwise, but keep the ale weak. We don't need to get tipsy."

Grunting her acknowledgment, Vicky departed. Jin wanted his dinner companion full and content before he made his pitch, so he kept his peace until the food arrived. His feline companion spent the interlude sniffing the air, meticulously cataloging every stray scent to judge the mood of the room.

With surprising efficiency Vicky returned before the conversational silence grew awkward. She deposited the ale, bread, and a large cube of butter in the center of the table followed by a serrated knife and two flagons before hurrying away to attend other customers.

Jin sliced the bread, spreading a generous blanket of butter over a piece he then placed on a small metal plate before sliding it in front of his companion. He likewise filled her mug. Her stomach gurgled audibly at the sight and smell, but she made no move to touch any of it.

"What's wrong?" asked Jin.

"Not used ta eatin' with people, and I only ever get...got scraps at home."

"It's true that folks in this establishment wouldn't tolerate you at their table either. Vicky's taking a risk serving you, but money trumps bigotry down here at civilization's bottom. I'm not so picky myself. Go ahead. Eat. I won't be offended."

The catgirl tentatively bent over and licked at the coating of butter. Her face lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. The slab of bread vanished down her throat barely chewed. She reached greedily for the rest of the butter, snatching the semi-solid mass in her paw. Jin's rapid reflexes prevented her from stuffing it in her mouth, but she was faster still. Her free paw clutched his bare wrist before he could draw her arm back.

Claws snicked out to contact his exposed skin, holding at a failsafe beyond which any additional pressure would puncture flesh. The threat carried more menace than Jin thought possible from one of her size and sex. Nevertheless, a long life of exposure to danger and battles for dominance steadied his grip.

"You may have all that you can possibly eat tonight," Jin said calmly as if nothing was amiss, "but I have two rules. The first is that you eat nice and slow so you don't make yourself sick. I'm not paying to feed you twice. The second: you use utensils to eat like everyone else."

"My family never taught me none of that," she confessed after releasing his wrist. "Even the servants wouldn't share meals with me. Made me eat off o' the floor thinkin' it was hilarious."

A feral growl punctuated her complaint, but it was Jin's primal expression of rage, not the catgirl's.

"Damn them anyway. People can be total shit. It's not your fault then is it? Just do your best with rule two. I'm more concerned about the first rule anyway."

To her credit, the feline-human hybrid learned quickly, using the knife to slather each slice more heavily than the one before and consuming them in no fewer than three bites until all of the butter was gone. She then lost interest in the bread.

Relaxing, Jin sipped his ale. She parroted his action, downing the cup and holding it out for more.

"What's your name?" Jin asked as he poured.

"Isabella," she answered. "What's yours?"

"Jin, but I meant your real name, the secret one you catgirls use among yourselves."

"I told you. Isabella."

"Don't lie to me. That's a prosaic, owner-given name. I know better. You aren't the first catgirl with which I've had dealings, and associates who visit the furry brothels have informed me otherwise."

"Associates?"

Her tone implied she believed he frequented these establishments himself. Jin laughed at her subtle riposte.

"Nice try, but not my cup of tea as the Brits like to say. Let's just say this information comes from reliable sources."

"You know so much, then you know not ta ask. Like you said, it's secret."

"Good answer. You're clever for your kind. In fact, you're the shrewdest I've met considering you're deliberately bred to be docile and stupid. I'm guessing your real name reflects your intelligence, something like 'Socrakitty' or 'Furristotle'."

Jin's unwelcome speculation was interrupted by the arrival of the chowder and sausages. The smell set Isabella's mouth to watering. Indecision over which to devour with the most gusto did more to slow her consumption than Jin's cardinal dinner commandment. Since both patrons were hungry, they divvied up the food and ate for a while in silence.

"This is an era of unparalleled scientific marvels," began Jin between bites after his own gnawing hunger subsided. His companion ate slowly but deliberately, only pausing to drink.

"Consider your creation," he posed. "Scientists have cracked the code of life and learned to manipulate it for our advantage. To live during a time awash with so much genius and discovery is both enthralling and terrifying. Cures for diseases that used to kill millions with impunity, labor saving gadgets, and ever faster, more efficient modes of transportation appear daily alongside weapons designed to slaughter with equal efficiency."

"So?" asked the catgirl, as if disinterested, but the short break from the paramount task of filling her stomach was a clear indication she was listening.

"My father was one of the deliverers of these mixed blessings. I'm ashamed to say that he dabbled in weapons research, but that's always where the money is. I'm not trying to excuse what he did, but his driving passion was more noble. He believed in a future with clean, inexpensive and limitless energy to benefit all mankind."

Momentarily sated, Isabella paused to yawn a gaping mouth rimmed with razor sharp teeth dominated by elongated canines.

"Boring, am I?" asked Jin. "I suppose science is dull to an uneducated illiterate, but please bear with me. I want you to understand my motives. You see, my father achieved his dream. While working for a consortium of powerful industrialists, he discovered the secret he sought, but those same benefactors of his genius had him killed when he demanded they share equally the vast potential profits of his work."

"Murder's police business. Tell them your sad story."

"In a perfect world, that makes sense, but even you must know better than that. Cops are incompetent at best, corrupt and biased at the worst. If I were a well heeled white man, maybe they would at least investigate this case, but you may have noticed that I'm Chinese. Even if the judges and cops in this country don't immediately see me as a yellow foreign-devil, the men I'm accusing can sway their natural biases with money. I don't have the resources to fight by their rules, so I must make my own."

Finished with her food, Isabella belched then yawned again.

"Thanks for the meal," she said. "You bought my attention, but it's late, and all this wonderful food has made me sleepy. Get ta the point, please."

"So, you do have manners even if dressed in rude gowns, but you are welcome anyway, and get to the point I shall. The technology in possession of my father's murderers is but a prototype. Many adjustments and refinements are still needed before it can be commercially applied. In a few years, they will no doubt figure all that out, but I can perfect it in months with my father's notebook."

Isabella had closed her eyes as if napping. Jin could just detect the low rumbling of her purr, but she was not asleep.

"Let me guess," she said. "The bad guys got it."

"Indeed."

"What if they already read it?"

"At least half the text is Mandarin -- the dominant dialect in China. Translation will take time, and when that's done, they will find much of it is encoded. My father loved ciphers."

"What's 'ciphers' mean?"

"Ways of hiding meanings in words so only those who know the code can read the real message."

"So, you know these ciphers?"

"He taught many codes to me, yes. When I was young, he hoped to mold me in his image and carry on his legacy. He had me attend the best schools he could afford and personally tutored me in mathematics and engineering, but I became a thief instead much to his chagrin. Life is full of disappointments. Don't you agree?"

"Mine coulda been better. You and your old man split up?"

"Yes. Many years ago, but we were not so estranged that he could resist trying to tempt be back to his side when he was so close to realizing his dream. Less than a fortnight before his death, he took me in his confidence and even gave me a tour of the prototype and lab. I think he suspected something was amiss and wanted me to know what he had accomplished just in case."

"Is that what you want, ta finish his work?"

"No. That's my father's dream, not mine. I want vengeance and riches. Stealing back the journal gives me both."

"And you want me ta do the stealin'."

"Help to steal it," said Jin emphasizing the word help. "I have a plan. You are small. The job involves navigating some tight spaces. It also requires cracking a safe."

"I know nothin' of safes."

"I have an expert to teach you. Do you think you can learn?"

"I can follow directions."

"The job must be done tomorrow night."

A loud huff of breath punctuated her disdain for his time constraint.

"I'm ignorant and docile. Remember?"

"Ignorant is different than stupid, and you're showing more spunk and insight than normal catgirls. Look. I know the tight schedule increases the risks, and I'll be honest. If you're caught, they'll put you down just like a dangerous animal."

"Then what's in it for me?"

"The payoff is huge."

"How huge?"

"Plenty of wealthy investors will fight to outbid each other for a working unit. Numerous foreign governments too. Your share will be considerable. No more being somebody else's servant. No slave. No whore. I propose setting up an anonymous trust to keep you free and comfortable the rest of your life. Think of a warm bed every night, servants of your own, and regular meals."

"Sounds like heaven. How can I trust you ta do what you say once all the money's in your hands? What recourse would a catgirl have when she's been cheated by a human?"

"I glad you aren't so naive as to find a stranger trustworthy. Critical thinking skills are what I need. The saying 'There is no honor among thieves' is all too applicable in my experience, and I am a thief. I don't deny that. In fact, I stole this recently."

Jin produced a cloth bag from a hidden pocket in his vest and dumped the contents on the table. A necklace of sparkling diamonds and deep blue sapphires glittered brilliantly in the dim light. The quality and cut of the gems were relatively low, but Isabella gaped dumbfounded at what to her eyes was a fabulous fortune.

"Worth maybe a thousand or two even in a quick sale. Take it. It's yours to keep as a down payment for your services and collateral against any possible future malfeasance on my part."

Spellbound by the bauble's overwhelming magnificence, the catgirl tentatively poked at it to verify its reality.

"Take it now, and hide it," urged Jin. "Vicky returns."

Isabella obeyed. The jewels and their small sack vanished within her ragged garments. Vicky dumped a bundle of clothes tied together with twine on the table.

"It's all here just like you asked," she said as she began clearing away the empty plates and used cutlery. "You want a refill on the ale?"

"Yes," answered Jin, "and bring a third mug. I'm expecting more company."

Vicky grunted acknowledgment and left. Jin untied the bundle and sorted the clothes by gender.

"Try these boy's clothes on first."

Isabella stripped off her rags until only the last layer of undergarments remained, then donned a pair of denim coveralls, a shirt, and cap. Jin observed the process carefully, appraising the fit of the newly purchased garments. Isabella held a pair of sturdy work shoes out for Jin's inspection.

"These are for human feet," she complained.

"You'll have to do without then. There's no time to get a pair made for you. Your paws are superior for sneaking about anyway, and we have more important adjustments to make. The cap covers your ears, which won't do. They need to stick out so you can hear, and you'll want a slit in the back of those pants for your tail. I can fix all that at my place."

Vicky interrupted with the extra mug and refilled pitcher of ale.

"Not much of a disguise," she criticized after giving Isabella a cursory inspection. "She's obviously a cat and there ain't no boy cats; only girls."

"Did I ask for your opinion?"

"No, but it's free."

"And that's precisely what it's worth. This is not a disguise; she needs practical clothes for work, okay?"

"Oh. In that case, they fit well enough. What's she gonna do?"

Isabella opened her mouth to speak, but Jin forestalled any inadvertent revelations of his scheme by tossing the second set of clothes in her face.

"You be quiet and change into those," Jin ordered Isabella. "And you, Vicky, know better than to pry into my business."

"Sorry, but this is a queer situation and no mistake."

"Even so, privacy please."

Taking the hint, Vicky retreated into the gloom.

"Maybe this outfit will do a better job as a disguise," said Jin while filling all three empty flagons.

Isabella transformed herself into what only a half blind man might mistake for a twelve year old human girl. The plain, full length, gray dress covered most of her body, but her feline face was a blaring telltale. The addition of a dark blue hooded cloak, however, succeeded in hiding her snout, whiskers, and slit-pupil, oval eyes, at least in the restaurant's poor lighting.

Both sets of clothes met Jin's expectations. He was considering summoning Vicky to thank her properly, when he heard someone speak his name. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the bartender directing a newcomer towards his booth.

"Keep the hood on, move towards the wall, and stay quiet until I say otherwise," Jin ordered the catgirl.

Isabella shuffled to her left just as a flame haired, pale skinned Irishman of middle years and once fastidious fashion took a seat at the opposite end of her bench. He carried a black surgeon's satchel that he placed carefully at his feet beneath the table.

"How's the craic? Is this ale?" he asked before sipping from his mug. "Gah!" he exclaimed, grimacing in revulsion. "Watered down more than usual. Hope you didn't spend good coin on this piss, Chinaman."

From a pocket concealed in his jacket near his breast, the newcomer withdrew a metal flask and upended a generous dollop of whiskey into the weak drink. Testing its strength with a sip, he smiled and swallowed nearly half in one gulp.

"Ah. Now that's grand. It's raining cats and dogs. I had to run between awnings and other shelters to avoid a soaking for the day that's in it. Hurrying's thirsty work. Don't you agree?"

"Everything's thirsty work for you, O'Connell," answered Jin. "You're drinking yourself into an early grave."

Jin wasn't exaggerating. All the telltale signs of alcohol abuse were discernible for the casual observer: broken blood vessels on his bulbous nose, the stale reek of booze, a once expensive and well-tailored suit carefully repaired but covered in stitches and patches, and a slight, palsy-like tremble of his delicate hands.

"Perhaps, but heaven awaits the end of this mortal coil, eh, and the bottom of a bottle is as close to the pearly gates as a man can get on earth. Alive or dead, I win. The parish priest doesn't like that logic, but he still has to forgive me every Sunday. Not bad figuring for a bleedin', ignorant mick, eh?"

Though Isabella knew she reeked of garbage herself, one whiff of the newcomer instantly offended her sensitive nose and impelled her to shuffle closer to the wall. Noticing the small hooded figure for the first time, O'Connell drained the rest of his mug while appraising her.

"Who's yer one? Not Domino, or I'm an Orangeman."

"No. It's not Domino. Our Italian jockey threw a race without permission, got found out, and earned himself a pair of broken legs from the mafia. He's no use to anyone for a while. This is his replacement."

"You've got to be havin' me on, chinaman. I can't train a kid in one night. I've been workin' with Domino for over a week, and he was barely ready."

"I think this one's smarter and more suitable."

"A little girl? Go away out of that!"

"This isn't a little girl."

O'Connell inspected the spare set of clothes between him and the mysterious hooded figure.

"Grand. A little boy dressed as a girl. How is that any better?"

"I never agreed to do this thing," interrupted Isabella from within her disguise, "and I'm less inclined now having met your drunken associate."

"It is a girl," blurted O'Connell upon hearing Isabella's soft voice. "What're you thinking of? Pulling a wee little waif into this business..."

The Irishman pulled back Isabella's hood to prove his point and recoiled from his inadvertent discovery.

"Oh, blessed virgin save me!" he exclaimed while crossing himself. "Work with an abomination? I will in me hoop. Get yourself another yeggman."

O'Connell tired to rise and leave, but Jin, moving with amazing speed, grabbed a handful of his scarlet locks and slammed the side of his face onto the table. Jin's elbow pressed painfully into the Irishman's upper back pinning him in place.

"Enough of your goddamned whining, O'Connell. Scare her away and you'll wish I was as gentle as the goons who worked over Domino. The only way out of this deal is through the back of a hearse, so learn to get along with your new student. I don't want to hear any more talk of abominations or other such nonsense. The next words out of your mouth had better be an apology. A sincere one. Her name's Isabella, so get it right."

The gasping Irishman whimpered piteously from the pain, but managed to croak, "I'm sorry, Isabella. Truly I am. Pl...please let me teach you how to be a good yeggman."

Isabella stared into Jin's eyes with disbelief, wondering why this man cared about her feelings and bothered to treat a non-person like herself better than one of his own kind. Instincts born of experience and misuse warned her to steer clear of all humans as much as possible. The black clad Chinaman looked the part of a villain, exhibited ruthless tendencies, and was tempting her down a felonious path, but those faults did nothing to quell a nascent loyalty drawing her closer to this curious character.

"I know nothin' about yeggmans, whatever those are..." Isabella stated truthfully, pausing a moment before committing to Jin's scheme. "...but I am eager ta learn and ta assist in this matter on the terms previously discussed."

Pleased that everyone was cooperative, Jin released the safe cracker.

"You're in luck, mickey-boy. I don't have to kill you after all."

O'Connell grimaced as he straightened himself in his seat. He delivered Isabella a vengeful look but was instantly cowed by Jin's malevolent glare. From a vest pocket, O'Connell extracted a small mirror as he fussed to put his unruly locks back in place and brush away the wrinkles in his suit. His attempts to reclaim his fractured dignity were ineffective, so he drained the remaining contents of his hip flask before he was composed enough to speak again.

"There's no call for violence, Jin. You know I'm a man who can see reason from words alone."

"Given time we don't have, perhaps. We've wasted enough already. Let's go."

"Sure thing, Jin. I'll just get this filled on the way out."

Jin snatched the flask from O'Connell's unsteady grip and hid it under his vest.

"You're half-eaten already you drunken mick. Not another drop until Isabella's a passable yeggman."

Sagging inward like a deflating souffle, O'Connell turned paler than Isabella thought possible given his already nearly translucent complexion.

"You're hard, Jin, and no mistake," gasped the inebriate.

"A necessary trait in my business."

"Just a naggin to keep going'? I don't have the strength without it."

"I need you sober. A walk will do you better than booze. Now get up and move."

O'Connell whined like a beaten dog, but picked up his mysterious satchel and staggered dutifully in front of the trio as Jin marched him with drill sergeant sadism towards the waterfront. Isabella trailed as the three misfits negotiated a shabby but functional district dominated by wharves, warehouses, and factories. The rain had yielded to a damp mist, but Jin hurried nonetheless, hustling his charges to the most dilapidated building in the neighborhood.

"This is it," announced Jin without stopping at its front entry.

Isabella paused, assuming it was their destination. She stared in confusion at the large padlock and chains barricading the doors. Runny ink on posters warped by rain warned trespassers to stay out and spoke of impending foreclosure due to unpaid taxes. She turned to ask Jin if he possessed the key only to realize the humans had continued without her and were turning the building's corner. She sprinted after them into the near absolute darkness of the alley.

Starlight peeking through retreating clouds provided enough light for Isabella to discern what her night-blind compatriots could not. Jin moved slowly with the fingers of his right hand gliding across the wall. O'Connell clung to Jin's cloak shuffling after his guide. The Chinaman seemed to be counting slats, stopping at thirty-five.

A crude hatch had been cut in the wood siding. Two loosely nailed blocks held it in place. Jin fumbled in the dark to rotate them, removed the cover, and climbed inside. O'Connell and Isabella followed. Only after the illicit door had been reinstalled and barricaded from the inside did Jin light a series of lanterns to illuminate his secretive abode. Boards covering the warehouse's few windows prevented the lights from betraying their presence to anyone who might happen by during the night.

The open, mostly empty interior stretched over a hundred feet into the gloom, but only their immediate surroundings showed any signs of habitation. A makeshift bed consisting of an old mattress and several ragged quilts on a board atop two low stacks of pallets occupied one corner. Next to it was a table with three legs propped up with a two-by-four nailed in place of the missing leg, three mismatched chairs, and a once elegant chaise lounge with torn red upholstery and a broken back. Jin's decorating style was scavenged shabby, but compared to Isabella's most recent abode, this was a five star hotel.

Most curious of all, though, and dominating the illuminated portion of the warehouse was a four story construction fabricated from waste lumber and nails. The improvised structure resembled the skeletal interior of a multistory office building complete with vertical and horizontal passages intended to accurately represent the scene of Jin's proposed burglary. Isabella was astonished.

"What is this?"

"Your training ground," answer Jin. "You'll spend the rest of the night in it memorizing and practicing your route in and out until you can negotiate it perfectly, but first O'Connell will instruct you in the art of safe-cracking...that's what a yeggman does, by the way. While you two work on that, I need to modify this cap and these coveralls to accommodate your tail and ears."

Isabella looked around the room, but saw no safe.

"Where is it?"

"Up there." Jin pointed to a platform representing a room at the very top of his mock up. "Exactly where you'll find it in the real office. I've tried to reproduce every feature of importance from memory and information gleaned by delivery boys I sent in on bogus errands to fill in any missing gaps."

"How do I get in?" asked Isabella. "You didn't include any outside doors or windows."

"For good reason. The doors on the real building are locked and heavily reinforced. Two guards patrol at night. The windows all have bars. The only way in is a chimney that leads to the coal furnace for the building's central heating system."

Isabella gazed skeptically at the vertical column of wood representing the chimney. It led from just below the warehouse's corrugated metal roof to a fat cylinder resting on the floor.

"Don't worry. The fire is out at night. Wealthy financiers can't afford to burn precious coal for the comfort of guards. It'll be sooty, but safe, and roomy enough for one of your size. Once you climb out the coal feeder door, you are in the basement, which is fortuitous because the stairs to the first floor lead to a kitchen area relatively far from the guard's station at the main entrance."

Isabella followed Jin as he wandered through the full scale model of her proposed path.

"The kitchen door leads to a hall that ends at the foyer. If the guard is at the reception desk and he looks your way, he may see you. This potentially is the most dangerous part."

"The hall is over sixty feet long," observed the catgirl. "How do I get down that without bein' seen?"

"You don't. This dumb waiter is just outside the kitchen door. It connects to all the floors, but most importantly to the third floor behind the executive office secretary's desk. The box should be on the first level just like you see it now ready for morning coffee and breakfast to be sent up when the big boss arrives. Don't use the pulley ropes to climb or move the dumb waiter. They squeak. You'd never fit in the box anyway, but you might be tempted to ride on top of it."

Jin pushed slowly on the bottom of the wooden box and then the top until it was below the mock wood frame opening.

"Once it is out of the way, you climb the shaft to the third floor."

Jin made Isabella scramble upward in the confined space, while he ascended via a ladder on the side. For one of her size and nimbleness it was a trivial effort, and she popped out on the third floor ahead of Jin.

"Impressive," he said.

Isabella basked in his praise.

"Just remember, speed isn't everything. Stealth is paramount. After the safe cracking lesson, I'm running you through this model a hundred times, listening as well as timing. No stopping until you are fast and quiet. Got it?"

"Got it," she agreed slightly chastened but exited to prove her worth.

"The door on the right is the company president's office - your goal. It will be locked, but I can show you right now how to pick it. It's a simple tumbler system. These tools reach inside to manipulate the pawl to the right height and voila. You're in. Now you try it."

It took Isabella a few tries to match Jin's speed and deft handling of the lock, but she seemed born to it, mastering the technique within a few minutes.

"Hmm," muttered Jin. "I thought having those claws in your fingers would have reduced your dexterity. I was wrong. That bodes well for the next task."

Inside the partial mock-up of the president's office, they found O'Connell laying out tools on the floor in front of a desk sized black safe. His black leather case was empty, and a variety of objects lay on a cloth beside it.

"The lock box in question is a common model. I bought this one used," explained Jin. "I shall leave you with the master. Pay close attention and do what you're told."

Isabella sat cross legged next to the disgruntled yeggman. O'Connell stared at her in silent condemnation, shook his head, and grumbled unintelligible curses in Gaelic.

"What's that?" asked Jin, who was still standing behind him. "Do you need further encouragement?"

"No. You bleedin' near broke my nose last time."

Lacking liquor and faced with an utter novice he considered untrainable, O'Connell sighed and wiped cold sweat from his brow. His hands weren't shaking yet, but that hour wasn't long distant. With sobriety came tremors. Always. Since it was pointless to argue with his intransigent host, O'Connell surrendered to the necessity of achieving what he could while lucidity and coordination endured.

"There are many ways to crack a safe, catgirl," began the Irishman in his most pedantic tone as if lecturing to an intractable student incapable of learning.

"My name's Isabella," she interrupted.

O'Connell looked to Jin to reprimand her for her impudence, but found icy indifference glaring back.

"Treat her with the same respect you'd have given Domino," advised Jin, "or I'll teach you another painful lesson in manners."

"Grand, chinaman. It's your caper, but you keep elevatin' her too high above her station and there'll be trouble." Realizing that sounded like a threat, O'Connell backpedaled, "Not by me, of course. Professional team player always, that's me. I'm talkin' about most everyone else. She gives respectable folks cheek like that, and they'll beat her or worse."

"What happens to her beyond this job is no concern of mine. Just remember who's boss, keep your biases to yourself, and focus on the task at hand. Got it?"

"Sure, chinaman. Sure."

Isabella gazed with fondness at Jin's retreating back, mesmerized by his support and kindness. O'Connell had to snap his fingers in front of her snout to regain her attention.

"Hey, cat...Isabella. Pay attention. Won't take him long to adjust those clothes. Time to pull your socks up and learn."

Blinking her eyes and shaking her head, Isabella chastised herself for letting a human under her fur and tried to convince herself that she would be glad to be rid of them both forever when the job was over and she was rich.

"I'm ready," she asserted.

"That's better. A few basics first. This safe has a three number combination. The locking mechanism is controlled by a wheel pack. I have a disassembled version here."

O'Connell held it up for her inspection.

"It is very similar to this model. The wheel pack consists of the outer combination dial connected to this spindle, which runs through the three wheels and into the forth wheel called a drive cam. See how the spindle turns the drive cam?"

"Yes. What are the nubs on the wheels for?"

"I'm getting to that. The one on the cam is the drive pin. When it makes contact with a similar nub on the adjacent wheel called the wheel fly, it turns that wheel and its drive pin on the other side spins eventually hitting the next wheel's fly and so forth until all are spinning together. That's called picking up the wheels. More important are the notches on the outer diameter of the wheels."

He handed her the mechanism.

"Turn the dial and watch what happens inside, be sure to listen closely to the sounds each part makes and the feel of the mechanism on your fingertips...or clawtips or whatever you call 'em."

Isabella dutifully manipulated the device while O'Connell continued his instruction.

"The bar across the top of the wheels is the fence and it is attached to a lever. It prevents the door from opening until all the notches on the wheels line up, then the fence falls in the resulting gap allowing the blocking bolt to slide past.

"So much for the mechanics. Now on to the artful part. The easiest way to crack any safe is to steal the combination. Jin had no luck with that, so guessing is the next best thing. Most people use birthdays, anniversaries, and such. We've managed to finagle this list."

O'Connell handed a piece of paper to Estella, then inexplicably snatched it back before she could see any of the numbers.

"Forgot your kind can't read. Christ, chinaman!" he shouted. "You see what I'm up against. This is all over the shop. Let's go on the lash instead and wait for Domino to recover."

Jin's response was for O'Connell work with the tools at hand, followed by an unsubtle threat. The hungover yeggman swore under his breath, halting mid-curse when Isabella retrieved the slip of paper from his spindly fingers. She scanned the neat rows of numbers to O'Connell's bewilderment.

"What?" she asked noticing his astonished expression. "I may not know the meaning, but these symbols are recognizable, and similar to some on the safe's dial. Show where each is and I'll memorize those positions."

Abashed by the simplicity of the suggestion, O'Connell brushed more sweat from his brow.

"Should have thought of that, I suppose. Good idea..."

Isabella purred.

"...but don't get cocky. Still got lots to cover. The next easiest way in is with explosives. I have some here."

He held up two glass vials containing a clear liquid.

"Nitroglycerin. Very powerful, but also noisy. I got more, but we need to do this on the quiet."

O'Connell looked about in panic.

"Where've the yokes gone? There should be four more of these!" he exclaimed, bordering on panic while frantically rooting through his empty black bag.

"I took them!" shouted Jin.

"Ya scared the bejaysus out of me, chinaman."

O'Connell was breathing hard and sweating worse than ever.

"Drop that soup and we're all dead."

"I'll be careful. Mind if I keep them?"

"I can make more," answered O'Connell with his eyes closed until his anxious pulse slowed.

To Isabella he then said, "We can't use 'em anyways. No way to muffle the explosions enough to guarantee the guards don't hear or feel it. Same goes for drilling out the lock. That takes a lot of time and also makes noise. So, we're left with one option if the stolen numbers don't pay out: listening to the click of the contact area, where the fence and lever make contact with the notch at the top of the wheels. That's what you are going to practice over and over until you get it right."

"No rest until the whole caper is practiced to perfection," added Jin from his tailoring station at the table.

True to his word, Isabella's hostile tutor made her open the safe using dozens of different combinations of random numbers. After several hours, he grudgingly admitted she was ready, but brutally reprimanded her each time she failed, making Isabella wanted to claw his eyes out. She was tired and frustrated enough to do just that when Jin returned. Relieved, she sagged back on her haunches for a break, but her presumed rescuer was no less demanding.

"Tired?"

A quiet, "Yes," was all the response she could muster.

"Too bad. Put on your work clothes. The real test begins now."

Isabella's rage manifested as flattened ears, bared fangs, and stiffened fur. Growling uncontrollably, she nevertheless stripped and dressed herself. Her ears stuck out comfortably through neatly sewn slits in the cap, and the tailhole in the back of her overalls was positioned perfectly to prevent bunching or kinking when she moved. Nevertheless, she refused to show any appreciation for his fine tailoring, and Jin vexed her further by smiling throughout her aggressive display.

"You must have energy to spare to express such defiance," he said while producing a pocket watch from his vest pocket. "Let's use that. Go!"

Almost against her will, Isabella's body climbed to the top of the fake chimney and scrambled down its interior until she was in the utter blackness of the simulated boiler. Fumbling about, she found a latch that opened a small door through which she barely fit.

Having already negotiated the rest of the layout, she easily made her way to the safe. It took her several attempts to open it for which she was chastised by the real yeggman.

"Not terrible," said Jin while recording her time in a small book. "You opened the safe, but took too long and sounded like a spastic gorilla tumbling down the chimney and scrambling up the dumb waiter shaft. Use less claw and more pad. It's harder but quieter. The guards aren't deaf."

On her second pass, she did better. Her success was rewarded by Jin with a small piece of candied fruit. Sugary sweets from her family had been rare even at holidays.

O'Connell said nothing as Jin handed him a bag containing more of the confections.

"Put one inside," he commanded.

With hands beginning to shake, the yeggman obeyed, grateful that his remaining task was so simple. A few turns of the dial was all that was required to reset the combination before shutting the door.

Simultaneous with the metallic clank, Jin repeated his one word command that Isabella would grow to dread, "Go!"

A seemingly endless series of runs through the obstacle course followed with Jin critiquing each attempt, never satisfied until Isabella completed the circuit successfully six times in a row at a pace varying by only a few seconds. Isabella was justly proud of her accomplishment, and Jin magnanimously let her rest for half an hour.

She must have dozed dreamless, because she was jolted awake by the touch of Jin's hand on her shoulder. Life on the streets had trained her to react to unexpected physical contact by fighting or fleeing. Realizing it was Jin, however, she remained calm and did not recoil. Something about him and his now familiar smell made her feel safe.

"Ridiculous," she told herself. He was a criminal and likely more dangerous and unpredictable than most humans. His earlier remark to the Irishman about not caring what happened to her after the job proved he was callous. "Didn't it?" she wondered, doubting herself. Why, then, did the thought of parting company hurt more than she imagined possible. Isabella was unsure.

"You have done well so far," Jin said in a soft voice Isabella longed to believe expressed compassion, renewing hope that his earlier harsh words were lies for the benefit of the safe-cracker.

"I have good teachers," she answered.

"Hmm. I believe your modesty is genuine, but don't belittle yourself. You're smarter than any catgirl I've heard tell of and many people for that matter. That's dangerous. Humans can't abide intelligent pets. There's a bounty for any that get too clever."

Isabella's ears swiveled and twitched in alarm. Glancing about, she searched to determine if O'Connell was listening but was relieved to see him snoring against the safe. Jin understood her worry and winked to reassure her.

"Don't worry. Dangerous is useful. Dangerous is what I want. I won't tell anyone as long as we are working together. Thief I may be, but I have some honor left."

"I believe that. You are a good man, Jin."

"You may not think so after I put you through the course another few dozen times."

"What? Why? I know it by heart, and can open the safe in one try every time."

"Sure, but what will you do if you encounter something unexpected in your way? The dumbwaiter could be halfway up and blocking the shaft, or a guard might appear where you weren't expecting. I have thought of many more contingencies, and I'm going to test you against them all."

The pocket watch came out again. Isabella groaned.

Only after three additional hours of physical and mental exertion did Jin express his satisfaction. She gratefully collapsed next to the open safe; asleep again in seconds.

Thin shards of sunlight sliced through thin gaps in the warehouse's shuttered windows. Isabella was awakened as much from the stabbing glare as from Jin's soft tread and the smell of hot food emanating from a cloth sack he placed upon his crooked dining table. From under warm blankets, she observed that the light came from the west and low off the horizon.

While she had slept, night, morning, and the afternoon had all yielded to early evening. Her last memory placed her up near the rafters, but now she was in Jin's bed. Had he carried her here, or did she crawl here on her own? She could not remember, and the gap in time filled her with momentary dread until she confirmed that she was still fully dressed, and a paw placed between her thighs returned with only her familiar scent.

O'Connell had also moved or been moved. His snores, loud as a growling bear, were broken by short fits of whimpering and twitching as if he were plagued by nightmares. The racket guaranteed no more sleep for Isabella, and the smell of food further compelled her to leave her cozy sanctuary and approach the table.

"Good evening," said Jin with no trace of sarcasm for the absurdity of serving breakfast at this late hour. "Well rested?"

"My whole body aches, but yes, and thank you for asking."

"You're young. It'll pass, and food will help."

Jin spread a bounty of ham, porridge, bread, and a large cube of butter upon the table. Isabella set into eating while Jin put a pot of coffee upon an oil burner. The brew's bitter pungency roused the fitfully sleeping yeggman, who grumbled about a headache before joining the others at the table. Eyes bloodshot and his face paler than parchment, O'Connell yawned and accepted a plate of food and a cup of coffee from Jin.

"Gah!" He exclaimed after a tentative sip of the dark brew. "Strong enough to sober Bacchus. You wouldn't happen to have somethin' to smooth it out now would you?"

"There's cream in the pitcher," answered Jin indicating a clay jug.

"Cream? You're a poxy host, chinaman," he grumbled but tipped the pot over his drink until it was upside down. Two drops fell from its flute.

Jin blinked in confusion, then glanced at Isabella, who was licking the last few spots of white from the rim of her mouth.

"Like I said," grumbled O'Connell, the shaking of his hand so severe he nearly dropped the pitcher. "A bleedin' poxy host."

Jin rose from his seat, searched through a box under his bed, and retrieved a fifth of imported Irish whiskey. He cut away the wax cork stopper before pouring a generous dollop in O'Connell's mug.

"You earned this."

Like a drowning man thrown a life ring, O'Connell clutched at the improved drink as if it were the only thing between him and the depths of oblivion.

"I take it all back, chinaman, and thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome, but don't get comfortable. I'm evicting you as soon as you've eaten your fill. The girl and I need more sleep before the job tonight. Here," Jin pushed the bottle towards the yeggman. "You can take this with you. Go drown your complaints."

"I have none. This absolves you of all injustices past and present."

In his eagerness to be alone with the bottle, O'Connell shoveled a thick slice of ham covered in porridge in his mouth and let himself out.

"Can we trust him?" wondered Isabella.

"I can trust him to talk to no one else for the next twenty-four hours. He'll crawl into that bottle and stay there long enough for us to get the journal. Besides, he doesn't know the target, so he can't give anything damaging away even if he does talk."

Satisfied Jin knew his business, Isabella yawned and patted her belly.

"I haven't been this full in months, except for last night, of course. O'Connell was wrong. You're a grand host."

Emboldened by unaccustomed feelings of comfort and camaraderie, Isabella added, "You'd make a perfect master."

Jin grimaced and turned away.

"No. I wouldn't. I'm a thief, nothing more. Certainly nobody's owner."

"That ain't true. You've been good ta me."

"I'm using you. Don't read any more into it than that. This is business, and I don't need a partner. It's too easy to be betrayed and betray others. You need to learn that lesson. Look out for yourself, or you're going to get hurt."

Jin's harsh words cut deep, and Isabella's ears drooped. She suspected he was lying to protect her but couldn't discern if that was just a hopeful fantasy or the truth. Too much about him and his past were enigmatic.

"Why did you become a criminal?" she asked intent upon understanding his motives.

Her inquiry pleased him less.

"Drop it."

"It's a harmless question."

"Is it? Are you ready to share your past with a man you just met?"

Isabella wasn't, and she looked away, reluctant to discuss things she'd rather forget.

"Just so," observed Jin. "The experiences that shape us aren't always so easy to share. Trust is required, and that's a thing earned, not given. Maybe after the job, if all goes well and we both survive, you and I may find that level of respect and understanding. Until then, get more rest. I'll wake you when it's time. You can have the bed again. I can make do on the sofa."

To emphasize the end of the conversation, Jin lay upon the tattered divan in his clothes, not even removing his boots. Placing his old felt fedora over his face, he was soon breathing steadily and apparently asleep. Isabella moved to the bed and kept him under observation with one half-open eye. The quiet moment allowed her to reflect upon her future for the first time since Jin had stumbled over her in the alley.

From where the necklace was concealed against her breast, Isabella retrieved it and lay mesmerized by its candlelit brilliance. Unbidden, her mind ran selfish calculations of her best survival options. The mental tally weighed heavily towards stealing away into the night with the glittering treasure.

In doing so, she would become the dishonorable thief of whom Jin had warned, but remaining with him left her vulnerable to the promises and whims of a stranger who insisted he was just as amoral.

The metaphorical armies of self-preservation and loyalty warred inside her head making sleep impossible until she convinced herself that the risk to a catgirl from pawning stolen goods was greater than betrayal by a man to whom she felt bound with chains forged of tenderness and mercy. With heart and mind finally in agreement, she was able to sleep.

An insistent prodding on Isabella's shoulder interrupted a disturbing dream wherein she was hunted by a mob of angry humans. Unleashed from the paralyzing bonds of sleep, she lashed out in self-preservation.

The dangerous moment passed in less than a single breath. As adrenaline ebbed, she found herself clutching a broom handle, claws embedded in the hard wood.

"You were kicking and growling," observed Jin. "Didn't think it was safe to touch you with my hand. I guess I was right."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I killed a man once who woke me from a similar slumber."

The disturbing revelation shocked Isabella, until Jin laughed.

"That's a joke, girl."

"Oh. I guess I'm out of practice laughin'. Sorry again."

"Don't be. Apologies are for the weak, and I need you strong and focused. Limber up by running the route a few more times."

She groaned and impulsively hissed at him.

"Don't worry; I'm not timing you. Take your time and do it right."

Isabella scrambled to the top of the chimney. Down on the floor, Jin pretended to pay her no attention. She wasn't fooled and completed the course perfectly three times in a row before he was finished assembling their gear.

Jin had changed into a new set of clothes made of tight fitting leather. Black, as was his fashion, the ankles and elbows were joined by flexible fabric, and those were covered by separate, thick pads of leather. Over his shoulder was a long coil of rope. On his back was a pack. What it held was a mystery to Isabella.

"Shouldn't I wear dark clothes, too?" she asked. "Someone might see me."

"You're climbing down a chimney, girl. Trust me, you'll be black enough before you reach the basement."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. How will I breathe?"

"I have a bandanna to cover your snout and goggles for your eyes."

"You think of everythin'."

"Not true. I plan for what I can imagine. That's a far cry from all that's possible. One must be ready to improvise when events go south as they inevitably will."

"You think the plan will fail?"

"Only if you can't adapt, but I know you can. You demonstrated that well enough running the maze. Keep alert and mentally flexible. I won't be there to guide you. You have to get in and out on your own."

After Jin confirmed that she had her lock picking tools and a shoulder pouch in which to securely stow the purloined journal, they set out. The hour was past midnight. They kept to unlit back-ways as long as they could, relying on Isabella's night vision and Jin's knowledge of the route.

Their destination was an imposing edifice of Victorian neoclassical architecture. The bold, columned facade, intricate decorative scroll work, and broad ascending front steps were designed to impress and awe all who dared approach. In typical fashion, Jin ignored the obvious entrance. He ignored the rest of the structure, too.

Isabella wasn't fooled this time. Together, they crept silently through the shadows to cross the street a block away.

The neighboring building, far less grand, offered more discreet climbing access. In the dark alley behind, Jin extracted from his pack the parts of a curious device that he rapidly assembled. The finished product resembled a crossbow, but it had a large cylinder slung underneath, and instead of a bolt, he placed in the bow's groove a grappling hook tied to his coil of rope.

A tug on the gadget's trigger launched the hook up into the dark where it could be heard striking the rooftop. The rope trailed behind, uncoiling silently until no more than ten feet were left on the ground. Slowly pulling backwards on the rope, Jin heard the sound of metal on metal and felt resistance indicating the hook had caught on something.

"There's a sturdy railing at the edge of the roof," he explained.

"Are we climbing?" asked Isabella.

"We could, but that's tiring," he answered while tying a loop in the rope at ground level. He then wrapped a portion of line forward of the loop around several pulleys of his bow-like device. Stepping into the loop with one boot, he reached out his arm towards Isabella and said, "Climb onto my back and hold on tight. I invented this to save our energy for the more difficult tasks."

Once she was secured, he pulled a second trigger. The sound of escaping gas accompanied their effortless ascent, stopping only when they were a mere foot from the rooftop.

"Up," he said, and the catgirl clawed her way over his back.

Jin joined her with minimal exertion. He recoiled the rope, disassembled the device, and stowed it in his pack.

"How does it work?" Isabella asked, fascinated by the invention.

"There are several glass vials inside this cylinder that when broken mix two fluids that release a rapidly expanding gas. The resultant energy turns the pulleys that hauled us upward."

"That's amazing. Did you make it?"

"Yep."

"I think you inherited some of your father's brilliance."

"I guess a little might have rubbed off."

Together, they crept towards the ten foot gap and forty foot drop separating them from their goal. The leap looked trivial to Isabella, but Jin took a half dozen broad strides backwards from the edge, dropped to a crouch, sprang into a sprint, and hurled himself into space. Arms and legs paddling wildly, he landed on the opposite roof with room to spare, but his momentum carried him forward off balance. Rolling over his shoulder to lessen the impact, he came to his feet facing backwards ready to offer Isabella assistance, but she was already standing in front of him.

Stifling a laugh, he beamed her an approving grin, grabbed her paw, and sought cover behind the main chimney. They remained there several minutes, quiet and un-moving, until Jin was certain no one had marked their passing. Only then did he remove the coil of rope from around his shoulder, tied one end around her waist, and the other to the chimney. A section near her end he looped around his waist and over his shoulder so he could arrest a fall.

"I'm improvising some insurance," he explained in a whispered voice so soft Isabella doubted a human under similar circumstances could have heard him.

"After you've opened the boiler hatch, tug on the rope three times. I'll then move to the front edge of the building and watch the window of the president's office."

Jin gave her a small lantern and some matches with instructions to place it in the window before she tried to open the safe. Once she had the journal, she was to cover and uncover the light three times before snuffing the flame and returning to the boiler.

"Any other signal or lack of a signal means you're in trouble." Jin shrugged his shoulders. "I'll do anything reasonable to help, but..."

He didn't need to complete the truism; Isabella did it for him.

"...there is no honor among thieves."

"Quite. You can still back out. This is your last chance."

Isabella placed the bandanna around her snout, tying it behind her neck, and pulled the goggles over her head; the thick glass magnified her reflective eyes into giant emeralds. Without another word or glance at Jin, she slid down the chimney and out of sight. Jin played out the rope ready in the improbable event that she lost her footing.

Isabella found adequate paw holds and also soot aplenty. Jin had been right about both. What he had missed was that the boiler's feeder door hatch had no handle on the inside. Isabella pushed on it anyway and was gratified to discover no one had bothered securing it. The rusty hinges, however, screeched like a banshee; at least, it seemed so to her, encased as she was in the metal echo chamber. She dared not push it any more ajar than necessary to squeeze her small body through to freedom.

No light penetrated the windowless basement. Not even cats can see in absolute darkness, but she was comfortable and adept at feeling her way along the memorized route. The stairs were exactly seven paces away and led her to the kitchen, where the feeble starlight nearly dazzled her sensitive eyes.

Looking down at herself, she discovered that her fur and clothes were unevenly covered in blotches and streaks of black ash. She sacrificed a precious minute to rub her paws over every inch of her body, spreading soot around until she was a living shadow.

With deliberate care, so as not to make any noise, she opened the kitchen door and listened without daring to expose anything beyond the tip of one ear protruding from her cap. Two men were speaking calmly about trivialities.

Emboldening by the lack of alarm, she risked a peek. Visible at the main reception desk in a small circle of gaslight, neither man was looking her way. Both wore dark blue uniforms and caps with a short, stiff brim. The one standing was a giant lump of a man with a permanently broken nose and cauliflower ears. His compatriot, shorter and potbellied with the complexion of paste, sat in the receptionist's chair with one gout-ridden, bandaged foot propped up on an overturned waste basket.

The presence of neither disturbed her, but the third member of their troupe did. A dog, a very large dog of mixed shepherd/malamute breed, was connected to the standing guard by a sturdy leather leash and collar. Isabella froze and held her breath lest the slightest sound attract its attention.

Blanketed as she was in coal dust and naturally silent, she was certain that she could enter the dumbwaiter without the guards noticing, but the dog wasn't so easily evaded. Its hearing was equal to hers and sense of smell better. If the dog detected her, the caper was finished. She had no choice but to wait and hope the roving guard and his canine helper patrolled in a different direction.

Staying out of sight, she listened, and prayed, knowing the delay would be noted by Jin. Dread consumed her as she fretted over how he would react to the continued absence of her signal. Her sense of time warped the short interval into an eternity until the tone of the guard's conversation changed.

"What's up with Jake?" asked the gouty guard. "Looks like maybe he smells something peculiar."

Isabella caught the animal's low frequency growl and imagined the ugly brute tugging its leash, eager to race down the hall and tear her to pieces.

"Stupid mutt wants back in the kitchen. I just fed the glutton. He's puttin' on a show to trick me into goin' back to git some more."

"I don't know. He seems mighty keen on something to me. I'd let him chase it down."

"And give in to his wiles? No way. You can let him drag you around when it's your turn."

"I'd go check it out myself if this damn foot wasn't acting up."

"That's 'cause you're dumber than this dumb animal. Me, I'm the master in this relationship. Brains over brawn. Come, Jake! Heel! Time to earn your keep."

Isabella listened as the squeak of reluctant claws being dragged across tile faded as did the dog's insistent growl until all was silent. Risking another look, she confirmed that only one guard remained, lost within the pages of a cheap detective novel.

Entering the dumbwaiter shaft unseen was as easy as she thought, but the box was blocking her path at the second floor. Jin's foresight regarding this contingency saved her the trouble of developing a solution on her own.

Bracing her shoulders against its floor, she hefted the weight that was nearly equal to that of her body. Gaining no more than six inches, she shoved it upward, then moved her hindpaws to the next set of horizontal joists. She repeated the series of moves until the dumbwaiter was above the third floor door.

She had to make sure the roving guard and his alert sidekick were safely elsewhere before exiting. Jin had provided several wooden wedges with which to shim the dumbwaiter in place, allowing her to scan the hall before squeezing through the narrow opening. Several buttons of her shirt caught against the frame, popped off, and plunged down the shaft. Isabella heard them hit bottom, but doubted even the dog could detect a noise so faint.

Though reluctant to be forced away from the odd smelling intruder, Jake obeyed his master's will and led the way up the stairs to the second floor. Eager to complete their hourly inspection and return, the dog tried to instill a sense of urgency in their inspection, but the human guard could not be goaded into skipping a lock check on even one door as he strolled with stubborn precision up and down both hallways. Only when they passed the dumb waiter, where Jake caught the intruder's scent again and began growling, did his dense companion acknowledge something might be amiss.

"What? You smell food again? You damn pig. Yeah, that leads to the kitchen. Must reek of fine delicacies and fat, juicy steaks. Stupid mutt..." he grumbled, but then heard faint scratching coming from behind the wall.

Jake growled louder hoping the fool holding his leash understood the significance of that sound, but the guard had a nearly endless series of reasons not to put any more effort than necessary into his simple job.

"Rats. It's nothing but rats, moron. God, you're stupider than Randy. Ain't wastin' my time on chasin' vermin all night. Git your goddamned arse movin'!"

Once again, Jake found himself being dragged away from the real purpose of their duties. Angry at his master's stubborn imbecility, the dog snapped at the guard's heel before dutifully trotting after him. Any canine with a nose could tell the difference between a rat and a cat, but fortunately for Jake, the rounds they completed nine times a night were as predictable as the tides. The prey was above and heading up. Soon enough, the guard would begin to ascend the next staircase.

Saliva trailed from the corner of Jake's mouth as he fantasized sinking his teeth into the cat's small neck. The hunt was on, and for the first time since he had picked up her scent, the distance between hunter and quarry was closing.

Worried that she was too far behind schedule, Isabella rushed to the company president's door, picked the lock with ease, and stole inside. Re-locking the door as Jin had taught her seemed like putting another hurdle in her escape route, but Jin had been adamant that guards were taught to check all doors. If it were found unlocked, an investigation would surely follow.

In her agitated state, Isabella approached the safe hidden within its bureau facade before she remembered the signal. Backtracking across the room towards the long bank of windows, she struck a match and lit the kerosene soaked wick of the lantern. She hoped that Jin was still on the roof to see that she had made it. Unable to confirm her wish, she placed the lamp in position and returned to the safe.

Her heart soared when she opened the cabinet. The large, black iron box was identical to the practice model. Placing her nimble, sensitive fingers on the dial and her ear against the door, she began turning. O'Connell's irritating voice filled her head as she worked.

"This model makes lots of noises as you rotate past each number, but there is a change of pitch when you hit the right digit. That's the sound of the fence and lever contacting the wheel notches. It's subtle as hell, but a well trained ear can't be fooled. You got the best ears in the business, cat, and frankly, that ain't right. I don't care what the Chinaman says."

O'Connell had whispered so Jin couldn't hear.

"That chink's a header, and you're devil spawn, and your senses are tainted by evil. It's evil committing evil this is, and there'll be a reckoning for sure. After this is over, get yourself away from the Chinaman and to a church. Begging for penance and forgiveness is your only hope to avoid the fires of Hell and eternal damnation."

Isabella shook her head to dispel the chastising ghost and remember instead the few words of wisdom it had imparted. Working to slow her heart and breath as she had been taught, her ears and fingertips became the sole focus of her sensory world. She spun the dial several times to reset the mechanism then began a slow progression in reverse.

Each click was a rifle report masking the flap of a butterfly's wings, but when the soft clack came, she heard it through the greater din and paused. After recording the number in the event she missed the next and had to restart, she compared it to the mental list of triplets O'Connell insisted she memorize. It was present in five.

The second number came as easily as the first, and a single pair of sequences remained -- the birthday of the owner's youngest daughter and the founding date of the company. The former turned out to be the magic trio, and the lock made the most satisfying thump of all as the fence fell in alignment.

Isabella pulled the handle, and the door swung open. Tears of joy streamed from her eyes as relief overwhelmed her. Sitting on the floor, she scanned the safe's contents. Small bundles of paper currency, several bags of coin, stacks of stock certificates, and three gold bars occupied nearly half of the interior. The bounteous hoard tempted her. Jin hadn't said anything about what else to steal, but she didn't want to weigh herself down unnecessarily, so she pocketed only the cash without counting it before moving on to the remaining contents.

Several neat piles of leather bound volumes were stacked in the lower right corner. Distinguishing the right journal from the wrong was an impossible task for an illiterate catgirl, and Isabella could not carry them all. Fortunately, she had long before meeting Jin flouted the law by teaching herself the rudiments of reading. First, by looking over the shoulder of the nurse reading the children's nightly stories, and later she had spent many clandestine hours in her master's library perfecting her skill.

Distinguishing the familiar English characters from the perplexing Chinese was simple, but a half dozen books contained some mix of the both. Isabella knew nothing of Mandarin, so she leafed through the six possibilities searching for clues. All turned out to contain science and engineering concepts and mathematical formulae beyond her comprehension, but the drawings and what she was able to glean from the English text and Jin's description of the device in question made it clear which was the critical volume.

Inserting her prize in her satchel, she closed the safe and bureau door and inhaled deeply. Nearly exhausted, and running low on adrenaline, she was grateful that just one more task lay between her and escape. She needed to signal her success to Jin.

She climbed onto the windowsill and uncovered the lantern once, twice, and was poised to deliver the third flash when she heard the sound of keys jangling just outside the door. After covering the light, she froze.

In the hall, the guard had been scratching his head, confused by the dusty, black paw prints that led away from the dumbwaiter hatch. What he had initially thought were rats had turned out to be something far larger, perhaps a raccoon, he reasoned, unable to comprehend another urban denizen capable of performing this feat of brazen breaking and entering.

What really puzzled him, though, was how the tracks ended at the paneled oak door of his employer and didn't track away. No raccoon the guard heard tell of could open and close doors. It must have climbed the wall, he thought. After searching the ceiling in vain, he shook his head and was about to begin his march downstairs when he noticed Jake was on high alert.

Quiet and still, the dog nevertheless expressed his opinion that something of interest lay beyond the door. Every muscle was tensed for action. The hair on his spine stood erect like a phalanx of spears, his lips were curled back to reveal his teeth, and his ears thrust forward.

The guard tested the handle and found it locked. That should have settled the matter for him, but Jake's excitement was too palpable for even him to ignore. He grudgingly fished out his keys.

The door opened, and Isabella's eyes darted between the man and the dog. Inexplicably, both were staring back as if able to see her in the dark. The guard trained his lantern on her, and only then did she realize she had been silhouetted against the starlit window for anyone to see.

Fumbling in his holster, the guard drew his pistol and cocked the hammer. In doing so, he dropped the leash. Waiting for just this moment, Jake sprang, bumping his master's thigh as he surged forward. The gun discharged. Glass shattered behind Isabella.

Hissing at both her opponents, she leapt away; the lunging dog crashing against the windowsill an instant behind her upsetting the lamp, which broke upon the floor, spreading oil and fire to ignite the nearby curtains.

Chaos ensued. Flames blossomed, and smoke filled the room. Chairs were overturned, bookcases toppled, and tables upset. Focused as Jake was upon his maddeningly nimble quarry, he was heedless of the destruction he wrought. Isabella cared even less, her only concern to stay ahead of those powerful jaws while never giving a clear shot to the guard, who stubbornly stood in the doorway, blocking her escape.

She attempted to bait the man away from the exit several times by pretending to stumble and fall, but was nearly caught each time by the dog. The guard was content to let her tire and be cornered. Then he would have time to aim at a stationary object instead of the dizzying blur he now faced.

Realizing she was trapped and inescapably doomed, Isabella clenched her jaw in determination and decided to seize the last moments of her life and make them her own. Jin was the only human to ever treat her with anything approaching respect and dignity. Even if he was using her for his own ends, and even if this daring caper resulted in her early death, she was grateful for his faith in her abilities. She desired to repay her dubious benefactor in kind.

Isabella turned about and rushed directly at the dog. A bold leap over the confused canine's head left Jake snapping savagely at empty air. Impelling herself forward and upward from her pursuer's back, the catgirl re-alighted upon the windowsill. Intense heat radiated from the surrounding fire, but the flames had thus far been content to feast only upon the dusty curtains. Soon, though, the adjacent wood paneling would ignite prohibiting what she did next.

Jake dug his claws into the expensive parquet floor. Deep furrows trailed wooden curlicues as he sought purchase to arrest his momentum and reengage his elusive prey.

Isabella was waiting. Snagging an untouched corner of a burning curtain, she yanked it free of its rings to billow outward and envelop the dog. Yelping, howling, and flailing about in his searing, suffocating prison, the dog's antics provided Isabella cover from the guard's already unsteady aim.

Iron bars still barred her passage, but escape was no longer her intent. A wide ledge lay just beyond the empty window panes affording a temporary resting place for her hard won prize.

"Take the journal!" she screamed unable to verify if Jin was nearby and listening or not. "I'm a goner!"

The two short sentences consumed all the time she had before the dog was free and after her again. A coincident shot rang loud like cannon fire. The bullet passed through the space where Isabella had crouched an instant before, but she was beyond accounting for such things.

Tired and confined to running around on the floor by the unbreathable atmosphere above shoulder level, she knew she was easy prey for the dog and likely taking her last breaths anyway. Thus, Jin's comforting voice was a welcome reprieve, resurrecting the dead hope in her heart.

"Get away from the windows and cover your ears!" he shouted.

Obeying his instructions, she sprinted on all fours towards a corner of the room farthest from the windows and leapt upward into the smoke intent on hurdling a toppled bookcase. If her memory was correct, a table beneath which she could hide awaited on the other side. Her intuition proved true, though she landed on her side, slid across its polished surface, slammed into the adjoining wood paneled walls, and dropped to the floor gasping to recover the air driven from her lungs.

Dazed and unable to move, she heard the dog's claws scrambling for purchase as he climbed over the only remaining barrier between his fangs and her furry hide. Isabella placed her paws against her ears, crouched in a ball, and hoped that whatever Jin was planning happened fast.

That something had gone wrong was evident to Jin shortly after Isabella's success signal was interrupted after only two flashes. The ensuing gunshot set him in motion.

He cursed himself for not being ready for something like this and hurried to retrieve the rope from the chimney. The fire was ablaze and sounds of breaking furniture could be heard as he began his repel.

Jin had just alighted upon the ledge when he saw Isabella place the journal thirty feet away from where he stood. A second gunshot followed, perhaps killing the little feline. For the hardened and selfish criminal persona Jin portrayed to the world, that should have been a fortuitous occurrence. Isabella's death would nicely tie up a serious loose end. Recovering the valuable book, lowering himself quietly to the street, and slipping away in the night to let the fire erase all evidence of his crime was such an easy and delightfully convenient option, he surprised himself by doing the opposite.

By some nefarious spell beyond Jin's comprehension, the stray, big-eyed kitten had manged to worm her way past his emotional fortifications. Clever, agile, a quick study, and most of all loyal to the death, she was perfect for his needs, but whether that was as an accomplice, a surrogate daughter, or something more intimate, he dared not speculate. Instead, he opted for the course of lunacy and devised an impromptu rescue.

Isabella had retreated and was lost in the smoke before Jin reached the book. The sounds of claws scraping across the floor was a good sign that she was still alive and evading capture. He stowed his father's legacy in his pack, quickly withdrew two vials of O'Connell's homemade nitroglycerin, lashed them to the window bars with a strip of cloth, shouted to his young protege to get clear, and shuffled to the corner of the building. From there he drew a small revolver, took aim, and fired.

The explosion, a deafening concussion, blew glass inward and twisted steel bars aside like strands of spaghetti. A good portion of the surrounding brickwork was also demolished.

Isabella felt the blow like a punch to the gut, but was otherwise unharmed. Climbing upon the table where the dog lay dazed but still breathing, she saw that the blast had extinguished the fire. It had also thrown the guard into the hall.

Moving towards the center of the smoky room, an eerie silence reigned through which Isabella heard the distant clomping shuffle of the gouty guard's approaching footsteps. Simultaneously, her canine foe snarled from behind and began stalking towards her.

She was still trapped, or so she thought until the salvation of Jin's voice called to her again. Just able to discern his beckoning gesture through the haze, she ran to him and hurled herself through the ruin of the windows and into his waiting arms. Jin immediately launched outward into the empty void of the night. The rope around his waist carried them safely in an arc to the ledge at the building's corner.

In the heat of the chase, Jake followed, becoming recklessly airborne but without the benefit of a safety line. Snapping ineffectively at Isabella's fleeing heels, he succumbed to the inexorable pull of gravity and plummeted to impact upon the cobblestone street with a sickening thud.

Belaying the rope, Jin lowered himself and his small ward to the sidewalk. Nearby residents, awakened by the explosion, poured into the street, so Jin and Isabella sprinted towards a nearby alley where they paused in the dark shadows for a brief rest.

"You came back for me," gasped Isabella between ragged breaths.

It was a simple statement but one filled with astonishment and affection.

"Don't read too much into it," answered Jin. "I still have use for you. Coppers will be everywhere soon. Darkness is our only cover. I can't see a thing, but you can."

Jin held out his hand towards the source of Isabella's voice.

"Lead me back to the warehouse. Avoid people and lights."

Isabella took his hand in her paw, and they were away before the police could begin setting up barricades. Initially, they heard shouts and whistles from behind, but those diminished as they put distance between themselves and the scene of the crime.

Isabella's route meandered through neighborhoods surrounding the heart of the city where her family had lived, so the way was familiar. Jin, however was completely lost and blind, only able to gather vague impressions of his surroundings based on feel, sound, and smell.

Well timed instructions from his guide told him when a step, pothole, or other hazard was approaching. They climbed several low walls and passed through what Jin imagined were private courtyard gardens. After several miles and nearly an hour of wandering, the familiar odor of the harbor heralded a possible end to their nocturnal journey.

"Are we nearly there?" Jin whispered.

"Yes, but we need ta swim a bit first."

"Swim? Are you lost?"

"No, but I hear dogs in the distance. They have our scent. We have ta lose them, or they'll track us back ta the warehouse."

Jin heard no sounds of pursuit, but didn't doubt her.

"Okay. I can swim, but not in these clothes, and the water's freezing. We won't get far."

"How about a boat, then?"

"Are there any nearby?"

"Yes. A bunch, but I don't know which ta choose."

"Find a small one with oars that I can row. Nothing with sails or an engine."

"What are oars?"

"Long poles with a flattened end like a fish's fin. I can use them to push the boat through the water."

"Wait here."

Isabella left Jin helpless in the dark. The nearby lap of waves and creaking of vessels gently straining at their mooring lines substituted for his eyes to build a picture of his surroundings. Making no sound, Isabella surprised him when her paw touched the back of his hand.

"Found one," she announced.

Preparing the dinghy for launch was a challenge in the dark. Isabella learned fast, but she didn't know what oarlocks or lines were let alone simple directions like port and starboard. By the time they were underway, Jin detected the not too distant baying of hounds.

The harbor surface was calm, but the current strong. It was well that it flowed in the general direction they needed to go. Jin rowed with all his might to stay on course but was near exhaustion when Isabella instructed him they were approaching the dock near his temporary home. He sighed his relief.

"Thank the ancestors. My shoulders and back ache in ways I never thought possible."

"Stop now!" Isabella ordered.

Jin back-paddled, but the bow of their small craft crashed into a piling accompanied by the splintering crack of the boat's wooden keel.

"I said stop," she admonished.

"You can't just stop a boat like you stop running. There's too much inertia and too little friction. That's simple physics."

"I'll remember next time."

"I hope there is no next time. Are we shipping water?"

"If by that you mean "Are we sinkin'?" then yeah."

Jin felt cold water rising on his boots.

"Where do I go?"

"There's a ladder of sorts," said Isabella.

She had to help Jin find the slimy boards nailed to the piling, but he managed to complete the climb without falling.

"Sorry about the boat," said Isabella when they were both safe upon the pier.

"It's better this way. Let it sink. Less evidence."

The crawl through entrance to Jin's lair wasn't far. Only when they were inside, did he light a few lanterns and begin pouring through the journal. Isabella removed all of her filthy clothes except her undergarments and wiped her fur clean with a damp towel.

"This is indeed it, Isabella!" he exclaimed with joy after a brief perusal. "You did well. We are going to be phenomenally rich."

The catgirl sat at the table next to him and eagerly observed as he flipped through each page. His happiness was her happiness.

"Can you read the code?"

"I think so, but there's a lot of text, and my Mandarin is only so-so. It could take me a few days. Fortunately, he shared his love of ciphers with me."

Isabella's chin rested on her forearms. Her eyes were nearly shut.

"I can't help you with that," she yawned, "so good night."

Accustomed now to sleeping in Jin's bed, she crawled beneath the covers. Jin worked an hour or two more until he could no longer shake away the cobwebs and the curtains of fatigue enveloping his senses. Stripping to his skivvies, he hid the journal under the lounge's cushion, and lay on his side like a dragon atop his prize.

It became Jin's ritual for the next three days to spend nearly every waking moment translating and struggling to determine which parts were code and how to break it. He paused only to fetch food and water or to sleep.

Isabella reveled in the novel experience of having nothing to do all day except nap, eat, and surreptitiously read over Jin's shoulder, but soon became bored with those limited options. Cleaning gave her purpose, so she swept the floor and beat the dust out of the bedding and the filthy old couch.

The waterfront came alive with people during the day, so Isabella only ventured out at night when she needed fresh air. She did her best not to disturb Jin, and he remained lost in his studies until the night of the third day when he threw the journal aside in frustration.

"Damn you, old man!" he cursed. "Why did you have to be such a secretive bastard?"

Isabella had been lightly napping. She yawned, stretched, and shuffled over to stand beside him. Jin had his forehead pressed to the journal with his hands on the back of his neck. He groaned in despair. She placed her paws on his shoulders and began to kneed his tense muscles. His initial impulse was to flinch at the unexpected touch, but the relaxing pressure induced by her padded fingers lulled him into an uncharacteristic torpid and malleable state.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"I can't crack the code. I seem to be able to read everything, even the Mandarin, and understand the details of his design, but the final piece of the puzzle that would make it work seems to be missing, though he claims otherwise in his conclusions. The answer must be there somewhere, hidden beyond my feeble intellect, dammit."

"I thought you said you knew his codes."

"I was certain I did, but none of them seem to apply. He must have developed a new one he didn't want me to crack. Maybe he didn't want me to have his secret after all. Maybe I was deluded, and this isn't my inheritance.

"It's my comeuppance. That's what it is. He mocks me from the grave through this because I'm a disappointing and worthless son."

Isabella had never heard Jin speak of his past before, and she was intrigued to learn more.

"Why would he be disappointed? You're a smart and resourceful man. I've never met a finer human. Who else could have planned and executed this amazing heist?"

"My father didn't want a clever thief for a son. His heir was supposed to be an intellectual, like him. I had no patience for any of that. I wanted adventure and instant gratification. I wanted my own life, not the one he had planned for me."

"Did he throw you out for that?"

"Not exactly. The distance between us was my fault, mostly. My mother was killed during the Taiping Rebellion when I was an infant. My father fought on the wrong side, and we had to flee China. He was a stern and unforgiving parent who believed that hard work and suffering were the hallmarks of a worthy life. I hated him for the endless hours of studying and factory work he made me endure to build my character, but the final schism between us came when I realized his philosophy of life and political ambitions were what led to my mother's death. I subsequently left the home he made for us here in America to seek my own way."

"You ran away?"

"Yes, and fell in with disreputable people. The kind of people who betray you and in turn are betrayed by you. Explains my pathetic existence, doesn't it?"

"I suppose..."

"I'm poison to those around me, but my father never stopped trying to win me back right up to the end. Maybe if I had reciprocated his entreaties, he might still be alive and willing to explain his genius to me."

Jin fell silent, and his shoulders slumped noticeably under her grip. Not knowing what to say that could possibly comfort him, Isabella kept her peace and continued to work the knots out of his bunched muscles.

"Well," he said after a long silence. "You are a cunning little thing aren't you?"

"What? I don't understand..."

"Yes you do. You wanted to hear my tragic story. I didn't want to tell it. You caught me off guard and got your wish. Well done, but fair's fair. Tell me about your past."

Isabella's fingers dug sharply into Jin's shoulder muscles making him groan. She didn't mean to hurt him, but dredging up painful memories triggered the involuntary response.

"Very well," she agreed but said no more immediately, bracing herself for the ordeal of reliving the bitter past.

"You're not alone in not knowin' your mother," she began. "My early years are nothin' but vague impressions of a happy time with someone who loved me, nursed me, and cared for me every day. It might have been my mother. I don't know. Her face is lost ta me forever, because at four years old, I was placed with my human family.

"The early days with them were also pleasant. I was a pampered pet showered with affection by the master's children and even by the master and mistress of the house. The happy times lasted until around age seven, when my status diverged from that of my human playmates. Until then, I had thought of myself as one of the them, an equal, but I wasn't. I was a servant, a workin' member of the household, bought for amusement, and when that wasn't enough, menial chores.

"The transformation was confusin' ta me. Only I had ta put way the toys, make the beds, and take soiled linens ta the wash room. At first, I thought I was bein' punished for doin' somethin' wrong, but no matter how good I was or how dutifully I performed my chores, the situation only worsened.

"When I acted out, like any child feelin' unfairly treated would, I was punished. Sometimes it was a harsh lecture from the master. Those were hurtful, but not as bad as when he let the other servants reprimand me. They resented my presence. I had displaced another servant's daughter as a scullery maid. They beat me, humiliated me, and frequently locked me in the cellar without light for hours."

Jin shifted nervously under her kneading paws.

"You don't have to continue if this is too painful."

"I know, but I want ta. Now that I have someone like you willin' ta listen, I need ta say these things aloud and not be judged, just heard and understood. The pain can't get any worse from the tellin', and maybe...maybe it'll help me move on and find an end ta the torment of the past."

"A Chinese philosopher named Laozi once said: 'New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.'"

"I hope that is so for me because even though I thought I had made my peace with my situation, I had no idea the depths of degradation and suffering that lay 'afore me once I reached my flowering."

Isabella ceased massaging Jin's shoulders.

"I'm curious, Jin. How old do you think I am?"

"Hard to say. Maybe twelve? Not more than thirteen or fourteen."

"I'm eighteen; a woman by human reckonin'."

"I would not have guessed. You look half grown to me."

"I am smaller than most catgirls, but none of us get very big."

"Why is this relevant?"

"The next chapter of my life is...well...indelicate to put it politely, and you may feel more at ease hearing it from an adult instead of the person you presumed to be a child."

"There isn't much of mankind's despicable nature that is unknown to me. Remember those disreputable people I fell in with?"

"Then I won't spare any of the essentials, just the ugly details. My master's interests in me changed as my small body matured. At first, I was exited and boundlessly happy with the increased affection he showed me. It was as if I had reclaimed a special place in the household - equal ta the other children after all. Beginnin' with compliments towards my appearance, pats on my head, scritches behind my ears, and hugs that I thought were representative of paternal love, I had no idea that he was secretively groomin' me for an insidious purpose. Stories in his lap, when the mistress and the children weren't about followed, and I reveled in the private time we spent together even when his hands roamed to places they oughtn't.

"What a fool I was fallin' in love with this man who only sought after me ta satisfy his lust. Did I protest or demand he stop when he crossed the line of impropriety? No. I was a willin' accomplice flush with adolescent fantasies of true love and desire for a respectable place in society. Cunnin', he promised me everythin' I desired and caught me in his trap knowin' all along how our affair was gonna end. I was a lump of defenseless clay, and he was the potter determined ta shape me according ta his whims. I eagerly returned his affections hopeful that a better and new life of happiness was at hand. Oh, how horribly wrong that ultimately proved ta be.

"The servants became aware of his indiscretions early and grew even more hostile towards me, isolatin' me further. In my naivete, I thought they were jealous and clung ta my master all the tighter for protection even when he demanded I do things that were clearly for his enjoyment and his alone. The humiliation...degradation..."

Tears wet the fur of Isabella's cheeks, and her voice caught in her throat. Jin opened his arms, and she buried her nuzzle in his chest, letting him enfold her in his embrace. Her sorrow was void of sound other than the deep, slow, deliberate breaths she employed to suppress the pain until the moment passed.

"I have tea," said Jin. "Would you like some?"

"Yes. Please."

Jin lit his burner and placed a kettle of water over it. From under the bed, he produced a plain wooden box. It was padded inside with cloth and stuffing to cushion a tea set embossed with stylized bats. Chipped and worn, it was nothing fancy, but Jin treated each piece as if it were a precious antique. The simple ritual of preparation and serving infected Isabella's strained spirit with calm, allowing her to continue her tale with less personal distress.

"That went on for years, and became a livin' hell. I might still be trapped in it if the mistress hadn't finally stumbled upon us together. I think she knew afore then and wished ta live in a state of denial, but confronted with the evidence, she had ta act. Getting' rid of me was the solution ta keepin' their marriage intact, a financial necessity for her. I was sold ta a brothel, so don't bother trying ta scare me with that threat again."

"I'm sorry. I was just stating the facts and didn't know you well then."

"True, and I don't fault you for your ignorance. You more than made up for it with subsequent kindness."

"How did you escape?"

"By climbin' out the window on my first night. Most of the girls were addicted ta heroine. It makes them complacent and dependent. One of them warned me that the madam would force it on me too, so I wasted no time. Figured dyin' on the streets was better than that life. After a few months I was near starved when a careless Chinaman kicked me."

The tea was ready. Jin served her as he would an honored guest. The brew was aromatic and exotic. Her owners had never partaken of this simple joy, preferring the harsh bitterness of coffee. Isabella found it delightful and relaxing.

"This old tea set is all that I have left of my mother," confessed Jin. "Nothing else survived our journey to America. My father insisted I take it when I abandoned him."

"Why is it covered in bats?"

"Fú" answered Jin chuckling to himself.

Isabella's ears swiveled in confusion.

"I don't get it," she said. "Is that some kind of joke?"

"Sort of. It's a pun that doesn't translate into English."

"What's a pun?"

"It's a kind of word play that exploits similar sounding words with different meanings for humorous effect. Most are pretty terrible, but puns are extremely popular in China because Mandarin has a limited phonetic inventory compared to other languages. Hence there are many meanings for the same sound. Fú can mean either 'bat' or 'good fortune,' so bats are used tosymbolizelongevity, prosperity, andhappiness. There are five bats on each piece of this tea set to indicate the five blessings: long life, health, riches, love of virtue, and a natural death."

"Oh. I like all that except the death part..." said Isabella, but Jin wasn't listening.

"Wait! A pun. That's the code! My father was addicted to all kinds of wordplay, but his obsession with puns was insufferable. Oh, it's so obvious, I should have thought of it earlier."

"Are you sayin' the code's based on a bad joke?"

"My best guess is some kind of substitution based on puns, so yes. I just need to experiment with using different words that sound the same and see how the meanings change in various passages."

Revitalized, Jin forgot the tea and returned to the journal, ignoring Isabella. Exhausted by her foray into her sordid past, the catgirl laid down again to finish her nap thinking she would wake up in an hour or two, but she slept much longer until rudely awoken by hammering and banging sounds accompanied by the crack of wood splintering and lumber clattering across concrete.

Frightening moments passed before she discovered the source was Jin swinging a sledge hammer recklessly at portions of his mock-up of the crime scene. Wooden beams had been riven in two, and the whole construction teetered and shuddered under each impact. The portion where Jin was at work collapsed as she watched in horror. Jin was nearly buried. Heedless of the danger, he continued to rage against his construction.

Isabella rushed to intervene lest he bring it all down at once and perish by his own hand. In mid back swing, she caught the haft of the hammer and wrenched it from his sweaty grip. Seemingly unaware of its absence, he swung his empty hands anyway and fell forward off balance onto his face. She expected him to rise and berate her for interfering with whatever madness possessed him, but he rolled onto his back instead with one forearm thrown dramatically over his eyes, groaning as if in physical pain.

Isabella quickly hid the hammer behind the divan and returned to Jin's side. Kneeling, she examined her mentor to determine what was ailing him. The reek of alcohol on his ragged breath and a quick glance towards the table, where a half empty bottle of amber liquid stood next to the journal, betrayed the cause.

"Why are you drinkin' and breakin' things like an idiot?" she scolded.

"It seemed better than killing myself."

Jin made as if to get up, but the room was spinning. Gagging on his own suppressed vomit, he laid back down with his eyes closed.

"What are talking about? You're so close. Don't give up now."

Jin laughed, but there was no merriment in it, only bitter regret and mockery of her ignorance.

"I already did, kitty girl. The treasure's mine, but it's all an alchemist's trick -- base lead painted to resemble precious gold."

"You're drunk and makin' no sense."

"I am drunk, but I'm making perfect sense. You just don't understand the horrible truth."

"I think you should get some rest and sober up. You can work on the journal some more when you're fresh and thikin' clearly. Let me help you ta the couch."

Isabella tried to put her arm under his shoulder and help him to his feet, but he grabbed her shoulders instead and stared into her eyes.

"Don't you get it, cat? It's all a sham. A great deception, and we fell for it. I'm sorry to have wasted your time and dragged you through so much trouble."

"A sham? Do you mean the journal's a fake?"

"No. I mean everything my father claimed about his miracle invention is a fake. It was all a scam to bilk his employers that worked so well they killed him, and I fell for it too. So much time and energy wasted and needless risks taken. What a fool I've been."

Isabella stared at Jin, digesting their dilemma for a handful of heartbeats before shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay. Would you like some tea?"

Jin squinted at her with great skepticism.

"You don't seem very upset."

"Why should I be? I've never had nothin' of value before, so I'm not any worse off because of a single dangerous adventure. Besides, I have a full belly, and more important, I have you. I wouldn't trade what I have right now for any other day of my life."

Jin was stupefied. Releasing his desperate grip upon her, he tried to stand and failed.

"Do you need help?" she asked.

"I'm not too proud. Got no reason to be. Assist me to the lounge, please."

Isabella bore his weight until he was prone again. Covering him with a blanket, she bade him sleep.

"You've been workin' too hard. We can discuss this after you are rested."

Jin was still not ready to forgo his misery so easily.

"I still don't understand why my father didn't tell me. Did he despise me so much?"

"I think your father was proud of you right up to the end."

"What makes you say that?"

"You and he aren't as different as you think. You both have a dangerous mix of intelligence and felonious tendencies. He knew you'd steal the journal in the event he lost his big gamble. It still has value in the eyes of others, maybe even more with a murder associated with it. You can do much with that, and he knew you'd figure it out."

Jin lay agog with his mouth open. Everything she said made sense. For years he had been too bitter over his mother's death to see the simple truth. His father had still loved him. Now it was his turn to shed silent tears.

"Thanks, Isabella. I don't deserve you. I'm sorry I put you in danger and made you into a criminal. I used you and nearly left you to die..."

She placed a finger over his lips to silence his confession.

"Your actions and deeds absolve you of all charges of evil intent. I have a shot at a better life for once because of you. Rest now. Let me watch over you for a change."

While Jin made up for too little sleep and too much drink, Isabella amused herself by perusing the journal and Jin's accompanying translation notes. The meaning of some of the Mandarin became clear, but the services of a real tutor, an unobtainable dream, were required if any of the mathematics were to ever make sense. Isabella doubted even Jin was progressive enough to provide her with a real education.

There were few things that humans as a species could agree upon, but not being replaced by their own creation won international consensus. Dr. Kristopher Ambrecht's kitty mills in Switzerland where Isabella and all her kind were born, were rigorously regulated by inspectors from around the world to ensure that only pets and slaves were being produced and not a superior species. She had been lucky to escape before manifesting her intelligence.

Dwelling on the injustice of it all plunged Isabella into a melancholic depression. Jin was unhappy enough already, and she did not want to add to his burden. Their refuge was secret and unlikely to be entered by anyone at night, so she hid the journal and slipped outside for a predawn walk along the waterfront to clear her head, confident nothing untoward could happen in her absence.

She couldn't have been gone for more than twenty minutes, but when she returned she found the secret entrance hatch askew, and the fresh scent of a stranger lingering in the air. Instantly on alert, the hackles on her neck and back stood erect, and she pressed her ear against the narrow gap in the wall. Low voices could be heard, but the content was too muffled to be understandable. Carefully, she removed the makeshift door and climbed inside.

A lantern illuminated the divan upon which Jin sat with his wrists secured behind his back. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and one eye was swollen nearly shut suggesting a physical altercation had taken place. Angry at herself for allowing this to happen and angrier at the tall man in a brown trench-coat holding a pistol pointed at Jin, she swore she would rectify her mistake. As quiet as a mouse, she crept to Jin's bed and crawled underneath to search in his pack for his revolver, all the while listening to the exchange between invader and captive for clues about their uninvited guest.

"...The bounty's high on your head, chinaman, alive or dead. Dead is easier, especially after what I owe you for leaving me for a corpse on the Hatfield bounty. On the other hand, the journal doubles the commission. Tell me where it is and I'll forego the easy way of putting a bullet in your head. You know I'm a professional who keeps his word, unlike you."

"Don't blame me for the Hatfield fiasco, Cecil. I warned you in advance that I wasn't a killer, and you swore to me that we were taking him alive. You shot first, so who broke whose word?"

"He was armed, and I couldn't risk anything else. The rules changed, justifying my actions. You ran out on me after he returned fire nearly blowing my arm off."

"I did all the work finding him and left you with the entire reward. The second shot went off after I was on my way out and not looking back. I assumed it was you finishing what you had started."

"Doesn't change anything, chinaman. I'm taking you in, so which way do you want to go?"

In his peripheral vision, Jin saw Isabella squirm under his makeshift bed. Hoping she had a plan, he sought to delay.

"Alive, obviously, but first you tell me how you found me. Consider it professional courtesy, if you please."

"Don't push me. I know you have an accomplice. Is the creature lurking about here somewhere?"

Isabella crept farther under the bed, but the stranger never even glanced her way. His glare was intent upon his captive, and Jin's poker face was perfect, betraying nothing but a dismissive disdain.

"You mean the catgirl?" mused Jin with casual indifference. "Dead. I killed her."

"Suddenly an executioner? I don't believe it."

"My aversion applies to humans. When an animal becomes a liability you don't hesitate doing what you have to. Would you keep feeding and grooming a permanently lame horse?"

"Hmm. I suppose that makes sense and explains why you used a stupid beast to do a man's job. Eliminating co-conspirators is always a smart move. Too bad you couldn't extend the courtesy to O'Connell."

"How did you connect him to me?"

"Simple process of elimination. There are only a handful of good yeggmen in this town. I worked my way down the list applying pressure on each until I found the right one. The harp's gonna be laid up for a while, but he'll recover. You're sloppy, chinaman, but I already knew it was you before I talked to him."

"Why me? Any number of burglars in this town could have done it."

"Chin Ji was your father. You let that slip once in my presence. I never forget those kind of details. You became my number one suspect the minute they attached his name to the book. The deal was sealed when I saw the contents of the safe. There were dozens of notebooks. Half of them were at least partly written in Chinese and only the most important one was missing. That reeked of an inside job. Anyone else would have taken them all and figured out which was important later."

"Multiple journals?" mumbled Jin wondering how Isabella knew which to take.

A light clinking sound like two wine bottles struck together interrupted Jin's musings and put Cecil on high alert. Shifting his body behind the couch so Jin was between him and the source of the noise under the bed, the bounty hunter leveled his gun.

"Who's there? Come out or I start shooting on three. One...two..."

Before the count expired, Isabella burst from her place of hiding and sprinted for the safety of the mock crime scene. Two shots in rapid succession followed, and she felt a bite through her right ear like the sting of a bee.

She had failed to find Jin's gun before accidentally letting the two remaining vials of O'Connell's nitro touch and give away her presence. Afraid to drop the explosives or stay put, she ran clutching the dangerous objects in one paw. The crime scene mock-up offered the only other cover, so she used her free paw and her powerful hindlimbs to propel herself upward through it. A dangerous plan was forming in her mind even as another pair of bullets shattered wood scant inches from her racing body.

The bounty hunter was angling for a better shot by moving to the far side of the construction opposite where Jin was handcuffed to the couch. Isabella saw it all from on high in slow motion. Unlike the lumpy guard with the vicious dog, Cecil was an expert marksman, leaving her no time to formulate anything better than a desperate gamble without adequate thought to its consequences. Cecil was taking aim again and unlikely to miss, so Isabella tossed the vials in his direction, abruptly changed her vector outward and up, and shouted.

"Nitro, Jin! Take cover!"

The assassin fired again, but the report along with the bullet were lost in the blast. Isabella felt an extra upward push from the expanding shock wave. It added just enough impetus to her leap that she was able to catch a rafter with the tips of her claws. After swaying precariously for several seconds, she scrambled atop the beam. Below, the scaffolding, already weakened by Jin's earlier assault, collapsed extinguishing the lantern and plunging the room into absolute darkness.

Minutes fraught with worry for Jin's safety passed as Isabella worked her way along her high perch towards a wall and shimmied down a support timber. After stumbling over the lantern, she risked relighting it and was horrified to find the divan covered by a portion of the wreckage.

As she began lifting lumber and tossing it aside, she was relieved to hear a cough. Jin was alive, having managed to tip the couch over before being buried. Its damaged wooden frame had provided adequate support to keep him from being crushed.

Isabella pulled him free. His wrists were still cuffed behind his back, but tucking his legs tightly to his chest, he was able to slip his hands to the front of his body.

"Find the keys," he urged. "They're in the bounty hunter's vest pocket."

Isabella found them exactly where Jin had indicated.

"He's alive," she pronounced after noticing Cecil's chest slowly rising and falling. "What should I do with him?"

Jin approached carrying the revolver that Isabella had missed in his pack. He held out his arms for Isabella to unlock the cuffs.

"We'll have to restrain him. I think I can put his opportune survival to our advantage."

After searching their captive for more weapons and hidden keys, they dragged the heavy man to where a thick, iron ring had been bolted to the warehouse floor for some past industrial purpose. Jin used the cuffs to secure the burly assailant, then poured water over his face and slapped his cheeks until he revived.

"Goddammit, Jin!" Cecil swore the moment he realized he was restrained. "You aren't going to get away with this. The price on your head is too high and too many desperate men are looking to cash in. I'm just the first."

"I think I can escape, with your help that is."

"Not likely, chinaman. I'm a professional, remember?"

"Not even in exchange for your own life?"

"I already know that's a bluff. You're soft."

"So true, but my accomplice is much less forgiving that way. Humans have enslaved and degraded her kind. She has a lot of scores to settle."

Jin put the gun in Isabella's paw and winked to her surreptitiously. Jin's intent was obvious, so Isabella let all the hate she accumulated during her years of servitude and sexual debasement express upon her face. With barred fangs and claws extended, she clutched Cecil's throat and jammed the tip of the gun's barrel in his ear.

"Just say the word, Jin, and there'll be one less brutish ape in this world."

Despite her rage, Isabella doubted she could be goaded into pulling the trigger. The concept of murder was as repulsive to her as it was to Jin. She and Jin were both bluffing, but the hired gun didn't know that. Fear twisted his guts in knots as he gazed upon her terrifying, snarling countenance.

"Wait! I can be reasonable. Just keep her away from me," he begged to Jin.

Jin nodded to Isabella, who squatted upon her haunches in mock disappointment, keeping the gun aimed at the prisoner.

"The deal is simple, Cecil. My associate and I escape never to be seen in this town again. You tell everyone, including your employer, that we are at the bottom of the harbor, return the journal, and collect your reward."

"That's a good deal for me. Too good. Why surrender the journal? I understand it has huge value. You may not be a killer, but you're a smart man who can barter that book into a fortune."

"My reasons are my own, and I have neither the time nor the desire to explain them to you, so give me your answer now, or I take a short walk outside and let my associate do whatever she wants to you."

"Fucking hell," spat Cecil. "You've got a deal. Now release me."

"Sorry. Can't do that until we are far away."

Jin stuffed a wadded up handkerchief in the bounty hunter's mouth and secured it by tying another cloth behind his head.

"We can't have you calling for help. The sun will be up soon, and the stevedores will be about."

Following Jin's instructions, Isabella ascended into the rafters to hang a rope with the handcuff keys tied at its end from where they dangled above their prisoner just out of reach. Jin secured the other end of the rope to a post jutting from the ruin of his crime scene model before placing a lit candle where it would eventually burn down to the level of the rope. Cecil paid close attention to each step of the process.

"I think you get the idea, Cecil," said Jin. "The keys should drop in your lap in about four hours. Remember, don't ever come looking for us. I'll kill you if you do, and if you don't believe that, believe that this catgirl will. Got it?"

The bounty hunter nodded his head. Jin patted him on the cheek condescendingly, and placed the journal at his feet.

"Good man. See how well we get along when we're both professionals?"

While Isabella was changing into her plain dress and cloak, Jin noticed blood leaking from her ear.

"Looks like Cecil got you. Not surprising considering he's the best damn marksman I've ever met."

Jin cleaned the wound with alcohol and kept pressure on it until the bleeding stopped.

"Should heal okay, but you'll always have a hole there. You might want to think about earrings. A little jewelry would look nice on you, but won't make you look any less cat-like, which is what we need right now."

Isabella pulled the hood of her cloak far over her face and tucked her tail under her dress making herself a passable human girl. Jin gathered up his few essential possessions including the box with the old tea setting, and they left the warehouse behind forever.

Afraid that the time for her parting from Jin's company was at hand, Isabella was unwilling to say anything that might precipitate the necessary but dreaded conversation. Instead, she followed quietly in her mentor's shadow as he led them through the city to the train station where he used the last of his money to pay their fare for a private, first-class compartment.

Within an hour after dawn, they left Pennsylvania Station in upholstered luxury. Stuck together for at least a few hours, Isabella felt compelled to speak even if the discussion inevitably circled around to the topic of their breakup.

"Why did you leave the journal with Cecil?" she asked.

"It's cleaner this way; ends the bounty and convinces everyone I'm truly dead." Jin's tone was calm and his words succinct, but his eyes betrayed a sense of inner anxiety.

Isabella thought she knew the reason. He was trying to decide how and when to tell her they were through. A few days earlier, she would have accepted this as a given and correct course of action. Humans were poison. Surviving on her own had always been her best option, until now. To live in a world without Jin was a sorrowful prospect that smothered her future in shrouds of unhappiness.

"Why are we going ta Baltimore?" she wondered aloud though she had meant that question only for herself, intending to brood quietly a while longer.

"Safety and opportunity. There's too great a chance of being recognized if we stay in America. We need to leave the country fast, and a ship sailing to southern France from Baltimore was the first upon which I could reserve passage."

"France?"

"Europe's packed with treasures beyond imagining, and many are unguarded. Should be easy pickings for a pair like us."

"Pair?" Hope rekindled in Isabella's heart. "Do you mean for us ta stay together?"

"That's entirely up to you. In fact, whether or not we get there is up to you."

"I don't understand..."

"I'm broke. I can't afford to buy us lunch, let alone trans-Atlantic passage. You have the necklace. I'm not asking for it back, but I am proposing that if you use it to purchase passage across the Atlantic, I would be delighted to continue our current relationship on the other side."

"You mean, you're willin' ta be my master?"

Jin's laugh was always welcome in Isabella's ears, especially when it shattered the tension of an awkward moment.

"Never!" he managed to exclaim between guffaws. "At least not except for keeping up appearances to outsiders. You saved my life, Isabella, and in doing so forged a bond nearly impossible to break. When Cecil had me captive, you could have just walked away with the jewels and done alright for yourself. Can't imagine what possessed you risk everything for my worthless hide."

"Can't you? Maybe you forgot that you risked even more ta rescue me. The journal was yours ta take, and at the time you thought it the most valuable object in the world, yet here I am. My debt for that is eternal."

"I guess we're even then."

Jin leaned forward from his seat across from hers and placed his palms on her knees. His smile portended glad tidings.

"Intuition tells me that our fates are irrevocably intertwined. Therefore, I propose a partnership as equals. No master. No slave. Maybe teacher and student, but which is which and who is who will vary with time, making such distinctions irrelevant. Do you agree with this arrangement?"

Isabella couldn't have dreamed of a more desirous outcome.

"Of course. I want..." but Jin interrupted, serious once again.

"Before we seal this pact, I can't in good conscience withhold important knowledge from someone in whom I will entrust my life. Isabella, I know you can read."

"What?' she blurted. "That's not..I mean how could you..."

"It's the only way you could have picked the right journal from among the others in the safe. I should have guessed this sooner when you were able to so quickly memorize numbers on the safe's dial. An ordinary catgirl shouldn't have been able to do even that."

Feeling trapped and exposed, Isabella couldn't stop her automatic reflexes. Her lips curled back to expose her fangs, claws snicked forth from her paws, and her ears dropped flat against her head. Every fiber of her body tensed as if to attack. Jin noted her reaction and triggered a spring loaded holster hidden in his sleeve that propelled a small pistol into his right palm. Isabella froze, certain that she had brought upon her own end.

"So you admit it?" he asked.

"Any point denyin' it?"

"None, since it matters not to me."

Jin turned the pistol butt end towards Isabella and held it out for her. Cocking her head sideways, she gazed at him in surprise.

"Take it," he urged, but she made no move towards the weapon.

"What are you doin'?" she asked instead.

"A trust exercise. What I know about you is too dangerous unless we both dispel all doubts regarding the other's devotion and reliability."

He cocked both hammers and forced the gun into Isabella's paw before leaning back on his bench across from her.

"It's small, but deadly, and if you fire both barrels at once, you can't miss. In this private carriage on a noisy train, no one will hear."

Jin leaned forward again staring intently into her eyes.

"Now ask yourself this question? Can you trust me with this secret? It gives me power over you. I promise I will never use it in any way, but you have to believe that, or you need to kill me and move on. I can't work with a partner I cannot trust. Neither should you."

"There is no one on this earth I trust more," said Isabella as she let the gun's hammers down gently and returned it to Jin, who hid the weapon back up his sleeve. "Besides," she added, "I know your dirty secret. You act dangerous and threatening, but you're gentle as a kitten on the inside. What kind of master criminal can't kill?"

"The kind who feels one of Laozi's new beginning's coming on. A great future lies before us. It will be amusing to rob royalty for a change instead of industrialists. Who knows? Perhaps we'll get rich enough to buy a castle of our own and retire like kings. Would you like that?"

Isabella left her seat to sit beside Jin. Placing her furry cheek against his shoulder and holding his bare wrist with one paw, she placed the necklace and the cash she had taken from the safe in his open hand.

"I will be content with whatever we achieve together, partner. Now why don't you buy us some lunch? I'm hungry."

[End of Story]