Strike Out in Siberia

The MEOW jet touched down in Yekaterinburg. From the outside, the jet looked like just another plane owned by a rich businessman and was at home in the executive section of the airport. It pulled in to the hangar space as directed by the tower. The door opened, the stairs descended, and Angus, dressed as the business man cover complete with a briefcase, exited the plane. The briefcase contained the papers that Clouder Number Nine and their support humans needed to enter Russia and carry out their mission.

“Colonel MacDougal?” asked the approaching Russian immigration official.

“I am,” Angus answered as he extended his free hand.

“I'm Colonel Boris Pieteroff,” the Russian said as he shook Angus's proffered hand. “I'll be you liaison while you're in my country.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Angus asked as he noted the busy airport and the ramp workers everywhere. His briefing of the Russian would be better with less ears to hear.

“We should go review your papers in my office,” Pieteroff suggested.

“Lead the way,” Angus agreed.

An hour later, the paperwork was completed and the other arrangements for the mission were completed. The arrangements weren't what Angus would have preferred but he could deal with them. Chief condition was that if the Clouder split up, each group needed a Russian observer. Boris Pieteroff, himself, would accompany Angus and Nala. Tatiana, Pieteroffs's secretary, would stay on the plane with Erik, Alexander, and Lt. Steven Smith. She would be both the Russian baby sitter and facilitate cutting through the administrative colored tapes, since Russia enjoyed bureaucrats in such large numbers that red wasn't the only color tape tieing things up. Lastly, Pieteroff's lieutenant, Oleg Federoff, would keep tabs on the Fifis and Lt. Jane Brewster. Angus didn't like having the Russians know more about operations than absolutely necessary but it could be helpful for Russians to interface with local officials.

Lt. Jane Brewster and Oleg Federoff took Fiona and Phoebe to inspect the area where Natalia was last seen. They were hoping to pick up her trail, either going or coming. One would tell them where she might be. The other would give context for the meeting.

Angus, Pieteroff, and Nala would find out who the man the fugitive feline met with was. That would hopefully tell them what the meeting had been a bout. So they started tracking down the car. It was a part of a fleet of personal drivers for businessmen. Pieteroff would be handy in intimidating records out of the company's administrative personnel.

Tatiana and Erik were deep into requesting and hacking, where needed, to access CCTV cameras and requesting records before the others had even exited the hangar. Tatiana was was searching for property records for Natalia or any of her known front companies. Erik was searching for any more security footage of the cat in question.

That left Lt. Smith and Alex to patrol around the plane. The lieutenant was also the pilot of record for the plane so he could hang out in the pilot's lounge and other places a pilot would be expected to be. It would look strange if he kept circling the plane on patrol so that task was left to Alex. Most people would never notice a stray cat. If they did, it would never occur to them that the cat was doing anything other than searching for a mouse for its next meal. Alex might tire of patrol if the mission lingered on for several days, but he was still new enough to field work that he was still pleased to have a job to do.

It took twenty-six hours but all three lines of inquiry led to the same place – an abandoned estate of a really minor branch of the Romanov family. It was exactly the kind of place Natalia would like – secluded, opulent, and Royal. It was also a three hour drive away. There was no place closer to hide the plane in plain sight, so Erik, Alex, Lt. Smith, and Tatiana would remain in Ykaterinburg, but the others would go scope out the place.

Angus was continuing in his role as a wealthy business man for a cover. Pieteroff was taking the role as his driver and would drive the Colonel and his cat to the estate. They would enter by the front door. The story was that Angus had some business he wished to discuss with Grey Import and Export, one of Natalia's holding companies.

The Fifis and the humans with them would arrive separately, by helicopter to few miles away, and sneak in. The estate was built into the side of foothills of the Ural mountains. It would take humans and cats working together to get inside.

Phoebe took point. She was the smallest and an able to squeeze into the smallest of openings in the wall. She scaled the wall and caught the grappling hook that Lt. Brewster shot. The feline anchored the rope and the Lieutenant climbed the wall with Fiona in her pack. (The black and white feline couldn't follow Phoebe since Fiona was both fatter and fluffier and thus had to suffer the indignity of being carried.) Lt. Federoff followed as the cats and Lt. Brewster were taking in the lay of the land.

It was odd but the grounds and what they could see of the house, or more accurately- the palace, looked deserted. If Natalia was here there would be patrols at the very least. Either she wasn't here or she had left a very clever trap. The foursome worked their way down from the walls searching for the answer.

The limousine with Angus, Nalla, and Pieteroff came up the drive as the others entered the palace. The car was not challenged at the gate. In fact Pieteroff had to get out from the driver's seat to open the gate. The car pulled up to the palace and parked. Pieteroff opened the door for Angus and Nala. They played out the fiction of Angus being a business man and Pieteroff his hired help as they entered the palace. Again there was no one there.

They rendezvoused with the others and together they searched. No one was there and no on had been there for a few days. They found papers for several other holding companies and the deeds to three other estates.

“Colonel MacDougal,” came the computer voice of Erik over the comms.

“Yes, Erik?” asked Angus.

“There is a message coming from HQ,” Erik said.

“Go ahead,” Angus said.

“The message reads, 'if mission is done, then return home immediately',” Erik said.

“That is it?” Angus asked.

“All that can be said over comms,” Erik said with the implication there was more but had to said in person.

“We'll rendezvous as planned,” Angus said.

Three hours later, the MEOW agents – both human and feline- bid farewell to the Russians and left for home. The part of the message Erik hadn't relayed over the comms was the sad news that Clouder Number Eight had suffered heavy losses in an ambush meant for cats. Lady Gwenllian was recalling all Clouders until the larger implications could be evaluated and the Ministry formulate a plan. Clouder Number Nine took off in the airplane with heavy hearts and headed for home.

Citius, Altius, Fortius

Captain Ross and the cats of Clouder Number Twenty- One looked around the room in the athlete village in Rio to make sure they hadn't left anything behind. They had been living there for the last month doing security for the athletes of Great Britain at the Olympic Games. It had been an eventful games – in the exciting feats of skill by the athletes with a few minor jobs for the cats to do.

They had arrived a week before the athletes themselves. They had scoped out the venues and gotten the lay of the land. They had met the security details of the other countries. Among the details was a familiar face for Rhys, one of the British cats, Beruthiel Beauregard of DERP. That was the great things about the Olympics, every country with a cat spy program set a detail of cats. It was part job and part international spy cat conference with war stories and techniques being exchanged in the off hours. The cats of the Mossad being the cats everyone else stood in awe of and slightly scared of. The others learned from them.

Once the athletes arrived, the atmosphere changed from congenial conference to actual work. The first event for security was the opening ceremony. The cats of the larger nations – Great Britain, the United States, Canada, and Australia were easy to get into the ceremony among the humans. The greater numbers of humans disguised the cats among them. But the smaller teams it was harder. Three cats were assigned to the Refugee team but those cats were able to get by because no one was looking farther then the remarkable story of each of the ten members of the team. The ceremony went off without a hitch and the games began.

Rhys had been given the job of escorting the Synchronized Divers. He witnessed the surprise gold by Jack Laugher and Chris Mears. In fact he was doing his job, patrolling the pool area – the surprisingly green pool- when the dive happened and the celebrations started. Then The American dove and the lead held and then the Chinese went and the gold was Great Britain's. The celebrations poolside got out of hand and Rhys was nudged and then shoved into the pool – the green pool. He sunk down sputtering and then remembered the hated swimming training. He kicked and gained the surface and swam to the ramp and walked out. By that time the celebrations were winding down and Mears noticed the wet cat. He picked Rhys up and laughed at the soggy feline. He scritched the fur and then grabbed a towel and rubbed the cat dry. Rhys wasn't exactly happy at the treatment but it was the fastest way to get dry so he put up with it. Besides it would be a good story to tell Nala when they were both back at headquarters.

After the diving, Rhys was assigned to Copacabana Beach for the beach volleyball. Late nights in the party atmosphere was just the kind of place for a former street cat. No problems there, except staying out of Liev's way.

Liev was one of the Mossad cats. The most terrifying of them. The tiger striped cat actually sat a round sharpening his claws so that the merest touch would draw blood. Of course the claw had to get through fur for cat on cat violence, but most of the other international cats steered clear of Liev. Beruthiel had private lessons in feline Krav Maga from Liev's partner, Rachel, so she was the one exception to the fear.

Liev and Rachel were also on the Copacabana patrol. The most exciting thing, besides the late night antics of the US Olympic coverage, was the upset in the ladies competition and the favored team winning Bronze instead of Gold. The problem with patroling the beaches was the sand in the fur.

Rhys was happy when that duty was done. He was tired of eating sand when he groomed. It was a relief to help with the security of the marathon. It might be wet and rainy, but Rhys was Welsh. Rain was nothing new to him. In fact it felt like home.

The games proceeded through the closing ceremony with no problem. The cats walked in the parade and enjoyed the party. The cats kept getting scritched and picked up for selfies with the excited athletes. Myfi was turned into an Instagram sensation when one of the US women's gymnastics team posed with her. All in all it was a very easy first assignment. Though the next one wouldn't be so easy.

Chasing Natalia

Clouder Number Nine was gathered in their quarters when the main screen blinked on. It was Alan, the chief human computer tech.

“We have something you might be interested in, Nala,” said Alan on the screen.

“What?” asked the Russian Blue cat, after she switched on her translator.

“This,” Alan said.

This turned out to be security camera footage of a cat that looked enough like Nala to be her twin. The cat was sulking around a town that was dominated by an onion domed church. She met with a human in the shadow of the building. After a brief conversation, the human bent down and put a touch screen tablet in front of the cat, who raised a paw and placed it on the screen. The human put the tablet away and extended a hand and the cat shook it with her paw. Then they left in different directions. The Nala look alike got into a limo and was driven out of the security camera range.

“That looks just like you, Nala,” commented Alexander Cattus, the youngest member of the clouder being that he was a nine month old kitten.

“I know,” said Alan. “But we know it isn't because Nala was at headquarters when this was taken.”

“When was this?” asked Nala.

“About an hour ago,” Alan said. “It just got noticed because I ran the Whisker Recognition program again.”

“An hour ago I was with Rhys in the dining hall,” Nala said.

“If that isn't you,” Erik O'Brian, the white and black short hair, said. “Then it must be...”

“Natalia,” growled out his sister, Fiona. Her long black and white fur was starting to stand on end. “It's about time we found her.”

The door opened and the military kilt clad form of Angus MacDougal strode in.

“I just heard,” Angus said, “We found Natalia.”

“We did, sir,” said Alan, who visibly straightened on the monitor at the arrival of his superior.

“Where?” Angus asked. Natalia was a sore subject for the Clouder and Angus and the sooner she was dealt with the better.

“Russia,” Alan said. “I'm running a program to analyze the skyline and figure out where exactly right now.”

“Good,” Angus replied. “Let me know where when you figure it out.”

“Sir, yes sir,” snapped Alan. The screen went blank as Alan went back to work.

Angus turned to the Clouder. They started planning the mission, even not knowing where exactly they were going. There were certain things that were always true of traveling to the former Soviet Union. Angus called Molly, the administrative assistant assigned to the Clouder, and got her working on the paperwork. The paperwork for the visas for the humans was just the start. There was also the issues of weapons Angus would be taking and for taking cats without a quarantine. It would be helpful if they could find some kind of threat that Natalia was making against Russia as well. Natalia's status as a “Cat Most Wanted” by Great Britain wouldn't carry much weight in Russia.

Sure, they could sneak across the border and carry off the mission without anyone being the wiser. But no one wanted to antagonize Russia over a cat. It was far better to have cooperation and that was what they were seeking.

The screen came back on.

“We've found the town, sir,” Alan said on the screen.

“Where?” Angus asked.

“A town in the Sverdlovsk Oblast,” Alan said.

“Where?” asked Phoebe, the gray and white long haired cat.

“Outside Yekaterinburg,” Alan explained. “In the Ural mountains. Siberia.”

“Brr, Siberia,” Erik said. “I'm glad I get to stay on the plane, where it is warm, to do computer support.”

“Actually, the weather report for the next little while is highs in the mid 20 degrees Celsius and lows in low teens. Quite comfortable,” Alan explained.

“Then I won't be packing the wool,” Angus joked.

The screen devided and Molly showed up on the screen next to Alan.

“Commander MacDougal,” Molly said. “The paperwork is finished. You're cleared to fly into Yekaterinburg.”

“But?” Angus asked. “I hear a but in your voice.”

“But the Russians want you to leave any and all weapons on the plane,” Molly said. “That's the bad news.”

“What's the good news?” inquired Nala.

“They only specified Angus and any other human needs to leave weapons on the plane,” Molly smirked. “They said nothing about the lasers in the collars.”

“Ok, we can work with that,” Angus said. “Thanks, Molly. Alan.”

The computer screen blinked off with his dismissal.

“Wheels up in a half hour,” Angus commanded. “Gather what equipment you need and meet me at the Land Rover then.”

The cats sketched a salute with their paws and turned to get what they needed. Angus went to the armory and the equipment room to pack. When that was accomplished, he stopped by the Veterinary Ward to tell his wife good bye. By the time he got to the Land Rover his two lieutenants had the cats loaded and were waiting for him. He got in and drove for the air field. Within the hour, Clouder Number Nine, cats and human support, were winging their way to Siberia.

Graduation Day

Rhys Llewelyn was nervous. The results of the practical exam were expected back today. If he, and the others in his class, passed then on Saturday they would receive their badges. (Not that cats could carry their badges on their persons but it was the principle of the thing.) If he didn't pass then it would be another month before he could take another practical to try again.

Angus MacDougal, the chief human of M.E.O.W., walked into the room. He looked at the cats--kittens really, except for Rhys of course--being cats. The kittens Myfi and Finn were engaged in a steeplechase around the cat trails on the walls up to the ceiling. Three of the others were watching to see who would win. Another four were engaged in game involving a ball of yarn.

“Ahem,” Angus cleared his throat. All feline activity stopped and the seven cats looked at him with their full attention. It was a good thing he was used to it because that much focused feline attention could be unnerving.

“I am pleased to announce that all of you have passed the practical exam and will be graduating on Saturday,” he said.

The felines nodded and went back to what they were doing. Except Rhys, who hadn't been doing anything to begin with. Angus walked over to him and crouched down.

“Nala is exceptionally proud of you,” Angus confided to the cat. “She told me that if you didn't have other plans, she'd love to see you this evening.” Rhys looked up at the man. Trainees weren't allowed to roam headquarters without orders or an escort.

“Merow?” Rhys said. He hadn't turned on his translator so it came out in cat instead of English.

Angus, with his years of being a human in a feline organization, knew what the cat meant. Rhys wanted to know how he could visit his girlfriend.

“As of today, right now actually,” Angus smiled. “You're not a trainee but you are not an agent yet so you can go where you want.” He looked at the cat who realized what his change in circumstance might mean. “Within reason. There are still classified areas but you don't need an escort anymore.”

Rhys rubbed against Angus's leg. His tail curled up the human's limb under the kilt. Angus laughed and removed the offending appendage. It was one of the hazards of being a Scott around cats.

That night, Rhys and Nala took a ramble through the field around headquarters. It was a beautiful July evening in the heart of Wales. The some of neighboring fields were full of sheep and the others had freshly cut hay ready for bailing. The sun was beginning to set and romance was in the air. The two felines knew that they only had two more days to enjoy this because after Saturday, Rhys would be a full Agent of M.E.O.W. and Nala's convalescence would be over. They would have separate assignments. Rhys wouldn't be a member of Clouder Number Nine because that clouder was full and the powers that be knew of their relationship and while it wasn't against the rules, per se, they did like to keep romantic partners in different clouders to cut down on conflicts of interest.

They walked to the top of the hill and watched the sunset. Their tails twined together and they just sat there. They had so much to say and not enough time to say it so they let their presence say it for them.

Saturday dawned sunny and warm. The graduation ceremony was set for ten in the morning and dignitaries from the Ministry and other intelligence agencies that knew of the cats' existence started arriving an hour before. The graduation was partly to mark the achievement of the kittens, and in this instance a grown cat, and partly to reassure others in Whitehall that the money to train cats wasn't wasted. Video of the practical exercise and their success in France lead the ceremony. Then the seven graduating felines were called up one at a time and Angus fastened their new tactical collars around their necks. Lady Gwen fastened a badge to each collar, but that badge would be removed and placed next to the cat's bed in their quarters later.

“I'm pleased to announce that this class will be forming a new clouder,” Lady Gwen said at the conclusion of the badge ceremony. “Clouder Number Twenty- One.” There was polite applause from the audience. “They also have their first assignment- they have been attached to to the Athlete security team for team Great Britain at the Rio Olympics. Clouder Twenty-One has proved their expertise at low profile security of large civilian gatherings and I expect they will continue to show just what a cat can do.”

Lady Gwen nodded to one of Angus's Lieutenants to step forward. “Lieutenant Archibald Ross, I'm pleased to promote you to Captain and place you as Chief Human for Clouder Number Twenty-One.” She gestured for Angus to pin the new insignia of rank on Archie.

The ceremony ended after that and everyone retired to the canteen for cake and punch. The cats enjoyed cat mint tea and salmon pate instead. The human dignitaries mingled and talked with the graduates, though they still had trouble with the idea that cats could actually converse. Soon the guests went back to their jobs and the cats went back to their quarters.

Captain Ross removed the badges and placed them where they would go. He gathered his new clouder and gave them their briefing. The cats had an hour to get ready to depart. Rhys had had his go bag ready since Wednesday so he went looking for Nala to say goodbye.

He found her in the canteen, finishing off the salmon pate. Ever since she'd had the feeding tube removed, Nala had been eating everything she could. If she didn't get more active, she was in danger of becoming a fat cat.

“I've got to go,” Rhys said, in cat. There was no need for translation.

“I know,” Nala replied in the same language.

“I'll be gone a month,” he continued.

“I'll be leave in a couple days myself,” she said. “Hopefully I'll be back before you.”

“Where are you going?” Rhys asked. “That is if you can tell me.”

“We have a lead on Natalia,” Nala said. “There is very little I can't tell you.”

She moved her head closer to his. They rubbed their heads together. She affectionately licked behind his ear. He purred. They nuzzled for a moment before the door opened and Captain Scott walked in.

“Rhys, it's time to go,” Captain Ross said.

Rhys licked the top of Nala's head and turned to go. Captain Ross lead the way with the cat at his side. Nala watched until they crossed the threshold and the door swung behind them. She hoped Rhys would be safe. She turned back to the plate of the salmon pate as the door clicked shut.

Land of My Fathers

The Agents of M.E.O.W. moved their mobile command from Lille to Lyon when Wales advanced from the Quarterfinals to the Semifinals. The crowds got bigger and more exuberant. The cats were needed more than ever as a rise in pickpockets came with the excited crowds. Drunk excited fans were the perfect hunting grounds for the pickpockets and others who would steal from the careless so the local law enforcement needed all the help they could get. The few commanders who knew about the cats were skeptical but willing to have the help. Rhys and Myfi were excited both for their work and because their beloved Wales Football Club had advanced further than ever before. They were proud they could be there for the historic moment and help keep their countrymen safe.

Angus walked down the streets of Lyon, keeping his eye out for trouble, with Rhys at his heels. The fans bedecked in Welsh red shirts and Daffodil hats were everywhere singing, laughing and drinking. It was a party the likes of which hadn't been seen before. The singing, which could be heard coming out of every pub and bar, was a mixture of French and Welsh bar songs with an occasional song having English lyrics.

The four days between games became a party and the Agents of M.E.O.W. were the private security. They arrested several thieves, a few drunken fans who just needed to sleep it off, and a few who had let bar debates become shoving matches but no threats to the game itself had manifested. It was rapidly becoming one of the easiest test assignments ever. Just enough real world experience to count but nothing like what the class of August of 1996 had to deal with in Atlanta. That had included crowd control of a panicked crowd after explosives had gone off. That class was a M.E.O.W. legend.

At last Wednesday dawned. The Agents of M.E.O.W. moved to the stadium to make sure no one was bringing in contraband. The cats were doing the sniffing and then coughing up hairballs on the suspect's feet routine, and it had become routine. A few pickpockets, people trying to bring illicit substances but no extremists doing dastardly things. The cat patrol moved into the stadium.

The game started and the excitement grew. Rhys and Myfi, as the only Welsh cats, kept one eye on the game and one on their job. When the play drew to a close and Wales was down two points to none, they joined their fellow countrymen in signing their national anthem. Chatter on their ear pieces told them that after the end of “Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau”, they needed to get back to keeping the peace.

The celebrations on both sides continued the next day. The cats were assigned to keep the Welsh players safe. The Portuguese security could take care of their own players. Thus it was that the cats flew back to Cardiff in style, on the Welsh team plane. The players, coaches and a few family members, human M.E.O.W. agents, and the dozen cats made for an interesting flight.

Rhys was walking back from the cat carrier that held the litter box when little Alba Bale, the three year old daughter of Gareth Bale, reached out and picked him up. She settled into the seat and petted Rhys. Rhys had lived on the street long enough to be pleased when someone petted him. He settled down and purred.

“Here, Daddy,” little Alba said as she dumped the cat on her father's lap. Her mother escorted her to one of the lavatories.

Rhys looked up into the startled eyes of the Welsh football star. The footballer shrugged and petted the cat. Clearly being handed a security cat wasn't the strangest thing his daughter had handed him. The cat settled in and purred.

Ten minutes before the plane landed, Angus and the other M.E.O.W. humans rounded up the cats and placed them by twos into cat crates. Everyone on the plane knew who they were but the people in the airport and at passport control didn't. The cats only worked as spies if their existence wasn't common knowledge.

Nala and Rhys were placed in the same carrier. They talked all the way through the airport and passport control and as they were loaded on to the bus for the victory parade.

“You look dazed,” Nala started as they were loaded onto the trolley to exit the plane.

“Gareth Bale petted me,” Rhys said dreamily. “I'm never washing my fur again.”

“Really?” Nala asked. “You'd be less stealthy if your targets could smell you coming.”

“Spoil sport,” Rhys said. “I'll wash before I get that bad, I promise.”

They were silent as Angus handed over their paperwork. The passport agent was slightly surprised when he scanned the papers and it gave him instructions to let the cats through without being quarantined. The decision came from high up. On their heads be it if these cats brought some weird disease into the country.

“How would you feel if that Sam fellow from that Outlander show petted you?” Rhys asked once they were out in the airport concourses again.

“I only watch that show because it is better than the horror movies or sportsball options that are available in sick bay,” Nala said primly.

“Really?” Rhys asked. “Then why do you and Liz have a date to watch the season finale on Sunday?”

“How do you know about that?” Nala asked surprised. Rhys gave her a look that said 'Spy cat, remember?' “Right. Liz likes watching the show because that Sam guy reminds her of Angus.”

“Angus has blonder hair but I can see it,” Rhys agreed.

They were loaded on the bus to wait for everyone else and their luggage.

“So tell me why this team gets a hero's welcome when they lost,” Nala said.

“Because no Welsh team has ever made it past the quarter finals in a major international competition. This team made it to the semi finals and we're exceedingly proud,” Rhys answered. “To us they are heroes.”

“Oh,” Nala said. The bus started up for the trip to Cardiff proper. Angus released the cats from the carriers and the dozen felines took their stations to exit the bus and walk beside it in the parade. The cats would look like strays from the neighborhood and keep an eye on the crowd. Once parade duty was done they'd return to headquarters and their next adventure.

C'mon Cymru

Rhys Llewelyn sat in the barracks of the training facilities at M.E.O.W. with the other dozen cats (kittens really but Rhys was a full grown cat), waiting to hear what their final test would be. Graduation was a month away and the cats of the class needed a real world practical test. It was the last thing as a part of training before becoming full Agents. Right now they were provisional agents but if they passed the practical field exam they'd graduate and have a badge and everything (not that the cats carried their badges with them but they had them all the same).

The two kittens Rhys had had the most dealings with were running around the room and jumping from carpeted shelf to carpeted shelf in a sort of feline steeple chase. Myfi, the cute little marmalade kitten, was in the lead but the tuxedo Manx named Finn was not far behind. Finn leaped from the shelf on the right side of the door towards the one on the left when the door opened and caught him mid-flight. The kitten fell right on to the head of Angus MacDougal, chief human at M.E.O.W. The kitten was startled and reacted with claws out.

“Ouch,” Angus said as he pried the kitten from his head. “Watch your claws, ye wee beastie.”

“Reoww,” answered Finn as Angus set him down on the floor. Finn didn't much like Angus, particularly ever since the human had paid more attention to Rhys. Finn thought Rhys too old to train with the kittens and let it be known.

Rhys, ignoring his nemesis, switched his speech translator on. “Do have our mission for us?”

“I do indeed,” Angus said with a smile as he walked to the center of the room and turned on the flat screen monitor.

The other cats came and arranged themselves on the couch and floor in front of the monitor. Angus used the computer tablet in his hand to flip through the power point presentation.

“First off, the clouder who will be monitoring your mission and assisting you, if you need it will be Clouder Number Nine,” Angus said. Rhys perked up at that. “Yes, Rhys, the whole Clouder. It will be Captain Nala's first mission back after her illness.”

Finn turned on his speech translator. “I'm sure we're all glad that Captain Nala is feeling better, but what about our mission?”

“I was getting to that,” Angus said. The screen changed to the Euro216 logo and bracket graphic. “Wales has made the quarter finals against Belgium and they play on Friday.” Myfi and Rhys looked excited. They were the only cats from the principality itself and were very patriotic.

“What does footie have to do with us?” asked a gray British short hair kitten named Reginald.

“The French police and particularly those in Lille, have asked for extra help and the Minister has agreed to loan this class, Clouder Number Nine, myself, and four other human support staff for the rest of the week.”

“Why?” asked Myfi. “Not that I'm complaining being near the game but why us?”

“Besides the huge influx of footie fans, this is the 100 anniversary of the Battle of the Somme and ceremonies are planned on Friday as well,” Angus explained as he then outlined the plan and what part each cat would play in the plan.

The cats found themselves patrolling the streets of Lille that night. The atmosphere was strange. One half of the town was celebrating the footie games to be played. The other half was remembering the Great War and those that had died in it. Three days of patrolling the crowds and it was game day.

The cats were doing their job winding between the fans waiting to get into the stadium. They were sniffing for contraband and weapons (explosives and gunpowder).

Rhys found a person dressed to support Belgium and the person smelled funny. He was exactly the kind of human Rhys had been sent to find so he did what he had been told to do. He started heaving from his tail. The yorking sound came from deep with in him and seconds later a mass of partially digested fur and fluids landed on the suspicious human's foot.

“Ah man,” said the human as he noticed the hairball on his foot. He started hopping around trying to figure out how to clean it off.

“Sir, I can help you with that,” Angus said as he came over to the man. Angus was dressed as a stadium event worker. “If you just come with me, we'll get you cleaned up in no time.” The man complied and Angus lead him to a side room.

“I'm Commander MacDougal,” Angus said as he flashed his Interpol badge. (He was on special assignment for them after all.) “And I need to look in your bag.”

“I thought you were going to help me with the cat puke,” said the belligerent man.

“Certainly,” Angus said and motioned to a waiting lackey. “Lieutenant, if you'd please?”

The Lieutenant hand the man some wet paper towels.

“Now may I see inside your bag?” Angus asked.

“No,” the man answered and took a swing at Angus.

“Attempting to assault an officer,” Angus chuckled. “I might not have had more than suspicion to look in before, now I have the right and duty to.”

Angus opened the bag. On top were some bags of a white powder and on the bottom a bottle of clear liquid and a rag. Also a cigarette lighter. An disassembled Molotov cocktail. Who knew what use he'd had planed for it. Angus pulled out his handcuffs and arrested the man. That made four arrests assisted by the cats today.

Rhys came into the room and looked around. He wanted to make certain he had detected the right out of place smells. He needed to know if he needed to do anything about it if he smelled that smell again.

“You were right, Rhys,” the Lieutenant said. “He had drugs and a weapon on him. Go back out there and keep up the good work.”

Rhys preened with the praise. He started purring a tune that sounded very much like “Mae Hen Wlad Fy Nhadau”. You could make a cat patrol the game but you couldn't keep him from cheering for his home country's team.

The game was set to start in an hour. Most of the fans would be in the stadium in the next half hour. The cats would remain in France through the weekend for the celebrations and commiserations to keep the peace.

A Job Well Done

Another day dawned over the Revolutionary City, as the promotional material called Colonial Williamsburg. Beru, Phoebe, and the other cats had been there, along with the human support staff, for about a week. It had been mostly boring but they had gotten the rhythm of the place down and could now tell when something was out of place, like now.

Phoebe and Beru sat outside the Raleigh Tavern Bakery, where the crumbs, scraps, and news were plentiful. They were people watching. There were three basic types of people who went into the bakery for sandwiches, cookies fresh from the wood fueled oven, and fountain drinks in the refillable cups with Tri-corn hat lids: costumed workers on their breaks; tourists with their clip on ticket badges; and college students from William and Mary getting the free refill on soda before class. The tourists covered all walks of life from farmers to big city folk but they all had a ticket of some type clipped somewhere visible so that the costumed guides at the restricted buildings would know who to let in.

A farmer, without a ticket, was looking around the little courtyard beside the building and not moving to get in line for the nummy smelling baked goods. He had a backpack and was constantly checking his watch. Finally he walked out of the courtyard.

Beru and Phoebe nodded at each other and followed him out. The sidewalk was crowded. The morning's little play about the dissolution of the House of Burgesses was in progress. The crowd was surging towards that building and the cats had to keep out of the way of all those feet. Phoebe took the right side of the crowd and Beru took the left. The scene of the Governor proclaiming the dissolution was over and the crowd dispersed around the building. Some went to other parts of the city and some lined up for the guided tours. Others just milled around looking at the building. The suspicious farmer did that. He circled around to the back where almost no one was and bent down as if to tie his shoe and let his back pack slide off. He nudged it next to the building and straightened up. Then he looked around saw the coast was clear, except for a couple of cats and wandered back around front.

Phoebe and Beru looked at each other and again silently communicated. Beru would follow the man while Phoebe would look into the back pack. One might think that a cat, a creature without opposable thumbs, might not be able to open the zipper on a back pack, but one would be wrong. Phoebe was a

M.E.O.W. trained agent and could open doors with doorknobs and undo zippers. She dug her claws into the fabric on the side near the zipper pull and hooked a fang in the large hole on the tab of the zipper. She shook her head to one side while pulling with her claws to the other. The zipper opened about six inches, which was enough to see what was inside. It was a bundle of Semtex and a digital clock counting down. Six and a half hours to go. Phoebe unhooked her claws and pushed the button on her collar and excitedly chattered away. Anyone listening would just think the cat had seen a bird in the tree and was calling to it, when she was relaying the information about the backpack and its contents.

Twenty minutes later the bomb was defused and Beru had chased down and subdued the farmer. Everyone thought they were in the clear. That is until Jed spoke up.

Jed's call came from over by the courthouse. He, too, had followed an unticketed farmer with a back pack. The pack had been set down at the base of the pillory, as if someone had taken it off to take a picture in the pillory and forgot about it. The bomb squad moved over there. They had it defused and were breathing easier when Dale's voice came on the line.

Dale had followed a third farmer and found another backpack next to the Governor's Palace. Its clock also set to go off at 5pm like all the others. The bomb techs moved over there and defused that one too. By this time it was getting to be late after noon.

“Guys, there is something you all ought to know,” spoke up Bobby, one of the bomb techs, over the radio. “None of the Semtex recovered from the bombs today was actually Semtex.”

“What do you mean?” asked Tucker. This was weird. Either the group wasn't as serious as they were reported to be or they were testing security.”

“It's blocks of modeling clay,” Bobby explained.

“Thanks, Bobby,” Tucker said. “Remember just because these bombs were as phony as my Grandmammy's Rolex doesn't mean that the next one won't be the real deal.”

“You expect another?” asked Phoebe's computer voice.

“Sure as shootin',” Tucker said. “So far we've found one every two hours since this place opened for business today and there are still four hours to go. I expect to find at least two more. So keep your eyes peeled.”

The cats redoubled their efforts. It would be easier if any of the three suspects arrested would talk but so far all they'd say was their name, they knew their rights, and the name and contact info of their lawyer. The fact that all three had the same lawyer out of West Virginia did seem to connect them to the plot they were sent down here to foil. Which was good news. Only one group of radicals to deal with.

Three o'clock came and Marley found another suspicious farmer with a back pack hanging around the gunsmith's shop. It was dealt with like the others and was determined to be modeling clay as well. The cats got more and more nervous with each dummy bomb found. Were they a test or a distraction? Either way the next could be real.

At half past four, Phoebe rounded the armory and found an abandoned back pack. No human in sight so she called it in. The bomb guys came and she left, to get out of the range of fire should it go up. It was policy that only those needed to deal with the bomb stayed in range. So she quickly went to join the other cats in the end of the day march to the Revolution. Costumed workers playing the part of the Virginia Army recruiting militia members were teaching tourist volunteers to march in formation. Then with the fife and drum corps leading the way lead the volunteers to the parade grounds before Governor's palace. In the week the cats had been there, they had taken to forming a line behind the volunteers and before the Army. Everyone thought it cute that the local cats got in on the parade so they kept doing it.

The parade reached the green and the volunteers were dismissed behind the ropes and the cats left with them. The marching and musket firing drills proceeded as normal. Then they got to the canon drill. The canon fired, but with a louder BOOM than normal.

“That one was real,” Bobby's voice came over the radio again. “The noise was the detonater being exploded in place.”

“So we can see if we can see who set it,” Beru surmised.

“Exactly,” said Tucker over the radio. “Anyone react different then the others?”

“I think I see a guy who keeps looking over at the armory,” Phoebe said. “Everyone else is cheering the end of the demo.”

“Go get that guy,” commanded Tucker.

The cats circled the guy. He was still looking at the armory and not paying attention to the cats. The five felines circled him and at the same time pounced. The combined weight of two Maine Coons, a Norwegian Forest Cat and two others toppled the man. Each cat took a different area on his body and dug their claws in. Dale radioed it in. Tucker arrived in minutes and arrested the man.

The cats' job being done, the retired to the outdoor seating area of the Raleigh Tavern for supper. The management of the Foundation had been informed who the cats were and what they had done to save the place so the cats were fed like the heroes they were. Big bowls of fresh from the cow cream, huge plates of meat, and finally cat mint custard for desert were laid out before the felines and they dined know their job had been done and done well.