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“Right,” Jerome sighed, flipping the empty sardine container toward the trash can. (It missed.) “No point in wasting more time here.” He stretched and headed off to the kitchen. “I’ll be hanging at Chad’s place until you get that map. He’s going to be crushed that I’m leaving.”

Jerome climbed up onto the counter and paused.“You know, those pipes run both ways. You ever want to pull a prank like that again, I’m your octopus. You got it?”

“Got it,” Walt said solemnly.

Jerome waved a tentacle at each of them like he was doing a fancy interpretive dance and then disappeared down the drain.

Oscar looked at Walt nervously.“I just hope you’re right about that map.”

Walt’s whisker twitched. “I hope so too.”

They were not right about the map. Walt had been searching for the past ten minutes with no luck. And Mrs. Food wouldn’t be gone much longer.

“Well?” Oscar said, tapping his feet impatiently.

“Anything?” Butterbean asked, her nose trembling.

Walt shook her head.“Nothing.” The city waterworks website seemed to be woefully inadequate.

“This is ridiculous,” Oscar said bitterly. “Why is there no easily accessible map? What about regular citizens who need to know how to get somewhere by pipe? What about them?”

“Yeah, what about them?” Butterbean echoed. She had a feeling there wasn’t much demand for pipe maps in human circles, but she wanted to be supportive.

Walt kept typing.“The public site just doesn’t have the plans, and the section with the documents is password protected,” Walt explained. “Very securely password protected. I can’t even see what’s there.”

“I wish he could just go back the way he got here!” Polo complained. “That would be so much easier!”

“Yes, well, we all do,” Oscar said. “But that’s obviously not an option.”

They all stared at the computer screen for a long minute.

“Why don’t you hack it?” Marco finally called from the doorway. He was officially the lookout, but he kept getting distracted. Whatever was happening with the computer sounded a lot more interesting than watching an empty living room. “You know, the computer. Hack it up.”

“Yes! Let’s hack it up!” Butterbean said. “That sounds like fun!”

“Ooh good idea, I’ll hack it,” Walt said sarcastically.

Marco looked wounded. It didn’t sound like Walt was being serious. “Maybe just a couple of hacks?”

Walt slumped a little.“I’m sorry. I tried hacking. I can’t crack it. The website has a two-part authentication system, and I don’t have a security fob.”

“Yeah. Wow,” Marco said. “That stinks.” He didn’t have any idea what any of that meant.

“Can you get one?” Polo asked. She wasn’t sure what a security fob was, but how hard could it be?

Pretty hard, apparently.

“Doubtful. I’m not a city employee, and they’re the only ones who get them. Is there anyone in this building who has one, Butterbean? I’m sure Chad would be able to ‘borrow’ it for us.” She didn’t even bother to make the air quotes. They all knew what it meant when Chad borrowed things.

Butterbean sat down and stared at the ceiling while she went through her mental list of the residents of the building. Her lips moved while she thought. Finally, she made a face.“I don’t think so.”

“High Heel Woman? Spicy Food Couple? Mrs. Hates Dogs?” Oscar said. Surely there was someone.

“No. Sorry,” Butterbean said.

“Man Who Smokes Cigars?” Walt said. “None of them?”

Butterbean shook her head.“High Heel Woman works in a store, I think, cosmetics section. Man Who Smokes Cigars is a bank guy. Mrs. Hates Dogs is retired, and Spicy Food Couple does something on the internet. A food blob? Something like that. The only office person I remember smelling was Man Who Smelled Like Onions, but he’s gone.”

“And there isn’t any other way to get the plans?” Oscar asked Walt.

“There’s one other way,” Walt said slowly. “We could fill out a request form. Then they’d send them to us.”

“Oh!” Butterbean said. “Let’s do that, then!”

Walt shook her head.“It wouldn’t work.”

“Will they send them in the mail? Is that the problem?” Oscar wasn’t willing to give up. “I know tampering with the mail is a federal crime, but we’ve never let that stop us before, right? We can certainly find a way to intercept the plans before Mrs. Food sees them.” They’d planned aheist. Surely it wouldn’t be that hard to steal a letter.

“That’s not it,” Walt explained. “It takes four to six weeks. Processing.”

“Oh.” Butterbean sat down hard. Oscar’s feathers drooped.

Four to six weeks was a long time. Four to six weeks of Jerome was even longer.

“We’ll find another way,” Oscar said. They’d have to.

When Mrs. Food and Madison got back, they found the animals lying lethargically around the living room. No matter how much brainstorming the animals had done, they hadn’t been able to find another way.