Chapter 9 - THE FELINE DEFECTION
The strike team reached the base of the stairs, hidden in the shadows of the hallway. Barnaby had indeed performed his duties—the baby gate was ajar, swinging slightly in the draft. However, the path was not as clear as they had hoped.
Buster, the golden retriever, let out a soft snore, his tail thumping against the floor.
"We need a distraction for the beast," Leo whispered, peering around the corner of the hallway. "If we trip over him, he’ll bark and the game is over."
Maya observed the situation with the calm of a veteran scout. "The beast responds only to the sound of the 'Walk' command. If I can mimic the sound of the leash rattling against the wall, he'll run to the front door, leaving the kitchen undefended."
She began to scratch her fingernails against the wall, creating a rhythmic, metallic scraping sound. Buster’s head snapped up. He looked at the front door, then at the kitchen, then back at the door. With a hopeful yip, he trotted toward the front entrance, abandoning his post.
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"Go!" Maya hissed.
They scrambled into the kitchen, their little feet silent on the tiles. They reached the pantry. It was done. They were at the goal.
