Sly Cooper and the Gang in…The Vigilante Police

Chapter 7: The Charm of Seduction

As crazy as the idea still seemed to Dimitri, the four thieves returned to Paris. They did not do so, however, without taking as many precautions as possible. Much to Murray's dismay, Bentley point-blank refused to return in the team van.

"It's too conspicuous, Murray!" he said. "It's not like the cops will just try to arrest us when they see us. They're going to be shooting to kill! We can't expose ourselves so blatantly!"

"If them coppers even try to pop a cap in me, I'll expose something blatantly―"

"Oh, shut up," Penelope said, slapping Dimitri on the arm. He looked more amused than pained.

"But Bentley, what if someone finds my baby and hurts her?" Bentley kept himself from rolling his eyes. He was not surprised that Murray was so attached to the van, but found his sentimentalities to be quite melodramatic at the moment.

"Murray, we are going to hide the van in the same place we slept last night. And if somebody else tries to steal it, an alarm is set to go off on my laptop. I will also install a remote-control mechanism so that I can pilot the van from my computer, if worse comes to worse. Your van is perfectly safe, I assure you." Murray paused, scratching his head, trying to think of an objection to this proposition, but he found none.

"Thank you, Bentley," he said, emotion prevalent in his shaky voice.

"It's quite all right, Murray," Bentley said, patting him on the arm.

The van was now well out of sight in the middle of a grove, which was so well hidden in the trees that even Murray was satisfied. Of course, now they needed another vehicle, and Bentley also insisted that they wear disguises. Fortunately, the van carried some of their own disguises from years past. Before too long, Bentley was a retired baseball player, Murray was a punk, Penelope posed as an esteemed businesswoman, and Dimitri appeared to be the worst kind of tourist.

"This shirt got tight on me, what?" he said, stretching the fabric to see how much room was spared. "Shrinkage in the wash, I'm sure."

"No," Penelope said, "I think you're just getting fatter." Dimitri looked affronted, but the rest of them laughed and he soon joined in.

"You got yourself one sassy pair of lips since last we rumbled together!" he said. "It gets me hot with le passion!"

"Cool it, stud," Bentley said. "She's with me."

"Hey, I can dream," Dimitri mumbled.

The disguise situation now cleared up, the gang just needed a car to replace their van. Their only candidate was a mini-van, as one of its seats would have to be removed so Bentley would have space for his wheelchair. They scanned the roadways, and the first candidate they found was plain enough for Bentley's liking. It was an ordinary navy blue, and the license plate was a random arrangement of letters and numbers. Murray and Dimitri stopped the car―Murray looked especially intimidating with the studs on his gloves and the false piercings―and the owner was soon relieved of his vehicle. Murray removed one of the seats in the back of the van and threw it unceremoniously into an alleyway. He then lifted Bentley into the vacated space, and the other three quickly boarded the vehicle. Murray drove off, knowing the police would not be far behind, as the vehicle's rightful owner was talking manically on his cell phone.

Thankfully, they left the small town without incident, and they were driving south back to Paris. It was now mid-afternoon on a Sunday, so they met very little traffic. On the car ride they discussed their next move.

"We need a safe house," Bentley said, "and it can't be the warehouse we were staying in before. It would be foolish to return there."

"Understood," Murray said. "Should I just drive around until we find one?" Bentley sighed.

"I guess. There's really no other way…" Murray nodded and Bentley moved on to more pressing matters.

"How are we going to infiltrate Interpol?" he asked.

"Bentley, honey, are you sure we should be risking that?" Penelope asked.

"The longer we wait, the more time Interpol has to find us and kill us. We need to strike as soon as possible."

"Turtle-Dude, you shoulda seen the security around that place. It's tighter than the tightest woman I've ever laid! You want to penetrate that place, you'll need to get good and lubricated, if you know what I mean." Dimitri gave such an exaggerated wink to Penelope that she chortled in spite of herself.

"Innuendo notwithstanding," Bentley said, forcing himself not to smile as well, "I'll need more specifics before we can commence with a plan of attack."

"Oh, if it's specifics you want, I gots the goods. She was the most beautiful bunny rabbit, about twenty years old, and she had these tits like you wouldn't believe but that was nothing compared to her―"

"I meant specifics about Interpol!" Bentley yelled as Penelope was laughing again.

"My sincerest apologies," Dimitri crooned with that sultry accent, but ruined the effect by winking again at Penelope. She was now blushing furiously as she tried to stifle her laughter. "Interpol's got all the juice! Cameras, keycard access, codes, patrols, you name it! You even try to touch that place without a badge, you're arrested on the spot, or whacked, in our case."

"I see," Bentley said. "That's the information I wanted to hear. Now, before we make any plans to infiltrate their headquarters, we'll need to perform a little reconnaissance to make sure we know exactly what to expect. Our best recon man, sadly, is not with us. One of us will have to do the job in his stead.

"I refuse to send you out into the field alone, Penelope. Murray, quite frankly, you're a big target and you aren't that light on your feet. I am not able to access the best vantage points in this wheelchair. So, the only decent candidate for this mission is…"

"Moi! Fear not, Turtle-Dude, for I shall not fail you! I slinks through the narrowest alleyways and hide in the darkest shadows!"

"Believe me, Dimitri, I wish I could share your confidence. But Sly was able to tail you easily three years ago, and that was when you were flanked by an army of guards." Dimitri looked like he had just been punched. Murray laughed.

"Well…" Dimitri said, "I shall show the improvement! Whatever it takes to bring back le Cooper! I shall overturn no stone, or leave all stones unturned…something like that."

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Bentley said, more to reassure himself than Dimitri.

Sly and Carmelita had been on the run for four days. It was now Sunday the 9th, and the two of them, dressed like tourists, were tanning on Venice Beach. They had arrived by plane the day before (using fake names, of course) and they were staying at a nearby hotel.

Sly had to admit that it was as good a hiding place as any. Carmelita had never made a prolonged trip to the United States ("I may have stopped by once or twice for an arrest," she had said to Sly), and Sly could not remember ever being in the country at all. Carmelita had kept mum about his excursion of Mesa City, which Sly seemed not to have noticed. Nevertheless, she had decided against going to Utah at all costs.

America's police were not getting along too well with Interpol, so they had decided this was the best place to be at the moment. The weather was also pleasant, so Sly had found no reason to complain. If anything, he was enjoying himself.

Lying on the beach, tanning in the bright sun, they felt worlds away from their problems at Interpol. Needless to say, they had both been terminated from the police department, so they were missing no obligations to stay here. They simply allowed themselves to relax in the sun.

Carmelita was wearing a blue bathing suit and large sunglasses. The straps of her top were resting near her elbows, as she wanted to avoid a tan line. This was foolish, as it was impossible to tan with so much fur, but Sly had found no reason to object. Sly, who of course normally wore no pants, was lying in the sun without any clothing. It felt a bit odd, almost as if he was supposed to be lying with Carmelita in a private bed, not in the middle of a crowded beach. However, no one heeded him any mind.

They had been in the beach for a while now, and Carmelita rose and moved the straps back onto her shoulders. A few of the guys around her seemed disappointed, but she did not notice any of them. Sly gave them all vindictive glares.

"It's getting pretty hot out here," Carmelita said casually. Sly could have sworn an alligator next to him say "Yeah, it is," but he knew it was best not to make a scene.

"I know what you mean. Back to the air-conditioned hotel room, then?"

Carmelita smiled wickedly, knowing exactly what Sly was implying. "Sure, why not?" And as they left the beach, Sly made a deliberate point to take Carmelita's hand in his own.

When they reached the hotel room, it was to find that the sheets had been changed. Sly smiled, remembering exactly what had happened to the sheets the night before. He was looking forward to a repeat performance. Carmelita shut and locked the door behind them, kissed Sly so tantalizingly that he nearly through her onto the bed and took her, and then broke away.

"Let me change into something more appropriate," she said, taking her suitcase with her into the bathroom, leaving Sly to wonder what could be more appropriate than that scandalous two-piece swimsuit. He lied down on the bed in an attempt to relax, but his stomach was squirming anxiously.

He had to admit that away from all the stresses of daily work as a police officer, especially away from the death threats and the attempts on his life, sex with Carmelita the night before had been the best he'd ever had. He was not sure whether to tell her this, as it implied that she had been less than satisfying every time beforehand, though this was far from the truth.

He was just imagining what Carmelita could be wearing when she stepped out of the bathroom, and his mouth fell open. She was wearing a blue, semi-transparent negligee that clung tightly to her skin, and from what Sly could tell she was wearing nothing underneath it. Carmelita smiled lasciviously, and Sly had to admit she was very good at alluring him. Her saunter seemed completely natural, her eyes touched with the charm of seduction. Sly could almost feel his blood flowing where it needed to be.

"Do you like it?" Carmelita asked. The question was completely pointless but Sly followed along.

"Is blue your favorite color?" he asked in an off-hand manner.

"Not particularly," Carmelita said, "but I know it's yours…" Carmelita was now crawling towards him on the bed. The low neckline of the negligee made her cleavage most visible, but Sly pretended not to notice.

"You know," he said, "this is a nice gesture and all, but I'm just not in the mood right now."

"Sly, that only worked the first time you tried it," Carmelita said, "but I can tell your body is saying otherwise." Sly looked down and laughed. A certain appendage was indeed giving him away.

"Fine," he said, trying to sound reluctant, but he was smiling. Soon they were rolling across the bed, embracing passionately, kissing furiously, the negligee lying forgotten on the hotel floor.

Dimitri was now lurking in the Paris streets, headed for the teal waypoint visible through his Binocucom. Contrary to Bentley's fears, he was taking the mission very seriously. Bentley had expected him to show off by slinking erratically, shifting suddenly to place his back against the wall, turning what was supposed to be a covert mission into a display of lewd theatrics. Dimitri, however, did no such thing. He was poised, focused, almost feverish, and the others were at a loss to why.

Even more surprising was that when Dimitri was on his game, he was good. He avoided the patrols outside of Interpol with relative ease, and as he slinked around the building's perimeter, he took pictures of anything that could be interesting. Bentley had asked for secret entrances, guard profiles, and apparent weaknesses in security. Dimitri delivered, taking pictures of ventilation shafts and weak points in the building's infrastructure; officers who were patrolling, smoking their cigars; and even areas where security seemed to be a bit lax. Bentley did not hide how impressed he was.

"Hey man," Dimitri said as he was returning to the safe house, "keep in mind I had a whole money-laundry operation down in the pits."

"I think the word you're searching for is 'money-laundering'," Bentley said.

"Whatev," Dimitri said, then suddenly he was tackled out of nowhere by a cop.

"Gah! Get yo' fucking hands off me, you fucking sausage!" Dimtiri shouted. Bentley instantly shut off the feed to Dimitri's Binocucom. He looked at the other gang members, horrified.

"You don't think he's…?" Murray said.

"I don't know…" Bentley said. Without another word, Murray rose and left the safe house, which was actually an abandoned apartment complex.

"Murray, wait!" Bentley cried, but he was already gone.

Bentley and Penelope waited anxiously for word from Murray. The seconds ticked by slowly, and there was no call from Murray's Binocucom. Bentley stared at his hands, trying to absorb every detail of his fingers. Penelope kept looking around the room, checking her wristwatch frantically, as if expecting a call at a certain time.

As the minutes wore on, Bentley and Penelope became more and more panicked. Dimitri hadn't been that far when he was attacked. What could be taking Murray so long? Had he been attacked too? This question burned hottest in their minds, and the possibility that Murray had been captured soon became more and more real.

After ten minutes of this self-induced agony, Bentley conceded, making to leave just as Murray had done. Penelope stopped him.

"I have to find Murray," Bentley said. "Get out of the way."

"I can't let you go out there! If you get captured, I don't know what I will do."

"If Murray gets captured, I don't know what I will do."

"Please, Bentley, if anything happens to him we'll find out eventually. I don't want you risking your neck. If you get captured I'll be the only one left and there's no way I'll be able to break into Interpol by myself and then all hope for bringing Sly home is lost." Bentley let those words sink in and realized that Penelope was right. He was about to return to his laptop when he heard puffing outside. He opened the door and let Murray in.

"Jesus, that was close," he said, alarming Bentley.

"Murray, just what the hell happened?"

"Dimitri got attacked. By a cop," said Murray through gasping breath, "He's okay, though. They didn't kill him. Brought him into the station. I was going to follow, but I accidentally stepped on some litter. The guy who had Dimitri turned and I bolted. I don't think he recognized me; he knew Dimitri because of the Binocucom. He was holding onto it." Bentley was relieved at these words; he now knew that Dimitri was okay. However, this presented far more challenges than initially planned.

"Well, it looks like now we have two objectives: find out what's going on with Sly and rescue Dimitri from Interpol. I just hope Dimitri doesn't give us away."

"What do you mean?" Murray asked.

"I mean that's the only reason he wasn't killed on the spot, right? They'll want to know where the rest of us are. I just hope he keeps a cool head." And as Bentley said that, the three thieves sighed, for they all knew that Dimitri was the last person they would depend on to keep a cool head.

Sly and Carmelita were panting, lying adjacent on the bed, holding hands and smiling in bliss. That romp had been incredible, even better than the night before. Sly turned to Carmelita and said playfully, "Good thing we're incompatible, right?" Since they were two different species of animal, there was no chance of impregnating Carmelita.

Suddenly, Carmelita turned away and said sadly, "I know." Sly turned next to her and wrapped an arm around her side.

"What's the matter?" he asked, kissing her neck.

"It's…" she said, stalling, because she wasn't sure what she wanted to say. "It's just, I'm still worried that Interpol will find you. You know how ruthless they are, Sly. They're the best in the business. How long can we keep running from them?"

"Don't underestimate our abilities," Sly said. "We've both worked for Interpol, you for a long time. We know their weaknesses. For example, they can't come here without permission from the US government, and we know the US doesn't trust them. That's why we chose to come here."

"But Sly, what about the police here?" Carmelita asked.

"We haven't done anything wrong here, have we? They can't arrest us without a warrant, and we're keeping our muzzles clean, as you know. And they won't validate an Interpol warrant," he added before Carmelita could object. "You know they don't trust them." It felt weird to refer to Interpol as "them," Sly realized. It must have felt even weirder for Carmelita to hear.

"Okay, Sly," she said, "I trust you." And as Sly kissed her again, she let herself go, losing herself in his arms, as if he was the safest refuge in the world. And Sly kissed her back, offering her his comfort, making her feel more secure than she had felt in a long time. And as the kiss continued, Sly felt moisture trickling down his chest that could only be Carmelita's tears.

Dimitri was, once again, inside a small, dingy metal cage. He had been held once before by Interpol, arrested without warning while trying to teach ballroom dancing to people on a cruise ship. Interpol had initially released him for good behavior, but they had been working undercover on the cruise ship based on an anonymous tip. They had arrested Dimitri the same day after finding crack in his room. They had taken him in even as Dimitri had sworn the crack belonged to a friend.

Now, Dimitri knew he was here to answer questions about the Cooper Gang. But if he wanted his chance, his chance to find Sly once more, he knew he would have to persevere no matter what amounts of torture he would have to endure. It was obvious Interpol was working above the law. They had thrown him into the cell hours ago, with no regard to his physical well-being, and shut him in without food or water, even though he had complained of hunger and thirst.

Now, however, a burly officer unlocked the cage, walked in, and shut the door behind him. He was a rhinoceros with a large horn positioned on his snout and a ruthless expression on his face. Dimitri tried to keep his composure, but he quaked at the officer's size, and trembled when he saw that he was carrying a Taser.

"They tell me you're not the brightest bloke," he said, and Dimitri was taken aback by the staunch British accent, "but I know better. You ran that money-laundering operation here three years ago. You're no git. So, you'll soon realize that unless you tell me everything you know about the Cooper Gang's whereabouts, I'm going to shock you so violently that you'll be left twitching like a blighter for a month. Is that clear?" Dimitri nodded, unwilling to goad the officer any more than he had to.

"Where's the Cooper Gang?" the officer asked bluntly.

"I don't know," Dimitri said, and the officer shocked him, briefly enough to keep Dimitri conscious but long enough to impress upon him the pain. When Dimitri's body went limp, the officer spoke.

"Don't take me for a git, Dimitri. You were carrying a Binocucom when my boy in the field arrested you. That's trademark Cooper Gang technology. You're obviously in contact with at least one of the members of the Cooper Gang! Now, tell me! Who were you contacting?"

"W…wouldn't you like to know?" Dimitri said, and the officer shocked him harder, longer, and Dimitri started to cry in pain, but he knew that he would not break. His life, his freedom, and his revenge depended on it.