Free The Third Adventure by Gordon Korman

Doberman, curled up on a small braided rug, still dead to the world.
    â€œThis is it,” Griffin whispered. “Logan — get into position.”
    The young actor retreated to the wooden cellar doors and climbed back to the weeds and mud of the yard. There, he reclaimed the rickety wagon they’d found on the property and pulled it around to the front walk, wincing at the squeak of the rusty wheels. If the plan was successful, the rest of the team would be coming out the door with Luthor in less than a minute.
    Inside the house, Griffin, Ben, Savannah, Pitch, and Melissa stepped up to floor level, and crept silently across the parlor. Operation Hideout had reached its most delicate moment. It only remained to grab the dog and spirit him out to the waiting wagon. The trick was to do this just a few feet away from two sleeping enemies.
    They arranged themselves around Luthor — two on each flank, and Savannah at the dog’s large head. Griffin mouthed the command without uttering a sound:
One, two, three — now!
    The original lift almost scuttled the plan. Luthor was a load, his muscular bulk awkward and unevenly distributed. The first few steps toward the exit were less silent than Griffin had hoped for, but Swindle and his associate slumbered on.
    And then fate took a hand. Melissa’s phone, which had gotten them so far, issued a low-battery warning in the form of three staccato beeps and a warble.
    Palomino and Hiller sat bolt upright and took in the scene with twin gasps of shock and rage. Dragged down by one hundred fifty pounds of tranquilized dog, the team could only watch in dismay as the two men overtook them. Hiller got there first, grabbing the nearest arm.
    It was Ben’s, and the action drew Ferret Face out of his cocoon. Squeaking with anger, the little creature went on the attack, leaping onto the man’s ankle and digging needle-like claws into his already injured leg. With a howl of protest, Hiller snatched up his cane and golfed the little ferret across the room.
    Ben saw red. “Ferret Face!” He let go of Luthor and hurled himself onto Hiller, knocking the man flat on his back.
    With Ben no longer holding his end up, the others dropped the Doberman. Frantically, Savannah scrambled to pick him up all by herself — an impossible task.
    Swindle brushed her away. “He’s not your dog — he’s mine!”
    Wild with fear for her beloved Luthor, Savannah pounded her fists against Palomino’s chest. It took Griffin and Pitch to pull her away. Melissa yanked Ben to his feet, and the five backed toward the door.
    â€œI’m not leaving without Luthor!” Savannah shrilled.
    â€œWe can’t help him now —” Griffin tried to explain, but the girl’s crazed struggles made it impossible for him to communicate that their only option was to retreat and regroup.
    It took all the team members to get the door open and drag her out.
    Logan and his wagon were right there. “Where’s Luthor?” he demanded, bewildered.
    The cottage door was slammed and locked in their faces.
    The chaos rang through the quiet countryside.
    â€œFerret Face is still in there!” Ben shouted.
    â€œHe can look after himself,” Griffin promised, hoping it was the truth.
    Savannah was wailing now, shaking loose of her friends and barreling headlong back to the door, ready to break it down if need be.
“Luthor! Sweetie!”
    Inside, the atmosphere was not much calmer. Palomino and Hiller were chasing Ferret Face around the small house, and not very successfully. The little creature darted from mantel to bookcase, scooting through their legs and under the furniture. Savannah’s screaming and banging on the door echoed in the enclosed space.
    â€œWe’ve got to shut her up before somebody calls the cops!” Hiller panted.
    Swindle made an unathletic leap for the furry gray tail. The ferret wriggled out of his grasp, lunged