Free How To Tail a Cat by Rebecca M. Hale Page A

Academy’s upstairs level. The floor above had been a light, airy place with high ceilings, numerous open water features, and an abundance of live plants.
    In contrast, the aquarium’s underground domain was a dark, cavelike theater, a network of narrow passageways with blanketed walls that absorbed all sound, dampening even the most excited of young voices to a hushed murmur.
    Tanks lit by strategically placed track lighting featured a dazzling array of exotic sea life. Delicate creatures with intricate spines and elaborately painted fins inhabited alien landscapes. Black velveteen backdrops behind each display further enhanced the illusion of an underwater grotto with an endless supply of nooks and crannies to explore.
    After a quick study of the exhibit map, Sam stood up from the ribbon eels display and set off down the nearest hallway.
    Somewhere within this dank labyrinth, he knew, was the viewing station for the lowest level of Clive’s Swamp Exhibit.
    • • •
    HALFWAY TO HIS destination, Sam caught a glimpse of Dr. Kline’s blond-headed blur passing to his right.
    “Oops,” he whispered guiltily.
    Pulse racing, he ducked behind the closest available cover: a wide partition wall at the junction of two narrow hallways. A pair of oval-shaped reliefs hung on the nonstructural wall, the large ceramic discs depicting the heads and shoulders of the aquarium’s original benefactors, Bavarian brothers Ignatz and Sigmund Steinhart.
    Sam hunched behind one side of the display while Dr. Kline circled the other. Holding his breath, he watched the blond halo of her reflection in an enormous glass tank on an angled wall a few feet away.
    When at last she trotted off down another corridor, he was once more on the move.
    • • •
    A FEW MINUTES later, Sam entered a glass-roofed tunnel that provided a view through the bottom of the aquarium’s largest water exhibit. Craning his neck, he glanced up at the passing undersides of several large tarpon.
    “Whoa,” he murmured as the layers of streaming fish parted to give him a glimpse of the tropical rain forest that spanned several stories above the tank.
    But a flash of white at the far end of the tunnel soon captured his attention. He rushed through the remaining glass-roofed passage and hurried over to the basement level of Clive’s Swamp Exhibit.
    • • •
    THE LOWER VIEWING station provided a window into the submerged portion of the alligator’s tank. From this position, Sam could see the moss-covered pilings that Clive used to heave his long body up onto his heated rock. The nearest supporting post was missing a large, triangular-shaped chunk from its side, as if Clive or one of his alligator predecessors had taken a huge bite from the wood.
    Sam watched as one of the turtles sank to the exhibit’s sandy bottom. The creature’s bony head, nearly indistinguishable from its boulderlike shell, turned toward the crowds looking into the tank. The turtle’s face was expressionless, the eyes those of a living fossil.
    As the turtle came to rest on the tank’s floor, a plump catfish curled past the foot of the pier and sneaked into the shadows beneath. Its long, tubular whiskers trailed across the sandy bottom, causing small puffs of debris to float up in its wake.
    Slowly taking in every detail, Sam raised his eyes toward the upper portion of the glass window. The alligator had apparently decided to take a short break from his rock. His albino body now floated just below the water’s surface, all but the tip of his nose submerged. His front and rear legs hung limply, passively, while his thick tail drooped downward.
    “Just hang tight, Clive,” Sam said as his eyes focused on a service door on the lower side of the tank. “We’ve got a plan.”
    • • •
    AS SAM CONTINUED to study the service door’s details, Dr. Kline’s exasperated voice sharply pierced his eardrums.
    “Sam! Where have you been?”
    Wincing, he turned to find the blond-headed