For Your Paws Only Read Online Free PDF

continued hisboss, a crafty look settling over his hideous face. “Those wretched small-paws have a weak spot, you see. Just like that big human we saw in the movie—you know, that one in the cape and tights?”
    â€œSpider-Man?” Scurvy ventured.
    â€œNot him, you idiot!” screeched Dupont. “The other one!”
    Gnaw pulled his tail out of his mouth again. “Uh, Superman?”
    â€œThat’s the one! Just like Superman. Kryptonite was his weakness. The short-tails have a weakness, too: words. If we can read, we can find out what makes them tick. Spy on their mouse plans, learn their mouse ways. And when we do? Well, you know what I always say.” Dupont’s thin lips peeled back in a cruel smile. “The only good mouse is a dead mouse. And the only world good enough for rats is a mouse-free world!”
    Dupont nodded to himself in satisfaction at this thought. “That Goldenleaf brat and the rest of her kind thought the Black Paw was bad. Wait until they get a taste of what I’ve got in store for them now.” He thumped his chest again. “Me! Roquefort Dupont!”
    There was a sharp creak as the door to the Reading Room opened. Dupont snapped his head around. “Quick,” he ordered. “Out of sight. No time to be tangling with humans. We’ve got a train to catch.”
    And the trio of rats slunk off into the shadows.

CHAPTER 5
    DAY ONE • TUESDAY • 1300 HOURS
    â€œHey, Oz.”
    â€œHey, Herbie,” Oz replied, waving at the Spy Museum security guard. D. B. waved, too.
    â€œYou kids are here earlier than usual,” Herbie noted. Oz and D. B. were a familiar sight at the museum. They hung out there nearly every afternoon after school, messing around in the exhibits, doing homework in the café, and waiting for Oz’s dad to finish work. The security guard frowned. “Not cutting classes, are you?”
    â€œNope,” said Oz. “We got out early. D. B. and I won a trip to New York.”
    â€œWow!” said Herbie. “Hope you have fun.”
    â€œFat chance,” muttered D. B. to herself, following Oz as he cut through the lobby and headed for the hallway behind the Spy City Café. “Where are you going?” she called.
    â€œDead drop,” Oz replied.
    D. B. looked surprised. “Why bother? Glory can’t help us this time, Oz. We’re on our own. We’re going to stupid New York, remember?”
    â€œI don’t care,” Oz said stubbornly. “I’m going to leave her a note.”
    He ducked down beneath the open grillwork of the hallway’s metal staircase and crouched in the shadows. The dead drop, located under the bottom tread, was the place where he and D. B. and their friends from the Spy Mice Agency left messages for each other. Oz pulled a scrap of paper and a pencil from his pocket and began scribbling. D. B. peered over his shoulder.
    â€œWhat are you going to tell her?”
    â€œThat we need help,” said Oz. “That unless we come up with a plan, we are nothing but shark bait.”
    He fished for the small roll of tape he’d stashed in the shadows and secured his note to the underside of the bottom step. He’d just finished when he heard a sound from the vicinity of his shoes. A very tiny sound, like somebody scraping a pinkie nail on a piece of sandpaper. Or like a mouse clearing her throat.
    â€œGlory!” he cried in surprise, looking down to see his friend perched on the toe of his sneaker. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œLooking for you two,” Glory replied. “I was going to send you an e-mail, but this must be my lucky day. Something’s up, kids—something big. We need your help.”
    â€œYou think you need our help!” blurted D. B. “Oz’s father entered us in some stupid contest, and tonight we have to go to stupid New York with stupid Jordan and Tank!”
    Glory’s ears