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pricked up at this piece of news. “New York?” she said. “Wait until Julius hears about this. Your trip might come in handy.”
    â€œHandy?” snapped D. B. “Didn’t you hear me? We have to go with Jordan and Tank. ”
    Ignoring her, Glory leaped gracefully off Oz’s shoe. “The thing is, Dupont has learned to read.”
    â€œWhat?!” cried Oz and D. B. together, leaning toward their tiny friend so fast that they collided. They sat back, gingerly rubbing their foreheads.
    Glory nodded. “Bunsen and I caught him in the act a few hours ago at the Library of Congress.”
    Oz and D. B. exchanged a glance. This was not good. Not good at all. They could imagine only too well what a thug like Dupont could do once he got his ugly snout into a book or two. Knowledge was power, and the last thing the mice needed was for the rats to gain more power than they already had.
    â€œIt gets worse, kids, believe it or not,” Glory continued soberly. “We got word this morning that just about every rat who is anybody in the rat world is heading for New York even as we speak.”
    â€œHow?” asked Oz.
    â€œStowed away on international flights,” Gloryexplained. “Rats say they don’t have much use for humans, but they sure love eating human food and they sure love using human transportation. You should see the underside of the Metro trains at rush hour. They look like fur coats on wheels.”
    â€œSo what are you going to do?”
    Glory shrugged. “We don’t know yet. I’m heading up a team to gather intelligence in New York. Once we know what the rats are planning, we’ll report back, and Julius will decide the plan from there. Meanwhile, I’ve been asked to recruit you two for a supply mission. Bunsen needs a few things.”
    Oz reached into his pocket and pulled out the small gold button that he kept with him at all times. Julius had presented it to him just a few weeks ago, when he’d made him and D. B. honorary Spy Mice Agency field agents. Glued to the back was a tiny safety pin; on the front, a pair of skillful paws had etched the Spy Mice Agency logo—the profile of a mouse wearing dark glasses.
    Once again, Oz thought, Glory’s problems far outweighed his. As annoying as Jordan and Tank were, they were hardly lethal. Glory’s world could collapse if Roquefort Dupont and the rest of the world’s rats harnessed the power of the written word. Oz squinted at the tiny line of script that circled the button’s rim. He needed a magnifying glass to read it properly, but he’d already learned it by heart: “The noblest motive is thepublic good.” The Spy Mice Agency motto, written by some old poet named Virgil.
    â€œMission accepted,” Oz said solemnly, pinning the button to his lapel. “Agent Double-O-Levinson reporting for duty.”
    Beside him, D. B. put her button on too. “The only thing is,” she added, “we leave for New York in a few hours.”
    â€œSo do we,” Glory replied.
    â€œWe’ll have to move fast,” said Oz. He placed his hand on the floor, palm up.
    Glory shouldered her mitten-thumb backpack and climbed aboard. She looked up at the two children and grinned. “Well then, what are we waiting for?”

CHAPTER 6
    DAY ONE • TUESDAY • 1345 HOURS
    Oz was bulging with mice.
    D. B. had had to bow out of the afternoon’s mission. Her dad had arrived early to pick her up, and she’d gone home to pack. That left Oz to ferry Glory and her team upstairs all by himself.
    â€œHey, shove over, would you?” squeaked Tulip—who preferred to be known as Lip—to Romeo, as the two Steel Acorns jostled for more room.
    Oz’s colleagues had distributed themselves throughout his clothing: Glory and Bunsen were hidden in the pocket of his polo shirt, B-Nut and his rock band were in his pants pockets, and Julius was crouched