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A cat stretched out languidly on the windowsill of Don Ciciccio’s office, the sun shining in leaving a pleasant warmth across his hairless body. Life had changed quite dramatically for Bast since the death of the comptroller. He now had a large house in Manhattan, not too far off a mansion in size, as well as a warehouse on the side of the building to roam in, rather than the one bedroom studio apartment in Brooklyn. He missed his gym buddy, but the Don was a good owner, always willing to give a scratch on the head or an extra treat.
A wail came from outside, Bast’s ears pricking up, but he made no effort to move. He had been there merely three days, but already knew Wailing Robbie’s proclivity for pranks. And, as expected, Robbie burst back in the room, laughing an apology at the Don. Bast just sniffed and stretched out further in the sun. He never could understand men’s love for being loud and rambunctious.
Another wail came. Followed by another round of laughter between the two men. Perhaps, thought Bast, the Don’s office wasn’t the best place to get some sleep. Perhaps he should move and find another sill on which to soak up the afternoon sun.
As Robbie made his third exit from the room in a matter of minutes, Bast slowly stood up stretching his back into an arch and yawning. He sat down and cocked his head, listening for the wailing that should have been coming from outside. Across the room, Don Ciciccio looked just as concerned, calling out for his bodyguard and friend.
The feline jumped down from the windowsill and crossed the room, stopping just short of the Don, and let out a small “Prr-meow”. The Don looked down, surprised, as if he had forgotten Bast was in the room. He gave a quick smile before turning back to the door with anticipation.
A wail came, but not from Robbie. Bast hissed and dashed under the desk, back arched, tail curled underneath, and ears right back, as a young man stood in the doorway, arm stretched out in front of him. The man had a wild look in his eyes and a loudness that made Bast push himself further into the corner even as the Don calmly approached and offered a seat.
The setting sun, in which Bast only minutes earlier had been bathing in, was now shining across the room, making it glow golden. A flicker of light in the corner of his eye caught the feline’s attention. Bast looked around, unfolding slowly from the corner he had curled into, and caught sight of what was glinting in the sunlight. There, upon the left breast of the young man, was a metal badge that caught the light with every movement the boy made as he told the Don exactly what he thought.
He had calmed down since bursting into the room, eyes no longer wild, movements no longer erratic, voice no longer quite so loud. Bast sat, still in the safety of under the desk, and took in the stranger. He was tall. Tall enough to only just fit through the doorway without having to duck. Certainly taller than either Don Ciciccio or Wailing Robbie, or even the comptroller had been. And there was a young vulnerability to his face that reminded Bast of a kitten. Opposite the metal badge lay another badge; one not as neat and probably paper from the fact it wasn’t glinting in the sun like its counterpart.
Another flicker of light dashed across the room, joining the glint from the metal badge. Bast’s hackles raised, and he retreated back into the corner under the desk as he realised there was someone else in the room. The feline leapt in the air yowling in startlement, as a man appeared from the wall as if by magic, leaping onto the back of Don Ciciccio, slicing his neck with a dagger. Frozen in place, shaking like a leaf, Bast could only watch as the life drained from his owner, and the small man disappeared as quickly as he had appeared.
Standing by the door, which had fallen shut during all of the commotion, was the young man. Gun out and shouting but looking just as shaken as Bast felt. The feline took a tentative step out from under the desk for the first time since the boy had entered the room. He chirped a small prr-meow and rubbed up against his legs, alerting the boy he was there as he continued talking and muttering to himself.
The boy turned around to leave, but just stood there, staring at the door. Bast couldn’t understand why he wasn’t opening it; it was just a door after all. He gave the boy a little nudge with his head then padded over to the door, stretching up, before looking back at the young man. The boy was now sat cross legged on the floor, staring despondently at the door. Bast was hit by a recollection of acting exactly the same when he was but a kitten and first came to live with the comptroller.
But years of frequenting the gym had not been just to keep the comptroller company. Bast knew how to open doors. A skill that had been especially useful the past few days as the mansion had so many more doors than the studio apartment.
He padded back over to the boy and nudged him again. He reached down to pet the feline, gently running his fingers behind his ears and down his back. Bast purred at the affection and decided that this man was not as bad as he seemed when he first burst through the door. He would be his new owner when they got out, and Bast only prayed he wouldn’t end up like his previous two owners.
Shaking off the boy’s comforting hand, Bast treaded softly back over to the door and crouched down below the handle. Eyes locked onto the target, butt wiggling, adjusting his back feet for the perfect jump, then LEAP. He launched himself up at the door handle, gripped on, and swung.
The handle gave way, and the door creaked open.
The boy gasped, jumping up from where he was sitting, took a step towards the open door, just as it drifted closed again. He let out a cry of anguish and sunk to his knees, startling Bast who had been moving towards him. Bast nudged the boy’s right hand, then very gently, took hold of it in his mouth and pulled it towards the door.
The cat stretched up against the door, dragging the boy’s hand closer to the handle. When it was as high as Bast could get it, he let go, then nudged it higher, meowing indignantly until the boy’s hand rested upon the door handle.
Eyes on the target, feet correctly positioned, Bast leapt up and clung onto the outstretched arm of the young man, who pushed his arm down and pulled.
The door swung open.