Paita

Franz discovered the small brass lever under a loose floorboard.

"I didn't touch anything," he claimed, with his paw still on it.

Perusina knelt beside him. They were in the old house in Paita where Manuela Sáenz had spent the last years of her life. Under the floorboard was a flat wooden box. Inside lay a red ribbon and a pocket watch whose hands were running backwards.

Perusino leaned over it. "Maybe it's counting how long it takes for Franz to break something again."

The clock struck once.

The floor disappeared.

The three plummeted through darkness and landed ungracefully in a rain-soaked alley. A large palace rose before them. Horses shied, men ran through the rain, and in the distance, a church clock chimed.

Perusina held up the pocket watch. A year was suddenly visible on its lid: 1828.

Behind a wall, two men whispered.

"Shortly after midnight. The guard at the side gate is with us."

"And Bolívar?"

"He won't survive this night."

Perusina grabbed Perusino's arm. "This is the September Conspiracy. We're in Bogotá."

Franz perked up his ears. "And we're in a very unfavorable position next to the conspirators."

One of the men turned around.

"Who's there?"

The three ran.

They dashed through an archway, jumped over boxes, and ducked under a horse-drawn cart. Perusino stepped into a bucket. The bucket got stuck on his foot and rattled with every step.

"Very inconspicuous!" gasped Perusina.

"The bucket is chasing me!"

Franz bit through the handle. The bucket flew off and hit a pursuer in the boots. The man stumbled directly into a stack of empty baskets.

At the side entrance of the palace, there was indeed a guard post. Perusina saw the red ribbon on his arm. The conspirators had worn the same sign.

"Not through the gate!"

Franz discovered an open kitchen window. He jumped onto a barrel, then onto a ledge, and disappeared into the building. Perusina and Perusino climbed after him.

In the kitchen, a cook's eyes widened.

"Who are you?"

"Later!" cried Perusina. "Where is Manuela Sáenz?"

A crash shook the house. The front door had been broken down.

The cook pointed upstairs.

Perusina took three steps at a time. On the upper floor, a woman approached them. Dark hair, determined gaze, a dagger at her belt.

"Manuela Sáenz?" Perusina asked.

"Who wants to know?"

"Conspirators!" gasped Perusino. "Many. Downstairs. Very bad intentions."

Manuela asked no further questions. She stormed into a bedroom and shook the man in bed awake.

"Simón! Get up immediately!"

On the staircase, footsteps crashed. A voice roared: "No one leaves the house!"

Manuela ripped open a window. Below them lay a dark courtyard.

"Down there," she ordered Bolívar.

Perusina leaned out and at the last moment saw an armed man under the window. He was waiting behind a fountain.

"Stop! That's a trap."

The bedroom door trembled under a violent blow.

Perusina grabbed the red blanket on the bed and threw it out the window on the opposite side. Franz jumped onto the ledge and let out a howling sound.

The man by the fountain saw the red fabric, mistook it for Bolívar's cloak, and ran after it.

"Now!" cried Perusina.

Bolívar climbed out the window. Perusino held onto a curtain that Manuela had knotted into a rope. Perusina braced both feet against the bed frame.

The door splintered.

Manuela confronted the invading men. "You're too late."

Perusina let go of the curtain and jumped out herself. Below, Bolívar just barely caught her before she slipped on the wet stones. Perusino and Franz followed.

They ran through the courtyard. The man from the fountain had noticed his mistake and was coming back.

Perusina saw a heavy wooden door, next to it a chain.

"Perusino! The chain!"

Together they pulled on it. A freight elevator whizzed down. Sacks crashed between them and the pursuer. Franz jumped onto a rolling sack and slid across the courtyard on it.

"That was planned!" he cried.

Behind the palace, a narrow path led to a bridge. Perusina stopped abruptly. Two more men waited in the shadows.

She picked up a stone and threw it into the river. The loud splash made the men run to the wrong side. Bolívar seized the moment, slipped under the bridge, and disappeared between the dark arches.

The pocket watch in Perusina's hand began to chime.

Once. Twice.

The rain, the bridge, and the shouts dissolved.

The three landed back in the old house in Paita. The wooden box was closed. Only the red ribbon still lay on the floor.

Perusino sat down heavily beside it. "Manuela got Bolívar out of the palace."

Perusina picked up the ribbon. "And we made sure no one was waiting for him outside."

Franz looked at the loose floorboard.

"Should I press the lever again?"

"No!" they both cried simultaneously.