Days and nights followed the same routine of work, food, and being locked in. But now, using his special tools, he explored the captain's private quarters. When the lift arrived at the private floor, Albert placed black tape over the motion detector to turn the light off. The panel slid open. The captain’s desk and light were as before. He waited until satisfied the room was empty before stepping out. The floor below was for show. This was where Napoleon worked.

Papers and charts lay scattered across the desk. The desk lamp put off enough light for him to study them. He slid the goggles up to his forehead. His brother taught him how to read nautical charts. The one in front of him indicated the ship’s route and destination. A scribble indicating their arrival date was written next to the calculations.

But what was this all about? He found the captain’s logbook in a side drawer and hurriedly flipped through it. On one page was a detailed plan explaining how the flying men were to be deployed. Albert grinned at the man’s thirst for vengeance. Carefully putting the papers back, he considered what to do next.

A machine against the wall started clicking. The light in another room turned on. Napoleon flew out with his robe flapping behind him as he hurried to it. His pencil scratched against the paper as he translated.

While the man was distracted, Albert slipped back into the lift and closed the panel. Napoleon was receiving messages in Morse code. So, he had access to the new radiotelegraphy and received messages from all over the world. Supposedly, only the Brits used it. When the technology was announced, Albert avidly studied its concept. Morse code was easy for him to master. The clicking resembled turning wheels and gears of his machinery. His mind swirled with all the possibilities for escape. After the man’s bedroom light turned off, Albert returned to his room and plopped down on the mattress to form a plan. His brother Jack played a part in the strategy. From his calculations, rescue would not come for a while.

In the daytime, he worked on the designs. Sabotage was out of the question, the other engineers studied everything. His only recourse was to build a working model. Albert sat on a stool and ran fingers over Mouser purring in his lap. The animal was good at his job. No varmint was safe. It pounced with precision. Shying away from the other men, Mouser approved for Albert to hold him.

A trial design was finished and sat on the table. He studied it joint by joint looking for flaws. Seeing nothing wrong, Mouser was latched in the attached cage. An angry, “MEOW!” accompanied by a growl indicated his disapproval. Extended claws scratched at the walls.

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James and Michael, the two engineers, watched with excited expressions as Albert flipped a switch. Steam pressure built. and the propellers started turning, faster and faster. Lifting up, the box rocked side to side until the cat crouched down. Flaps were set for the device to run in a circle. They watched as the flying box did loops above them.

With a loud toot, the machine stalled and fell. He noted the length of time the motor ran before it ran out of steam and caught the cage. James and Michael clapped at the trial’s success. Mouser indignantly hissed and growled. A sharp claw reached out for his hand. Albert unlatched the door and ducked as the animal leaped out.

Several weeks later, a life-sized model lay broken on the floor. Michael, the smallest of the engineers crawled out from under it. His steam engine was not strong enough to carry the man’s weight. Albert stood in the middle of the workroom and yelled at the ceiling. "I need to know the weight the machine will be carrying. The note said, 'a man and package'. "

"Two hundred fifty pounds," came through the pipes.

"Can't be done. That's too heavy. You need to reduce the load."

"No! Can’t be done! Quit stalling, time is running out,” was the answer.

Exasperated, he yelled back, "Then get smaller men!"

Albert lost weight. Lunches were left untouched as he studied, drew, and then rebuilt models. He kept his back to the wall and hunched over the table to block prying eyes. Even his co-workers were left out of each modification until time to test them.

A sudden thought about his steam propulsion strategy inspired him to check out different arrangements. Designs were meticulously drawn up. He shook his head daily at each flawed drawing, wadded the paper in a ball, and pitched it in the trash. Albert knew that at night, Captain Napoleon sent men down to retrieve the discards. On one of his exploring trips, he found them spread out on the man’s desk.

Now, sitting with head bowed as if dejected, the perfect plan was spread out before him. A balance of weight versus steam and including help from a pedaling rider made it capable of what Napoleon demanded.

He put sailors to work on building the platform and metal supports. The propellors were the most intricate. They must turn in perfect balance. Tabby again went for a ride, but this time went higher for a longer time. Heavy boxes were added, and the motor design was tweaked to carry the weight.

The ship docked for a couple of days to take on heavy crates. They were loaded on the platform and lowered to the engineering. In one instance, a chain broke, and a box crashed to the floor. Napoleon screamed a series of obscenities over the speakers. Sailors blocked the engineers from seeing anything until the broken crate was moved and covered. Guards were posted to protect the stacked boxes. The next day, the ship left port with steam engines pounding.

Albert’s prowling at night became limited to whispered messages sent via the captain’s radio. He knew from the calendar on the captain's desk that the date was only a couple of weeks away. His only hope was that one would be forwarded to Jack. The plan depended on it.