Cyber-Thief Showdown (Geronimo Stilton #68) Read online

  Dear mouse friends,

  Welcome to the world of

  THE RODENT’s GAZETTE

  EDITORIAL STAFF

  Geronimo Stilton

  Thea Stilton

  A learned and brainy

  Geronimo’s sister and

  mouse; editor of

  special correspondent at

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  The Rodent’s Gazette

  Trap Stilton

  Benjamin Stilton

  An awful joker;

  A sweet and loving

  Geronimo’s cousin and

  nine-year-old mouse;

  owner of the store

  Geronimo’s favorite

  Cheap Junk for Less

  nephew

  CYBER-THIEF

  SHOWDOWN

  Scholastic Inc.

  Copyright © 2010 by Edizioni Piemme S.p.A., Palazzo Mondadori, Via

  Mondadori 1, 20090 Segrate, Italy. International Rights © Atlantyca S.p.A.

  English translation © 2018 by Atlantyca S.p.A.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any

  responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  GERONIMO STILTON names, characters, and related indicia are copyright,

  trademark, and exclusive license of Atlantyca S.p.A. All rights reserved. The

  moral right of the author has been asserted. Based on an original idea by

  Elisabetta Dami. www.geronimostilton.com

  Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920, 557 Broadway, New

  York, NY 10012. SCHOLASTIC and associated logos are trademarks and/or

  registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  Stilton is the name of a famous English cheese. It is a registered trademark

  of the Stilton Cheese Makers’ Association. For more information, go to

  www.stiltoncheese.com.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright

  Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted,

  downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into

  any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

  whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without

  the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding

  permission, please contact Atlantyca S.p.A., Via Leopardi 8, 20123 Milan,

  Italy; e-mail [email protected], www.atlantyca.com.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are

  either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any

  resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events,

  or locales is entirely coincidental.

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-21520-5

  Text by Geronimo Stilton

  Original title C’è un pirata in internet

  Cover by Giuseppe Ferrario

  Illustrations by Giuseppe Ferrario (design), Roberta Bianchi (pencils), and

  Giulia Zaffaroni (color)

  Graphics by Chiara Cebraro

  Special thanks to Tracey West

  Translated by Anna Pizzelli

  Interior design by Becky James

  First printing 2018

  I WAS ONE HAPPY

  RODENT!

  My dear readers, it all started early one

  morning, when I woke up feeling as fresh

  as newly made mozzarella!

  I felt very happy —

  as happy as a rat in

  a cheese factory!

  Why was I in

  such a great

  mood? Well,

  I woke up to

  warm, bright

  sunlight shining

  on my snout. The

  little birds were

  chirping. There was

  Ahhhhh!

  a whiff in the air of freshly baked

  cheese

  bread . . .

  Yes, it was one of those days when you

  want to say to every rodent in the whole

  wide world: “Life is beautiful and the world

  is mousetastic!”

  I was in such a good mood that I decided

  to work out (which does not happen too

  often . . . )!

  Then I brushed my teeth. I took a quick

  shower, humming one of my favorite

  Squat!

  tunes, and quickly got dressed to go to work.

  And what is my job, you ask?

  The most amazing job in the world!

  I run The Rodent’s Gazette, Mouse Island’s

  most famouse newspaper.

  My name is Stilton, Geronimo Stilton!

  And when I walked to the office that

  morning, I greeted everyone I saw with a

  smile.

  First, I ran into Miss Angel Paws,

  Benjamin’s teacher, on her way to school.

  La, la, la!

  Upsy-daisy!

  “Good morning, Miss Paws!” I squeaked,

  waving to her.

  But she looked the other way. It didn’t

  bother me. I just assumed that she hadn’t

  heard me.

  Then I ran into Samantha Squeaky Clean,

  my housecleaner.

  I have known her for a long time. She is

  always kind, helpful, and friendly.

  Hmph!

  Good morning,

  Miss Paws!

  Good morning,

  Miss Squeaky

  Clean!

  “

  Good morning, Miss Squeaky

  Clean!” I squeaked with a smile.

  She looked at me and scowled. “Hmph!”

  At the moment, it didn’t bother me. I

  figured that she was in a bad mood.

  Then I ran into my tailor, Sartorius

  Stitchfur.

  “Hello,” I said politely, but he didn’t reply,

  either. Weird! Was he also in a bad mood?

  Hello!

  Shame on you,

  Geronimo!

  What?!

  Next, I said hello to Mrs. Busymouse. We

  have been neighbors for a long time. I help

  her with her grocery shopping, and every

  day I send her a large-print copy of

  The Rodent’s Gazette because she is older

  and has trouble reading the small print.

  But she frowned at me. “Shame on you,

  Geronimo,” she said in a disapproving tone.

  I wondered if maybe I forgot her birthday.

  “Hmm . . . I am sorry,” I replied. “Have a

  great day!”

  Still looking outraged, she turned and

  walked away.

  I started thinking that some outbreak

  of a weird bad mood was spreading in New

  Mouse City. Otherwise, why was everyone

  being so unfriendly?

  The rest of my walk was exactly the

  same. I smiled at every rodent I passed, but

  nobody would greet me. Everyone turned

  the other way, pretending not to see me or

  replying in a rude way.

  Pretty soon I started to wonder if the bad

  mood outbreak was contagious, because

  my happy mood turned more and more

  rotten with each step I took!

  I only realized what was wrong after I

  reached the newsstand. All the newspapers br />
  (except for The Rodent’s Gazette) featured

  BEFORE GOING OUT

  AFTER GOING OUT

  terrible stories about me on the front.

  What was going on?

  Red in the snout from embarrassment, I

  bought all the newspapers. Then I quickly

  walked to the office, HIDING behind the big

  stack so nobody could see me.

  Argh!

  What bad manners!

  What?

  Grrrr!

  Grunt!

  YOU SHOULD

  BE ASHAMED OF

  YOURSELF!

  I called out, “Good morning!” when

  I walked into the office, but nobody replied.

  Everyone turned the other way, looking

  insulted, or pretended not to hear me.

  “Really? All of you have turned against

  me, too?” I cried.

  I stomped into my office, SLAMMED

  the door behind me, and put the stack of

  newspapers on my desk. Each one had a

  terrible, awful, horrible story

  about me on the front page. I was making

  headline news — and the news wasn’t

  good at all!

  I looked over the PHOTOS and what I saw

  What?!

  left me squeakless. In one of

  them, I was stepping on the

  mayor’s paw! In another one, I

  was tripping a mouselet

  who was dancing with me! In

  the next one, I sneezed right

  onto a helpless stranger . . .

  How was that possible? I am a well-behaved

  mouse who always tries to be kind to

  everyone. I had never done any of those

  things! But it was definitely me in those

  photos!

  How weird . . .

  I started looking at them more carefully,

  and then it hit me. These were similar

  to photos that I had posted online after a

  party for the mayor.

  I remembered the photos well, but

  someone had changed them. I had never

  stepped on the mayor’s paw, nor tripped a

  mouselet, nor sneezed on someone! They

  had been edited!

  Who had done this to the photos and,

  more important, Why? I wondered.

  I was thinking about this when my

  grandfather, William Shortpaws, barged

  into my office. He slammed a copy of The

  Daily Rat on my desk.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself,

  Geronimo! Is this any way to behave?” he

  scolded me.

  Then my sister, Thea, walked in, with a

  draft of my latest book, full of red

  marks.

  “Ger, your latest book is full of mistakes!”

  she reported.

  “Mistakes?” I asked.

  “Yes!” Thea replied. “It’s like you forgot

  Help Geronimo

  Spot the Differences!

  Photo taken by Thea

  Edited photo

  Photo taken by Thea

  Edited photo

  Photo taken by Thea

  Edited photo

  all about grammar,

  spelling, and

  PUNCTUATION!”

  Then one of the assistant editors, Ms.

  Raven, walked in. “Geronimo, is this some

  kind of a joke?” she asked, waving a

  printout of an email. “Why would you send

  out these mean emails to the whole staff?

  This one says that we all had stinky cheese

  breath. That’s not very nice!”

  “What has gotten into you, grandson?”

  my grandfather boomed. “DO YOU HAVE

  CAT TREATS FOR BRAINS?”

  “I — I —” I stammered.

  I didn’t know what to

  say. I might as well

  have had cat treats for

  brains, because I was so

  confused that I couldn’t

  think straight!

  Nothing made any

  sense!

  I knew that I hadn’t sent Thea a book

  manuscript filled with mistakes. I read each

  draft a thousand times to make sure

  grammar, spelling, and punctuation were

  correct.

  And I certainly hadn’t sent out an email

  to my staff telling them that they had cheese

  breath. I don’t have a mean whisker in

  my body!

  “I SWEAR, I didn’t send those emails,” I

  said.

  Ms. Raven slapped a pile of papers on my

  desk.

  “Read them yourself,” she said, and then

  she walked out of my office.

  I quickly read through the emails. They

  were CLEARLY sent from my email address.

  And each one was just as offensive and

  mean as the stinky cheese breath email.

  One of them said, “You are more annoying

  than gum stuck in my fur!” Another said,

  “Your stories are so boring they put me to

  sleep!”

  “It’s not possible!” I said. “I would never

  send these kinds of emails to my coworkers.

  They’re like my second family!”

  Thea and Grandfather Stilton walked out,

  shaking their heads. I began to sob.

  “Why, oh why, is this happening to me?”

  Waah!!!

  THINGS GET WORSE!

  Just as I stopped crying, a delivery mouse

  knocked on my door, and behind him there

  was another one, and another one,

  and another one. Each one was carrying

  a different useless yet terribly expensive

  object in his paws.

  The first had a pair of tap-dancing shoes

  I didn’t order

  anything!

  THEY DELIVERED THE

  A GOLD-PLATED

  TAP SHOES

  FOLLOWING:

  SUITCASE

  once owned by the famouse dancer, Fred

  Fancyfoot (totally useless since I don’t tap-dance!).

  The second had a huge gold-plated suitcase

  (totally useless because it was so heavy you needed

  a crane to lift it up!). The third had keys to a

  private purple helicopter (totally useless, as I

  do not have a license to fly a helicopter!). The fourth

  had a guitar decorated with precious stones

  (totally useless because I cannot play the guitar!).

  “Holey Cheese, take these things back!”

  I shrieked. “I did not order them. I do not

  GUITAR DECORATED WITH

  HELICOPTER KEYS

  PRECIOUS STONES

  need them. And most important, I do not

  want them!”

  The first delivery mouse shrugged. “Sorry,

  sir, but you ordered all of this stuff from

  the Filthy Rich Rats website. It was all

  paid for using your credit card. It’s not our

  fault you changed your mind!”

  They deposited their deliveries and then

  walked out.

  I scratched my furry head. Was it possible

  that I had purchased all of these objects?

  JEWEL-STUDDED

  SOLID-GOLD STATUE

  ARMCHAIR

  Maybe my head was full of cat treats

  after all . . .

  Before I could add up the cost of those

  EXPENSIVE items, more delivery mice came

  into my office! They had more ridiculous

  items for me. There was a solid-gold

  statue of me on a horse (riding horses mak
es

  me nervous!).

  And the gifts kept coming. One mouse

  carried in a new armchair studded with

  A COLLECTION OF ANCIENT

  KEYS TO A FURRARI

  CHEESE RINDS

  jewels

  (

  totally useless, because I already had an

  armchair, and the precious stones were sharp!).

  Another held a collection of ancient cheese

  rinds belonging to Mousehoptep III, stored

  in a real Egyptian vase (a treasure fit for a

  museum!).

  Finally, a delivery mouse handed me the

  keys to a Furrari race car (totally useless because

  I am afraid to drive fast cars!).

  Then the phone rang. Ledger Moneypaws,

  the manager of the bank was

  calling me.

  “Mr. Stilton, I am so sorry to

  have to tell you this, but your

  savings account is empty,” he

  began. “You are broke!”

  “Broke? What? How is that

  possible?” I squealed.

  “It is very possible,

  You are broke!

  Mr. Stilton, because you have spent every

  penny that you had — and more. You

  overcharged your credit card, and now

  you OWE the bank a great deal of money,”

  he explained.

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “I what?”

  “You owe us a lot of money. Cash.

  Greenbacks. Bills,” Mr. Moneypaws said. “I

  must say, Mr. Stilton, that I thought you were

  a very sensible mouse. What exactly do you

  need with a golden statue of yourself?

  And a jewel-encrusted armchair?”

  “But I didn’t buy those things, I swear!”

  I protested.

  “Do not LIE to me, Mr. Stilton,” Mr.

  Moneypaws said sternly.

  “These charges

  were clearly made from your very own

  COMPUTER. And now to pay your debt,

  I’m afraid you will have to sell The

  Rodent’s Gazette. I hate to think what your

  grandfather will say.”

  I started to beg. “My grandfather? Please

  don’t say a word to my grandfather!”

  Then I fainted, falling backward onto my