A criminal mastermind

The problem with owning indoor cats is that they spend a great deal of their time trying to be outdoor cats. We have indoor cats for a couple of reasons, mostly involving their tendency to get themselves prematurely dead. Or, in the case of Dradis, expensively and painfully injured. Dradis is, in fact, not our cat but the Babe's. When she moved out she left him behind because "it would be cruel to separate him and Fred". Fred is our other indoor cat, a talking Tonk, and frankly, a nightmare.
While we were renovating, Dradis managed to escape on the back of a ute. For some reason Dradis loves utes and likes to lie on the tarp section at the back, hence his unexpected trip when the plasterer failed to notice he had a cat ornament. Somewhere on a busy road close to us, Dradis decided he was  no longer a fan of utes and jumped off into six lanes of traffic. One shattered pelvis and broken leg and three months hiding later, he re-emerged weighing 2.5kg to undergo unusual surgery that cost the family $thousands and thus became an indoor cat. Since them, he's been trying to escape.
Last night he managed and we have no idea how. Neither did his best buddy Fred who was snoring happily in bed with Gorgeous George and my lovely self. Upon waking from a wonderful night's sleep I realised something was wrong, terribly wrong, namely that I had enjoyed a wonderful night's sleep. Usually I toss and turn with Dradis's furry noggin next to mine on the pillow. Any attempt to escape is met with feline contempt as he merely rearranges himself in some new and incredibly uncomfortable position on my pillow, preferably with his head tucked under my chin. Last night only Fred had me pinned down.
After leaping out of bed several hours early and rushing around the neighbourhood in my PJs, I discovered him pottering in the front yard next door. Courtesy of his accident he is very slow and easy to catch, so he was soon back inside. And it was time for his breakfast, the highlight of his day, so he considered it a reasonable compromise. I still haven't figured out how he got out, but my money is on Bertie. I reckon Dradis paid him to open the door and let him out. Or maybe it was the possum living in our roof that has us all terrified. Perhaps we will never know. I think the answer is surveillance cameras. If I pop my gold coins in the change jar for 20 years or so I should be able to afford it.