Einstein Dog (28 page)

Shut up!
Cap ordered.

Chagrined, Einstein righted himself for another try. Again he stuck his paws into the mesh, this time hooking them round the wire. Then he hoisted himself up, scrabbling to get a hold with his hind legs, too. Secured, he clung like a bug to the fence.

Good,
Cap encouraged.
Now start walking.

Walking?

Yeah. You just walk up the fence. It's easy, once you get the hang of it.
Cap chuckled at his own joke.
You've got to get the
hang
of it, get it?

Ha ha,
Einstein grumped. Timidly he unhooked one paw and reached up. Then the other. Slowly, with Cap coaching him all the way, he crawled up the fence, then flopped backwards onto the roof.
Where did you learn that one?
he asked.

When you're running from a man with a noose on a stick, you learn a lot of things fast, little brother. Life is a hard teacher, but a good one.

Suddenly Einstein recognized a feeling he'd had for Cap all along, ever since they were pups: admiration.
You know, it doesn't bother me at all when you call me little brother,
he said, righting himself and sitting beside Cap.
Not any more.

Shoot!
Cap smirked.
Now I'll have to think of something else to call you.

It felt good to laugh. Even in the thick of their dangerous mission, the shudder of happiness made them feel close and invincible. Nothing could destroy what the two of them shared, Einstein realized. Not Hindquist, not the Global Council, nothing in the world.

They made their way along the loading dock roof, then down onto the top of a trailer. From their perch they could see inside the warehouse without much risk of being seen. Forklifts rattled past, men towing crates and pallets on trolleys. The shipping room floor thrummed like a beehive, and like a hive, its frenetic comings and goings seemed a form of organized chaos.

What are we looking for?
Cap asked impatiently.

Don't know, exactly,
Einstein said
. I'll know when I find it.

And how long do you figure that's going to take?

Einstein ignored Cap's needling. If they were going to get through the AMOS defence screen, this would be their starting point.

The shipments are assembled here for a straight run to the AMOS plant,
he pointed out.

Yeah. So?

So if we could stow away in an AMOS shipment, we'd be delivered to the main plant along with all the other stuff.

Oh great! And, assuming we can sneak past the crew here, what are we going to do when we get to the other end. Stick labels on our foreheads and pretend we're boxes?

Not a bad idea Bro,
Einstein said.
If we could disguise ourselves as cargo, I'm sure they wouldn't check too closely on the other side. All the checking's done here. At the main plant they'll just want to get the crates unloaded and underground as fast as possible. That's my guess.

Okay,
Cap sighed angrily.
Let's say we do get in, what's our objective once we're there? And how are we going to get out with our hides still on?

One step at a time, Cap. First we have to figure out how to get into AMOS. Getting out is part two . . .

Just then a buzzer sounded. As if on cue, everyone dropped what they were doing and trudged off, leaving forklifts, trolleys and boxes sitting. Suddenly the warehouse, which had been filled with boisterous, bustling humans, seemed deserted. Where had everyone gone? Astonished, Einstein glanced at his brother, as if Cap, with all his worldly experience, might know the answer.

Cap shrugged.

“Hey, Frank,” a straggler shouted to another human. “Break!” Then the two of them shuffled off after their mates.

Break?
Cap echoed.
What's broken?

Einstein grinned.
Nothing, brother,
he replied. He'd heard the term before, way back in their Triumph laboratory days. Elaine would announce that she was taking a break for coffee. Bertrand often took a break from his homework. These men must have been doing likewise and, judging by the regimented way they went about it, their break was a nightly routine.

I think we've just found our way into AMOS,
Einstein said excitedly.
This is a break all right; it's our break, Cap.

What the heck are you on about?

Don't you see? This rest period happens nightly. While these guys are off doing whatever they do during their break, we can sneak into the AMOS truck and bingo! We're on our way.

Yeah. On our way into trouble,
Cap grumbled.
Let's get out of here before someone sees us.

They trotted along the trailer roof, jumped down onto the cab, then made a dash for the perimeter fence. Einstein had to admit, the plan to get into AMOS would be perilous. Still, if you were going to plan an infiltration into AMOS this would be the jumping off point, he thought. It was the chink in Hindquist's formidable armor.

Moron! Pigheaded, lard-brained, bull-necked, thick-skinned moron!

Genie had long since run out of names to describe her so-called partner Charlie Gowler. A more loathsome specimen she could not imagine. If there was something stupid to say, something cruel to do, Charlie was bound to say or do it.

She ordered him to patrol the edge of the wood, where her siblings had set up their surveillance. For three nights their lookout had been abandoned, which could only mean one thing: they were planning to make their move soon.

“Why do you think that?” Hindquist had asked during their last briefing.

They've ended their surveillance, which means they feel there's nothing more to learn through observation,
she reasoned.

“Yes.”

When you've learned all you can about an enemy it is time to plan and execute your attack.

“Unless your intelligence leads you to the conclusion that your enemy is too strong and any attack would be suicidal,” Hindquist challenged.

The “do nothing” option is available only to an adversary who believes his neutrality will be respected — that if he signals his intention not to interfere, you will leave him alone. Einstein and Bertrand both know your determination to destroy them no matter what. There's no neutral ground left for them to stand on.

“So they must destroy me,” Hindquist chuckled. “Absurd. No matter how desperate they are, they would surely see that any plan of attack on AMOS could only end in disaster.”

We both know that and so do they,
she replied.

Hindquist smiled at his favorite pupil.

So what they will try to do is expose you and give the proper authorities the information they need to move against AMOS.

“They will plan an infiltration, in other words.”

Precisely,
Genie concurred.

“And since there is only one possible way they could think of to penetrate this facility, it should be easy for us to detect and capture them when they make their move.”

Exactly. We know they've traced our trucks back to the Vancouver warehouse. We received a report from the warehouse that a couple of dogs had been spotted by one of your employees. That is their only possible point of entry.

Hindquist nodded.

Genie accepted his acknowledgement stoically. Her assessment had won even greater favour with a man who trusted her so entirely now that he confided to her all his plans. He had even introduced her via satellite link to Global Councillor Vladimir Petrovitch. The layout of AMOS, the type and quantities of ordinance in stock, Hindquist's backup plans, his backup to his backup plans — he entrusted knowledge about everything to his canine operative.

She watched Charlie lumber like a particularly clumsy bear along the wooded fringe of the AMOS property. If any SMART dog
had
been out there, it would have been long gone. Even a reasonably smart child could elude such an unfathomably stupid brute.

Her siblings were planning an infiltration, not an attack. That meant a small team would carry out the operation, two or at most three operatives. Genie had no doubt they would be spotted the moment they arrived. A mouse couldn't get past AMOS security, let alone a dog or child. But what about the support team that would be stationed in the woods outside?

“It's absolutely essential we capture them, too,” Hindquist had instructed. “This will be our only chance to get the lot of them.”

And do what?
Genie had asked.

“Whatever must be done to preserve the integrity of our cover,” he answered with a grin, “and to secure our monopoly over SMART technology.”

Technology,
she snorted, remembering the remark.
That's how he sees me. That's how he will see my children: part of his machinery.

She submerged her anger and disgust. The only way she could destroy this monster was to embrace him; become
his
dog and make him
her
human. Cap, Breeze, and Blizzard; Einstein, Bertrand, and Ariel . . . they were pawns. They had to be sacrificed to the main objective: building a relationship of trust with Frank Hindquist.

So be it, she resolved. She would do what she could to forewarn them, but she would not jeopardize her mission to destroy AMOS.

Charlie Gowler approached in the darkness. She needed him to do one more thing that night, a small but crucial assignment. “Check container out back,” she commanded awkwardly through the prototype Thought Matrix Translator that Doctor Molar had installed in her helmet.

“I already looked round there,” Charlie griped.

“Look on top,” she ordered. “Get ladder and check up top.”

“But . . . ”

“Leave ladder in place,” she overrode his objection. “I check later too.”

Grunting, Charlie headed off to do as he'd been told.

Bertrand thumped on Ariel's door.

“Okay! Okay!” she shouted from inside. “You don't have to break it down.”

“Come on Airee. We've got to go.”

The door jerked open and Ariel slipped out onto the Krieger's front stoop. She glanced warily about the complex.

“How do you know we're not being watched?” she asked.

“Breeze and Blizzard are patrolling the perimeter,” he assured her, sounding far more confident than he felt. “If anyone's trying to crash the meeting, we'll know.”

“I'm scared, Bertrand.”

“Me too.”

They hurried through Forestview in silence, heading for the Nicomekl gate. “We
can't
do nothing!” he said emphatically, sensing her deep reluctance. “You realize that, don't you?”

“It wouldn't be doing
nothing
to tell our parents and go to the police.
That
would be the sane thing to do, don't you think?”

He sighed, resisting the impulse to argue. “We're not in a sane situation, Airee,” Bertrand pleaded. “We've gone over this: tell our parents and they'll panic and restrict our movements. We'd be lucky if they allowed us out the front door ever again.”