Einstein Dog (31 page)

You don't suppose we were going to miss your fine speech, do you, or the homecoming of our sister?
Blizzard countered.

Breeze trotted up to Genie without hesitation, touching noses.
Sister!
she greeted.
Let's begin.

The unmistakable shockwave of a stun bomb pulsed through the night air. “Yes!” Hindquist celebrated, raising his fist and pumping victoriously.

“Genie!” he hollered into his headset microphone. “What's going on?”

“Stunner go boom. Dogs down. Need Charlie. Send others.”

“Good work, Genie! Great work!” he exulted. “Charlie, lug your carcass in there and help out.”

“Yeah, boss. I'm on my way.”

Hindquist hurried down from his office, then through the AMOS lobby and outside into the parking lot. “Get them in quickly,” he ordered. To the untrained ear a stun bomb would sound like a big firecracker. The physical effects were limited to close range. Still, the police might come snooping if the detonation had been reported.

A couple of guards wheeled a cart with a row of portable dog cages stacked on it across the lot. Genie had ordered them to be ready.

“Perfect planning and execution,” Hindquist marveled. “Absolutely flawless.”

Charlie emerged from the wood first, lugging a stunned dog over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Cap!” Hindquist grinned. “Welcome back. Your stay will be very short and most unpleasant, I trust.” Another guard followed, then another, with Breeze and Blizzard on their backs. Finally Genie emerged from the grove, head held high, tail flying like a pennant.

“Magnificent!” Hindquist cheered. “Well done!”

She acknowledged his praise with a barely perceptible nod and answered in Dog now that they were within range.
The first stage of our counter-insurgency has worked,
she said.
Now we must prepare for our second set of guests.

A greeting party is already in place,
Hindquist chuckled.

An ant wouldn't be able to sneak off that truck without us knowing. By the end of tonight we'll have them all in custody:

all the SMART dogs and their supporters.

Still, it never hurts to increase the odds in our favour.

Increase the odds?
Hindquist frowned.
What do you mean?

While you keep an eye on things here, I'll interrogate our prisoners. They should be coming to in a few minutes.

As usual, an astute plan,
Hindquist concurred.
I only wish I could be there.

I will keep you fully informed,
she promised as they followed the guards toward the AMOS loading bay.
I don't think there's much they can tell us that we don't already know, but we would be remiss if we didn't try to wring something out of them.

Commendable thoroughness, Genie,
Hindquist agreed.
And meritorious zeal. Are you sure you'll be able to do what is required in this instance, though? After all, these are your siblings.

I'll do what must be done,
Genie said, trotting ahead to take charge of the trolley.

“Take to lab,” she ordered Charlie and the others. “Quick!”

Hindquist watched, completely satisfied. Until that very moment there'd been niggling doubts about Genie. Her loyalty had seemed cold and calculating. Perhaps he had entrusted her with too much information and given her too much power? Maybe he'd have to destroy her one day.

Now his suspicions seemed ludicrous! How could he doubt her? And if she could be so loyal — even with her memories of a time before AMOS and the Global Council, even when forced to make a choice between AMOS and her own kin — how devoted would her offspring be, dogs who would never know anything beyond their breeding and training as Global Council pups?

Hindquist smirked. The future lay within his grasp, it seemed to the councillor for America North.

Let's go,
Einstein ordered.

Bertrand clipped the drop-line onto the harness then signaled okay. Einstein eased himself off the trailer roof, dangling in mid-air, while Bertrand braced and lowered him onto the loading dock.

So far, so good,
the dog signaled when he touched down.

Your turn.

Bertrand let out the remaining line and secured the hook at the other end to the loading dock roof. He tested it with a sharp tug, then swung out over the dock, lowering himself like a spider. The whole operation took less than thirty seconds.

Practice makes perfect,
Bertrand boasted.

Unclipping Einstein, he gave the drop-line a shake to free the hook up top. It didn't come down. “Shoot!” he muttered, trying again, and again. “Stuck,” he alerted Einstein.

Wait!
Einstein warned.

Bertrand froze. From inside the warehouse they could make out the steady tramp of approaching boots and the creak of leather.

Guard,
Einstein signaled.

What do we do? Scrub?

Try once more.

A quick assessment flashed through Bertrand's brain. The hook had snagged on the metal edging of the loading dock roof. An upward force would dislodge it. He needed to send a wave up the line that would make the hook jump up and twist outward at the same time. He had to flick the line in a way that seemed unnatural: down, then sharply up; not up then sharply down.

“Come on!” He urged the ripple up the rope. This time the hook sprang free, but it clanged against the trailer top before falling. Bertrand caught it, then held his breath. The guards' footsteps paused.

Go! Go! Go!
Einstein ordered.

The two of them darted into the yawning maw of the trailer, Bertrand gathering in the line as they ran.

Up!
They scrambled on top of the cargo, worming their way as far back as they could, then wedging themselves into a crevice near the front of the load. Just in time!

The guard lumbered in at a run, the beam of his flashlight searching wildly.

Damn!
Einstein muttered.

They heard the guard grunt as he climbed up on some boxes to investigate. Bertrand prayed the man wouldn't come in any farther and catch them in their hiding place.

“Hey, Pete! What's up?” a jovial voice called into the cavern.

“Thought I heard something, Marty. Just checking.”

“Rats,” the other said. “They come in off the ships all the time.”

“Sounded like a herd of them. Pretty big, too,” the guard joked.

“Well, they do get super-sized around these parts. You could fill a freezer with one of 'em, if you wanted.”

The two men chuckled at the notion.

“Now there's an idea,” the guard said. “Rat cuisine.”

“Rat au Vin!” “Rat Stew!” “Rat in a Hoagie!” Other voices joined in with elaborate suggestions. Bertrand snickered, thinking the warehousemen had nothing on Professor Smith's cusine and thankful his father wasn't in the vicinity to overhear any of the workers' recipes.

Distracted by the joking, the guard jumped down with a thud. A forklift started up and soon more pallets were being trundled into the trailer. “Come on guys!” the foreman hollered over the din. “You know how grouchy they get over at AMOS central when a shipment's late. Let's get a move on.”

For another half an hour pallets were crammed on board. Then the doors swung shut with a boom and the stowaways were plunged into utter darkness. They were on their way. As soon as they cleared the dock Einstein and Bertrand crawled out of hiding, scrambling over the top of the load toward the back of the trailer.

“We want to be on the first or second pallet off, if we can,” Bertrand said, switching on his flashlight. “That will give us the maximum amount of operational time inside AMOS.”

Gotcha,
Einstein agreed.

“We're looking for a mixed lot. A pallet that has different kinds of things on it . . . ”

I know the plan,
Einstein grumped.
We practiced it about a thousand times, remember?

“Here!” Bertrand beckoned, ignoring his partner's annoyance. He'd found the perfect lot, a pallet that had been shoved in almost as an afterthought, jumbled with odds and ends that wouldn't stack neatly. A small package added to the pile wouldn't be noticed.

Bertrand zipped open his pack and removed a stack of neatly bundled boards. As Einstein watched, he quickly screwed together a prefabricated crate just big enough for a boy to squeeze into with a medium sized dog between his legs, then they repacked the load, nestling their box into a top corner.

Are the apertures pointed in the right direction?
Einstein asked.

“Yup.” Bertrand pulled a little plug, designed to look like a knot hole, from the front of the box. Similar openings, perfect for peeping or filming through, had been bored into the sides, too.

“As soon as we pull off the highway, we'll climb in and batten down the hatch,” Bertrand said. “Then our fate will be sealed, so to speak.”

This is a work of genius Birdman,
Einstein marveled.
I don't think anyone would ever guess that a boy and dog could squish themselves into so small a space.

The inventor smiled mischievously.

What?
Einstein wanted to know.

“I've just been remembering what my dad made for dinner tonight.”

Don't tell me,
the dog groaned.

“Tofu pork and mushy beans, washed down with a rare treat of ginger beer.”

The two of them laughed so hard they thought for certain the driver must have heard them over the roar of his engine.

Genie trotted behind Charlie and the other guards as they made their way toward the Research and Development area with the cages. Her siblings were about to find themselves in their old home.

Welcome back,
she muttered.

“Quick,” she ordered. “Stun bomb wear off. Dogs wake soon. Put in old cages.”

“I know! I know!” Charlie grumped, muttering under his breath about the indignity of taking orders from a “friggin' dog”.

Genie grinned. She almost felt sorry for the poor slob.

“Others out; Charlie stay.” she ordered once her prone siblings had been transferred into their old cages.

“Okay, guys, clear out of here,” Charlie echoed the order.

“Report to the boss in shipping.”

The other guards filed out of the kennel, leaving Charlie and Genie alone with the prisoners.

“What now?” Charlie wanted to know.

Was he looking forward to a round of interrogation? Perhaps another chance to liquidate Cap, Breeze, and Blizzard? To ingratiate himself with the Boss?

Genie didn't know and didn't have time to care. She switched her visor to target mode, and the gun to its highest torture setting. It was a heavy jolt, but she had to get this over with quickly. Besides, Charlie Gowler deserved whatever he got.

“You let dogs out now,” Genie ordered.

Puzzled, Charlie glanced at the cages. Cap and the others were sitting up, fully alert. “Hey, what's going on?” he demanded. Stun victims came to slowly, with a lot of moaning and stumbling about. Through the syrup of his brain Charlie realized something was wrong — terribly wrong.