KC Frantzen - May the K9 Spy 02 - May Finds a Way: Peril in Paris (3 page)

B
reathe. And think.

I’m whizzing along on a motorized cart, stuffed between bags ripe for investigation. We’re still inside a big metal building. I hear Mr. Mac calling for me, way behind now. I’m in an itty bitty crate – YUK – so small hardly anyone would notice and it’s so loud around here, I don’t think barking will help. Others are calling to their families and they’re being ignored. Better save my voice.

Why am I being taken? And where? Who IS this woman? Does she work with the K9 Service? Or maybe Rukan! Something else? Must stay calm, see what happens.

Carts are stuffed to the top with luggage. There’s a fuel truck. It smells like what Dad puts in our truck, except different. I still don’t know what “fuel” is, but it seems humans need it if they operate a motor. And yummo, trucks with food. That reminds me, I’m kinda hungry. And thirsty. And I need to go out. But no chance just now.

I can hardly see anything besides the bags and suitcases. Must get to sniffing.

This one smells like sand and fish and rubber. And this one has dirty jeans and underwear and socks. I think they visited a park. The big plaid one has some chocolate. Wish I could taste it sometime but Dad and Mom never share. For my own good they say. Piffle.

All these tags are marked with the airport code CDG. Wish I’d studied more to know which one. Wait. The name is spelled out – Charles de Gaulle… Hmm. I think that’s in France. But it sounds like a human’s name.

Uh oh we’re slowing. Maybe I can work this latch… Got it. I’ll make my escape when the opportunity presents itself.

We stop outside on the warm concrete, planes and trucks and carts everywhere. These humans seem to know what to do and where to go, like those bees. Wish I did.

I feel the cart move, then hear the woman and a man… can it be? I know that voice. My heart beats
thump thump
. Rukan! But…
Sniff sniff
. He looks different. Same cold eyes though. But scent and sound don’t lie.

“I need that blasted dog out of the way, so it can’t identify me. Where is it?”

“Over there, in the carrier.”

Rukan continues. “Excellent. Our operative should already be on board. Get the dog to eat this drugged meat, then slip the carrier into the luggage compartment. When she finds the dog dead–”

DEAD?

“–at baggage claim in Paris, we will sue and collect thousands for our Cause. Two challenges resolved.”

I nose open the carrier door as a truck marked “Service” drives up, almost blocking my view. I lean left and watch Rukan hold out his hand. He whispers to her, “The plan is complete. Give me the carrier key. I will give it to our operative.”

There is real fear in her eyes as she shakes her head. “I… I didn’t…”

Rukan pauses, his new features furious. “If it escapes, you will not live to make another mistake.”

“I’ll take care of it immediately.” She quivers and hurries towards me.

“Yes,” he grumbles. “See that you do.”

Another worker walks up to him. “You Rudy, the new guy?”

NO – he’s Rukan, evil anarchist, wanted for an attempted bombing in DC!

“Hang on a sec. Yo, Larry, get your cart to 634. I need to finish up here.”

“You got it, boss.”

Rukan, now called “Rudy,” looks uncomfortable.

How can I alert security? I could set off an alarm, but Rukan’s changed so much, he’d slip through again. No, I escaped his abuse, I’m the one to ID him. With no backup.
Gulp
. But I can do it and now’s my opportunity!

I quietly step onto the fishy suitcase and squeeze between a folded garment bag for cover.

A man’s footsteps approach then the cart rocks a little. The motor starts and I hear radio static. “Larry here. I’m bringing flight 634. Over.”

“Acknowledged. You meet the new guy, Rudy? He has a temper, watch yourself.”

“I heard. Boss is having a talk with him as we speak. After we get this Paris flight–”

Time to move! I crawl over another bag and…

My lead! Caught… Choking…

I leap, swing, then bounce hard against the luggage, paws dangling above the concrete.

HACK! GASP!

I
thrash into the luggage again and again. Think!

Thrusting with my hind legs, I jerk my head back. It slips out of the collar. Falling!

I land hard and roll on the concrete loading area.
Thud
. I shake it off then take an instant to relieve myself since my bladder about popped.

Quick, where to? If Rukan or that woman sees me run they’ll corner me and stuff me in a trash sack all dark and close and I’ll be trapped and suffocate and…

STOP. Think.

I need to find Mr. Mac. No, not him. Find Edgrr. That’s it. Edgrr.

The woman rummages and searches. Must hide ‘til she goes by.

I race under a vehicle behind a tire, unseen I hope. When Larry’s cart stops, another man helps him unload. As he holds up the carrier I don’t breathe.

“Larry, check it out. No dog.”

“You kiddin’ me? They’ll have our jobs. We gotta find it.”

Great. They’re looking for me too.

Well, like Sassy taught, “On occasion, any action is better than inaction.” Gotta go.

A large “Good Heavens Catering” truck whizzes past, heading towards a maintenance building.

Hey, I could get help
and
beg a snack. Then if I claw my way back into boot camp, it could show I’m putting “available assets to best use.”

Footsteps!

I dash to the rear door of the nearest truck and leap in. I scramble and crash into a metal cart. Where next? I climb onto some cartons, see an opening and dive.

Yuk. Trash bin.

Maybe this is a blessing. Rukan always thought I was a throwaway, so he won’t look in here. Not sure how I’ll get out but I’m safe for now. At least it’s a clean liner. But it’s noisy when I shift my weight.

I listen carefully as more and more trolleys and bins are loaded.
Sniff, sniff
. Why are they loading food when we’re heading to maintenance? Maybe it’s a snack for the workers–

I hear Rukan’s voice! His tone is angry but still I strain to understand the words. Then… “FIND THAT DOG!”

One thing is certain. He’ll be angrier when
he’s
locked up. That will complete my real mission, then I can go home.

When my bin offloads, I’ll figure a way out, then go find Edgrr. Thank the Creator, here we go. I brace myself for balance.

“Yo. You emptied the trash, right?”

“Yup, and a fresh liner.”

“This one doesn’t feel empty. Too late now. Load it and the two cartons into the business class galley. Get going, flight leaves in seven.”

I’m swung sideways and then feel my bin slide into darkness.
Click
. Trapped!

My stomach churns as the sounds move away so I start barking. “Let me out!”

“How many dogs preloaded this flight? Noisy bunch.”

Larry heard me! I’ll add something for emphasis. “AaaAAAAAAOOOOoooorrrroooo! AAAOOORRROOOO!”

“Three dogs were scheduled,” another man answers. “Evidently one has not made it.” I stop howling to listen. He sounds nice, like Dad.

Larry says, “Yeah. My team found the empty carrier. We’ll get the axe if we don’t find it.”

I howl, “I’m stuck in here! I don’t know where here is, but it smells like a kitchen.”

“Hear that? Sounds like a dog real close by.”

The nice voice says, “We have two on board. You know how it is. They aren’t happy about being crated for eight or nine hours at a stretch. We periodically check them in flight though.”

“Got cha.” Larry whistles. “Well, I just noticed. Look at you – Chief Purser. Congrats on the promotion.”

“Thank you much. It came through about a month ago, along with some time off. That’s where I’m heading now. I’m taking a couple weeks in France.”

Maybe nice Mr. Chief will help me. I raise a ruckus. “LET ME OUT!”

Larry says, “There it is again. Hope it’s not loose on board.”

Don’t even think such. If it hid in the hold it’d die, suffocate – or if by some miracle it appeared in the cabin, we’d have to contact the French authorities upon arrival. I can’t imagine where it’d end up.”

“The new guy, Rudy, is taking losing that dog real bad. First day on the job and all, I guess. He’s hunting hard for it.”

After a pause, Mr. Chief says, “Want me to pick something up for the wife or kids?”

“Maybe a couple bars of good chocolate. Hold on, let me get some cash.”

“No need, Larry. I know where to find you.”

“I’ll be here. Have a good time off. Safe travels.”

They think I’m one of the crated dogs. What am I going to do?

Two lady voices sound like they’re welcoming guests.

“May I take your coat, sir? Let’s put your bag underneath.”

“I hear a dog as well, but we regularly transport animals. Please do not concern yourself.”

“Your amenity kit. Indeed, sir. You are most welcome.”

My ears perk up when a different lady asks, “Would you please send the Chief Purser when convenient? It’s a diplomatic matter.”

“Certainly,
mademoiselle
. It should be after the announcements. He is assisting another passenger now, one who almost missed this connection.”

There’s clicking, like seatbelts in our truck back home – I have a bad feeling about this – and suddenly Mr. Chief’s voice speaks. Strange. It’s nearby
and
muffled overhead.

“Please make yourselves comfortable. We are pleased to welcome you aboard this 7 hour, 12 minute flight from Baltimore to Paris – Charles de Gaulle. We are delighted to serve you and make your time with us comfortable. Sit back and relax, we’ll be airborne shortly.” He speaks the same words in French, I’m pretty sure. Then there’s a sound like someone hung up a phone. Odd.

Mr. Chief speaks again, one voice this time. “It is my pleasure to assist you,
Mademoiselle
… Stark?”

“We, Coralee Stark.”

We? Why is she saying we? Sounds like she means yes. Wait. “
Oui
.” That’s French. It does mean yes.

“I am Chief Purser Vince Dolan, and most happy to assist you. Your seating is satisfactory?”

“
Merci, Monsieur
Dolan. Indeed, my preferred seating is near the galley. I am traveling with some diplomatic items…”

“
Oui.
As per procedure, the Captain has the smaller
valise diplomatique
. The larger carton is secured in the hold. One moment. Ah, here are your papers. All in order.”

“
Merci.
I have not seen you on this flight previously.” Her voice sounds intrigued.

“No, I have recently been promoted and reassigned. Does
mademoiselle
travel this route often?”

“On occasion. I am attached to the US Embassy in Luxembourg, but am temporarily posted to Paris and shepherding these items before I return.”

US Embassy. Maybe Miss Coralee will help me if I can get her attention…

The engines start to whine. Now we’re moving, and fast. The other dogs howl as I try to brace myself on the slick liner.

My queasy stomach drops. My ears need to pop.

I’m just a recruit in boot camp. I can’t go to Paris!