KC Frantzen - May the K9 Spy 02 - May Finds a Way: Peril in Paris (9 page)

D
ee-licious. And oh the scents. Still… Go with what you know. “Mr. Josh, I’ll have two bags of treats, hey make it three. Chicken please.”

CREAAAKKKK.

Instantly I’m awake. I’m not at Joshua’s Pet Treat Bakery – I’m in a Paris cemetery, hidden under the red cloth at the lady Marie’s. Where’s Léonce?

Alexis’s mother, I mean Director, says, “Nothing seems disturbed. Still, we shall not linger.”

I hear sounds like boxes being moved, a computer engaging and shutting down. She continues. “Take all these, except the
computer. I need it.
Le Panthéon
guard will let you in the lower gate. Do not muddle this up.”

“No.” Alexis sounds hurt.

“Now be gone. I have work to do at the apartment.”

“With him? Don’t answer. I’m going.”

Footsteps, the latch clicks, then quiet.

After a moment, Léonce appears. “They removed the radios and cell phones. We go.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. Wherever somewhere is…

As we follow Director from a safe distance, I nod towards a tall structure. “Léonce, what is that? It was all lit up last night.”

“Ze most famous landmark in all of Paris,
La Tour Eiffel
. It is what I use to find my way. Come. We will take ze
Métro
. I know where Director goes.”

We watch her join the crowd and head north. We tail her.

The scent is fresh, thankfully, because I lose sight. The cat doesn’t appear concerned. Soon he sees what he’s looking for, a pole with a large “M” and… Bees?

Léonce seems as surprised as I am. The sign has a squirming beard of hundreds, maybe thousands of bees clinging in a cluster. The humans give them plenty of space.

The fur on my neck stands. Something’s wrong. Léonce breathes in too.

Sniff.
Pack Leader.

I scan the streets, looking for something out of the ordinary. There! Two humans wearing masks and gloves – bee suits, like I saw in that office! – carrying a bag. I think one is female, but it’s hard to tell because of the bulky white clothing. “Hey. That one walks exactly like Pack Leader.”

My companion hisses and spits. “
Oui
, and ze other is a young chaos-maker who often accompanies him.”

“Mean Girl.”

We watch as Pack Leader produces a large spray device and targets the cluster. Bees dart and swoop, drop and thrash and die. Humans squeal and scatter.

What did any of them – bees or humans – do to deserve this?

A cluster of bees struggles to remain airborne. It shudders towards us, landing in a trimmed potted plant. The bees around the fringe fall away and die, leaving a smaller group intact.

Léonce darts in front of me and motions towards a trash bin across the avenue. Masks, gloves and clothes. No sign of the anarchists.

As we turn back, the ground is littered with dead and dying bees. “Léonce, we have to help. C’mon.”

I hear him groan.

The survivors appear angry. I decide to try and speak bee.

“How horrible! May I help you to a safe location? I won’t eat you like my sister did.”

They buzz around, sensing me I suppose. They seem more active, then release to expose the bees in the center.

The queen! She seems weak but okay, well-protected by her guards.

She flies towards me and does a little dance. I can’t tell if it’s a greeting or a thank you, but soon she swoops and lands on my back. Most of the others follow.

Gosh, now what?

Several scouts twirl and waggle.

“Look,” says Léonce. “Seems like they want you to follow.”

I trail behind as they lead us to the next avenue. Hope we hurry. All these legs tickle! I want to flip over and scratch my back sooo much. Ahead, we notice some bees clinging to an arching branch on an old tree. The queen lifts off and dances again.

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

I notice Léonce giving me a look.

“What!”

There’s also an “M” on a pole on this avenue. It seems there’s more than one entrance to
Métro
in this area. We take the stairs underground.

Perfume, sweat, dead cow, cheese, bread, fear, love – the smells are similar to Washington, DC, but with a French flavor.
One thing is the same, the human pandemonium. So many, all in a hurry. There’s clicking as they walk through the ticket-taker machine. No ticket for us!

We leave on the next train. Léonce has me watch for
Cluny la Sorbonne
where we will disembark. It takes a while, but I realize there’s a map above the train doors and all the stops are marked. He seems proud when I say, “Next stop.”

He shows me how to wait underneath the first row seats and let the forest of legs get off first. We jump just before the doors close.

The walls and ceilings are covered in shiny white tile, with a scattering of huge scribbles. A lady nearby explains to a tourist that they are replicas of autographs of famous humans from the area. No pawographs. Interesting.

We locate the exit, pass through several hallways, up steps, and into the sunlight. Much better. After several blocks we arrive at a large plaza with a huge building in the middle.
Le Panthéon
.

We’re early, so we search for snacks.

When the sun sinks in the sky he says, “We should prepare. They will arrive soon.”

We stoop under an iron gate and enter
Le Panthéon
at ground level. But when we descend smooth concrete stairs, my bottom lip sticks out a bit.

Underground. Oh joy.

I don’t like this place of cold hard cream-colored stone. Nothing is soft or green, like where Léonce lives. The layered
human scents vary. Some are strong, from today, some are faint and age-old. We trot together down a long, dimly lit corridor with hall after hall of crypts on either side.

At least we’re traveling towards a light.

“We will position for observation, after I show you their meeting area.”

As we near the end of this corridor, I hear sounds like a show on the Antiquity Channel. Odd. We approach a large room, with chairs and tables and a screen. A video is playing about another lady Marie, a Madame Sk
odowska-Curie and her husband, Pierre. Wonder if Dad has seen it?

I feel Léonce’s paw on my shoulder. “Maintain silence when they arrive. Come. We will monitor from over here.”

We enter one of the crypt hallways nearby and he indicates I should jump up. Piffle. We’re upwind of where the group will meet. Can’t be helped, but it knocks out one of my best senses.

My friend settles in to wait, ears alert, tail hugging his body.

I inspect the vault nearest me. “Why would someone named Louis Braille be buried here? And what about the dots beside his name?”

The video stops then it’s deathly quiet.

“Closing time,” Léonce says. “Now we listen.”

F
ootsteps.

They arrive in groups of five, a few minutes apart. I think I spot Pack Leader, Alexis too.
Sniff.
As I thought, not much scent available.

When they’re all seated on the cold stone floor, Director strides in from a darkened archway I just noticed.

I detect others waiting, hidden.

In a severe voice, Director begins. “We have blocked bridges, hacked systems, disrupted commercial zones, punching panic into the hearts of immoral governments and businesses worldwide. It is nearly time to implement the next phase of our plan.”

The young humans lap up every word, except Alexis. He appears distant.

She surveys the group, then commands, “Watch the video.”

After introductory music, a voice says, “Your News Wire Program at Five update. Authorities have few details on the bomb blast outside the Regnadistan–”

I whisper, “Rukan talked about that.”

My companion frowns.

“–Embassy in Paris last Friday morning. No one has claimed responsibility, and the incident remains under investigation. However News Wire brings it to you first. We have learned there is a person of interest. Authorities request assistance from the public.

“Our on-scene reporter acquired this brief audio from a young rubbish collector. Listen as he explains what happened.

“‘I noticed this metal case near the Embassy wall.’”

Pack Leader’s voice!

“‘When I looked inside, I was scared. There were wires and a timer–’”

I mutter, “That’s the same as Washington.” Léonce gives me a look.

“‘–so I hurried to call the authorities. When I rounded the corner, I heard the explosion.’

“To review, the blast occurred Friday around 4:30 a.m., setting vehicles ablaze and blowing out windows in the Embassy and several buildings nearby. Computer and telephone
communications were disrupted, and in a few instances, were severed entirely.

“The spokesman on foreign affairs said Regnadistan’s intelligence agency continues coordination with Parisian authorities. ‘We are thankful for no injuries. This blast will have no impact on our diplomatic activities in France or elsewhere. We remain watchful for all who employ terror to further their Cause.’

“As we noted, the blast knocked out video recording devices in the immediate area. Our reporter arrived prior to the camera crew so authorities merely have access to this recording. Today, however, he has been officially designated a person of interest.

“If you have any information, contact the
Central Directorate of Internal Intelligence
, which has posted a reward for facts leading to arrest and conviction in the Embassy attack. In other news…”
Click.

Several of those seated pump fists as all eyes turn to the human seated near Alexis. Director says, “Brilliant work, which has been noted by our Chief.”

The young man’s nose jerks in the air as he takes a quick look to his left and right. I notice some scratches and wounds across his face and he’s favoring one arm. It’s Pack Leader alright. Léonce and I struck one for the good guys.

Director glares at Alexis. “
Some
of you should learn from this noble fighter.”

Noble? Pack Leader? He’s nothing but a coward and a bully.

Alexis keeps his eyes down, shoulders slumped.

All in the room are quiet. During the silence, several start fidgeting. One says, “We are ready to hit again, Director. When do we go?”

“Soon. We will rupture communications, as you know, the first round in war. The political and economic elite must understand we are everywhere. We can strike at will.

“Over the past few days, we have acquired cellular phones. These will be decoded, modified systems making them untraceable. Inexpensive portable radios will also be adapted for our purposes. Alexis? Alexis!”

He glances up, then melts under her glare. “Yes Director.”

“Since you prefer to be elsewhere, leave us. You shall take the equipment for modification. At once.”

“Yes Director.”

Such sad eyes. The jeers of his friends don’t help. Some friends.

As Alexis shuffles out with a box under each arm, Director continues. “The Movement’s policy has been to attack different targets each time, to keep the authorities off-balance. Our Unit Chief is well-removed, positioned to coordinate our efforts here. His previous plan was foiled by a US government agency.”

Mean Girl asks, “What happened?”

Director’s eyes narrow. “Do you not recall the EMP suitcase scheme in their capital?”

Mean Girl slumps a bit and nods.

Director IS talking about Rukan!

“Operatives in position deflected attention and he evaded capture.”

A HA! But who
would
have helped a person so evil?

Director looks to her left, arm outstretched. “We are honored to have them with us.”

From the darkened archway step a woman and a jagged-eared dog.