Levi angled his head so he stared directly into the Mastiff’s wide frightened eyes, their faces just inches apart. Levi growled; the large dog trembled and involuntarily peed.
“What’s your name?” Levi demanded.
“Ajax,” the other dog replied, his voice a strangled whisper. “My name is Ajax.”
“What’s the idea of coming at us like that?”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Ajax protested. “I saw you three walking along the street without leashes or anything and I just wanted to have some fun with you, that’s all.”
“Terrorizing dogs smaller than you,” Levi said in an even tone, “that your idea of fun?”
“Yeah…I mean, no!”
“Get up!” Levi ordered.
Ajax rolled over, but he stayed low to the ground, assuming the Sphinx Position so his eyes were very nearly even with Levi’s.
“You’re new here.”
Ajax nodded, even though he knew the Dachshund-mix had not asked a question. “We moved here from Kansas.”
“Let me give you a piece of advice, Ajax,” Levi said. “You keep up that attitude of yours, eventually you’ll meet a dog who does more than put you in your place.”
“I understand,” Ajax gulped.
“My name is Levi; this is Sunny, and Yoda.”
Ajax nodded, but he never took his eyes from Levi’s commanding gaze. “I’ll remember that.”
“You also remember that if you are ever in trouble or need help, you can call on us – the Three Dog Detective Agency.”
“You’ll…help me?” Ajax breathed, hardly believing his ears. “Even after…”
“Be on your way, Ajax,” Levi instructed. “We have work to do.”
Levi turned from the perplexed and astounded Mastiff, and Ajax watched the three dogs continue their journey as if nothing had happened. He shook his mighty head and wondered just exactly what had happened. He certainly was not in Kansas anymore.
“Wow,” Yoda said under his breath to Sunny as they followed after, a few paces father back than before. “I’ve seen him put big bullies in their place before, but I’ve never seen him take it so far.”
Sunny smiled thinly. “You think you’re the only one unhappy about taking our business to the Police? Levi may know what’s the right thing to do, but that does not mean he has to like it.”
The Chula Vista Police Department occupied the entire southeast corner of Fourth Avenue and F Street, what had previously been a local shopping center. The three dogs passed by the wide steps leading up to the entrance and the memorial for fallen officers, where the dogs sometimes paused to gaze silently at the brass plaques where the names were followed by the appellation K9, and walked along the north side of the parking garage; just over halfway up the block they came to their entrance, or so they thought of it, a slight gap where concrete, iron bars and metal mesh did not quite meet up as they had on the architect’s plans. It was a tight squeeze for the big Golden Retriever, but, as usual, Sunny managed to get through without complaint.
The three dogs walked along the line of police cars parked in their numbered spaces, keeping to the shadows inside the gloomy structure lest their presence be noticed. As was usual when they paid a visit to the Police Department, they kept out of the security cameras’ lines of sight.
They followed a ramp downward to the lower level, where most of the spaces were vacant and shadows even deeper. Knowing there was no surveillance on this level, they moved with greater speed and confidence. Eventually, they came to double doors leading inward; their goal, however, was not the interior of the building, but the large compartmented area just before the doors, where fresh air and dappled sunlight drifted down from spaces above, and the scents of exhaust and dripping oil were overpowered by something more pleasant, and more familiar.
“We really got to get that opening fixed, Arnold,” a voice said from one of the spaces that served as temporary kennels.
“You got that right, Antony,” Arnold agreed. “It’s getting so that any old mangy…Oh, hello, Miss Sunny, I didn’t see you at first.”
“What do you three want?” Antony demanded as he joined his fellow officer. “You know civilians are not allowed in our area.”
“Civilians?” Yoda yapped. “If it wasn’t for us…”
“Pipe down, Little Foo-Foo!” Antony growled.
Yoda snarled.
Antony snarled back.
Sunny frowned as she surreptitiously pressed against Yoda.
Arnold frowned at Sunny’s frown and said to his partner: “Come on, Antony, I’m sure they have a reason for…”
“You take their side, I take your badge!” Antony warned.
“I just…” Arnold stammered.
“You just…” Antony cut in.
“Give it a rest!” Levi snapped into the tension-filled air. “You both know we would not be here, except we have a reason.”
The two canine officers scowled at the little Dachshund-mix, but they fell silent. Levi was not only a natural alpha, more than a match for Antony’s assumed aura of command, but he was nearly fifteen years their senior, evidenced by a once-black coat now heavily flecked with white, as well as a white muzzle and white around the eyes that almost gave the appearance of a mask; to these K9 officers, that fifteen-year seniority was, quite literally, a lifetime, not trumped by the authority of a harness adorned with an embroidered badge and the word POLICE.
“All right then,” a calmer Antony said after a moment. “Spill it.”
Antony was a Cane Corso, a breed out of Italy long used as a hunter and guardian. Though of a breed generally known for a calm and easy demeanor, Antony possessed the intemperance of youth and the cockiness that often came from wearing a badge. His sleek coat was fawn-colored and his muzzle black.
Arnold, a short-coated gold-brindle Belgian Shepherd was a bit older than his partner, but he was more than content to remain in the background and let Antony play the alpha. However, being a police officer, he was certainly no lapdog.
“We’ve come across evidence of a gladiatorial school in Chula Vista,” Levi said. “Dogs trained to fight to the death, smaller dogs used as bait and training targets.”
For a long moment, the police dogs were silent. Arnold looked to Antony, but the Cane Corso kept his attention maintained fully on Levi, waiting for a flinch that would never come.
“Impossible,” Antony finally declared. “We would know about it; you can’t keep something like that hidden.”
“Yeah, neighbors would complain,” Arnold agreed. “It’s not the sort of thing that gets put up with; even in the worse neighborhood it’s not something you could hide.”
“It exists,” Levi assured them. “It’s located by the trolley tracks south of Naples.”
The two K9 officers glanced quickly at each other.
“That’s where…” Arnold started to say.
“How would the three of you know anything about that area?” Antony demanded. “That’s far outside your neighborhood.”
“We found a survivor,” Levi explained. “A runaway.”
“Okay,” Arnold drawled. “As soon as we talk to this dog, we’ll…”
“Not going to happen,” Levi announced. “She’s been through a lot – it nearly killed her, almost destroyed her spirit. She’s relocated to a new home, and the last thing she needs is to have you two barking up in her face.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Levi, or it’ll be the last…”
“If we don’t question this runaway dog, there is not much we can do about this alleged dog fight ring,” Arnold interceded. “We need evidence before we can lead a K9 unit in, then draw in the regular police; we can hardly take action just because you three…”
“Three wannabe detectives!” Antony barked.
“…you three civilians say there is something there,” Arnold said. “Where is it? Exactly?”
Levi gestured to Sunny and Yoda, who moved forward to help dislodge Princess’ iden
tity medallion from under his collar. It hit the concrete with a sharp metallic clatter. The police dogs moved forward to see it, but Levi quickly planted his paw on it, covering the numbers, leaving only the address.
“What’s the big idea?” Antony growled.
“Yeah, Levi, how can we…”
You don’t need to see the dog’s identity number,” Levi said. “All you need to know is where to go, where to lead the authorities.”
“If that’s what you think, then you have another think coming,” the Cane Corso countered. “All I see is an address that may or may not be what you say it is. You want to let us question this supposed runaway, find out the details of this canine gladiatorial compound, then maybe I can see about surveillance on the property, maybe sending in an undercover dog; then, after we get enough evidence, maybe a raid…after the regular police obtain a court order.”
“Don’t you care about the dogs?” Sunny demanded, stepping forward. “While you’re doing that, who knows how many will be hurt, how many will die?”
“Back off,” Antony warned, baring his teeth.
“Now, Miss Sunny, of course we do,” Arnold said. “That’s why we became police officers, so we could help others.”
“Sure fooled me!” Yoda interjected.
“I will not be pushed by a Pomeranian pipsqueak!” Antony yelled.
“I’m sure you three are sincere in your intent,” Arnold said, once again trying to play the peacemaker, “but there are rules we must follow. Without a witness – an actual eyewitness like your runaway dog – our paws are tied; we cannot lead regular police officers to this address on the off chance something nefarious is going on. If nothing is wrong, we would stand a chance of being put out of the K9 Unit by either the regular officers or our bosses.”
“Not going to happen.” Antony muttered, still fixing Levi with a glare that would have made a lesser dog turn belly up.
Which Levi returned, in spades.
“But if it works out the way we know it will,” Sunny pointed out, “you would be heroes.”
“We would let you take full credit,” Yoda added.
“Or full blame,” Antony murmured. “No thanks. Not worth the risk.”
“So you’re not going to do anything?” Levi demanded.
“Nothing except kick your tails and lock you up if you don’t get out, pronto,” Antony answered.
“You should go now, Levi,” Arnold said, with just a tiny hint of gentleness. He looked to the others. “You too, Yoda, Miss Sunny. If you need help finding your way out…”
“We know the way,” Yoda snapped.
Levi, with Sunny’s and Yoda’s assistance, slipped the tag back securely under his collar.
“Our consciences are clear,” Levi said. “I doubt you can claim the same. You know we never make baseless accusations.”
Levi turned and started back up the ramp, Sunny and Yoda close behind. They had done their best to do the right thing. As law-abiding dogs and detectives who sometimes needed assistance from the constituted authorities, Levi and the others always sought to maintain good relations with the police, something more easily intended than actually accomplished.
Antony watched the three dogs walk away, and when he thought they were far enough away, he said to Arnold: “You catch that address?”
“Yeah, got it memorized,” Arnold answered. “That’s where we have found those…”
“Shhh,” Antony warned. “You can’t trust those three, especially that Yoda – on a dog that size those ears look like radar dishes.”
Almost out of sight of the K9 officers, Yoda frowned, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Radar dishes indeed!
Heading home on F Street and passing the Fire Station, Yoda finally broke his silence and into Levi’s thoughts.
“Well, what do we do now?”
“Humph,” Sunny humphed. “You already know the answer to that one.”
“We gave them the opportunity to do the right thing,” Levi said. “Now it’s our turn, as usual. We may not have the same resources available to the police and their canine officers, but we’re not going to let that stop us. That place nearly killed Princess, and it’s a sure bet that others have not been so lucky as Princess as to escape.”
Levi was glad to be in the lead and kept walking as he spoke so the others would not see his eyes as he thought of the horrors the dogs at the gladiatorial school were being put through. While they could only imagine what it was like, from what they had seen of Princess and from what little the traumatized Pit Bull had told them, Levi did not have to use his imagination – the terror and savagery of those days still haunted him, and even though he knew no one would ever victimize him again, he could not completely banish all that he had seen, had felt, or had been forced to do in those dark days. Lightning and fire seethed behind his eyes, and it would surely have frightened the other two had they seen.
“The cops know more than they are letting on,” Yoda said.
Levi turned. “The way they reacted to the location, there may have been some complaints.”
“More that that,” Yoda said. “They found something.”
And he told his friends what he had heard at the last.
Sunny frowned. “Radar dishes? That’s very rude.”
“What could they have found?” Yoda asked.
“Hard to say, exactly,” Levi replied, cocking his head in deep thought. “At places like Princess described there are some things that cannot just be dumped in the trash, lest they cause too many questions if found.”
“Spoor?” Sunny suggested, wrinkling her nose in disgust.
“No, stuff like that usually gets washed down the drains when they hose things out,” Levi explained. “I’m thinking more along the lines of casualties.”
“The fighters?” Yoda asked.
“The training dogs and the bait dogs,” Levi answered solemnly.
Yoda gulped. “Bait dogs?”
“Puppies thrown in with the fighting dogs,” Levi said. “It gets the larger dogs used to the taste of blood, even liking it; sometimes they also find a dog who refuses to die, who can be trained for the arena.”
“That’s horrible!” Sunny exclaimed. She glanced back at the Police Department building with an expression of disdain. “Who would do such a savage thing?”
“Not just football players, I guessing,” Yoda quipped, trying to lighten a conversation that had suddenly turned very dark, but failing.
“Those with evil in their hearts,” Levi replied.
“I know we must do something about it,” Sunny said. “But what?”
“The police want a witness before they’ll do anything,” Yoda reminded them.
“I’ll give them a witness,” Levi said evenly.
“But those two knuckleheads will chew Princess up and spit her out!” Yoda protested.
“Levi is not talking about Princess, Yoda,” Sunny explained. “He’s talking about himself.”
“Oh.”
Chapter Thirteen
The operatives of the Three Dog Detective Agency wanted to reach the location of the training compound while it was still light, so after a brief stop at home to pick up a few supplies and notify the cats of their intent, they set off.
“I think I should go with you,” Little Kitty said.
“No,” Levi said sharply. “Too dangerous.”
“And don’t think of sneaking out,” Kim warned. “I will not be hoodwinked again.”
“I’m tired of bird-sitting.”
“And I don’t like the way Little Kitty looks at me,” Benedict offered.
“I doubt she can see you very well out of her one good eye,” Yoda said. “Besides, Kim will keep her in check.”
Benedict nodded, but not with any great display of confidence. No amount of concern about Little Kitty could, however, dampen the joy he had felt when he learned of the dogs’ contact with the Parrots.
“I have never really believed in the spirits of the air, or any o
f the tales Grandfather told us,” Benedict said. “But now that our freedom may be in sight, I will reconsider.”
Not wanting to discourage Benedict’s fledgling flowering of faith and being pressed for time, Levi decided to keep to himself their lack of a plan of attack. True, he did have the glimmer of an idea, but it was nothing he could yet present to any of the others.
Gangs of dogs and cats, both feral and domestic, openly roamed the streets of Chula Vista, defying police and animal control authorities, but they tended to remain in their own neighborhoods. Still, between F Street and Naples Avenue, a matter of slightly more than two miles, there were several territories through which they had to pass, which meant scrutiny they wanted to avoid – while they did not want to be challenged by every gang seeking to make a name for itself, they also did not want to be noticed by the wrong eyes, to be seen by animals hunting for the lords of the fighting compound, or by those hoping to curry favor or acquire power.
The solution to the problem of entering the area stealthily by the light of day was to be found in the success of Princess’ escape. The dogs made their way to where the trolley tracks crossed F Street, then headed due south, keeping between the tracks and the decline.
The decision they had made was tactically and strategically sound, but it was very un-doglike. It was in a dog’s nature to avoid the trolley tracks. The sputter and hum of electricity overhead, the smell of ozone and machine oil, and the ominous and continuous vibrations from the hot glistening rails were very disconcerting to keen canine senses; additionally, every so often, though not regularly as if there was anything like an actual schedule involved, death screamed at them, bright red trolley cars hurling by at breakneck velocity. The first time a maniac trolley-train sped past, the dogs pressed against the boundary fence, waiting tensely for it to pass; if there were any frightened whimpers they were masked by the passage of the trolley-train, and if there were any tucked tails, no one mentioned it.
Fortunately the tracks passed through industrial and commercial areas, as well as some very run-down housing, so the trek of three dogs on the wrong side of the tracks went virtually unnoticed. At least by anyone along the way.
A Flight of Raptors (Paws & Claws Book 2) Page 11