by Craig Spence
“Jeez, Einstein, it sounds pretty risky.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Ariel wanted to know.
Cap grunted angrily. He didn’t like her attending their planning sessions and used every pretext to let the others know. It was an unnecessary risk, he’d argued. One human in the mix was enough. Bertrand had not translated that bit of the discussion, but Ariel sensed Cap’s unfriendliness.
They were meeting on the shaky platform of Fort Nicomekl, Breeze and Blizzard patrolling the perimeter while the others talked. Bertrand interpreted for Ariel. “You’re right,” she said of Einstein’s plan. “That does sound dangerous.”
If you can think of a better way, let’s hear it, Einstein argued.
What do you expect to find?
He’ll know when he finds it, Cap joked.
Seriously, Einstein objected. We’ve come up against a brick wall at AMOS. We could sit there watching for another year and we still wouldn’t be any farther ahead. So if we’re going to come up with a strategy we have to look somewhere else. The only lead I can see is those trucks. Where do they come from? What’s in them?
“You’re right,” Bertrand conceded.
He interpreted the discussion for Ariel.
So Cap and I will go tomorrow night then, Einstein concluded.
“Not until you’re better prepared,” Ariel said when Bertrand told her the decision.
What does she mean? Cap growled, annoyed at her interference.
“At the very least, we should go over a map of metro Vancouver and show them the main routes in and out of town. Otherwise, how are they going to get back? From their description it sounds like the truck is heading west on the Trans-Canada. My guess is it’s coming from the docks.”
“What makes you say that?” Bertrand interrupted.
“Well, it just makes sense. If Hindquist is an international arms dealer, he needs access to international shipping, right? We’re talking arms, not the sort of stuff that would be easy to smuggle in and out of airports. He’s shipping his supplies through the Port of Vancouver.”
It made sense.
“So we should put off the mission for at least one more day until they can be thoroughly briefed. They’ll also have to learn how to read addresses. Do either of you know what an address is?”
She looked at the two dogs; they stared back dumbly.
“How are they going to tell us where the warehouse is located?” Ariel wanted to know.
“So we meet here again tomorrow,” Bertrand said, grinning. “And we’ll plan this thing out to Ariel’s satisfaction.”
Einstein agreed enthusiastically. Cap gave a reluctant grunt of approval. Then they ended the meeting quickly, the dogs dispersing separately into the Nicomekl underbrush, Bertrand and Ariel heading back into Forestview through the back gate.
“Good work,” Bertrand said.
“I know we have to do it, but I don’t like this one bit,” Ariel replied.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“Speaking of not liking things, what’s up with Cap?”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh come on Birdman. If looks could kill I’d be a pile of ashes by now.”
“He’s just grouchy, Airee. Give him time.”
“He didn’t need any time to get used to you. Why’s that?”
Bertrand shrugged, but couldn’t keep the hangdog expression out of his face. She knew he was avoiding her questions.
“I’ve got to go,” he said before she could say anything more. “Elaine’s coming over and we’re supposed to do something ‘special’. Dad won’t let me stay home.”
“Oh,” Ariel said. “See you, then.”
“Yeah, see you.”
She turned quickly, heading through the common area toward the Kriegers’ unit. Bertrand’s heart sank. She was hurt and angry . . . and right, he had to admit. Why shouldn’t she be at their meetings? It was a risk for all of them, not just her. Cap was being unfair. Bertrand couldn’t say those things to Ariel, though. It wasn’t the right time for sorting out personal problems. They’d just have to muddle through.
Oh boy! A trip to Stanley Park. Just what he wanted.
Bertrand shrank gloomily into the back seat, watching the scenery pass by on Highway 1. It occurred to him that Cap and Einstein would be taking this same route when they hopped the AMOS tractor trailer unit. He had no idea how they were going to carry out their mission. They hadn’t explained that part.
“You seem kind of quiet back there, son,” Professor Smith said cheerfully.
“I was just thinking, Dad.”
“You know, we don’t have to go to Stanley Park, guys,” Elaine piped up. “We could do anything we want. It’s a beautiful afternoon. We could drive up Cypress Mountain and look down on the city. We could go to the Aquarium, or Science World, or Chinatown . . . ”
How about home, Bertrand thought unhappily. He would rather have been just about anywhere than in a car with his dad and Elaine on a “family outing”. It was bad enough being a teenager. Being a teenager on public display with his dad made him cringe. Being mistaken for their teenager made him want to evaporate and blow out the window like a puff of smoke.
And yet, he really liked Elaine.
They drove on in silence. Great! His glumness was infectious and now Professor Smith and Elaine seemed to feel as crappy as he did. Guilt and anger sat like a lump of Leftover Stew in Bertrand’s belly. Elaine reached over and stroked his father’s arm consolingly, then withdrew her hand quickly.
Bertrand looked away. This little get-to-know-you outing was going to be hell. He knew Elaine already. She was his dad’s research assistant. Bertrand’s friend. Not his dad’s girlfriend! The notion of she and his father together outside of their lab still troubled him; like finding a kangaroo in the arctic.
It shouldn’t have been Elaine sitting in the passenger seat. It should have been . . .
Bertrand shoved the thought away. It was too stupid. Too painful.
“Let’s go see Mom,” he suggested suddenly, the words just sort of flying out of his mouth like a horde of bats.
Elaine gasped.
Professor Smith drove on for a while in stunned silence. “Son,” he said through the hum of the tires, “I really don’t think that’s fair.”
“No Alex!” Elaine cut in. “It’s okay. None of this is fair. We both know that.” She paused, catching her breath. “If you really want to go visit your mom, then that’s what we should do. But only if that’s what you really want, Bertrand.”
There wasn’t a hint of challenge in her voice, only deep concern. For him. For all of them.
“No,” he said. “That’s okay. I was just being stupid.”
Cap and Einstein crouched in a thicket off 200th Street.
We wait until the cab is past us, then we move, okay?
Okay, Einstein panted.
The rig would have to slow as it turned into the freeway entrance. That’s when they’d make their move. They’d have maybe ten seconds to sprint up beside the accelerating semi and scramble on board. Cap figured they could huddle in the space between the cab and the trailer. Einstein wasn’t so sure.
Now was not the time for doubting, though. He distracted himself by going over the information Ariel and Bertrand had presented at their second mission briefing. They’d spread a map over the rough planks of Fort Nicomekl and traced out the main routes into Vancouver, paying special attention to the bridges and tunnels that crossed the Fraser River: the Port Mann, Pattullo, Knight, Alex Fraser, and Dease Island.
At the end of the meeting Ariel had pulled a tangled harness out of her knapsack with what Einstein called a “squawk box” taped to it.
What’s that for? he’d asked Bertrand.
“Um . . . I’ll let Airee explain.”
“It’s our Improvised Tracking Devise,” Ariel announced proudly. “I’ve attached my GPS phone to this harness. You wear it and we’ll be able to track your trip into town using
software that Bertrand has downloaded onto his computer.”
I’m not wearing that thing, Einstein objected.
“That way if anything happens, we’ll be able to locate you right away. It’ll even keep a permanent, time-stamped record of your route that we could turn over to the authorities as evidence.”
Einstein had no choice. He twisted his head round to look at it now, wondering if he should have agreed so willingly.
Better you than me, Cap teased.
The sound of a truck rumbling up 200th Street ended their banter.
Here he comes! Cap said.
Einstein couldn’t see much through the tall grass. After a few seconds, though, he heard the grunts of the big diesel downshifting. His stomach clenched as the tractor rumbled into view, and then the trailer.
Jeez! Cap cursed. Go! Go! Go!
The truck was still moving fast as it swung past their hideout. They broke cover and galloped alongside the belching behemoth.
We can’t make it! Einstein yelled.
Run! Cap growled, pushing hard, his muscles straining as they gained on the trundling rig. Cap nosed ahead of the humming tandem tires, then, without hesitating, veered and launched himself toward the space between the cab and trailer. Einstein thought his brother would come up short, but Cap landed with a thump, his front legs and chest hitting the metal deck, his back legs dangling over the edge. Scrambling for his life, he rolled onto the platform.
Sprinting flat out, Einstein inched ahead of the trailer, too. The truck was gathering speed, though. If he was going to jump, he had to do it now.
Don’t! Cap hollered. You’re not close enough!
Einstein surged, gaining a couple of inches.
Don’t! Cap’s commanded.
But Einstein couldn’t stop. He took one last stride, then veered and jumped . . .
He knew the instant he launched himself that he wasn’t going to make it. Einstein’s senses switched to slow motion mode, as if he were in one of those sports replays Bertrand loved watching on TV. His front paws touched the top of the chassis, and he tried desperately to vault himself on top. He didn’t have the strength, though, and his body slammed into the side of the rig. He bounced off, falling, falling into the path of the mashing tires.
No! Cap roared.
Then Einstein saw a blur to his right. Suddenly he was jerked back toward the truck. Cap had him by the neck and collar. With a savage yank, he righted Einstein and hauled him onto the platform, where the two of them tumbled into a heap. Neither dog wanted to move. Gasping, they celebrated Einstein’s survival just by breathing.
Thanks, Einstein mumbled after a while.
You scared the crap out of me, little brother, Cap growled. You should have listened.
And let you go into the big city all alone? Einstein teased.
Cap grinned. I guess it’s good to have some company, he said.
Then they huddled up behind the cab for warmth and to keep out of sight as the rig barreled down the Trans-Canada.
“So where are they?” Ariel asked, her query scrolling onto Bertrand’s screen.
“Crossing the Port Mann Bridge,” he answered.
He imagined the two dogs huddled against the back of the truck’s cab, shielding each other from the wind and trying to keep out of sight. So many things could go wrong. They might be seen by a passing motorist, who would call the cops. Maybe the rig wasn’t going back to the warehouse at all, and their efforts would be wasted. The driver might stop for a coffee. A million things could upset their plans.
“At least they didn’t get squished,” Ariel said.
“Yeah, that’s good.”
The blinking dot that represented the dogs’ location on the Google map had moved west. Ariel had been right by the looks of it. They were heading toward Burrard Inlet and the Port of Vancouver.
Her idea of equipping Einstein with a GPS-enabled cell phone had been a stroke of genius.
“Where are they now, Birdman?”
He squinted at the screen. “Highway 1 and Brunette Avenue,” he typed. He was about to add that they appeared to be headed exactly where she had predicted, when a sound outside his bedroom froze him.
Footsteps! Padding along the hall carpet.
Snapping the lid to his laptop shut, Bertrand vaulted from his desk into his bed, pulling the covers up under his chin.
“Son?” Professor Smith whispered from the doorway.
Bertrand opened his eyes just enough to see the ghostly silhouette of his father haloed by the faint hallway nightlight. Professor Smith looked annoyed and rumpled.
“I know you’re awake Bertrand,” he said. “I heard you moving around in here.”
“Sorry, Dad. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Were you on the computer?”
“Yes,” Bertrand confessed, praying his father wouldn’t open the lid and look.
“Can you tell me what you were doing?” Professor Smith moved toward the desk as he talked.
“I was checking out some stuff on Google Maps, Dad,” Bertrand flustered.
“You know, I’ve trusted you with your computer in your room even though everyone says that’s a stupid thing for a parent to do. I just thought you’re so smart, so responsible . . . ”
He flipped open the lid and the computer screen reactivated, its blue-grey light casting eerie shadows. The flashing dot showed Einstein and Cap even closer to the Vancouver waterfront. “Well at least it isn’t anything obviously inappropriate,” Professor Smith said.
Just then a message from Ariel appeared. “Hey Birdman! Wake up!” it said.
“I take it Ariel is at her computer too, then.” Professor Smith sighed.
“Yes, Dad. We were doing some research.”
His father bent over and looked more closely at the screen. “What kind of research, son?” he asked.
For a second Bertrand hesitated. A part of him wanted Professor Smith to know; a bigger part didn’t. “Uh, we’re doing a project on transportation systems. We’re tracking how goods move from all over the world through the Port of Vancouver.”
“Interesting,” he father responded suspiciously.
“Yeah, we wanted to do it in real time, Dad. That’s why we’re up so late.”
“You could have told me.”
“Sorry, Dad,” Bertrand blushed.
“Hey Birdman! What’s going on?” Ariel demanded on screen.
Right on cue, Bertrand thought, rolling his eyes.
Professor Smith typed in a response. “This is Bird dad! Go to bed, Ariel,” he said.
“Good night, Mr. Smith,” came the contrite reply.
“You two have some explaining to do,” he said sternly. “I thought I could trust you to behave sensibly; now I wonder if I’ve been a fool.”
Professor Smith stopped, as though about to say more. He drifted to the side of Bertrand’s bed and sank dejectedly onto the edge of the mattress, running his hand through Bertrand’s hair. “I wish your mother was with us, son,” he said sadly. “She always knew what to do in situations like this.”
They hugged.
His father’s loneliness and fear cut through Bertrand like a cold wind. He shivered. It wasn’t fair that they were alone. It wasn’t right. Then he remembered Elaine, how happy his father was when she was around, how they laughed and smiled. Bertrand still couldn’t hold the idea of his father and Elaine together properly, but he resolved then and there to try. For all their sakes he had to try.
“Do you think you and Elaine will get married, Dad?” he asked.
“I hope so, son. I hope someday you’ll be ready to give me away.”
“Huh?”
Professor Smith laughed and mussed his son’s hair again. “Go to sleep now,” he said. “I love you son.”
“I love you too, Dad,” Bertrand answered sheepishly.
The star-spangled darkness of the Fraser Valley gave way to the false constellations of Vancouver. Wow! Cap marvelled. I bet there’d be plenty of dinner pi
ckings here.
Einstein wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as his brother about the dining selection for urban strays. Like Cap, he was amazed to be in the city, though. He’d never been to Vancouver, but had learned enough from television and conversations with Bertrand to recognize the place. They plunged into a brightly lit tunnel, lurched round a curving exit ramp, then found themselves in a drab industrial zone.
Ships! Einstein pointed out, excitedly. We’re at Burrard Inlet.
The geography lesson was cut short when the rig swerved past an automated gate into a fenced yard.
Guess we’ve arrived, Cap said. Let’s bail.
As the truck maneuvered into a parking spot next to some other rigs, two shadowy forms jumped from behind the cab and darted under the nearby trailers. The driver jolted to a stop, then released the truck’s air brakes.
“You’re seeing things,” he shouted round the cab as he and his partner emerged from the rig.
“I’m telling ya there were a couple of dogs,” the swamper insisted. “I thought I saw something when we were pulling onto the highway, but I couldn’t believe it, so I kept my trap shut. Then when you were backing up, I’m sure I saw a couple of mongrels jump off the tractor.”
“You’re nuts.”
A beam of light swept under the parked trailers. “Doesn’t hurt to take a little gander,” the swamper muttered.
Up! Cap signaled. Up onto the tires!
Just in time Einstein jammed himself between the rubber tires and the metal deck of a trailer. The beam snooped around, then darted off.
“Find any bogey men?” the driver teased.
“Okay, okay, but I’m filing a report,” his assistant grumbled.
“Fine by me. Just don’t expect me to do any of the paper work. I’m tired, I’m hungry, and I want to get out of here.”
They trudged off toward the warehouse. Their voices faded, then were cut off abruptly as they climbed the warehouse steps and disappeared inside.
Cap and Einstein crept out of hiding, sticking to the shadows as they made their way around the perimeter of the yard toward the far end of the loading dock.