Einstein Dog

by Craig Spence

  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 on
ce 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.

  “Let brothers and sister out,” Genie repeated.

  She knew what he’d do next: reach for the communications button on his chest console and try to link up with Hindquist. All along he’d been looking for something to pin on her, now he figured he had it. He made his move.

  Zap! She jolted him with a pain burst.

  “Ayeee!” he screamed, flung back against the metal door.

  Again, she was ready for his next move. Summoning the remnants of his courage and his instinct for survival, Charlie whirled and reached for the door handle.

  Zap! The jolt threw him forward, slamming his face into the wall.

  “No move!” Genie yelled through the Thought Matrix Translator.

  “N-no move,” he panted.

  “Let dogs out now.”

  “But they’ll kill me.”

  Zap!

  “Ayeee!” he screamed.

  For God’s sake, Genie, go easy with that thing, Breeze pleaded.

  Genie ignored her sister. “They no kill,” she informed Charlie. “Me kill.”

  Cowering, barely able to work the latches, Charlie opened the cages, then retreated to the far side of the room, closest to the door. Genie switched the gun to Kill mode and waited.

  Now that she had her chance she didn’t really want to kill Charlie Gowler. But she couldn’t let him go either. If he raised the alarm, they would all be dead. “You get in cage,” she ordered him, inclining her head toward the kennel that had just been vacated by Blizzard.

  For a split second her weapon pointed away from him and Charlie didn’t hesitate. Grabbing the handle, he yanked the door open . . .

  Boom! Boom! Boom! Three bullets ripped into him, the force spinning him and hurling him against the wall again.

  For a second, while consciousness dimmed, he stared at Genie accusingly. How could you do this? his eyes pleaded. Then they darkened and he crumpled into a heap.

  Damn it, Genie! What are you doing? Cap yelled.

  Breeze and Blizzard were too shocked to say anything.

  He killed our mother, Genie replied. He will never kill another dog or boast again of the ones he has killed. I’ve done what needed doing. Now let’s get on with our plan.

  Jeez! Cap shuddered.

  Hindquist smiled, allowing himself a little celebration as the AMOS truck backed into the loading bay. What were such moments for, if not for savouring like fine wine? Capturing Einstein and the boy would be the crowning achievement of a red-letter night.

  His smile turned to a grimace as he remembered the embarrassments he’d suffered on account of these two. Never again would they foil his plans or boast of having bested Frank Hindquist, councillor for America North. And if anyone ever asked what had happened to that impudent dog and his boy, well, Hindquist would have an answer to set the record straight.

  Nobody defied Frank Hindquist.

  He smirked. Charlie Gowler would be busy tonight. “I knew I was keeping him around for some purpose,” Hindquist said to himself. A skilled leader could find uses for anyone, even stupid people like Charlie Gowler, who would not be deterred by screams of agony or pleas for mercy.

  “My subjects will know that rebellion is a futile gesture. Puny acts of heroism will be rewarded with shattered bones and broken spirits,” he murmured. “We need people like Charlie, who can carry out our punishments with zeal.”

  The truck nudged the loading bay, shuddering to a stop. Soon all the loose ends would be tied up and he could get on with building his SMART force. Hundreds and eventually thousands of Genies would be his to command. No need to rely on the slow process of natural birthing to increase his legions: pups could start out in test tubes, new generations being born before their predecessors had been weaned.

  Hindquist nodded and a worker stepped forward to unlock the trailer door. The man looked about nervously, wondering what on earth could be inside that warranted so many guards.

  “Get on with it!” Hindquist ordered.

  The man swung the door open, stepping aside in the same instant. A bank of floodlights switched on, illuminating the inside of the trailer.

  Nothing! No dog. No boy. Hindquist sighed. He’d imagined catching them like vermin, even though he knew they’d surely conceal themselves farther into the load, hollowing out a cavity somewhere amongst the boxes.

  “Begin unloading!” he ordered the shipping crew. “Guards, check every pallet. Break down the load to make sure they haven’t rearranged the boxes to hide themselves. Look for signs of tampering and re-stacking. I know they’re here; if they get through, somebody will pay.”

  The senior guard nodded grimly, then signaled for the first pallet to be unloaded. The team pored over it, pulling it apart and prodding into every cranny with thin metal rods.

  “Tear this shipment down!” Hindquist shouted impatiently.

  “Yes sir!” the guard answered.

  Ariel had been given an assignment. Not the one she would have liked, perhaps, but hers to carry out diligently. And that she would do.

  From outside the AMOS facility looked normal enough. As predicted, the final shipment had arrived around 3:00 am. Now she could hear the unmistakable sounds of cargo being unloaded: the growl and rattle of a forklift, the thud and bang of heavy items being shifted. Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Sooner or later, though, all hell was going to break loose. It was only a matter of time. By now Genie and the others should be working toward their objectives.

  “And here I am, watching from a safe distance!”

  Well, “safe” might be a bit of an overstatement. Hadn’t they learned from bitter experience that anyone who went up against Frank Hindquist and AMOS could never be safe? How he could twist every circumstance to his advantage?

  Ariel subdued her rage. She found herself thinking about Genie, how the SMART dog had surprised them in the wood. A chill raised the hair on her neck. She loved Genie still, but had to admit the dog who had confronted them earlier that night scared her. Genie had been shaped into something frighteningly efficient and lethal during her captivity.

  It wasn’t so much the gear they’d outfitted her with, or the keen intelligence Professor Smith had bred into her. It was the calculating look she’d given them, as if she’d been numbed to everything except hard facts and precise, military stratagems.

  Ariel herself preferred hard data over wishful thinking, but if someone allowed no room for joy, or sadness, or daydreaming she became . . .

  “A psychopath,” Ariel filled in the blank.

  Was she making too much of a brief encounter? After all, police officers, doctors, soldiers, lawyers and a long list of other professionals could act dispassionately on the job and then become feeling, loving beings at the end of the day. So maybe Genie had been in her professional mode when she’d ambushed them.

  “Maybe she can switch off her working persona and show her old self once all this nonsense is finished,” Ariel h
oped.

  One thing was certain: Genie’s incarceration hadn’t diminished her intelligence. She seemed sharper than ever. Her plan to fool Hindquist with a staged stun bombing had been absolutely brilliant. But if she could fool someone like Hindquist and outwit an organization like AMOS, she could easily run circles around the rest of them. Ariel suspected they didn’t know the full scope of Genie’s plan.

  She glanced at her watch. Fifteen minutes had elapsed since the shipment arrived, a quarter of the allotted time before she was to call the police. Genie hadn’t minced her words: their original plan would have resulted in capture and certain death for all of them. She’d explained how the underground facility could be sealed off from the world by the gigantic hydraulic slab that doubled as the shipping room floor. If that closed, there would be no escape. Hindquist’s guards would track them down and kill them.

  We must disable that ramp, she told them emphatically. If it closes we’re doomed. AMOS will never be discovered.

  What about Einstein and the boy? Cap demanded.

  Our brother and his human will die, too, if we don’t disable that ramp, Genie pointed out. It must be our objective.

  They had to believe her, had to get inside and jam the giant maw of AMOS.

  As for Bertrand and Einstein?

  They’ll be in the vicinity of the ramp, Genie allowed. We will rescue them.

  Ariel trusted Genie. In her heart she knew her dog would not betray them or let Bertrand and Einstein perish. But the feeling persisted that Genie knew things she was not telling.

  “Maybe she just didn’t have time,” Ariel said hopefully.

  Hindquist quelled his uneasiness by pacing. They had to be in the load somewhere. All his information indicated that’s where they would be. But so far no dog, no boy. It didn’t make sense, and the farther into the trailer the crew got, the less he liked it. They’d taken apart every pallet, looking for the intruders. What more could they do? Look inside the boxes and crates?

  He winced. That hadn’t occurred to him, and even now that he’d thought it the notion seemed far-fetched. How could a boy and dog get inside one of the boxes? Where could they have put the stuff that had been inside? How would they seal the lid so you couldn’t tell the box had been tampered with?