by KC Frantzen
“Flight CR8040, now boarding Gate A9.”
“… Please return to security for a lost article.”
Airport duty. Yuk.
At least I’ve been to my first field briefing – and received my security dog vest! – though my handler isn’t here yet. We’ll be supervised by Ms. Schwind and Edgrr. They’re well-suited partners. Tough but fair, not grouchy like April.
Edgrr woofs, “You’re assigned to baggage claim. But search for any POI. You remember what that is?”
“Yes sir. POI. Person of Interest.”
“Correct. So keep a nose out. Another item. Occasionally, there’s unclaimed luggage.”
“Really? Who wouldn’t retrieve their stuff?”
Edgrr says, “If a POI thinks he’s tailed, someone else retrieves the bag.”
“Oh.”
“Depending upon our resources, we take action.”
Ms. Schwind continues. “May, your task, along with the handler – he’ll be along shortly – will start with flight DF374. You will re-inspect luggage for contraband of any kind, explosives, anything you have been trained to intercept. And remember, you need to ace this assignment to maintain your position.”
I yip, “Yes ma’am. And I am still on the lookout for a mole.”
She smiles. “Excellent. Headquarters would take note in final class ranking, should a recruit be in on the discovery.”
I guard my expression like I understand, but I don’t. How could a mole survive in the city or around here? There’s hardly any dirt. Only carpet and tile and concrete.
“Ready?” barks Edgrr, wagging his tail.
I nod.
We three set off for the Observation Gallery to wait.
How could my handler be late for our first practice assignment?
Oh no, not Mr. Mac… He’s at the bottom of his class.
Mr. Mackenzie checks his watch, then takes my retractable lead from Ms. Schwind. “Sorry to be late. Our first flight to inspect will be arriving soon. I suppose we should move down a floor.”
I woof, “We should already be walking.”
He glances at me, then over to Ms. Schwind and Edgrr. She jerks her head in unspoken command while Edgrr gives me a sympathetic look.
I tug on my lead. Come on, Mr. Mac, we have to go.
He yanks me back. “Heel.”
It’s going to be a rough day.
A recorded lady’s voice says, “The local time is eleven a.m.”
Sigh. And it’s not even time for lunch.
How could Ms. Schwind partner me with him? I should have taken the demerits. At least I’ve got a chance to keep my ranking so I could still win Top Dog, if I do well. Then I’ll have my pick of posts.
And I’ll request Team Dog’s Nose Two, Miss Sandy’s and Sassy’s team. We almost had Rukan in Washington, DC. I want to be there when we catch him for good. At least I stopped the bomb he planted.
We stop at a small business – “Shoe Shine” – that smells so interesting but I mustn’t get distracted. We take another break at a larger business and nose around the magazines and peanuts and tee shirts.
Mr. Mac’s not paying attention to our task! I stamp my paw and woof, “We’re supposed to be in baggage claim.”
He ignores me and chats with the clerk while I stand.
A voice over the speaker says, “Flight DF374, arriving.”
I tug my lead. “C’mon Mr. Mac. Let’s go.” He looks down, like he just remembered I’m at the other end. Sheesh.
We step into the flow of people. Edgrr said to watch for a large sign that reads: B-A-G-G-A-G-E C-L-A-I-M. Oh, I see it. There’s an arrow pointing to an escalator so off we go.
I’m glad to know escalators don’t all go into the dark. This one is bright with all kinds of humans traveling up and down. So many stories!
I start scanning. I don’t see a POI yet, but you never know. With so much going on, I’m glad we’re not the only ones watching. There’s one of those dark bubble gizmos overhead. Headquarters – HQ – says they’re monitors, so others are watching. Some use birdie drones inside too.
Hey, there’s a likely suspect by a window. I wonder if it is… No, not a drone. It’s scared and just pooped indoors. How embarrassing.
When we reach the bottom, we look to see where the flight is listed. Mr. Mac points to Carousel 16. Oh I see. The flight number shows on that monitor. Nice as a backup. Everyone knows bags have different scents but humans don’t seem to detect this.
A buzzer sounds. Mr. Mac removes my lead and directs me to start while he searches for POI’s. I’m excited to be busy. It’s kinda fun trotting along the belt like we practiced. It makes some racket but nothing I can’t handle.
I sniff and snort over 100 items but soon, everything is retrieved. Piffle. Nothing is amiss which, I guess, is as it should be. Crews on the other end did their jobs.
The belt stops, so I trot over to Mr. Mac near the information desk and he connects my retractable lead. At least he gave me more slack. Guess I’ll stand dutifully by his feet, watching for interesting persons and persons of interest while he chats.
I want to do well, even if he doesn’t.
A cute boy about seven or eight, with dark hair and dots on his face, shouts, “Daddy, look at the Schnauzer! I wanna tell it hi.”
The man says, “Come on, son. The dog is working. You shouldn’t try to pet it.” He looks at me closely, then turns to a lady walking with them. “That dog on the news, that helped stop the Metro bomb near Grandpa’s. Sure looks like this one, doesn’t it?”
Someone recognized me! I start to wag my nub but… I don’t want to appear proud. Plus he’s right. I’m on duty.
As they walk past, the lady says, “Did they ever catch the people who planted the bomb?”
I want to bark, “They caught one, ma’am, but not the leader. Don’t worry, we’re on it.” But Mr. Mac drags me over so he can chat with a skycap near Carousel 12.
I wait patiently. Again.
This seems counterproductive. Yawn.
Another flight arrives, so at the buzzer, I’m ready to spring into action. But Mr. Mac isn’t.
When the belt starts up, I watch for the bags to appear. The first one through looks familiar… It’s an odd green color that makes me shudder. Here it comes.
Wait. Rabba, I mean Rukan, had one like that when I lived there. If you call that living. Shudder.
I tug on my lead and try to make eye contact with my hopefully temporary handler. Let’s get closer so we can check it out.
Drat. We’re not communicating.
I yip, “Mr. Mackenzie. We need to check before it goes through the big doggie door. Really.”
He ignores me.
Well, when I went on my own at the Metro it worked out… I jerk my retractable lead out of his hand, race over and jump onto the belt.
Mr. Mackenzie yells, “MAY!”
Ear flick.
“You stop right there.”
What should I do? I can’t really stop on this belt – it’s moving – so I pause and watch the green bag disappear through the flap. Then I glance his way.
We need to check that bag and you won’t listen. Besides, I have to go out anyway. Don’t want to be like that poor bird. Bye!
I grab the lead handle so it doesn’t hang on anything and take off, weaving between a garment bag, a box and some suitcases. When I burst through the door, I’m relieved to find it’s not dark. But no grass and – It’s. So. Loud.
Vehicles and carts whizz by, loaded with luggage and people. They all seem to know what they’re doing, like those bees. I will soon!
Must focus, like Sassy said.
Green bag. Right!
Uh oh. There’s a woman in uniform supervising this belt. She might be angry to see me without my handler. But she isn’t.
She smiles and I smile back.
I notice a little carrier at her feet. Wonder who’s in there? Odd. I don’t remember seeing it on the belt. She seems to be waiting
for someone.
There’s the green bag, around the curve. As I race past, the woman’s hand twists.
I’m netted!
Quick as a sniff, she stuffs me – lead, net and all – into the tiny carrier. I’m tangled but the net provides some traction.
Sniff. No one’s been inside before.
Uh oh. This was a test… and I failed. Sigh.
Failed, failed, failed. I should have obeyed. I’ll be busted out of boot camp for sure.
“May! May?”
Mr. Mac!
I see him rushing in our direction, as the woman stuffs my carrier between some bags on a cart and we take off.
I’m dognapped!
Chapter 4
Breathe. 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!
Chapter 5
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.”