by KC Frantzen
“Purrhaps this is Place de la Concorde. We shall ride ze Métro until we are close. Something familiar will appear.”
It starts to sprinkle just as we see the sign for Trocadéro Métro. We travel underground and walk under the ticket-taker like before. Again, humans scatter through hallways, up and down stairs, through archways and tunnels.
I spot a map that indicates one of the stops: Franklin D. Roosevelt. “Hey Léonce, that name is familiar.”
“Many humans with ze American accent are near there. Possibly you will find ze place you seek.”
When the doors open, we jump on and mingle with the crowd. Some have briefcases. They make me a little uneasy. One man starts playing an instrument. It’s the one I’ve heard several times, with the breathy sound. But there’s not much time to think about it because after a few stops, it’s time to get off. We climb the steps and exit onto a wide street.
“May, you saw ze most famous landmark. This is ze most famous avenue in all of Paris – Avenue Des Champs Elysees.”
The trees are so old. And layers and layers of stories. My sniffer is getting a workout. My legs too. These aromas are making me hungry, and not for raw mole. There are some well-groomed dogs dressed to match well-groomed humans. Long-legged young girls hurry past, “dressed like they stepped out of a magazine,” as Mom would say. Maybe they did. One girl looks familiar.
It’s difficult not to be distracted but I must get to the Embassy.
We make our way east through a charming park and then, my heart beats a little faster. “There’s our flag!” Amazing how I used to take little things for granted, like thinking our flag would always be around.
“Flapping cloth on a pole, with a pigeon on top?”
“It’s represents our country like” – I motion to a French flag – “this one does yours.”
Come to think of it, I’ve seen only one other American flag… Thump thump. I wonder…
Yes! I see the US Embassy sign and begin to prance. “This is the place, Léonce. How can I thank you!”
“Miaow.” He observes me closely though I don’t quite understand his expression.
“I’m sure we’ll meet again. I’ll bring someone over and show them what Director is doing at the lady Marie’s. Then we’ll find you a good home, like mine.”
“I am content.”
“I know, but still…” Awkward. How do I thank someone who saved my life? Though he’s fierce, think I’ll offer him a little kiss on both cheeks, like I’ve seen other Frenchies do. Thlbpt. Thlbpt.
He seems surprised, then he kisses me in return – with his raspy tongue.
“Au revoir, May.”
“Goodbye Léonce. As is custom to say in the K9 Service, ‘If I don’t see you here, I’ll see you there.’”
He bows low. “Until we meet again, fare well my canine friend.”
I trot to one of the guards in his rain coat uniform and give the K9 Service signal. He seems unimpressed. Righty-o, I’ll talk to him then. Bonjour. I’m May, a lost dog from America. I need entrance to the Embassy…
“No handouts. Go home.”
Yes sir. I’m trying to sir.
“Away little dog.”
When he assumes a threatening stance, I step back to assess the situation. I could make a dash for it and get through the fence bars but unless they buzz me in, I won’t make it inside the doors. What am I going to do?
A couple with children approaches. The man is carrying a briefcase. Does he recognize me?
I casually drift into the park and hide under a shrub to observe the Embassy entrance. After the guard finishes checking some briefcase papers, he buzzes the family in.
There’s got to be another way for me. I could ride on a delivery truck, like at the airport. Wish I knew where Mr. Vince was staying, maybe he would help.
Near my nose, a small piece of metal glints in the grey light. How could I not have noticed it before? Surveillance equipment. Definitely. It’s fastened to the branch directly in front of me. And sniff someone has tinkered with it recently. They talked about embassies and surveillance in class, but we didn’t have time for detail yet.
Movement.
I spy a man with a backpack who sits on the bench nearby. I should keep an eye on him.
I need more eyes.
I start to pant. There’s so much going on. Alexis needs help, then there’s his mother, Director. Horrible woman. Right along with Miss Sandy. And Sassy. And that operative from the plane. Pack Leader too. They’re all working for Rukan and they all must be stopped. Sigh.
Maybe Léonce can help me again. But which Métro back to the lady Marie’s? I don’t remember the exit even if I manage to find the correct train. Sigh.
While keeping an eye on Backpack Man, I watch many humans exit the Embassy. Wish there was someone inside I knew I could trust. Maybe the other guard will help.
I observe him checking humans through the entry gate for a while. Both guards use similar protocol. What should I do?
Finally Backpack Man leaves so I can turn my full attention to the Embassy.
More humans leave, then I notice a particular lady coming out the front gate and a man extending his arm. It’s Miss Coralee and Mr. Vince! She tucks her arm under his and snuggles close as they start walking towards the Place.
I start barking “Hey, it’s me it’s me!” and race across the street, dodging several cars which honk. But Miss Coralee and Mr. Vince don’t look. They seem preoccupied, each focused only on the other.
They join a group boarding a two-story red bus with no roof. Hop on/hop off – Oh NO!
Chapter 22
As the sightseeing bus rumbles away, I catch sight of Mr. Vince and Miss Coralee looking out from the top level. Where will they hop off?
There’s no way to keep up on paw. I’ll have to take a bus myself and hope it follows the last one, like the Métro.
When I hop on, the driver yells. Maybe I didn’t hop properly. I ignore him and race up the steps to the top level. Some kids try to chat, but I must focus. One good thing – Not a briefcase in sight.
More drizzle starts so most everyone goes underneath. Not me. After yesterday, the wind feels so good in my whiskers, it’s okay if I get a little damp.
We pass the American Cathedral and cross the Seine River and… I wag my nub furiously. There they are, walking out of sight down some stairs, into… Les Egouts de Paris. A museum… about Paris sewers? Yuk. Can that be right?
As we pass by, I read the sign from the other side. Yep. Sewers. Underground too. Double yuk. But I have to find Mr. Vince at least. Who knows when I’ll get another chance?
I could leap off the side of this bus, but I might break a leg. Hopefully we’ll stop soon. Must remember how to get back.
I think I can follow my nose.
There’s the entrance. Sniff. Yes, they were here, along with lots of other folks. What a spot to go on a date. Guess they’ll have something to talk about later. It’ll be a challenge to follow their scent with these open sewer drains. Hard to believe humans pay to learn about stuff that flushes down the toilet, though the odors are not as strong as I thought they would be. It’s wet and rather hollow sounding. Now and again, everything vibrates and rumbles, like an enormous creature races unseen below us. Shiver.
There’s a street sign, or in this instance rue sign, underground. Probably means we’re beneath the Rue Cognacq-Jay.
Look at the rats. Sniff. Dead for some time, stuffed in lifelike poses behind the glass. Who would do such a thing? Burial is proper for rats too, isn’t it? Shudder. Hope I don’t run into those rude dog-and-cat-eating rats.
There’s a big map on a wooden frame. I wonder if all these pipes and drains connect? Looks like it. I guess sewers go to all of the city. Edgrr said to always have Plan B. Which means… I could use the sewer to get into the Embassy, maybe, if I can’t find Mr. Vince and Miss Coralee.
Speaking of, look up ahead! There they are, by those massive metal spheres.
As they stroll around the corner, I sprint in their direction barking, “Mr. Vince, WAIT!”
Uh oh.
“Get out!” A man in a blue uniform speaks rapidly into a radio. He smells threatening. “We have a stray dog to be removed. Send l’homme de la fourerer immediately.”
Why send a dog catcher, sir?
A lady in the same type uniform strides towards me. I spy another coming from a different area.
I’m not stray.
Drat. These humans don’t speak critter. If they catch me, I’ll never find Mr. Vince.
Must find another way. Time for Plan B!
Off I dash, turning this way and that, on and on. A person could get lost in a hurry if she’s not careful. Hope I remember the street signs I need. Must keep positive.
Where available, I use the dry walkway on the side of the tunnel, though most everything is damp from the humidity. Don’t want to misstep and slip into the smelly river. I’d definitely need a good bath.
It’s unnerving with the constant drip drip drip and, it’s weird. I feel like I’m being watched. Let’s see, this intersection is, uh oh. Wrong turn.
I backtrack and hear creatures scurrying towards me. I smell them before I see their beady eyes and black-whiskered noses appear – from cracks and ledges, ahead and behind, everywhere. And the dripping is getting faster. Not good.
Maybe I should take my chances with the humans.
A fat rat leaps into my path. Another splashes through the muck, trying to block my escape. I retreat several steps and lose my footing, but scramble to balance on the rocky edge.
Many rats assemble to watch me struggle. They reveal their huge front teeth while rubbing their sharp claws together. A fight breaks out to my left. Rats argue over who gets what part of me.
I howl, “Help me, dear Creator. Please!”
One says, “We shall dine on delectable dog tonight. I’ll send word downriver in case it goes in.”
More pushing and shoving, then a giant rat peers over their shoulders and sniffs the air. “You. Why do you invade our realm, where you do not belong.”
The rude giant rat? Gulp. “Bonsoir monsieur. It is good to see you looking so well, but I’m in a bit of a rush. I am trying to–” Say something simple… “–get home. I decided to travel this route.”
“I’m listening,” says the giant rat.
Eyeing the others closing in, I talk a little faster. “I need to go… near the American Embassy but I got turned around. If you can help me find it, I’ll make my way from there. Merci.” I dare not watch the others until he answers.
The giant rat looks me over for a moment, and sniffs again. “Stay close.”
I step towards him and some rats surge forward. He quickly circles me, round and round, his long hairless tail keeping them away. Eyes fierce, he squeals, “Stand aside. This is the one who helped me at the old place, when I was hungry and injured. Under the principle ‘a kindness repaid,’ I shall return the favor.”
Rats squeak and groan and rub their whiskers. Some of them grumble. But all obey the giant rat.
Wshew. Even down here, the Creator heard me.
My guide leads me past hordes of rats through dim dank moldy tunnels. Some are starting to fill with water and… other stinky stuff.
As we round a curve in the tunnel near Avenue Winston Churchill, a stocky rat and his family block the way.
“Where might you be going in such a hurry and with such a delicious companion?” he says, rubbing his whiskers.
“We shall pass. She is under my protection. I won’t let you harm her.”
Both large males square off, each trying to bluff the other.
Soon the stocky rat signals his family and I hear the wife mutter, “Saving the best for himself, like always.”
“He is the leader,” says the husband. I watch them disappear into another tunnel.
I don’t know if I feel better about this or not.
“Hurry,” says the giant rat, “Rain is pelting the streets. These smaller tunnels will soon fill.”
Just then, the walkway vibrates and I hear a roar. I ask, “What monstrous creature passes below?”
“The Métro.”
I really must guard my imagination. “Why doesn’t that tunnel fill up?”
“You ask many questions.”
On we run until I think my heart will burst. Thump thump. I need to stop but I can’t. Our paws are splish-splashing through the water (mostly) already.
Wonder of wonders. The sign for Avenue Gabriel is up ahead.
He squeaks, “One tunnel more.”
The murky water rises to our bellies and we begin to swim. I start telling myself “Must make it. Must alert them about Rukan, about Miss Sandy and Sassy. Swim!”
We round another corner and start to climb until he shows me a large pipe. He says his kind uses it to reach the streets.
“This is as far as I go,” says the giant rat. “My debt has been repaid. You should not come again.”
Pant pant. “Thank you, sir… I’ll remember.”
“Before I leave. No outsider ever helped me or my family, until you. Humans attempt to exterminate us, though we serve a purpose. I didn’t know what to say to a dog and a cat, our enemies. I do now. Thank you, and goodbye.” He scampers into the dark.
I shake off the wet stinky gunk as best as I can. Not as bad as skunk gunk but close. I crawl up the pipe and peer into the grey afternoon. There’s the Embassy. If I can find a way in that direction, within the sewer system, I’ll end up inside.
I hope.
Chapter 23
Not sure where this tunnel will lead, but there’s some dappled light ahead. A sharp curve too, but maybe I can make it. Glad these pipes are old and rusty. There’s some traction.
Here’s a promising pipe. It smells of soap and mold. Part of the side is rusted out and… Yes, I can just fit.
I stretch my front paws and pull myself forward and up. Water! I hold my breath. It’s not going past. I’ll drown!
Must make myself smaller somehow. When I pull in my stomach it drains past. Wshew.
Singing? Nice voice – in English. Sounds like Dad in the shower. Usually I don’t like being bathed but I need to be now.
Yep. Here comes soapy water. Better keep my eyes closed.
The singing stops. There’s some sloshing then the man says, “This drain is running slow. Maintenance needs to fix it before the Ambassador returns.”
The water shuts off, thankfully. At least I don’t stink like I did. And I did manage a good drink. Small blessings for sure. Bare feet thwap thwap across tile, then I hear drying and changing of clothes. Can’t quite put my paw on it, but the echoes make it sound large, like I’m under a big workout area maybe?
I crawl to the drain cover and smoosh my face to it. Uh oh. Here comes a man with a toolbox. He’ll think I’m a grey rat if he sees me.
I slide back down a bit and pray.
After some clanging, I see the cover start to lift. Think very small, no eye contact.
“Dang, I forgot the drain cleaner.”
When I hear the door close, I scramble out, shake it off, then nose the cover about where it was. My tracks! I spy a towel and tug the edge until it slides onto the wet tile floor. I stomp my paws until they’re only slightly damp, then flip onto my back and scootch around to disguise my prints. Guess I’ll have to leave the towel. Better nudge it under the rack so he’ll think it slipped off. I hope.
One more shake of my whole self for good measure.
Now to find Miss Coralee’s office. I hope she and Mr. Vince have returned.
Piffle. Door won’t open.
I stand and push again, harder. Nothing.
What’s this metal piece, near the floor? There’s a drawing of a shoe, and humans wear those. Maybe… they put their feet on it? Umph. The door moves a bit. Yes. That’ll work, let’s go…
I’m in, and no one knows. I hope. Must be on high alert.
Hmm, an insect in
the window. One of the newer drones? Get a grip, May. Don’t be obsessed.
I detect Miss Coralee’s scent among dozens of humans and a few of my kind. Wonder where her office is?
Now I understand why Edgrr says officers “brass it out.” I’ll act like an officer and get moving, with confidence. I stride down the nearest hallway with excellent posture, staring ahead, senses alert. Though I feel several pairs of eyes on me no one says anything. But I don’t detect familiar voices or scents.
Maybe another hall will be more productive.
But it isn’t.
Another…
Nope, just a cleaning lady pushing a cart.
How about this one? Sheesh. Better find Miss Coralee’s office soon or come back. Hey, here’s a man who maybe can help.
I woof, “I’m looking for Miss Coralee. Direct me to her office… Please.”
“A dog, unaccompanied? You know the rules.”
Uh oh. Look at his face. Maybe I shouldn’t have said please.
He snaps his fingers several times. “Here little doggie.”
I growl, “Don’t think so. You don’t smell truthful.”
Please. Kissy noises?
He yanks a radio from behind his back. “Location: Hall 4-7, loose K9. Description: Platinum Schnauzer, female, 4-5 kilos. Bring crate, over.”
When he charges towards me, I feint back then jump between his feet and dash down the next hallway. Cleaning Lady is stopped at the room marked “Supplies.” I vault onto the cart and nestle among the toilet paper and towels.
Radio Man pauses, checks my hallway, then keeps running.
Cleaning Lady returns with several bottles and a box of trash liners. Off we go. Several humans in uniform and one in Sunday clothes pass us, but no one seems to spot me.
Next stop, break room. She heads in, leaving me in the hall. Sniff. The sandwiches and cake are tempting, but I’d better stay and make a plan.
If Mr. Vince, and maybe Miss Coralee will help, then I can bring them to Léonce’s lair. We can figure out what to do about Rukan and this plot. If not, I’ll find a way to show them.