by Ellen Clary
Harris said, “Okay, I have enough anger. How about stress? That’s harder. Amy, what’s the worst final you’ve had?”
She pinched her forehead with her fingers, released, and then looked off to the side. “Oh gawd, there was a time where I completely blanked on something I knew cold and it took me five long minutes to recover. I’m just glad I wasn’t doing a speech.”
“What if you were?” he asked.
Amy tensed, and her body shook a little. Pushing out at the air with her hands she said, “Oh, no. We are so not going there.”
Harris turned off the recording. “That, my friends, is perfect.”
Yolanda said, “I don’t think Steve is going to forgive you anytime soon. You should go make amends, lover boy.”
Harris, turning back to his computer, said, “Can’t hear you.”
“Suit yourself, but expect payback,” she said.
They left Harris working and went to go find Steve.
CHAPTER 25:
Yolanda Speaks with Mary
YOLANDA AND Gimli walked into Mary Callahan’s office. Mary, Amy’s mother, was known in common parlance as a “doggy shrink.” Her therapeutic specialty was helping people and their dogs work through traumatic issues, such as accidents, abuse, or other anxieties like illness or family breakups. Yolanda figured that being shot at by security guards of a building they were trying to bug was probably a little outside her usual sphere of experience, but trauma is trauma, she decided. Mary was an empath, and she worked alongside her Bernese mountain dog, Sandra.
The room was painted in comforting earth tones and rose pastels. There was a light beige sofa, with a green and blue flowering vine pattern tracking across it, nestled along one wall and a green wing chair on the other side of the room. Each seat had a small table to the right of it and a dog bed to the left. In one corner was a small ficus tree positioned higher up on a table, presumably, Yolanda thought, to discourage boy dogs from marking it. The space between the chair and the sofa had that deliberate, empty look, save for the dog toys that were liberally scattered around the floor. Way off in a different corner was an actual desk and chair with a monitor and a container of what looked like dog treats.
Mary, at five feet five inches, was shorter than her daughter Amy. Her light brown, curly hair was cut short and framed her open face. She had Amy’s lighter bronze skin, with dark amber eyes that you could nearly fall into. She reflected both confidence and comfort. Her short-sleeved red blouse was pretty, and yet seemed like it could spend all day in the presence of dogs without falling apart or becoming permanently muddy. She wore khaki pants, which was de rigueur around those who regularly worked with dogs.
Mary said, “Yolanda, welcome, and this must be Gimli, hello. He’s welcome to sniff around the office and get used to it.”
Yolanda said, “Hello and thank you. Gimli, you can go sniff.” Yolanda sat on the sofa, while Gimli said a brief doggy hello to Mary, went over to Berner Sandra for a quick greeting sniff, and started to circulate the room. He grabbed a stuffed dog toy in the shape of a trout and started squeaking it.
Yolanda looked at Mary and smiled. “He doesn’t have one of those and I can tell he’s going to ask for one later.”
Squeak. Squeak.
Mary said, “So I’ve read the report of the incident, or at least what part they let me see, which seems like enough for our purposes. You both had quite an adventure. Why don’t you fill me in? What brings you here today?”
Yolanda inhaled, sitting a bit more upright, trying to relax. “Well, as you’ve likely read, Gimli was working at night in the bushes near an office building. Things were going well and he was finishing up when he got caught on a branch. He wrestled his way out of the shrubbery, but the noise alerted the guards and one of them, not seeing that it was a dog, shot at him and hit him in the vest. He managed to get out of there without being clearly seen, even though he was screaming bloody murder.”
Mary’s face was one of attentive concern. “Was he hurt?”
Yolanda made a motion of one hand hitting the other. “It’s like being hit hard. It shocked him. It only bruised him physically, but it seems to have messed with his head.”
“How do you think?”
Looking at Gimli, who had laid down on the dog bed beside Yolanda, she said, “He’s not that communicative. He’s subdued.”
Mary smiled. “Which is unusual for a corgi.”
Yolanda laughed a little. “Like, way unusual.”
Mary smiled and said, “Would Gimli mind if Sandra came over and said hello to you?”
“Naw, he’s fine.”
At a silent request from Mary, Sandra stood up and walked over to Yolanda. Sandra was relatively small for a Berner, but she covered the distance in about three deliberate strides and placed her enormous head in Yolanda’s lap.
Yolanda put her hands on either side of Sandra’s face and massaged her by contracting her fingers.
Sandra closed her eyes in obvious enjoyment, groaning in pleasure.
“I just love these giant heads,” Yolanda said.
“Well, she likes what you’re doing,” Mary said.
Mary made a note on a pad of paper. Waving the pen, she said, “These aren’t anything official, just to help me remember salient things we talk about. I just wrote ‘Acts subdued.’”
Looking over her glasses at Yolanda, Mary said, “But subdued is not what brought you into here.”
Yolanda tensed her mouth into a line, thinking. “He’s kinda freaky when he gets near bushes now.”
“What does he do?”
“When he realizes he’s near a bush, he runs about twenty feet away, and he starts what looks like hyperventilating.”
“Gasping?”
“No, just fast panting, but it’s definitely a reaction to being near a bush. It’s funny, he doesn’t always react until he’s standing near the bush. He’ll often walk up to the shrub without any reaction.”
Mary started chewing on her pen a little. “Interesting. The view has to be just right for him to react. Probably the smell too. Does he say anything to you?”
“Not really, and that has me more concerned than anything.”
“Because he’s usually …”
“Very talkative,” Yolanda said, completing the thought.
“Dogs are associative learners, which can have some side effects. Humans are too, when it comes to trauma.”
Yolanda frowned, concentrating. “I keep hearing that.”
Sandra made her way back to her bed beside Mary.
“Basically, a dog, and sometimes a human, will remember all the surrounding environmental details to a painful incident. How things look, feel, sound, and smell, regardless of whether those details had anything to do with the event.”
“The one I heard was a dog fearing hats if he was beaten by someone wearing a hat.”
Mary waved the pen in agreement. “Correct. Smells, in particular, can really trigger post-traumatic stress reactions in humans and, we suspect, dogs, too. Gimli is reacting to the look, smell, and feel of a bush. He never saw a person, never saw a weapon. He was just in a bush struggling, and it hurt him. How is he at night?”
“Way worse. I guess it’s good he didn’t see a person.”
“Yes and no,” Mary said. “What you’re left with is superstitious behavior about potentially violent bushes.” Mary made another note and said, “How much have you told him about guns?”
Yolanda said, “I’ve described them as something that can throw a rock-type thing really hard.”
Mary said “That could work, though I’m sure he’s wondering why he didn’t see it.”
“He hasn’t asked yet,” Yolanda said.
Mary looked down at Sandra and up at Yolanda. “Would it be okay if the dogs went outside to play? I have a small fenced yard out back.”
Yolanda, who hadn’t noticed that it was actually a fenced area and not just landscaping, said, “You have a yard? Sure. Gimli, want to go outsid
e?”
The corgi picked up his head, eyes wider, ears up.
Mary stood up. Sandra was already at the sliding glass door, Gimli right behind her. She slid the door open and the dogs trotted out. Looking at Yolanda, Mary said, “There are some bushes on the edges, but Gimli doesn’t have to go in them.”
Mary closed the door, and they watched through the window. Gimli inspected the yard, sniffing. He didn’t go into the bushes, but smelled at the leaves. There were several dog toys on the ground and Sandra picked up a rope toy with multiple rope-branches on it and shook it. The ropes whacked her head, which she appeared to enjoy. Looking over at Gimli with the toy in her mouth, she did a play bow and walked toward him. Gimli wasn’t looking at her, but Yolanda could see his body tense. She said, “It’s funny, he sees her, but he’s almost pretending not to see her.”
Mary said, “That could mean ’not interested’ or it could mean ’keep trying’.”
Sandra crept closer, swaying her head with the ropes of the toy dangling on each side of her head.
Gimli turned his head away. Yolanda said quietly, “Aw, Gim, you’re breaking my heart.”
Mary said, “Gimli just gave her a ‘not interested’ calming signal, but dogs are big teases, so he could be convinced still.”
Sandra did another play bow, flopping the ropes tantalizingly close to Gimli.
Gimli still ignored her.
Appearing to give up, Sandra stood back up and turned ninety degrees away from Gimli, but still swaying her head low so the ropes kept swinging.
Mary said, “She’s deliberately taking pressure off of him. I think she’s doing the doggy equivalent of humming innocently.”
Yolanda sighed, shaking her head. “He’s still not interested.”
Then Gimli spun around and launched at Sandra, grabbing a rope, his momentum sending him sailing past her as if he was carried on the wind.
Sandra braced her front legs.
Gimli’s body swung around, pivoting on his mouth, still clenching the rope as if he was a kite that Sandra was flying. He hit the ground with a thump and started tugging, making play growling noises through his clenched teeth.
Sandra pulled back and shook her head, which forced the corgi to correct his footing and redouble his tug.
Yolanda, with both fists clenched in joy, said, “Yes! Play, my silly boy. Play.”
Mary smiled. They watched the tug game for a while. Sandra, who outsized Gimli by four times, both gave and took territory during the game, controlling it for maximum fun.
Yolanda said, “Sandra is really good at this, isn’t she?”
Mary said, “She’s the most gifted coworker I’ve yet had.”
Yolanda smiled. “It’s so good to see him playing again.”
Mary turned to her. “So I have good news and bad news.”
Yolanda looked at her, inhaling and steeling herself.
Mary went on, “Good news first. Over time he will very likely get better. He might react to crawling through bushes, but it sounds like he doesn’t have to do that very often.”
“Not so much,” Yolanda said with a thoughtful expression.
Sandra had dropped the tug toy and Gimli was now chewing on her jowl as they began a slow-motion wrestle.
Mary cleared her throat politely. “However, the bad news is that you are making his recovery harder with your own anxiety.”
Yolanda put her face in her hands and sighed.
Mary put a hand on her shoulder. “The dogs will be fine. Let’s go sit down and talk.” She guided Yolanda back to the sofa and they both sat down on it.
Mary took a breath, considering. “When Sandra said hello to Gimli, she said to me, ‘He’s sad.’” Mary paused a moment. “When she greeted you, she said, ‘She’s scared.’”
Yolanda sniffed. Mary moved the tissue box closer and Yolanda took one, crumpling it in her hand before pulling it back apart and dabbing at her eyes. Mary said gently, “Humans have bigger brains, and they use them to create things to worry about. Your dog may be able to communicate with you, but he is still just like a child. He lives in the now, and right now all he sees is how anxious you are.”
Yolanda took another tissue and said, “I’m so afraid of losing him.” She started crying in earnest. “Why am I putting him in this danger?”
Mary stayed silent, waiting.
“He doesn’t understand the risks I am putting him in. What right do I have?”
Mary said, “That’s a decision you have to make for yourself, but right now let’s try to reduce your anxiety, as that will help both of you right now.”
Yolanda shook her head, smiling ruefully.
Mary said, “They teach you fighting and negotiating skills, but not how to relax. Breathe in. Breathe out. How do you prepare for your demos?”
Yolanda said, “Pretty much the same—breathing and thinking about what I’m going to say and do.”
Mary said, “Do you and Gimli like going to nice places?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Do it, but with the intention of appreciating the beauty. Be in the moment, just like your dog. If you have trouble with this, you can also take an acting class where you learn confidence by pretending to be brave, which actually does make you relax.”
“I don’t have time for that,” Yolanda said.
“But you do have time to take ten deliberate breaths. Also, I think you should see an individual therapist apart from Gimli for a little while, just to help you work through your anxiety about this.”
Yolanda nodded. “I thought about it, but I thought I was being silly.”
Mary patted her shoulder. “Our capacity for torturing ourselves is without end. Consider this an investment in yourself and your relationship with your dog. This also will help your job. Okay, work on your breathing and I’m going to call the dogs back in.”
She did. Gimli bounced in with a panting smile, and Sandra came right up to Yolanda and put her massive head in her hands.
“Sandra says you’re not scared.” Mary held up an index finger. “Now that doesn’t mean you’re not scared, but it means you’re not telegraphing it with every touch.”
Yolanda smiled at Sandra, stroking her. “You’re ratting me out, aren’t you?”
Mary smiled. “Yes, she is.”
CHAPTER 26:
Harris Analyzes the Bug Data
HARRIS THOUGHT about the time he had spent teaching his analysis system about stressed and angry voices. While the process had been a lot of fun, it was going further that he imagined it would. The system had noticed some other features as well: vowels got louder and longer; the cadence of speech increased if the speaker was angry; cadence could also slow way down during some threats; and cadence also slowed down if they were sad.
So he turned it loose on the bug data that they already had. He learned a few things right away: The couple having the affair was arguing. Though Harris couldn’t hear the client side, customers got unhappy when they got the wrong thing delivered at their lab. And Harris was glad he wasn’t hearing the other side of the cold sales calls.
He let it run for a while and went out to lunch and to let Boomer run around some.
Coming back in, he waved to Catherine, who was working in her office with the door closed.
He started up the playback and told the system to increase the speed.
“I’m sorry your delivery is late. …”
“Your burners will be calibrated tomorrow at the latest. …”
“I love you, but I don’t want to see you again. …”
Harris rolled his eyes. While he envied Amy with John despite their struggles, and Yolanda and her lovely wife Lydia, he really couldn’t see himself going through all the heartache that Steve was enduring, searching for that special someone after the trauma of his husband’s death. Harris liked his dog Boomer and the elaborate toys that he created. He loved his friends and he hoped that would be enough for him.
The playback continued.
&nb
sp; “Fifteen thousand and not a penny more. …”
“No, I mean it, I don’t want us to keep seeing each other …”
Harris increased the volume and went out into the common area and threw a canvas soft toy for Boomer as it droned on. His brain was going to melt. He just knew.
“Your test tubes will arrive at 3:00 p.m. tomorrow. …”
“ … are completely iced over and we can’t get anywhere with them.”
Harris, who had been kneeling down rubbing Boomer’s nose, leapt up intrigued, knocking into a chair and startling Boomer, who dodged a few feet away. Shouting, “Stop playback,” he ran back to the office. Skidding into his chair, he said, “Reverse five seconds and play.”
“Your packages are completely iced over and we can’t get anywhere with them.”
“We tried that and they countered us.”
“We’ll sell them to you for a quarter of the price if we can just send them to you along with the other deliverable. Then you can see if you can get anywhere with them.”
Harris said, “Stop playback. Computer: Define: iced over.”
The computer said, “Frozen water; inaccessible road or bridge; cake frosting.”
Thank you, Computer, for your talent for the obvious, glad I asked, he thought.
Trying another tack, he asked, “How about slang?”
“Diamonds; negotiations that are at an impasse.”
Interesting, he thought. “Tech slang?”
“Unresponsive computer; encrypted data.”
Ah ha, he thought.
“Computer: bookmark this recording. Email Beth and the team that the data units might be on the move and include a link to this clip.”
Hoping to hear more, he said, “Resume playback on this bug.”
It droned on:
“My wife suspects us.”
“But I love you, you should tell her.”
Harris put his head in his hands.
CHAPTER 27:
Beth Interrogates Al
YOLANDA WAS sitting in the interrogation observation room.
She had been teaching Beth how to work with Gimli: nothing very serious, just how to walk around smoothly together and have him sit beside her. Beth was no empath, but she was a wizard at manipulating people and creating illusions. Yolanda called this the LAI dog theatre project.
