“Yoda?” Levi said.
The Pomeranian stepped to the edge of the red-brick crosswalk and concentrated on the sounds emanating from the depths of the verdant city park. His pointed, oversized ears gathered the slightest sound, and he swept the area as if they were indeed radar dishes, a jest voiced by many, but not usually to his face, or within hearing, which covered a large area. After a few moments he turned around.
“Nada,” he said. “Just the usual.”
“And I’m getting only the customary and normal park scents,” Levi said. “Let’s go on in.”
Crossing Third Avenue at this point along its length was about the closest the dogs would ever come to a pleasant street-crossing experience. In its infinite wisdom, the city had reduced the street from four lanes to two, eliminated parking, put a grassy swath in the center, widened walkways, and set traffic signals out of sequence. Traffic moved slower than an overfed Bulldog, and there were long periods when there was no traffic at all.
And yet, as they crossed the street, there arose in them the deep and persistent panic that attended all ventures into roadways of any size. Though risk had been virtually nonexistent, the operatives of the Three Dog Detective Agency still breathed a sigh of relief when their paws came into contact with the opposite walkway.
East and west, Memorial Park was bounded by Third and Fourth Avenues; southward, the boundary was Park Avenue, quiet and tree-lined, with modest homes and older apartments opposite the park, northward was a small, not-very-successful shopping area.
Near the southeast corner was a restroom; a little north of that a community historical museum that never seemed to be open. At the western end of the park was a municipal swimming pool, a gymnasium and a parking lot. Northwest of the gymnasium were the Parkwood Condominiums that wound their way deep into what had once been parkland, the result of what many considered hanky-panky in City Hall. Across from the condos was the police building they wanted to avoid for the time being. At the center of the park was an ugly faux-Hellenic performance stage where concerts were held in the summer.
Due east of the stage was a small bridge of cemented stone under which flowed a small stream, and at the head of the bridge was the structure that gave the park its name, a slab of polished granite set between stone pillars engraved on both sides with the names of Chula Vista residents who had given their lives in foreign lands.
“Spread out and search,” Levi said as they entered the park.
“What exactly are we looking for?” Yoda asked.
“I don’t know,” Levi admitted. “This is where Slim Shady took refuge after his ordeal, and this is where Antony and Arnold were somehow directed to him. There has to be something here that links the two events with that masked dog. Keep your eyes and ears open, and I’ll keep my nose to the ground. We’ll meet where it began, under the bridge.”
As his two friends slowly moved off to apply their own special talents, Levi lowered his muzzle and gently sniffed. A world rose around him unknown to any companion, beyond the comprehension of most other dogs. While all dogs possess very sensitive noses, few breeds have the ability to separate and analyze each scent, molecule by molecule. Dachshunds naturally have keen noses, allowing them to sniff out the hidden underground lairs of the badgers they were bred to hunt, but there were other lines of descent in Levi’s ancestry that combined to produce a sniffer that would have caused a Bloodhound to submit.
A squirrel had passed along here twelve hours earlier…
A drop of sweat from a sad companion had fallen there…
An irrigation pipe seven feet underground was leaking…
Two dogs, both Dobermans, had stood here for eight minutes…
As Levi slowly made his way through the park, letting his keen sniffer guide him through a dizzying maze of scents, a world unseen took shape around him, one composed of phantoms and emotions, of the recently departed and the long forgotten. Because of what Slim Shady had revealed, the scent-spoor of the two Dobermans interested him greatly; before they had come to stand so long in one spot they had approached from the south, and Levi carefully trailed them up the hill to their starting point, where their scent intersected with another.
The little Dachshund-mix frowned in confusion, an emotion he was unaccustomed to when sniffing out clues. He lowered his head till the prickly tips of the grass brushed against his moist nose. He let the scent molecules rise to his nostrils, separating the strange from the familiar, and there was indeed something strange here.
The scent that mingled with the easily discernable smell of the two Dobermans was something Levi had never before encountered, a scent that evoked neither memory nor image. There was certainly something very doglike, but at the same time it was tinged strongly by a presence extremely alien to the canine world, something cruel and dangerous.
Levi looked up and saw he stood on a portion of the hill that rose to the southern walkway where the bridge was easily observed, the same bridge under which the hungry Slim Shady had taken refuge after being set upon by two Dobermans under the control of a large masked dog whom they had called Master.
He again lowered his nose to the ground, this time actively sniffing, drawing the scent-molecules from the dirt beneath the grass into which they had settled. The smell became imprinted in that portion of Levi’s mind where such information was processed, but while he knew he would recognize it if he ever came across it again he was no closer to breaking its secrets.
Looking up, he saw Sunny and Yoda were nearing the bridge, walking on either side of the stream that passed through the length of the vale in which the park was nestled. He trotted down the hill.
Before joining them however, he followed the narrow graveled pathway that led to and over the bridge. At the bridgehead he sat down before the wide slab of polished granite and gazed up at the neatly incised names, at column after column, listed by war and accompanied by the dates of their deaths.
So many names, Levi thought. So many willing to make the ultimate sacrifice, to show no greater love…
Levi bowed his head in a moment of silent remembrance and reverence. While most of the canine world held the opinion that companions were naturally self-centered, unable to emulate dogs in terms of loyalty, affection and sacrifice, he knew that was not true. He was looking at the proof, carved in stone.
He heard Yoda yap sharply, and he quickly joined his friends in the shadows under the bridge.
“Look at what I found,” Yoda said proudly.
The object was a mass of paper partially ripped and shredded, and it did not take a nose with the sensitivity of Levi’s to know it had once contained meat, but Levi could tell them it was veal, a cut from the shoulder. The paper was jammed against the base of the bridge, at the start of a wide ledge that then dropped sharply to form the U-shaped channel through which the stream trickled.
The bridge where Slim Shady hid
“That is definitely like butcher paper from stores, like what we used to get from Schultz’s at Garden Farms,” Yoda said. Suddenly a rather wistful look came over his foxy face and he sighed. “I really do miss that…” Then he recalled the urgency of the case at hand and added: “From what Slim Shady told us this is just one of many at that dumpster.”
“We know he at least was telling the truth about that,” Sunny commented.
“Which makes it all the more likely that he was telling the truth about everything,” Levi said.
Sunny nodded. “I knew our faith in him was not misplaced.”
“That raises another question then, doesn’t it?” Levi said.
Yoda shifted his attention, with difficulty, from the package that had once contained meat. “You mean Antony and Arnold?”
“Exactly,” Levi confirmed.
“How could they have gotten it so wrong?” Sunny mused.
“It’s not that mystifying,” Yoda quipped. “Obviously Antony got the wrong idea into that thick noggin of his and Arnold had to go along with it. You know how he is.”
“There has to be more to it than that,” Sunny protested. “They generally don’t act without solid information.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Yoda said after a moment. “As much as I hate to admit it.”
“It appears the meat trove was not the only thing Slim Shady was telling the truth about,” Levi said. “While sniffing around, I picked up the trail of two Dobermans and…” He shook his head in confusion. “…and something else.”
“The masked dog?” Yoda asked.
“The dog the others called Master?” Sunny added.
Levi told them of coming across where the Dobermans had stood observing the bridge, how their scent-trail led up the hill to another scent that seemed doglike, and yet unlike a dog.
“That’s weird,” Yoda whispered. “Spooky.”
“Levi, I’ve never known you to be baffled by any scent,” Sunny commented. “I find that more odd than the scent itself.”
“I may not always be able to identify a scent, if only because an animal may be unknown to me, but I always have some idea what it may be through similarities and differences, or context,” Levi said. “This time…I don’t know…it smells like it could be related to a dog, but at the same time there is something very alien about it.”
“Could it be a canine cousin?” Sunny asked. “Like a Jackal or a Dhole, maybe a Hyena or an Aardwolf.”
“They would be pretty scarce for this parts,” Yoda added.
“No, I don’t think so,” Levi replied thoughtfully. “As exotic as those fellows are they are all still children of First Dog, more like us than not. I just can’t put my paw on it, but there is something in that scent that is utterly alien to a dog.”
“Could it be an alien?” Sunny suggested. “They’re still around, you know, just keeping a lower profile.”
“I don’t think so,” Levi replied after a moment. “This is not the same. This scent is something definitely of this world…but very primitive…maybe ancient…maybe something we have not seen for a very long time.”
Though the sun was shining brightly and the breeze carried the pleasing warmth of an autumn Santa Ana, the day suddenly seemed darker, colder. Shadows seemed deeper, longer, as if reaching out.
Yoda shivered. “Cheese and crackers! You’re creeping me out, Levi!”
Chapter 4
“But where do we begin?” Arnold asked.
“With Boris,” Antony answered after a moment. “He’s the one who made sure we would be out of the kennels while they planted that…that thing where it would be found.”
Arnold shook his head. “He won’t talk to us.”
“Oh, he’ll talk to us all right,” Antony assured his partner. “We are not going to give that jackal-dog a choice.”
“What about Captain Reese?”
“What about him?”
“He is not going to let us anywhere near Boris, or anyone else for that matter,” Arnold pointed out. “We try anything and he’ll sic the others on us.”
Antony did not want to believe that it would ever come to that, but he knew the truth of what Arnold said. Once a dog was ousted from a pack, especially one as dedicated and cohesive as the K-9 Unit, he was an outsider, and always would be, a pariah to be shunned and despised. He again fought intense feelings of sadness and despair.
“Thank you, Arnold,” Antony said softly.
“For what?”
“For standing with me,” Antony replied. “I had always counted you a good partner, but until that moment I never really realized how good a friend you have been, how you’ve always been…”
They heard furtive sounds behind them, felt a sly gaze peering at them from the parking garage adjoining the kennels.
“We should probably move this elsewhere,” Arnold suggested. “Without our police vests and with no identity medallions, we are easy targets; our present situation will encourage anyone with even the smallest grudge to let their animosity off the leash.”
Antony followed the older Belgian Shepherd as he moved away from the police building. Normally he would be in the lead, playing the part of the alpha, but he was still too stunned by all that had transpired in a very short period of time. He paused, looked back at the building that had been home for so many years and shuddered as it sank in that he was now nothing more than one of the strays he had always despised. He suppressed the agony that now churned in his gut and caught up with Arnold.
“I guess I was not as respected as I thought I was,” he said.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Arnold replied.
“Not as well liked then.”
“None of us ever are,” Arnold pointed out. “No matter what we do there are always bad feelings that get hidden, petty jealousies and hatreds that fester and grow in secret.”
“I hoped that dogs were beyond such feelings as run rampant in companions,” Antony murmured.
“Dogs don’t lie.”
“That’s the old saying.”
“But we do know how to keep secrets,” Arnold added. “Very deep, dark and vile secrets. In all of us there is an ancient beast trying to escape, a primal monster seeking only to destroy.”
Antony nodded, reluctantly, for he had seen enough of this world’s evil to accept the truth of Arnold’s words.
“I guess I had hoped that we were better than other dogs,” the Cane Corso sighed. “Those of us who took the oath to serve and protect, those of us who swore loyalty to community above all issues of breed and species.”
“Not better,” Arnold said. “Just different.”
They reached the end of the road, where there the choice was to either turn onto a connecting street that ran parallel to the eastern end of the police parking garage and intersected F Street, or to enter a narrow alley running between a red brick building and the parking structure that served the little shopping area nestled between F Street and Memorial Park. Because the police garage was dark and shadowy, possibly hiding dangers that could strike at them from too many gaps in security, the two police dogs – former police dogs, though they still had trouble wrapping their minds around that soul-numbing realization – chose the dirty little alley.
At one time, when the red brick building had been occupied by Red Lobster, the alley had been a constant source of trouble and violence, the hangout of many feral cats, many domesticated tabbies and even a few stray dogs. At least once a week the police dogs had to break up fights and lay down the law. However, several months earlier the restaurant had relocated to the corner of Broadway and H Street, a site too open and busy for the liking of most ferals and strays. The alley was now quiet and untenanted, and the pat-pats of their paws echoed hollowly from the red brick on one side and the harsh gray concrete on the other.
“I never set out to make friends,” Antony commented.
“You were a good officer,” Arnold pointed out. “We knew we could count on you, trust you to be as constant as the Dog Star.”
“Was I arrogant, though?”
Arnold did not reply.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” Antony said glumly. “I never saw myself as being arrogant.”
After a long moment of silence in an alley so empty they might have been the last dogs on Earth, Antony stood still and sat down. Arnold padded on for a few more paces, then halted, turned and looked at Antony. He had never seen a more miserable looking creature, and he wondered with sudden alarm if he looked any better. He remained silent, however, because he knew that whatever thoughts might be blazing through Antony’s mind, they could only be worked out by Antony himself.
“I knew I had problems keeping partners before they put us together, but I never thought it had anything to do with me,” Antony said. “To me, it was always them. All I knew was that they could not live up to my standards, or were too soft, or did not respect the law as I did. How could I be so wrong, Arnold?”
“You weren’t in your intent, Antony, but there is a time for flexibility,” the Belgian Shepherd replied. “N
o dog is perfect. Every dog has his flaws as well as his virtues…even you. It is that imperfection that makes us strive for something better, to be a better dog. Even Anubis had his flaws.”
“I thought being Anubis was your goal,” Antony said, trying hard to keep a note of bitterness out of his voice. “When you used to talk to me about Anubis when we first met, I thought you were trying to tell me how much better than me you were, till I figured out that you needed something more than the law to guide you. Or I thought I had figured it out…guess I got that wrong too?”
“I’m no better than anyone, but I try to be the best dog I can be,” Arnold explained. “For me, that means following the teachings of First Dog and Anubis. The legacy of First Dog was a sense of self-reliance, a desire to rise above our base natures, and the charge to care for companions; Anubis told us how to seek out our better angels, how to work with one another, how to take care of and guide others not like ourselves. They say First Dog and Anubis were real dogs who became much more, and that has always inspired me.”
“I never put much stock in any of that,” Antony said.
“I know Antony,” Arnold replied, nodding. “The law was the law, and the law was all there was.”
“But the law is the law,” Antony protested. “I am the law!” He sighed deeply. “At least, I was the law.”
“The law makes a good servant, but a poor master,” Arnold said. “It has no compassion. If you do not temper the execution of the law with compassion, you never find the opportunity to help someone to a better state in life.”
“Why did you stay partners with me?” Antony asked. “I guess there were many times when you were tempted to call it quits?”
“More than you will ever know.”
“So why stick with me?”
“One reason was because I believed in you, that you were on a noble mission and that I could learn from you,” Arnold replied. “I also sensed that there was kindness and compassion in you, despite your best efforts to hide it. Most of all, however, I stuck with you when no one else would because you are my friend.”
K-9 Blues (Paws & Claws Book 3) Page 6
