by Thomas Perry
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SAM AND REMI CLIMBED down the ladder from the roof into Sam’s closet to find Zoltán still standing there, watching to be sure nobody else came up after them. Remi knelt beside the big dog and hugged him. “If it weren’t for you, I never would have made it into the house, Zoltán. I’d be heading back to Russia in a barrel. Thank you for being so brave and loyal.”
Sam petted Zoltán and whispered in his ear, “Jo fiu. Good boy.”
They heard the voices of Selma, Pete, and Wendy calling to them. “Sam! Remi! The police! There must be hundreds of them. They’re here.”
“Oh, darn,” said Remi. “We wanted the police to be a surprise.”
Sam looked around. “We’re going to have to practically rebuild this place from scratch.”
“Draw the contractors a picture,” said Remi. “Maybe while they’re working on it we can give the others a vacation, take Zoltán down to Louisiana with us, and do some more salvage archaeology for Ray. We promised him some help when we left.”
“Sure,” said Sam. “What could happen to people on an archaeological site?”
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