Einstein Dog (25 page)

Muddling emotions?
Was that what made her so desperate to dash back up the Nicomekl trail and celebrate a joyful reunion with her brothers and sister? Oh, how wonderful that would be . . .

Oh, how stupid!
she mocked.

Their plight was even more desperate than they realized. Rescuing her would not stop Hindquist. He didn't need
any
of them to pursue his monstrous ambitions. He could produce a replica of her from the DNA Doctor Molar had extracted. Or kidnap Professor Smith and force the scientist to create another SMART litter. One way or another he would gather his canine legions and when he did there would be no stopping him.

It would not be good enough to kill Hindquist; AMOS itself had to be destroyed, otherwise his master plan would be carried out by his successors.

How noble, Genie!
she mocked.
You want to save the world.

There was another, more likely interpretation of her actions: pure revenge.

To assassinate Hindquist would be easy. Every day Genie had opportunities to kill the president of Advanced Military Ordinance Supply. One shot, that's all it would take. But would that satisfy her lust for vengeance?

No,
she panted.

In fact, if she simply killed Hindquist, she ended any
real
hope of revenge. She had to defeat him first. He had to see his empire collapse and know it had been his most trusted lieutenant, his shining hope, who had betrayed him. Only then could she destroy the beaten tyrant.

That was the truth: she craved pure, selfish revenge over the companionship of her siblings and the love of her human.

Nothing personal, just the fortunes of war,
she thought.
Cap is right, you see. I am Hindquist's dog after all. I am devoted to his destruction.

As she loped along she worked out her strategy. She would earn Hindquist's trust by betraying her siblings. Her advice would be simple: let Einstein and Cap think they were succeeding; let them spy on us; let one imagined success lead to another, until they are emboldened to make their attempt on AMOS; then strike.

We don't have to do a thing, except lure them into our trap,
she practiced her argument.

Hindquist would like the plan. It bore all the hallmarks of an AMOS plot: devious, treacherous, cruel and, above all, evil. How could he resist? And with the power entrusted to her to carry out this glorious plan, she would destroy Hindquist in the end.

Genie smiled grimly. It just might work.

Sometimes he experienced spikes of fear. Imagine a mountain climber ascending a lofty peak through swirling fog. Suddenly the clouds part and he can see the valley floor below. The terrifying height of the precipice is now revealed; the fall to earth seems all too plausible . . .

Hindquist scoffed, shrugging off his doubts. Historians would judge the deeds of the councillor for America North, and he was confident they would write things up the way he envisioned. His critics would be silenced, starting with his opposition on the Global Council.

“They'll see,” he muttered.

Surely they'd have to change their minds about the SMART dogs. The footage of Genie dispatching Bob Gowler proved his point. Now he could report on the unqualified success of her first solo mission. She had carried out a textbook surveillance of the Smith residence, followed the boy and his friend to their Nicomekl confab, and then reported everything faithfully to her commander.

But there was more! Hindquist rubbed his hands gleefully, remembering the greatest achievement of all. Not only had his SMART dog proved herself a superb spy, she was also a brilliant tactician. The trap she had set for her siblings and the meddlesome children was a work of genius. Hindquist wondered if he could have struck on a better plan himself! The best compliment for a teacher was to be equaled by his pupil. He basked for a moment in the glow of his success. Even
he
had underestimated the potential of SMART dogs.

In one respect, though, they were no different than ordinary breeds. Genie still exhibited that peculiar trait which made working dogs so valuable: blind loyalty to a human master. She and her descendants would make perfect servants of the Global Council. Now that Vladimir Petrovitch had taken up the cause, surely the others would be convinced. Perhaps the political tide was turning in Hindquist's favor.

He certainly had no doubts about the SMARTs' capabilities. Genie had been named chief of Plant Security at AMOS, much to the disgust of the previous chief, Charlie Gowler. Among other things, she would be in charge of Operation Entrapment, the name they'd given the strategy for capturing her renegade siblings.

Einstein yawned hugely and tensed his muscles at the same time, trying to squeeze the fatigue and chill out of them. He longed for the dawn.

Hey! What's up, little brother?

He started and crouched, his fight response triggered by Cap's sneak-attack greeting. He hated it when his brother did that. He also hated the nickname “little brother”.

So what's up?
Cap repeated.

Same as usual,
Einstein reported.

What did you expect?
Cap grumbled.
We could sit here ‘til the snow flies and not see anything more than we've already seen.

For over a week they'd maintained twenty-four-hour surveillance of the AMOS facility, taking up positions in a wooded area between the Trans-Canada Highway and the plant. By day AMOS seemed to be exactly what the sign said: a high tech company that distributed medical equipment. Trucks shunted in and out of the loading bays, workers in lab coats and overalls took their lunch breaks at the outdoor picnic tables, the parking lot filled and emptied with the tides of commerce.

The night shift was a different matter. The workers arrived in a big black bus, which came only once a day. The operation was conducted quickly, with an air of secrecy. Even the windows of the bus had been blacked out.

So?
Cap had yawned when Einstein pointed this out during a debriefing.

Well, that's important. It means the workers are on twenty-four- hour rotations. The secret AMOS factory is a giant barrack.

Later, Blizzard noticed another strange thing: the crew leaving the plant was never the same as the crew that had arrived the night before. In fact, over three days they recognized only a few people that shuffled out of AMOS.

“Wow!” Bertrand explained. “That means they stay at the facility for days at a time. There might be hundreds of them in there. We can't tell.”

Cap, Breeze, and Blizzard had already explained that the secret business of AMOS was much bigger than the regular operation. The workers' schedules confirmed it. “They trickle them in and out one bus load at a time to avoid suspicion,” Bertrand figured. “A full shift change and a parking lot filled with cars couldn't be kept secret.”

Cap, Breeze and Blizzard all remembered descending a giant ramp to get into the plant and its labyrinth of production areas and warehouses. Advanced Military Ordinance Supply was quite literally a gigantic underground bunker system that housed hundreds of workers and received a constant stream of secret military shipments. It operated right under the noses of the police, employing the most sophisticated surveillance and intelligence-gathering methods to keep intruders away.

And you figure we're going to waltz in there and rescue Genie — assuming she wants to be rescued,
Cap scoffed when Einstein suggested this analysis of the intelligence data.
This place is a fortress. How are four dogs going to sneak in? And how are they going to get out with their pelts on?

Good questions,
Einstein had to admit.

So tell me, have you come up with some kind of plan?
Cap asked as they watched AMOS from the woods.

I'm working on it,
Einstein stalled.
But we need more information.

What information?

Einstein nodded toward the loading dock.
I think it would be useful to know where those trucks come from.

In other words, you're fishing.

Working on a hunch,
Einstein corrected.

Hunch!
Cap groaned.
We're risking our necks because you've got some kind of feeling “in your bones”. Jeez!

Einstein waited. He'd learned to let his brother blow off steam. One minute Cap would be cussing and railing, the next he'd be figuring out the best way to get done what he never wanted to do in the first place. His mind worked like that: pose a tactical problem and Cap had to solve it. Then he'd have to go out and actually do it to see if his plan would work.

Cap grinned.
You know me pretty good, don't ya?
he said, bumping Einstein playfully.
Big, dumb Cap, I can trick him into doing whatever I want, eh?

That's not true!
Einstein protested.

It's okay little brother,
Cap teased.
You
are
the brains behind this operation.

Cap!

Come on,
Cap laughed, trotting into the bush toward the highway.

Where are we going? Whose going to man the watch?

No point watching from here anymore,
Cap cut him off.
I can tell you exactly what's going to happen: they're gonna finish unloading that truck, then the two goons are gonna climb back in and drive away. Right?

Yes.

Well, do you want to find out where it's going?

Yes.

Then let's move, little brother, because we're never going to do that sitting here.

Einstein followed his brother over a hump of land down into a ditch. They hurried along beside the Trans-Canada until they came to an interchange just east of the AMOS facility.

I figure this is where that truck is heading.
Cap nodded toward the onramp.
If it does, we'll be back tomorrow night to hitch a ride, little bro.

Ivan Petrovitch's great guffaws filled the AMOS control room. “The look on his face!” he hooted, remembering the clip of Bob Gowler's last earthly moments. “Just before your SMART dog shoots him. What a joke you played, Councillor Hindquist. That was a very good joke!”

Hindquist wished Petrovitch would pay attention instead of going on about Bob Gowler. The Russian didn't seem to understand the significance of the video.

“Genie is a prototype,” he reminded Petrovitch, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “We haven't perfected the breed yet, or our training techniques, but she's already unbeatable. Our next improvement is technology that will let the SMARTs actually talk. We've begun field tests.”

“Oh?” Petrovitch looked alarmed.

“Yes. It's quite ingenious, really. Doctor Molar has developed a sensor grid that fits inside Genie's helmet and hooks up to a language micro-chip in the K-Pack. In ‘learn' mode Genie watches images on a computer screen and the electromagnetic patterns formed in her brain are recorded. When the dog thinks of the same object or concept in speech mode, the word for it is played back digitally.”