Einstein Dog (27 page)

At the end of the meeting Ariel had pulled a tangled harness out of her knapsack with what Einstein called a “squawk box” taped to it.

What's that for?
he'd asked Bertrand.

“Um . . . I'll let Airee explain.”

“It's our Improvised Tracking Devise,” Ariel announced proudly. “I've attached my GPS phone to this harness. You wear it and we'll be able to track your trip into town using software that Bertrand has downloaded onto his computer.”

I'm not wearing that thing,
Einstein objected.

“That way if anything happens, we'll be able to locate you right away. It'll even keep a permanent, time-stamped record of your route that we could turn over to the authorities as evidence.”

Einstein had no choice. He twisted his head round to look at it now, wondering if he should have agreed so willingly.

Better you than me,
Cap teased.

The sound of a truck rumbling up 200th Street ended their banter.

Here he comes!
Cap said.

Einstein couldn't see much through the tall grass. After a few seconds, though, he heard the grunts of the big diesel downshifting. His stomach clenched as the tractor rumbled into view, and then the trailer.

Jeez!
Cap cursed.
Go! Go! Go!

The truck was still moving fast as it swung past their hideout. They broke cover and galloped alongside the belching behemoth.

We can't make it!
Einstein yelled.

Run!
Cap growled, pushing hard, his muscles straining as they gained on the trundling rig. Cap nosed ahead of the humming tandem tires, then, without hesitating, veered and launched himself toward the space between the cab and trailer. Einstein thought his brother would come up short, but Cap landed with a thump, his front legs and chest hitting the metal deck, his back legs dangling over the edge. Scrambling for his life, he rolled onto the platform.

Sprinting flat out, Einstein inched ahead of the trailer, too. The truck was gathering speed, though. If he was going to jump, he had to do it now.

Don't!
Cap hollered.
You're not close enough!

Einstein surged, gaining a couple of inches.

Don't!
Cap's commanded.

But Einstein couldn't stop. He took one last stride, then veered and jumped . . .

He knew the instant he launched himself that he wasn't going to make it. Einstein's senses switched to slow motion mode, as if he were in one of those sports replays Bertrand loved watching on TV. His front paws touched the top of the chassis, and he tried desperately to vault himself on top. He didn't have the strength, though, and his body slammed into the side of the rig. He bounced off, falling, falling into the path of the mashing tires.

No!
Cap roared.

Then Einstein saw a blur to his right. Suddenly he was jerked back toward the truck. Cap had him by the neck and collar. With a savage yank, he righted Einstein and hauled him onto the platform, where the two of them tumbled into a heap. Neither dog wanted to move. Gasping, they celebrated Einstein's survival just by breathing.

Thanks,
Einstein mumbled after a while.

You scared the crap out of me, little brother,
Cap growled.
You should have listened.

And let you go into the big city all alone?
Einstein teased.

Cap grinned.
I guess it's good to have some company,
he said.

Then they huddled up behind the cab for warmth and to keep out of sight as the rig barreled down the Trans-Canada.

“So where are they?” Ariel asked, her query scrolling onto Bertrand's screen.

“Crossing the Port Mann Bridge,” he answered.

He imagined the two dogs huddled against the back of the truck's cab, shielding each other from the wind and trying to keep out of sight. So many things could go wrong. They might be seen by a passing motorist, who would call the cops. Maybe the rig wasn't going back to the warehouse at all, and their efforts would be wasted. The driver might stop for a coffee. A million things could upset their plans.

“At least they didn't get squished,” Ariel said.

“Yeah, that's good.”

The blinking dot that represented the dogs' location on the Google map had moved west. Ariel had been right by the looks of it. They were heading toward Burrard Inlet and the Port of Vancouver.

Her idea of equipping Einstein with a GPS-enabled cell phone had been a stroke of genius.

“Where are they now, Birdman?”

He squinted at the screen. “Highway 1 and Brunette Avenue,” he typed. He was about to add that they appeared to be headed exactly where she had predicted, when a sound outside his bedroom froze him.

Footsteps! Padding along the hall carpet.

Snapping the lid to his laptop shut, Bertrand vaulted from his desk into his bed, pulling the covers up under his chin.

“Son?” Professor Smith whispered from the doorway.

Bertrand opened his eyes just enough to see the ghostly silhouette of his father haloed by the faint hallway nightlight. Professor Smith looked annoyed and rumpled.

“I know you're awake Bertrand,” he said. “I heard you moving around in here.”

“Sorry, Dad. I couldn't sleep.”

“Were you on the computer?”

“Yes,” Bertrand confessed, praying his father wouldn't open the lid and look.

“Can you tell me what you were doing?” Professor Smith moved toward the desk as he talked.

“I was checking out some stuff on Google Maps, Dad,” Bertrand flustered.

“You know, I've trusted you with your computer in your room even though everyone says that's a stupid thing for a parent to do. I just thought you're so smart, so responsible . . . ”

He flipped open the lid and the computer screen reactivated, its blue-grey light casting eerie shadows. The flashing dot showed Einstein and Cap even closer to the Vancouver waterfront. “Well at least it isn't anything obviously inappropriate,” Professor Smith said.

Just then a message from Ariel appeared. “Hey Birdman! Wake up!” it said.

“I take it Ariel is at her computer too, then.” Professor Smith sighed.

“Yes, Dad. We were doing some research.”

His father bent over and looked more closely at the screen. “What kind of research, son?” he asked.

For a second Bertrand hesitated. A part of him wanted Professor Smith to know; a bigger part didn't. “Uh, we're doing a project on transportation systems. We're tracking how goods move from all over the world through the Port of Vancouver.”

“Interesting,” he father responded suspiciously.

“Yeah, we wanted to do it in real time, Dad. That's why we're up so late.”

“You could have told me.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Bertrand blushed.

“Hey Birdman! What's going on?” Ariel demanded on screen.

Right on cue, Bertrand thought, rolling his eyes.

Professor Smith typed in a response. “This is Bird dad! Go to bed, Ariel,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Smith,” came the contrite reply.

“You two have some explaining to do,” he said sternly. “I thought I could trust you to behave sensibly; now I wonder if I've been a fool.”

Professor Smith stopped, as though about to say more. He drifted to the side of Bertrand's bed and sank dejectedly onto the edge of the mattress, running his hand through Bertrand's hair. “I wish your mother was with us, son,” he said sadly. “She always knew what to do in situations like this.”

They hugged.

His father's loneliness and fear cut through Bertrand like a cold wind. He shivered. It wasn't fair that they were alone. It wasn't right. Then he remembered Elaine, how happy his father was when she was around, how they laughed and smiled. Bertrand still couldn't hold the idea of his father and Elaine together properly, but he resolved then and there to try. For all their sakes he had to try.

“Do you think you and Elaine will get married, Dad?” he asked.

“I hope so, son. I hope someday you'll be ready to give me away.”

“Huh?”

Professor Smith laughed and mussed his son's hair again. “Go to sleep now,” he said. “I love you son.”

“I love you too, Dad,” Bertrand answered sheepishly.

The star-spangled darkness of the Fraser Valley gave way to the false constellations of Vancouver.
Wow!
Cap marvelled.
I bet there'd be plenty of dinner pickings here.

Einstein wrinkled his nose. He wasn't as enthusiastic as his brother about the dining selection for urban strays. Like Cap, he was amazed to be in the city, though. He'd never been to Vancouver, but had learned enough from television and conversations with Bertrand to recognize the place. They plunged into a brightly lit tunnel, lurched round a curving exit ramp, then found themselves in a drab industrial zone.

Ships!
Einstein pointed out, excitedly.
We're at Burrard Inlet.

The geography lesson was cut short when the rig swerved past an automated gate into a fenced yard.

Guess we've arrived,
Cap said.
Let's bail.

As the truck maneuvered into a parking spot next to some other rigs, two shadowy forms jumped from behind the cab and darted under the nearby trailers. The driver jolted to a stop, then released the truck's air brakes.

“You're seeing things,” he shouted round the cab as he and his partner emerged from the rig.

“I'm telling ya there were a couple of dogs,” the swamper insisted. “I thought I saw something when we were pulling onto the highway, but I couldn't believe it, so I kept my trap shut. Then when you were backing up, I'm sure I saw a couple of mongrels jump off the tractor.”

“You're nuts.”

A beam of light swept under the parked trailers. “Doesn't hurt to take a little gander,” the swamper muttered.

Up!
Cap signaled
. Up onto the tires!

Just in time Einstein jammed himself between the rubber tires and the metal deck of a trailer. The beam snooped around, then darted off.

“Find any bogey men?” the driver teased.

“Okay, okay, but I'm filing a report,” his assistant grumbled.

“Fine by me. Just don't expect me to do any of the paper work. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I want to get out of here.”

They trudged off toward the warehouse. Their voices faded, then were cut off abruptly as they climbed the warehouse steps and disappeared inside.

Cap and Einstein crept out of hiding, sticking to the shadows as they made their way around the perimeter of the yard toward the far end of the loading dock.

So you wanted to know where the trucks come from. What now?
Cap said.

We need to get a look inside,
Einstein answered.
See how the operation works.

Are you crazy? I should have let you fall off the damned truck.

I have an idea.

Another one of those “hunches” of yours?

Uh-huh.

Cap rolled his eyes and groaned.
Well I've got a hunch, too: one of these days your bright ideas are going to get us into trouble, Einstein. If we were cats, we wouldn't have too many of those nine lives left. Know what I mean?

Still grumbling, he led them up to the corner of the yard where the chain link fence butted up against the building. While Einstein kept watch, Cap considered their options. Einstein heard a slight rattle, then Cap's voice summoned:
Let's go.

Where to?
Einstein asked, turning.
Cap!
he hissed, discovering his brother gone.

Up here.

Startled, Einstein's jaw dropped when he looked up and spotted Cap scaling the fence by sticking his paws into the wire mesh and pulling himself straight up.

What are you doing?

Come on, little brother. You want to get a look inside, don't you?

Gingerly, Einstein stuck one paw through the wires, then another. Hanging on, he attempted to pull himself up, but fell with a thud and a yelp onto the pavement.