Chase

Eight

Daggert was back in Madam Director’s office with an update.

“I’ve pulled my team together and we’re heading out.”

“Last I heard,” she said, “the animal was cornered in the subway. I thought this was wrapped up.”

“No. They think now that he may have been hiding in a cello case when they went through the car. Then he got away.”

Madam Director, seated behind her desk, touched her fingers together, making her hands into a tent. Her nails were long and painted blood red.

“So where is the dog now?”

“Unknown. Another team converged on the bus station, but they could not find it.”

“Surely you didn’t expect the beast to buy itself a ticket?”

“No.”

Madam Director’s eyes narrowed. “Perhaps you should find out if the dog has bought a bicycle and is pedaling out of town.”

Daggert remained stone-faced as she asked, “How did they know to look in the subway in the first place? And then the bus terminal?”

“Control managed to remotely activate the GPS locater, but it’s not been working perfectly. They probably would have replaced the software in the animal if it hadn’t been slated for termination.”

“You understand, Daggert, why we must get this animal back?”

Daggert nodded.

“Even if the animal attempted to pass itself off as a normal dog, and were to be taken in by some kind family, adopted as a stray, it would be found out as not being like other dogs. They’ll find the port built into its collar. Perhaps they will, out of curiosity, try plugging in a laptop or some other device just to see what happens. Can you imagine that scenario, Daggert?”

“Yes. Although, as you know, there is the five-digit password protection.”

“Good heavens, is that the level of our sophistication? Is this dog as easy to get into as an ATM? What do you think will happen if someone gets into the program?”

“I expect they might call someone. Police, newspapers, the six o’clock news.”

“Yes. And we would risk becoming exposed. Our work would become public knowledge. A vital security program jeopardized. And once the world found out what we were doing with animals, imagine what else they might uncover? Reporters start digging, they might find out that the dogs are just the beginning of what we’re working on here. We’ve faced a crisis like this before; a threat of exposure.”

“I know,” Daggert said. “And as you will recall, I solved it.”

“Yes,” she said slowly. “But it was very messy, Daggert. There was a lot of collateral damage.”

“I got the job done.”

“Well, now you have a new one,” Madam Director said in a clipped tone. She ran the fingers of one hand through her long, red hair. “I’m worried about more than exposure. Suppose one of our enemies got hold of this mutt? Took him apart, figured out what made him tick? Can you imagine the damage?”

“It would be catastrophic.”

“That’s why our most expedient solution may be to find this dog and destroy it. Recovering his internal workings intact would be nice, but keeping what we do here from going public is the priority.”

Daggert nodded. “Understood. And if we are unable to maintain the GPS connection, we have another option.”

“Yes?”

“The optical feed.”

The woman cocked her head, reminding Daggert for a moment of the look he got from The Institute’s dogs when they were puzzled. It was an observation he chose not to share with her.

“Video,” he said. “The animal, as you know, is fitted with optical hardware that allows us to see what it sees. He is, essentially, a surveillance system with fur. If we can see what the dog sees, we can run it through landmark recognition. For example, if the dog were in Times Square, we’d recognize that pretty quickly, and could get there and find him.”

“We’re not in New York, Daggert,” the Director said.

“As I said, that’s an example. It doesn’t have to be a major landmark. It can be anything you might be able to see on Whirl360, the site that allows you to see what’s on any street in the world. But at the moment, the optical hardware, like the GPS system, is not operating at peak efficiency. I have Watson working on it.”

“Who’s Watson?”

Daggert thought. He could never remember the man’s name. “Not Watson. Wilkins. He hopes to have a fix soon. Meanwhile, we’ve fanned out across the city. We’re checking parks, in case the animal’s more instinctive side comes into play and it wants to chase a few squirrels.”

Madam Director shook her head slowly and sighed. “Get out,” she said. “Get out and find that dog. Get down on your hands and knees and start sniffing other dogs’ butts if you have to.”