The Dingo Dilemma

Twenty-Two

"Be careful," said Ariana, touching me lightly on the arm.

"Piece of cake," I said. "Dingo would never hurt me."

She flicked a glance to the other side of our parking area, where Morgan and Unwin were getting into a brown Buick sedan. "It's those two I'm worried about. Make sure you get right out of the way when they arrest Dingo."

Bob came over to us shaking his head. "They've got that vehicle packed with every bit of surveillance equipment you could imagine, but I'm not sure those guys know how to use most of it."

He clapped me on the shoulder and grinned. "Not to worry, Kylie, they've put a global positioning device on your car, so even if they lose sight of you, they'll find you again."

There'd been some debate about whether DHS would simply wait for Dingo at the rendezvous point and arrest him there, but it had been decided to let me pick him up and drive to wherever he was keeping Darken, so that she could be taken immediately to a veterinary hospital.

I'd been quite touched by this concern for the dingo, but then Morgan had murmured that this was a public relations gesture designed to put a caring, human face on the huge bureaucracy that was the Department of Homeland Security. "The fact that we've rescued the star of Darken Come Home will be selectively leaked to news media personnel," he'd said with a small, satisfied smile.

I got into my car and put down the window to say to Ariana and Bob, "Just in case something happens to me, the next scheduled dinner for Julia Roberts is Fancy Feast grilled tuna."

Bob let loose one of his braying laughs. "That cat has a dinner schedule?"

"Jules is very particular about the order in which she eats her meals. She likes variety."

"Let's roll," called one of the dark-suited DHS people-in this case a woman-left behind when the nameless head honcho departed in a black limousine with his entourage.

She came striding over to my car. "Stand back," she said to Ariana and Bob. Directing her attention to me, she asked, "Do you have any questions pertaining to Operation Dingo before the mission is initiated?"

"Not a sausage," I said.

"There's a problem with a sausage?"

"No prob. I mean I have no questions."

She gave me a long, suspicious stare. "This isn't a game, you know. It's a matter of national security."

She waited until I nodded solemnly, then she checked her watch. It had many dials and bristled with knobs for different functions. She raised her arm so Morgan and Unwin in the Buick could see her signal. "On my mark…Initiate!"

"You mean go?"

"Get the hell out of here!" she yelled at me.

I got the hell out.

Dingo had given me the intersection of two suburban streets in Sherman Oaks as our meeting point. I wasn't crash-hot at reading an LA street directory, but this wasn't going to be hard to find, as it was just off Ventura Boulevard, a main traffic route. All I had to do was take Laurel Canyon Drive over the hill into the Valley and when I reached Ventura Boulevard turn left. I'd zoom along for a couple of kilometers, then turn right onto a side street. Simple, really.

I lost sight of the brown Buick almost immediately, but that wasn't a worry. Morgan and Unwin knew exactly where I was heading, so even they couldn't lose me. And even if they did, the global positioning device on my car would indicate exactly where my car was.

It was Thursday night, and the traffic was horrendous. There'd been an accident on Laurel Canyon, and with no alternative route available, I had to crawl along stop-and-going with everyone else. I turned the radio on to a news station where traffic reports were given every few minutes, and was advised by a jolly-voiced announcer to avoid Laurel Canyon at all costs. "Too late, mate," I told him.

At this rate I was going to be cutting it fine with Dingo. Things improved once over Mulholland Drive, however, so if I drove fast from now on, I'd make it in time. I kept glancing up at the mirror to see if the Buick was in sight, but it didn't appear.

There was another car crash on Ventura Boulevard, where someone had run a red light, but this had just happened, so I was at the head of the jam and wasn't held up very long. There was only light traffic once I turned off onto the suburban streets. I arrived with a sigh of relief at the rendezvous point with a couple of minutes to spare.

Dingo was rapping at the passenger-side window before I'd completely stopped the car. I unlocked the door and he tumbled in. "Get going," he said. "Drive straight ahead then take the second left. Don't signal."

"How's Darken?"

"Not too bloody good." He twisted around to check the traffic behind us. I looked up at the mirror. No Buick in view, just a couple of cars and one of those Vespa motor scooters that soaring petrol prices had made popular again.

Satisfied, Dingo turned back to the front. "A right turn coming up, Kylie, then a quick left." He indicated a driveway beside a modest little house. "Park in the garage."

As the garage door closed behind us, Dingo said, "This house is owned by a friend of a friend. He's overseas, so no worries about anyone dropping in on us."

A door led directly into the house. I followed Dingo through to the kitchen, where Darken was lying on a bed made of several folded blankets. She sat up when she saw me, a wary look in her eyes.

"G'day, Darken," I said. She obviously recognized me, because she relaxed enough to come over for a pat.

"See what I mean?" said Dingo. "She's not herself." He unlocked the back door. "Want some fresh air, girl?"

Darken looked fine to me, but maybe a little down in the mouth. "She could be depressed," I said.

He heaved a sigh. "It breaks my heart to let Darken go, but I can't take chances with her health. There's any number of twenty-four-hour animal hospitals. Promise me she'll see a vet tonight."

"I promise," I said, secure that it was the truth. As soon as Morgan and Unwin arrested Dingo, Darken would be on her way to veterinary care.

Darken, who'd been heading for the back yard, suddenly halted. The hair rose on her neck and she gave a low growl. "What's wrong, girl?" Dingo asked her.

"That would be me," said Norris Blainey, stepping through the door. In his skinny fingers the gun looked huge. It was a wicked-looking black automatic that seemed to shimmer with menace.

Darleen's growl turned into a full-fledged snarl.

"If that animal goes for me I'll put a bullet between its eyes."

Dingo grabbed Darleen's collar. "Don't hurt her."

Blainey gestured with the gun. "Get back." He shut the door behind him. "I haven't time to waste. Give me the audio tape, Dingo."

Dingo's face settled into an obstinate scowl. "Go to hell."

Where were Morgan and Unwin? Weren't they supposed to be riding to the rescue right about now?

"How did you know we were here?" I asked.

Blainey's face was full of sneering amusement. "With the right equipment it's almost too easy. I've been monitoring your calls. When Dingo was giving you directions, he was giving them to me, too. Once you picked him up, all I had to do was follow you here. You never even saw me."

"The motor scooter?"

"Sharp of you. I turned off the Vespa's light and drove on the sidewalk."

Blainey's smug smile at his own cleverness was too much for Dingo. "Get out of here, you conceited bastard."

In an instant, Blainey's expression changed to one of gleeful malevolence. I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck. I was in the presence of undiluted evil.

"Over the years," he said, "I've been accustomed to paying big bucks to make certain problems go away. Since I've taken things into my own hands I've been having so much fun. And it has the added advantage that sons of bitches like you, Dingo, can't blackmail me."

"Fucking hell," said Dingo, "you killed Yancy Grayson yourself."

"I did, with the greatest of pleasure. And in the process, killed two birds with one stone. I got rid of an employee who betrayed me, plus I set up as the murderer a talentless would-be writer who was aiming to defame me. I call that a good night's work, don't you?"

With a sickening shock, I faced the horrible reality that Norris Blainey would never have gloated over murdering Yancy unless he intended to kill us all-me, Dingo, and Darleen.

I glanced at Dingo, glowering beside me. To fuel his anger, I said, "He's going to kill Darleen."

Dingo stiffened. "What?" Still holding Darleen's collar, he took a step towards Blainey. "Not Darleen! She's just an innocent dingo." Darleen strained forward, her lip rising as she snarled.

Blainey took a step back. "Give me the audio, and maybe I won't kill her."

Dingo shook his head.

"I'll start with her front paws. A bullet in each. She'll scream, she'll howl, but she won't die. Now where is it?"

Where are Morgan and Unwin?

"Bloody hell," I hissed to Dingo. "We'll have to do it ourselves. Let Darleen go."

"But-"

"He's going to kill the three of us, anyway."

"Not my Darleen!"

With a roar of fury, Dingo released Darleen and flung himself at Blainey. She got there first, leaping at Blainey's throat. He screamed as he went down. The roar of the gun was deafeningly loud. Darleen yelped. Bright blood sprayed across the floor.

In a frenzy of rage, Dingo picked Blainey up from the floor and smashed him against the wall.

As I rushed to pick up the gun, I became aware that there was a loud thumping at the back door. The lock finally gave way and Morgan and Unwin half fell into the kitchen.

"Homeland Security. Department of Homeland Security," bellowed Unwin. "Put your hands where we can see them."

"My heroes," I said. "Just in time."