“You mean like a jail break?”
“Exactly.”
“We are talking about the dog, right?”
“Well, yeah, I’m not breaking a prisoner out of a state holding facility. What kinda criminals do you think we are?”
“Just clarifying the situation.”
Beaumont sat back as if he was miffed.
Yarnell picked up his growing cold crab leg and re-dipped it in the hot butter.
“Okay, I’m in...” He took a bite and chewed. “...as long as I get to plan the next job without you telling me how to do it.”
“Fine,” said Beaumont.
“Dogs shouldn’t be locked up anyway,” Yarnell concluded. “That’s too much like prison.”
Standing in the dark alley, Yarnell used a pipe wrench to twist off the doorknob assembly on the rear door of the building. He then punched out the remaining innards and inserted a special tool through the hole to reach up and flip the deadbolt handle. The rear door swung open a few inches.
“You sure you got the right wires on the alarm this time?”
Beaumont gave his partner a look.
“You don’t hear any bells ringing, do you?”
“Could be one of them silent alarms.”
“You think I didn’t wire it right,” said Beaumont, “we could go back down the block, wait fifteen and see if a patrol car shows up.”
Yarnell glanced up and down the alley. He didn’t see any flashing red and blue lights reflecting off the brick walls and he sure didn’t hear any wailing sirens coming their way. He wavered for a minute.
“Forget about it. Let’s just get this done and get outa here.”
Beaumont opened the door further and the two men stepped inside. Yarnell put a wide piece of black duct tape over the outside of the hole where the doorknob used to be and closed the door behind them. Now, it was completely dark inside the back room.
Flicking on a miniature Maglite, Beaumont shined the beam around to get his bearings. It appeared to be a storeroom for veterinarian supplies, large sacks of dry dog food, cat food, small animal medicines and the like.
“Keep going,” whispered Yarnell. “It smells like there’s a bunch of animals up ahead.”
In the next room, Beaumont played his Maglite over the stacks of wire cages. Small dark forms moved restlessly inside the containers. Barks and a few meows filled the silence. A couple of empty food dishes rattled against the wire structures as the locked-up animals moved around in their confinement.
“How do we know which cage your sergeant’s dog is in?”
“They’re all numbered,” replied Beaumont in a low voice, “and I’ve got the cage number from the vet’s billing voucher. Sarge gave me a copy of the bill so we can find the little fellow.”
“So he’s a little guy then, right?” said Yarnell. “’Cuz the big ones make me think of police attack dogs and I get nervous around them.”
“No sweat,” said Beaumont. “He’s supposed to be a cross between a Chihuahua and a terrier. How big could he be?”
“Good, seeing as how I don’t do so well with animals to begin with.”
“No sweat,” replied Beaumont as he flashed his light over the cage fronts. “I brought a leash for the little guy. We’ll just slap it on him and be on our way.”
Yarnell took off his left glove to scratch the itch on his nose. “What number we looking for?”
“Thirty-seven. I think it’s just up ahead.”
They waded deeper into the darkness.
“Found it,” whispered Beaumont, “this one up here. They must put the little dogs in cages on top of the stack.” He fumbled with the latch on the wire door.
“Hurry up,” muttered Yarnell. “All these animals make me jumpy.”
Beaumont opened the cage door. “Just relax, would you.”
That’s when Yarnell heard the snuffling to his rear.
“Beaumont,” he whispered in a strained voice, “is there something behind me?”
“Hold on. I’m up to my shoulder trying to get this little feller out of his cage.”
Now Yarnell felt something cold and wet against the palm of his naked left hand.
“Uh, Beaumont...”
“Give it a minute, Yarnell. This little SOB bit me when I grabbed for his collar, but I think I got him.”
Yarnell heard the snuffling behind him again. He wanted to turn around and look, but was afraid of what he might find. It was only when he felt something prodding him in the vicinity of his rear pants pocket that his adrenaline finally kicked into overdrive. In one quick leap from a standing start, he found himself six feet up and lying face down on the top row of dog cages. He strained to see into the darkness as to what had snuffled him.
“Ow,” said Beaumont who still had his right arm buried deep into the top cage. He finally withdrew his gloved hand from the little dog’s container. A dark lump wriggled from the end of Beaumont’s arm as he stopped to look up at Yarnell.
“What the hell are you doing up there?”
Yarnell peered down over the edge.
“Shine your light where I was standing and tell me what you see.”
Beaumont swung his small light in the requested direction.
Two yellow eyes and a large set of sharp white teeth reflected in the light beam. A thin stream of saliva dripped quietly from blood-red gums and down onto the cement floor.
“Holy crap,” exclaimed Beaumont as he scrambled for finger and toe holds to scale the wire cages. The dark lump on the end of his arm continued to chomp on the fingers of his right-hand glove as he climbed. In the process of quick movement, one of Beaumont’s shoes became dislodged and fell to the floor. A long wet tongue licked the length of his big toe sticking out of a now enlarged hole in his sock. He shivered uncontrollably and rapidly withdrew his foot onto the top of the cage as he lurched upwards.
“What the hell is that?” screamed Beaumont “Looks like a wolf.”
“I think it’s a very large guard dog,” whispered Yarnell, staring down into the darkness to see if the beast was going to stay on the cement floor or was going to stand up on its hind legs and look them over.
“It licked my toe,” said Beaumont now lying beside Yarnell and also peering over the edge, “like it was tasting to see if it wanted more.”
“I think he likes you.”
“Why?”
“He just picked up your shoe. It’s in his mouth.”
“Whatever that thing is, he can have it. I can buy new shoes, but I can’t say the same about toes.”
The beast stood up, full length, eye level with Yarnell. Beaumont’s shoe in his mouth was right in front of Yarnell’s face.
“What’s he doing?” asked Yarnell.
“How am I supposed to know?” answered Beaumont. “Maybe he wants to make you a gift.”
Yarnell tentatively reached out and took hold of the shoe. The beast released it and dropped down to all fours with its head pointed toward the front of the building.
“Now what?” asked Yarnell.
“Just a minute,” whispered Beaumont. “This little monster on the end of my hand is trying to shorten a couple of my fingers. Let me do something with him first.”
“Stash him inside your coat,” said Yarnell. “He’s supposed to be small, remember?”
Using his left hand, Beaumont pulled the little dog off his fingers and stuffed him, right glove and all, inside his jacket. He then yanked up the zipper. A muffled growl came from inside the cloth.
“Let’s get back to the big, yellow-eyed beast,” said Yarnell in a low voice. “What do I do?”
“I think maybe he wants to play,” whispered Beaumont. “Try throwing the shoe.”
Yarnell gingerly tossed Beaumont’s shoe into the darkness. He could hear the slap of rubber sole when the footgear hit the cement.
With a scraping of toenails, the beast took off in the direction of the noise. In no time, he returned, stood on his hind legs again and presented the shoe.