Trovinsky shook his head. "Not all search-and-rescue dogs are trailing dogs, sir. Some use what's called winding. We put them downwind of the last known position, which is here, and the dogs do a search pattern until they pick up the scent, and then work upwind to the source. It's actually a lot quicker than trailing, because the dogs can head straight for the source once they pick up the scent rather than following a winding trail. The Montgomery County Sheriff's Department over by Clarksville has some dogs trained in that."
Freeman threw in his two cents' worth. "We can call the sheriff's department and ask for their assistance."
Riley could tell that Lewis didn't like the idea of calling in anyone else. The colonel seemed to be holding an internal debate. Lewis made his decision. He pulled out a Motorola radio from a shoulder holster and keyed the send button. "Search Base, this is Search Six. Over."
The radio hissed. "This is Search Base. Over."
"Call the DPTM at Fort Campbell and have him get some thermal sights ready for pickup. Then send Jameson back with one of the helicopters to get them. Also, contact the Montgomery County Sheriff's Department to get us some tracking dogs. Use the other bird to pick them up. Have Gottleib go on that one. I want the thermals brought back to the lab and the dogs brought straight out here. Over."
"Roger. What should I tell the sheriff's department is the reason for the dogs? Over."
"The goddamn federal government needs them, that's why. Out."
Chapter 5
While waiting for the dogs to arrive, CWO Dave Riley spent forty-five minutes trying to sort through the day's events. He was a methodical thinker who scrutinized every aspect of a situation, examining each detail from various perspectives. Then he'd try to reassemble the details so that the entire situation fit together and appeared clearly in his mind's eye. Except it wasn't working here.
Riley could understand the concern about the possibility of a new strain of the VX virus getting loose via these monkeys. But he was puzzled by just about everything else he had seen today. The collars, the security setup at the lab, the vehicle in the parking lot with a retired enlisted sticker, the —
Riley's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of an inbound Huey. He held his patrol cap in place as the helicopter settled down onto the knee-high grass bordering the terminus of Williams Hollow Creek. The side doors slid open and two county sheriffs hopped off, each one controlling a German shepherd on the end of a short chain. A third man got off, dressed in what Riley assumed to be the DIA's field uniform of khaki pants and bush jacket over a khaki shirt. The man was armed with an MP-5 submachine gun slung over his shoulder. The bird lifted and winged back in the direction of the lab.
After briefly greeting the two law officers, Lewis gave the order for Riley to lead the entire party back to the last ground tracks of the monkeys, where Trovinsky and Caruso were standing by. Riley quickly led the way, his team automatically fanning out on either side of him. The dogs, their handlers, Lewis, Freeman, the third DIA man, and Ward tramped behind in the center.
Once they reached the tree, the two sheriffs allowed their dogs to spend some time sniffing around the base and along the monkey tracks leading up to the tree. As soon as they got the scent, both dogs immediately started an agitated whining.
"What's wrong with them?" Lewis demanded.
The senior sheriff, identified as Douglas by his nameplate, shook his head as he tried to control his dog. "I don't know. I've never seen them like this. I guess it's because they've never smelled monkey before."
"Are they going to be able to do the job?"
Douglas nodded. "Yeah. They'll be all right."
The two officers spent a few minutes calming their dogs, then both switched the short chain leashes for longer nylon ones.
"All right. Let's go," Douglas called out. "The wind looks good, coming from the west, and the dogs are picking up the scent that way. Just keep your people downwind from us."
Riley positioned his men with a few quick hand and arm signals. He followed as the two handlers moved the dogs out in a series of S-shaped movements, always coming back centered on a west-northwesterly heading. Riley pulled out his map as they moved. Another klick and they'd hit Lake Barkley. Nowhere for the monkeys to go then. He glanced around, making sure that his men were spread out and alert.
Suddenly the left dog halted and started yipping furiously, straining backward on its leash. Riley slid the selector lever on his M16 to semiautomatic and signaled for the rest of the team to stay in place. He moved over to Douglas. "What's the matter?"
Now the other dog joined in the same shrill barking. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Riley's neck.
Douglas was pulling on the leash. "Don't know. They're smelling something they don't like." He yanked the dog forward. It slinked along, hackles raised.
Riley scanned the bushes and trees in the immediate area. He gestured for Caruso and Philips to keep their eyes up in the trees as he moved with Douglas.
The lead dog stopped, its nose pointed at something dark on the ground. Riley knelt next to it. It took a second for his brain to register what the object was: A few pieces of fur and a skull with tatters of flesh on it identified the carcass as that of a rabbit.
A few feet away lay some dark lumps. Riley recognized them and signaled for Trovinsky to come forward. "That look the same as the last pile you found?"
Trovinsky knelt down next to the feces. "Yeah. Same color and texture." He stood up and tapped them with his boot. "About two to four hours old, I'd say."
"What do you make of the carcass?"
Trovinsky reached forward to poke it with his finger.
"I wouldn't do that," Riley advised. "Remember that if those monkeys ate this thing and they're carrying the virus, their saliva might be on the body."
Trovinsky quickly pulled away his hand. He slid out his knife and poked with it. "Guess around two to four hours, like I said. Maybe more. Hard to tell. The body — what's left of it — looks cold. The blood is pretty dry."
Riley looked around. Lewis, Freeman, and Ward, along with the other DIA agent, were clustered behind the team's skirmish line. The three DIA men had their weapons drawn and were looking around a little nervously. Seemed a bit of an overreaction to Riley. He noticed that Lewis had a massive.44 magnum revolver for his personal weapon; the new DIA man had the MP-5 in the ready position. Hell of a lot of firepower for a few monkeys.
Riley turned his attention back to Douglas and nodded toward the dogs. "They always get like this over a dead rabbit?"
Douglas shook his head and looked at his partner, Sheriff Lamb. "Pete, you ever seen these dogs act this way? They acted funny when they first got the scent."
Lamb spit out a wad of tobacco. "Only time I seen Jake get stupid like this is when we ran across some panther tracks up in the Smokies last summer."
Riley considered it. "Think it's just like you said earlier — they've never smelled a monkey before?"
Douglas shrugged. "Could be. Don't know." He jerked the chain. "Come on, Caesar. Let's get going."
Lamb shook his head. Riley overheard him mutter to himself, "I'd say it's cause they're scared shitless." The sheriff forced his dog forward.
Riley walked back to Ward. "We've got more feces and the body of a rabbit that looks like it's been stripped clean of almost all the meat. I didn't know monkeys ate meat."
Ward glanced about nervously. "Monkeys are omnivorous. They eat whatever they can get."
"You all probably want to scoop up that body to make sure that none of your virus is in it," suggested Riley. "Wouldn't do to have some other animal feed on it."