Buck Vs. the Bulldog Ants Page 4

CHAPTER FOUR

  I took a position behind the garage that was separated from the main house by the car park. I waited for the guests to arrive. It was John's habit to greet guests on the front porch. It was nearing dark, when something touched me from behind and I jumped a foot off the ground, my throbbing heart in my throat. It was Cassie. After I calmed down from the near heart attack, I whispered to her that I was going to get in the house by hook or crook. She agreed that my deception was indeed a good idea. She would get as close as she could but was doubtful.

  I gave her a thumbs up, well, I don't have a thumb, but she knew what I meant. At that I began my great caper and started limping across the hard surface, head down. Thought I might add a whimper too, just slight, nothing like an immediate emergency. I screwed up and once limped off the wrong leg, but I don't think he noticed. But he did notice the limp, and walked toward me. I looked up at him with a look that I think made me look needy like the ‘please-mister-can-you-spare-me-a-dime’ needy. I should be ashamed, but he'd understand if I could communicate with him, but I couldn't, only with the animals. I should have told you that sooner.

  John knelt and took each of my paws in his hand. He examined both and my shanks as well. I knew he wouldn't discover anything wrong but I was betting he'd take me inside. Mission possible. So far, so good. He took me inside. So far, way good. Mission accomplished, yet there was more to do.

  There in the drawing room were seven men. Jenkins I knew, the others I didn't. I supposed Klein and Loman were there, being as they were the closest neighbors. Two of them had briefcases and those two each wore a coat and tie. They belonged to the black four door sedan that had arrived last. I took a position next to a lounger when it occurred to me to place myself close to the basement entrance. Sometimes I amaze myself with my inventiveness.

  So far their conversation had nothing to do with ants. Yet there wasn't the pleasantry that I had seen at times before when women were in the mix. They talked crops and weather and hunting. I was impatient. I scratched at the basement door, faked a limp, and then lay prone near the door. I hoped John wouldn't take that as defiant behavior, so I whimpered in a low tone to keep the ruse civil, placed my head between my stretched out legs, and watched for movement out of the corner of my eye.

  That seemed to work because John gathered the group and they came toward me. When John opened the door, he said, "come on old boy, can you make it down the stairs?” I don't know why, but the gag line "you bet your sweet bippy I can" came to mind, so I took the bull by the horns and gingerly ventured down the first step followed by a meager whimper. I heard John say to who knows who, "I think I am involved in a shell game with Buck," but then he laughed as did the others.

  This was my first time in the basement, and I'm telling you it's huge. Not separated by interior walls like the floor above. To the right of the stairwell was an area devoted to watching a gigantic television screen which was fronted by several large theater chairs. Lots of mahogany cabinetry at the perimeter walls. To the left of the stairs was a large semi-circular mahogany bar with several stools, to which the gentlemen took their leisure. There was also ample room for the billiard table and two occasional tables with four chairs at each.

  After John had instructed Sylvester, his servant, to make the gents a libation, John excused himself and walked toward me. John knelt down and looked me straight in the eye. "Buck, you don't have to limp, I would have invited you down here without the charade. Buck, you remember the day we talked about and observed the ant behavior? Now listen up, old boy, I am going to take you into a chamber that exists for only very important matters. You don't make a peep, just listen and remember as much as you can. I'm counting on you and I need you."

  I damn near fainted.

  Jenkins interrupted John's admonition to me. "John, would you mind taking a minute to show us 'The Shot'?" John looked around at his guests, didn't notice them fidgeting or checking their watches, and decided to comply. He opened a cabinet facing, reached inside the opening and switched on a florescent light that revealed a glass case that enclosed a very long rifle. He motioned for the guests to approach the display to read the engraved bronzed plaque, which read:

  The Shot

  Sharps Carbine model 1861

  Issued to Sergeant Levi S. Shafer

  8th Illinois Calvary

  Marcellus E. Jones, 2nd lieutenant, used this carbine to fire the first shot at the Battle of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania on July 1, 1863.

  All the men were amazed and evidently dumbfounded since there was no immediate reaction of either shock or awe. Then one of the men in a suit and tie said, "John, how much is this rifle worth?"

  John replied, "I think it is worthless. It is a symbol of violence that was brought about by the inability and unwillingness of men like us to find a workable solution. Lincoln tried but the administrations prior to his Presidency were weak and chose not to foresee the carnage this rifle represents. Therefore it is worthless to me other than it is a reminder to find solutions before irreparable damage is inflicted."

  The gentlemen raised a toast and I heard one say, "to a solution." John pressed on a wall at the right hand side of the bar. The wall, at least a portion of it, slid out of view. So there was the secret chamber. I followed them in and looked for a corner to more or less hide. I wished Cassie was with me, and I wondered where she might be. I hadn't seen her since leaving the garage. One of the suits looked at me and then John, to which John said it was fine, that they wouldn't even know I was here. Then John looked my way and pointed to his own noggin. Meaning, think Buck! I understood. Now was the time to listen, observe, understand, and then, if I had any moxie at all, make something happen at the appropriate time.

  The room had a conference table and seating for eight, three on each side and one at each end. Three walls had cabinets from floor to ceiling. After the magic door had closed, John opened two adjoining cabinet doors on the wall closest to the head of the table. Inside the space were four television monitors arranged like the dots on a number four die.

  One of the suits opened his briefcase. I would find out his name was Murray. He extracted two compact discs from the case and gave them to John, who inserted one of them into a disc player and laid the other one aside. One of the TV screens came to life as John took a seat at the end of the table closest to me.

  The words that appeared were:

  TOP SECRET

  UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  DE