Beowulf: Explosives Detection Dog Read Online Free PDF Page A

knot red and large on his forehead.
    Tony grinned as he patted him on the shoulder but saw Timbrel watching him, her face … what was that look? “Everything okay?”
    “Yeah. You?”
    It almost seemed like she cared.
Right, keep dreaming
. “Never better.”
    “Did you get both men?”
    “Both? There was only one.”
    She frowned but nodded.
    He pointed into the storage room. “There’s definitely more building there.”
    “Well, nobody’s talking,” Java said. “I had to practically drag him in here. And that’s when things went haywire.”
    Stroking his beard, Tony grinned. “Sounds like they don’t want us to find something.”
    Hands on his belt, Dean flashed a smile. “Then, let’s take it down.”
    “Hooah.”

    Since the threat of WMDs existed, ODA452 couldn’t blow it. Timbrel hung back as Tony and Rocket scooted the shelves out of the way. They brought in X-ray scanners to determine where they could cut and went to work dismantling the wall. Dust and tiny cement particles choked the air as the hole grew. Coughing, Timbrel struggled to see through the gray-filled air.
    Candyman folded himself into the void they’d created. “There’s a room!” he called from the other side. “Hands, hands!”
    His shout from the other side sent Captain Watters and Java rushing through the narrow opening. Rocket stood guard on this side with her.
    “Hands up, hands up!” Candyman ordered something in Dari and Farsi, his tone commanding and warning.
    She waited in the corner, arms around Beo’s chest. Watching. Anticipating the call.
    A figure loomed in the dissipating fog. Then two more men. Cuffed. Escorted by Java.
    Timbrel straightened to her full height, ready to enter the cleared room. As the two escorted nationals came toward her, she held Beo’s collar. “Good boy.”
    Her shoulder jarred.
    The Afghan man muttered something to her.
    “Sorry.” She frowned.
Wait. That wasn’t my mistake
. The man had moved into her path. She glanced back, catching only his profile in the dusty and filmy air.
    “Timbrel.”
    Right. Candyman, who didn’t sound happy. “Let’s go, Beo.” She led him through the hole and straightened as she eyed the large space. Nearly the size of a warehouse, but not quite as high ceilings or as large in square footage. But not much smaller either.
    Candyman, M4 cradled in one hand, keyed his mic and met her gaze as he spoke quietly into the mic. His words didn’t come through her coms. Who was he talking to? Blond eyebrows pulled toward his nose. Not a happy camper.
    What am I missing?
    Candyman was at her side, caught her arm. “Tell me there’s something here. Tell me Beowulf has a hit. A real hit.”
    The way he said that … Timbrel frowned, already feeling guilty. Or like a failure. But for what? She tugged out of his grip, stifling the adrenaline his words spiked. Gaze tracking the room, she hit the captain. Scowling until he dropped his gaze, which was filled with disappointment. Rocket … no disappointment there. Just outrage. Anger.
    Another frown and she said, “Beowulf, seek.” Her words didn’t have the force she wanted them to have.
    As Beo trotted around the room, their frustration, their anger coalesced into the big picture. Oh no …
    She saw the printing press. The barrels of paper. The supplies of ink. Stacks of books on a conveyor. The little food in her stomach soured. Beowulf moved around the room, whimpering. Sniffing. Back and forth until he stopped at a far wall and sat. He looked at her as if to say, “Right here.”
    But right here wasn’t WMDs. Right here, he’d found hydrogen cyanide.
    A chemical used in the production of some books. Java and Scrip came in.
    Curses flew through the air.

T AWHID —T HE O NENESS OF A LLAH
    Eight Years Ago
    With heaving breaths he stepped around the body and moved to the window. A lone, shabby curtain guarded the interior from an invasion of sunlight and hope.
    There was no hope. Not for those who would set