K-9

“Good Boy!” Bruno’s tail wagged with joy at the sound of praise. “Now come! C’mon Boy. Looks like we might have got something here.” Bruno certainly thought so, sitting upright like a proud K-9, observing his prize. He deserved a treat when they got back, that’s for sure. But not yet. They still had work to do.

Bruno had been sniffing around a cardboard box, buried in with a big pile of trash. They were under the intersection, a common place for the nearby residents to dump their rubbish when the garbage collectors failed to turn up. It was happening more and more frequently lately, and the trash was starting to pile up - a perfect place to hide something. Bruno and Gomez often came down here, checking for anything that didn’t belong. Usually they found nought, but not today it seemed.

When Gomez opened the box, he found it to be filled with 4 big white blocks stacked one on top of the other – with the sweet, chemical aroma of cocaine. He had seen similar many times before, but never in this sheer quantity. “Bruno, I think we might have hit the jackpot.” Bruno simply wagged his tail. “That’s a good boy.”

A few hours later and they were back at the kennels. Him and Bruno had been partners for years, started training together almost a decade ago. Gomez had been with the force for a few years before that, but being with Bruno was different. For one, he wouldn’t stab you in the back like half of the policia in the station, and second, you could always count on him. His loyalty was a given, he could not be corrupted. And that was an important thing in this city.

Gomez didn’t know exactly how many of his colleagues were bent, but he knew a fare few that were. He could report them of course, but the top brass was just as corrupt as the rest of them, and he’d rather not be lynched by a vengeful horde of dirty cops. No, instead he contented himself with doing what little he could to help, day to day. As long as they didn’t get too far in the way, as long as they didn’t hinder operations too badly, the others wouldn’t pay them much attention. This time, however, they may have taken a step too far.

“Gomez, you’ve got a visitor,” a voice announced behind him. He turned around to see the kennel master, Reyes, stood with a stern frown.

“A visitor? Who?”

“The Tenente-Coronel himself. Come to congratulate you on the exemplary work you’ve accomplished today.” 

“Oh... Come to see me?” That was strange. The Tenente-Colonel didn’t take time out of his busy schedule for just anyone, especially not to congratulate them. 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I? He’s waiting for you in his car outside.”

“Ok... I’ll just go get Bruno’s lead then...”

“Leave the dog.”

“He did just as much work as I!”

“Leave him.” Reyes’s expression did not invite a reply. “Now go, don’t keep the Tenente-Colonel waiting.” And with that, Reyes left as quickly as he came.

It was suspicious, Gomez knew. Chances were that there was something more going on here. Unfortunately for Gomez, he could hardly refuse an invitation from the Tenente-Colonel himself. So, with a weary sigh and a silent prayer, he made his way outside.

In front of the kennels, there was a small stretch of tarmac acting as makeshift car park for the place. There were a few jeeps parked about, but it was mostly deserted as many of the other handlers were out on patrol. A fenced grassy area lay next to it, with fences high so that the dogs could run around freely.

Gomez scanned the car park, and stopped at a black sedan that lay before him – looked official, surely the Tenente-Colonel's car. He approached cautiously, trying to catch a peek inside, but the windows were tinted and he couldn’t see.  The driver rolled down the window and Gomez forced a smile. “It’s good to finally meet you sir.” His smile faded when he looked inside. 

There were two people in the car, a driver and a passenger. Neither were the Tenente-Colonel. They had youthful faces instead, couldn’t have been any more than 20 or 25 years old, dressed in faded t-shirts and cargo shorts.

“Get in the car” demanded the driver, pulling out a handgun and casually waving it at Gomez.

“What is this?” 

“Don’t scream, don’t shout. Don’t even murmur. Get in the car and shut up, or you’re going to get shot. Do it now.”

Gomez shook his head, his teeth gritted. The driver turned to his companion. “Joseph, grab him.”

The one called Joseph got out of the car, armed with a micro uzi, and was about to make a move when barking started up from behind them. The trio turned to see Bruno behind the fence, watching them and barking up a storm. He knew something was wrong.

“Quick! Get him in before that little shit attracts attention.” Joseph went for Gomez’s arm, trying to grab it and pull him in the car. Unfortunately for him, he had made the fatal mistake of letting the Uzi point elsewhere. Gomez saw the chance, and he took it.

He punched Joseph full on in the face, sending him sprawling onto the ground. The driver hastily fired his handgun, but Gomez dodged under and grabbed the pistol before he could let off any more shots. They wrestled for it, but you don’t become a K9 handler without gaining some upper body strength, and Gomez was easily the stronger of them. He snatched the gun out of the driver’s hand, aimed it at him, and fired three shots. The driver writhed in the car as the shots hit him.

Gomez turned back to deal with Joseph, but he was too late... he was lying on the floor, Uzi aimed straight at Gomez. Joseph tore into him, emptying the entire clip into his chest. Blood spurted from his chest and Gomez collapsed to the floor. It was over.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Joseph vaulted over the car’s trunk and got in. “Let’s go!” he shouted to the driver, who was moaning in pain beside him. Somehow, he managed to find the strength to push down on the accelerator, and the sedan lurched off in a cloud of dust, leaving Gomez lying in a pool of blood.

Bruno had stopped barking and started whimpering. Shouts came from the kennels, but Gomez was oblivious to it all. He lay in the grime, dying, and shared a final glance with his K-9.