Page 57 of Surge

“Copy that.” He pivoted to the working dog team and nodded to Delaney. “Take him in.”

“C’mon, boy. Seek!” she said and hurried up the rest of the ramp.

Surge plowed into the plane.

With Zim on his six, Garrett followed them.

The Mal stopped about a third of the way in, sniffing the air, looking around, ears pricked. But didn’t zero in on anything.

But the manager had lied. Maybe a dozen sixty-by-thirty containers remained aboard, scattered like a kid’s block collection. The hairs on Garrett’s neck stood on end.

Surge suddenly took off toward the back, pulling Delaney, but screeched to a stop, circled back. He sniffed hard and long, going on his hind legs again as he traced the upper portion of the container, then back down. Alerting on it, he sat and stared at the large pot.

Delaney glanced at Garrett. “He’s hitting on that container marked as Box United Corp.”

“That’s a well-established company,” Garrett answered, watching Delaney, who was monitoring her dog.

Zim pulled out his camera to take pictures. “It is.” He clicked more pictures, then tapped the container. “Sachaai S logo in the corner.”

Garrett eyed the curvy S with an extra curve shooting out of both the top and bottom of the S. “Just like the tats on those thugs in the shoe factory.” He scanned the container again. “This is definitely the jackpot.”

“Same there.” Zim pointed at the container beside it.

“Talk about a mother lode.” Garrett gave a low whistle. “Let’s verify what’s inside.” No way was he going to notify the spook until they had eyes on the vials themselves. “Cut the lock.”

Zim reached to the top of the LD3. Grabbing the rim, he swung his legs up and came to a stand.

Surge whined, his gaze on the back of the plane. But he whipped his attention back to the container. His muscles quivered as he again glanced to the back.

Garrett took a couple steps to see what had Surge’s interest. Nothing but metal.

Behind him, Delaney yelped. Surge lunged, barked, echoing through the hold.

Garrett spun in time to see Surge leap at a man screaming Urdu, his S-tattooed arm hooked around Delaney’s neck.

Weapon snapped up, Garrett aimed it at the Pakistani Sachaai. “Let her go!”

The Mal used every bit of his nearly two hundred pounds of bite pressure on the man’s arm.

With a feral scream, the man released Delaney, pitching her forward.

She fell, and keeping his weapon trained on the guy, Garrett hustled toward her.

The Pakistani tried to shake Surge from his arm, but Surge’s jaw was clamped on like an alligator seizing prey.

Delaney caught the long lead and scrambled back to her feet. She eyed Garrett with his weapon, then drew down on the lead until she had the collar in hand. She drew straight up. “Surge, out.”

Screaming, the man now had tears running down his face.

“Out!” Delaney yelled.

With a keening, excited whimper, Surge unhooked his jaws, using his paws as he gave one last tug. Came free.

Delaney hauled him clear of her attacker. He quivered, straining to get at the Pakistani. She dragged him behind the big metal box.

That man wasn’t leaving the plane. Garrett aimed and fired, neutralizing him. He shifted?—

A fist crashed against his face even as force knocked his weapon from his hand.

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