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“So, he doesn’t have metal teeth?” asked Mike.

“No, he looks like a normal dog. Well, as much as Axe can look normal.”

“So no robo dog?” asked Junior.

Ali shook her head.

Her son wrapped his arms around the military working dog and buried his face in the dog’s neck. “It’s OK, you’ll always be my hero, Axe.”

“Amen to that,” whispered Mike. “Any issues?” he asked his wife.

“No, although he didn’t want to go down. He’s got the constitution of a rhinoceros. It took nearly twice the anesthetic recommended for a dog his size.”

“Is that dangerous?”

“It can be, but his blood pressure is perfect, and his pulse when he’s under is like a metronome.”

“What’s a metronome?” asked Junior.

“It’s a machine musicians use to keep time,” said Ali.

“Like a clock?”

“Yeah, kind of, except you can change the speed of the second hand to suit the style of music you’re playing once you’ve set it. Then it keeps perfect time.”

“So, Axe’s heart keeps perfect time.”

“Yes, it does, bud.”

“Does that mean we can take him home?”

Ali smiled. “We sure can. But no bones for at least a week. Doctor’s orders.”

“Hear that, Axe? No bones. Going to have to eat lots of steaks.”

Chapter Four

“You sure this is going to work?” asked Ernie from behind the wheel of a late-model Ford SUV.

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” said TJ from the front passenger seat. “How are you guys doing back there?”

Rick and Mike were in the SUV’s trunk. Sitting side by side, dressed in fatigues and their combat rigs, they faced the rear closed door. Mike cradled his M4 carbine whilst Rick fiddled with a device resembling a grenade launcher.

“I’m good to go, but Rick’s ham-fisting the disruptor.”

“Hey, it was working. I tested it before we kicked off.”

“Get it sorted, Rick. We’re running out of road,” snapped TJ.

The team was following their target car, a grey sedan, in the desert forty minutes east of San Diego. After two weeks of work-up with the tech development team, they’d put together a scenario to test a new weapon.

A high-pitched whine filled the cabin, and the lights on the launcher flashed as Rick keyed buttons alongside the trigger. A few seconds later, the amber indicators turned green. “OK, weapon is charged, we’re good to go.”

“Punch it, Chewie,” barked TJ.

Ernie gave his best impression of a Wookie as he mashed the throttle to the floor and moved to overtake the sedan. As they passed, he reached down and activated the automatic trunk release. The electric opener lifted the tail gate as he pulled in front of the target.

“Weapon-free,” yelled TJ over the road noise.