Chapter 9, Part 1: Search and Rescue

Chapter 9: Lost Child

        “Tracker, report to the Briefing Room. Tracker, please report to the Briefing Room for assignment.” Tracker’s vulpine ears pricked up at the summons over the speakers, then as he rose from the dining room table. He picked up his tray and carried it over to the bussing station, then walked dejectedly off to the elevators.
        He arrived at the Briefing Room and found Colonel Carfield sitting at the head of the conference table. A map of Chattanooga lit the screen of the giant wall monitor behind him.
        ”Good morning, Tracker,” he said. “How are you doing this morning?”
        ”Just fine, sir,” Tracker replied, making an effort to look alert.
        ”That’s good. Please sit down.” He waited while Tracker took a chair, guiding his tail through the opening at the bottom of the seat back. “It’s time you got back to work. This should be a quick mission, so we’re sending you out solo.“
        ”What do you have, Colonel?”
        ”A search and rescue mission. A nine year old girl is missing. She went out playing with her dog yesterday, and hasn’t return home. There’s no evidence of foul play, but timing is critical. She has to be found quickly.”
        ”Where?”
        ”At the foot of Signal Mountain.”
        ”Publicity?”
        ”Plenty.” Carfield looked at Tracker. “Before you say anything, I know you don’t like it, but we don’t have many options.”
        ”Wouldn’t Animal be a better choice?” Tracker asked. “He’s got much the same abilities as I do, and he doesn’t have any worries about publicity.”
        ”True, but he’s out on assignment and isn’t due back for hours. This girl has a medical problem and needs to be found right away. If she misses more than three scheduled doses of her medicine, it could be fatal.”
        ”I understand. When do I leave?” Tracker asked.
        “Since you’re going as a representative of the Defenders, I want you to wear your Dress uniform” Carfield said. “Most of the time I don’t care what you wear on assignment since nobody can mistake you for someone else, but I want to make sure the Defenders logo is visible on any video they take this time. It will also serve to give you some official and visible protection while you’re out there. Now, go shower and change. Aircar three will be waiting for you in the hangar as soon as you can get there. Good hunting.”

        The greying police officer bent over a topographical map of the search area. His uniform bore the symbols of his long tenure in the Chattanooga Police Department, and on his collar he wore captain’s insignia. He raised his head at the sound of a landing aircar. “Great,” he muttered to himself. “Just what I need, more amateur searchers.” He raised his brow when he saw that the vehicle bore the Defenders logo and carried the mixed orange and blue flashers of FORCE. He walked to the edge of the canvas awning attached to the Command van and waited.
        A strange, fox-like creature got out. All right, he thought. Their tracking specialist. What was his name? Then he frowned slightly. The small crowd of spectators — rubberneckers, he thought caustically — had begun to stir.
        ”Hey, look. A mutie.”
        ”What’s it here for?”
        Tracker heard the muttering and tensed. His tail bushed slightly and his stride altered, dropping his center of balance into a fighting stance. He hunched his shoulders and stared ahead, ears focused on the crowd.
        The captain shook his head in disgust, then stepped out and walked over to meet the Defender. He held out his hand as he approached. “Finally,” he said loudly. “The tracking specialist. Now maybe we can find the little girl before it’s too late.”
        Tracker took the pro-offered hand. “I will try, sir.” The captain walked beside him, between him and the crowd, one hand negligently on the butt of his holstered revolver.        
        Tracker paced stiffly into the pavilion. Once inside Tracker relaxed somewhat. The Defenders aircar took off and headed south, to disappear around the shoulder of the mountain.
        ”I’ve been briefed on the situation, Captain,” Tracker glanced at the policeman’s name tag, “Saynor. Is there anything new I need to know?”
        ”Not really, uh… Tracker, right?”
        ”Right. Have you tried using the girl’s pet as a guide?”
        ”Yes. The dog just led us on a wild goose chase. The girl’s parents came along and told us that we were in the girl’s regular play area. Apparently she and some neighbor children built their own playground with a fort and some other things. The dog just ran around frantically and we finally gave up on the idea.”
        ”I see. The best place for me to start is going to be at the girl’s home. Maybe I can pick up something you and your dogs missed.
        ”I’d also like to ask that you pull your men out of the search area for a while, if I may.?        Captain Saynor looked sharply at Tracker. “Why?”
        ”I mean no disrespect to you or your men’s abilities, Captain, but that many men crashing around in the woods and shouting could well destroy any chance I may have of hearing her, if she happens to be calling for help. I can only hope I will be able to pick up her scent under the smell of your men and dogs.”
        The captain grumbled under his breath before finally nodding his head and motioning to a nearby officer to sound the recall. “Anything else?”
        ”Uh, yes.” Tracker looked a little sheepishly at the Captain. “I seem to need a ride over to the girl’s home. I could run over, but that would be too public, too… disruptive?”
        ”I understand. I’ll have a cruiser take you there.” Captain Saynor led the way out of the pavilion and looked around. A Hamilton County patrolman leaned against his groundcar looking expectantly towards Tracker and the captain.
        Saynor approached the county car. “I need someone to take Mr. Tracker to the Janlen residence. Since we’re temporarily suspending active search operations, I don’t need you here at the moment. Would you mind taking him there?”
        ”No problem,” the young patrolmen exclaimed. “I was hoping to find something to do. I’ve been briefed on Mr. Tracker, but I never thought I’d get a chance to meet him, much less work with him. I’ll be glad to play taxi for him.”
        Tracker’s head snapped up, nose working. For an instant, he had caught an odor, very faint. He moved his head around, sampling the air.
        ”What’s wrong, Mr. Tracker?” the patrolman asked.
        ”I smell blood.”
        ”Wow, you are good! Three days ago, someone bled all over the inside of my cruiser, and I had to clean it up.”
        Tracker cocked his ears at the enthusiastic patrolman, catching the clearly non-southern accent in his speech. He dismissed the zeal as a product of the man’s comparative youth.
        Tracker thanked Captain Saynor and climbed into the back seat of the county patrol car while the patrolman got in behind the wheel. His partner was already in the front passenger’s seat.