Mr. King sat back and listened to his lawyer meander on about limited liability, the Justice Department and what his defense was going to cost.  The fearful man was practically sweating through his silk suit and he wouldn’t meet the millionaire’s eyes.  Waving his hand to stop the droning voice, he contemplated how everything had gone so wrong.

“Thank you, Kennison.  I won’t need you any longer.  I don’t believe that you’re the one to represent me at the hearing.  Good-bye.”

The lawyer almost leapt to his feet, stammering his good-byes and fleeing from the room.

“What a wimp.”  He pressed the button on his desk and waited.  When the door opened, he spoke.  “Phelps, Mr. Kennison will not be returning.  Terminate his account.”

“Yes, Sir.”  The butler didn’t leave and Mr. King gestured for him to speak.  “The breeder from the Levy Kennels has arrived, Sir, with a . . . suitable candidate for pet.”

“Really?  How interesting, wait for a moment then when I buzz, send them in.”  He sat back and thought about the temporary setback to his plan for acquiring Moon Base.  It was unfortunate that the men had been caught.  They had appeared to be a crack team who would be able to handle the relatively simple task of cleaning out the dead bodies left by the plague.

Had Mr. Smith failed in swapping the vials of vaccine for the plague?  If that were the case, then strong measures would have to be taken.  It was the only explanation that explained the failure.  He frowned and tapped his index finger on the desk.  The hysterical ranting of the media about healing powers and godly intervention was nonsense of the highest order.

But what could you expect from a news team that had an entire show on the Base computer’s choice of name.  Absurd.  He shook his head and put it from his mind.  For now, all he was concerned with was the selection of a new pet, a companion for him who was worthy of his time.  Reaching over for the buzzer, he let Phelps know that the breeder could be brought in.

When the door opened quietly, a nondescript man entered with one of the most magnificent creatures he’d ever seen.  Really, the AKA book on breeds hadn’t done the German Shepherd justice.  This one stood about twenty-one inches high with a slender black muzzle over-perched by erect ears.  The creamy tan and black of his body flowed down to sturdy legs and a richly bushed tail.  The handler paused a few steps into the room and the dog obediently heeled at his side.

“What is his name?”  Mr. King could not take his eyes from the animal.

“Prince Heinrich von Hofstadler.”  The man said quietly.  “He’s two.”

“He has had obedience training?”  Mr. King used his controls to roll the wheelchair away from his desk   “Normal commands?”

“Yes, Sir.  AKA education.”

“Drop his leash and leave.  Phelps will take care of you.”

“Yes, Sir.”  The man let the leash drop to the dog’s side, turned and left the room.

Mr. King savored the sight of the handsome animal.  When the door opened again, he looked up impatiently.  A gloved hand with a slender silver shape appeared.  When nothing happened, he began to speak only to stop at the sight of his new dog beginning to walk towards him.  The low voiced growl was heart stopping in its intensity.  The muzzle pulled back to reveal long rows of gleaming white teeth.

“Stop, Prince.”  He fumbled with the controls to move his chair back.  The dog kept on coming.  “Phelps . . . Phelps, help.”

The familiar pains of an angina attack began to squeeze his chest but instead of lessening, they grew worse.  The dog was almost upon him, the growl growing in intensity until he could feel the hot breath in his face.  Why weren’t the beta-blockers working?  He gasped for breath and felt a tingle run down his left arm, paralyzing it so he could no longer work the controls.

He began to shake harder until he’d vibrated right out of the chair to fall in a heap on the carpet.  The gloved hand ceased blowing the ultrasonic whistle and Prince sat by the twitching body with a puzzled look on his face.  The handler came back into the room and stooped to check the fallen millionaire’s vitals.  Nothing.  Whistling softly, he picked up the leash and took Prince from the room.

Mr. Smith’s philosophy was ‘do unto others before they could do unto you’.

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End of chapter 43