“Swindle sure loves signs,” Ben observed nervously.
“He loves chasing people away,” Griffin amended. He frowned at a sticker on one of the door sidelights:
THESE PREMISES PROTECTED BY
AN ULTRATECH SENTRY-MAX™
SECURITY SYSTEM WITH WIRELESS
READIO TRANSMITTER
FOR INSTANT POLICE ALERTS
“Great,” he muttered. “Another alarm.”
“And this one looks like something out of a James Bond movie,” Ben added. His eyes fell on a dog dish
On the stoop and a leash handle wrapped around the wrought-iron railing. Heart sinking, he tracked the leather leash through the bushes and around the side of the house. The taut line went suddenly slack. “Uh-oh.”
Ben was already in motion before they heard the first bark. He grabbed a bewildered Griffin and began dragging him across the lawn.
Luthor exploded from behind the house in a pose that had become all too familiar — a ravenous predator in pursuit of prey.
“The road!” Griffin rasped.
The two flung themselves over the curb a split second before Luthor ran out of leash and was yanked back by his collar. A motorcycle swerved to avoid the boys as they pounded across the street. The Doberman twisted and writhed, howling its outrage.
“I guess we’d better tell Savannah that her dog whispering is only temporary,” Ben panted.
A slow chuckle mingled with Luthor’s angry braying. Griffin turned to notice an elderly neighbor in a rocking chair on the porch of number 530. The man was peering at them over his reading glasses with great interest.
“Haven’t seen you two around before. New in town?”
Griffin hesitated. It would be risky to say yes. Just because he didn’t recognize the old guy didn’t mean he might not be a friend of a friend of Griffin’s family. Cedarville was, after all, a fairly small community.
“We’re experimenting with some new ways home from school,” he replied. “Bully problems.”
The man’s face darkened. “Kids today. You wouldn’t believe the things I see just sitting in this very chair!”
Griffin swallowed hard. The chair was perfectly positioned to watch the neighborhood in both directions The Palomino front door was dead ahead, across the street.
“Spend a lot of time out there?” he asked faintly.
“Every waking minute,” the man said cheerfully. “I worked forty-three years down in the coal mines. In my book, a second out of the fresh air is a second wasted.”
“Even in bad weather?” Ben ventured.
“I dress for it. Rain or shine, hot or cold, Eli Mulroney is right here.”
“Except at mealtimes,” Griffin prompted.
“That’s what a microwave is for,” Mr. Mulroney said agreeably. “So I don’t have to waste time cooking. Got no TV and no computer. Plenty of top-notch entertainment right out here. Like watching you two hotfooting it across the road with Luthor on your tail.” He treated himself to a good laugh. “Think you were better off with the bullies. At least they don’t bite.”
Griffin and Ben tried to laugh with him.
“What kind of people have a dog like that?” Griffin complained. “Doesn’t it, you know, attack the mailman, or bite their kids?”
“Hah!” If there’s anyone nastier than that dog, it’s the fine fellow who owns it. He lives solo — who’d bunk with a creep like that? But Luthor’s not around much. ‘Pal-o-mine’ usually has the critter on guard duty at his store. Wonder why the monster’s here all of a sudden. Probably ate a few customers in the shop.”
Griffin felt some small measure of satisfaction. Eli Mulroney may have been the unofficial CIA of Park Avenue Extension, but the old man still didn’t know the real reason Swindle had moved Luthor from store to home. Griffin was sure of it: The safe was there, with the card inside it.
He grimaced. Bad enough Swindle was a security freak with an attack dog and an alarm system that had everything short of laser cannons. How were they supposed to pull off a heist under the nose of a full-time neighborhood spy?
From Swindle. Copyright © 2008 by Gordon Korman. All rights reserved.
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