460 Petrovsky
Once they were sure they’d outrun their humans, the embassy dogs stopped to make a plan. Arne immediately set to work unfastening everyone’s leash.
“Sometimes the overbite comes in handy,” he said, springing open the clasp on Robert’s leash with his teeth.
“Thanks, Arne!” Robert cried, giving himself a whole-body shake. “Okay, J, tell us everything.”
JR took a breath, then proceeded to tell them all about Katerina, her surprise entrance, and the contents of her briefcase.
“So Filip Filipov has the missing dogs?” Beatrix exclaimed when he was done.
“Who’s Filip Filipov?” asked Hazan.
“Only one of the most famous artists in Moscow today!” Beatrix told her. “He shows his work wherever he wants—on buildings, bus shelters, anywhere. His work is very contemporary,” she added. “I don’t care for it much.”
“Anyway,” said JR, “I’m pretty sure Filipov has the missing strays. And he’s opening a new show tonight. It’s kind of a secret—apparently only important people are invited. And I don’t know if the dogs will be there, but it’s worth a shot.” He closed his eyes, trying to remember Katerina’s conversation with George and John the day before. “I’m pretty sure I remember the address, but I don’t know how to find it.”
Robert sighed. “Can’t help you there.”
Arne unfastened Diego’s leash and shook his head. “Me neither.”
“We need the strays,” Beatrix declared. “They know everything about the city.”
JR nodded. He’d been thinking the same thing.
“Where should we look for them?” asked Diego.
JR chewed on his lip. “I think I know. I just hope I can find it.” He took a deep breath. “Who’s up for a ride on the metro?”
“I can’t!” Hazan yelped, nodding at Beatrix. “She’s taking up all the room!”
Beatrix turned and glared at them. “There’s a puddle on my other side,” she growled. “I’m not moving over.”As the train rumbled and shifted on the tracks underneath them, Hazan whined. The human standing next to her finished eating his candy bar and dropped the wrapper on the floor. Hazan pounced on it, swallowing the wrapper in one gulp. Arne made a face.
Robert sat next to JR, panting hard. “It’s stuffy as the outback in December in here,” he said. “And I don’t remember it being so busy last time.”
JR agreed. This time, the train was packed with humans heading home from work. Every seat was taken, and many people were standing shoulder to shoulder, clutching handles that hung from a pole overhead. “This must be what they call rush hour.”
“Ow!” Robert winced as someone stepped on his tail. “Think I’d rather walk.”
“Would you move over?” Arne said again.
“I told you, I can’t!” Hazan wailed. Then she moaned. “Ohh, I shouldn’t have eaten that wrapper.”
JR tried hard to concentrate on the announcer’s voice. It was a female voice, so he knew they were headed the right way, away from the centre of town. He even thought he recognized the names of a few stops.
The train curved around a corner and Arne lost his balance, stepping on Hazan’s paw. She yipped and startled Beatrix, who bared her teeth and snapped back. But JR stayed upright, bending his knees and moving with the train. Riding the metro didn’t seem quite as strange any more. In fact, he realized, getting around the city this way was starting to feel almost natural.
“Mayakovskaya station,” said the announcer.
“That’s us!” he told the others, letting the crowd of humans sweep him out the doors and onto the pink marble floor. He chose the hall he was fairly certain Sasha had led them down, and got Diego to shove open the black door at the end of it. Then he took them down a staircase and along another corridor until finally he saw the heavy wooden door he was looking for. Relieved, he lifted a paw and scratched the door twice, paused, then scratched again. Just as Sasha had done.
At first, no one answered. He waited, then scratched again.
Nothing.
Just as he was starting to panic, someone called, “Who’s there?”
A pause. Then, “Who?”
“JR,” he said, louder this time. “I’m a friend of Ania’s. I’ve got some news about—”
“Password?”
“Um,” JR closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Bez … Bezdomnaya sobaka?”
The door opened and a small grey head peered around it, eyes beady and suspicious. It was the adorable but vicious terrier.
She gave each of the embassy dogs a once-over. “And these are?” She glared at them.
“Friends,” said JR. “Please, if you’ll just let us in, I’ve got news. I … I know where the missing dogs are.”
The terrier looked him up and down, eyes narrowed. She glanced over her shoulder, then said, “Come in.”
They walked into the fancy old room, which, as JR had expected, was full of stray dogs on couches. Robert let out a low whistle.
“Oh my,” whispered Beatrix. “Look at that chandelier.”
“Hazan, don’t break anything,” Arne warned.
“I’ll try,” whimpered Hazan, her rear end trembling.
“Embassy!” Ania leaped off one of the couches. “What are you doing here?”
“Ania!” he cried. “I figured it out! I know where the missing dogs are!”
All at once, they were surrounded by strays.
“What do you mean you know?” Fyodor demanded.
“Did you see them? Where are they?” Sasha pushed his way to the front of the crowd.
“Let him talk!” Ania commanded. “JR, who took them?”
JR took a deep breath and looked around. “Filip Filipov.”
Silence followed. After a few moments, Fyodor repeated, “Filip Filipov?”
“The artist?” Sasha cocked his head to the side.
“Why would he want stray dogs?” the dim-looking retriever wondered.
“I know it sounds crazy.” JR turned to Ania. “But you’ve just got to believe me. I saw them in his pictures. I swear. In fact,” he added as another thought came to mind, “I bet they were in that big poster we saw last night! Remember? The one on the side of the bank?”
“JR is an honest and noble dog,” Diego put in. “He wouldn’t lie.”
“Thanks,” JR whispered. “I wouldn’t,” he added to Ania.
“Okay,” said Ania, but her voice was thick with doubt. “If you say so. But where are we going to find him?”
“He never comes out in public, you know,” said Sasha.
“I know,” said JR. “But he has a show tonight. And … and I don’t know for sure that the dogs will be there. But I’m going to go see.”
“And so are we,” added Beatrix, stepping up beside him.
“All of us,” added Arne.
“You don’t have to believe me,” said JR. “But I need you to tell me how to find 460 Petrovsky. That’s where the show is.”
Sasha shook his head. “It can’t be there. There are only warehouses on that street.”
JR frowned. He was fairly certain that was the address Katerina had given.
Ania stared hard at him for a moment, then looked around at the other metro dogs. “Well then, I’ll go, too,” she said.
“Ania, no.” Sasha stepped toward her. “It’s not safe. We can’t leave.” He turned to JR. “I know you mean well, but you’re on your own. I’m sorry.”
JR’s tail drooped. Then he remembered something important. “Well, you’re wrong about one thing,” he told Sasha. “I’m not on my own.” He looked back at the embassy dogs, who nodded and squared their shoulders.
“You’re wrong about another thing, too,” Ania added. “I’m going.”
“Ania!” Sasha said sharply, but she shook her head.
“I’d rather try than stay here and wait for them to find us.” She looked down at JR. “If JR thinks Filipov has the dogs, I have to go.”
JR’s tail sprang back up. She trusted him. Now, hopefully, he’d be able to prove his theory right.
“Well, I’m not staying here,” said Fyodor.
“Me neither,” said the adorable but vicious one. “If Filipov really is the dognapper, well …” She held up a paw and flashed some surprisingly sharp claws.
“He won’t know what bit him,” Fyodor concluded.
In the end, a dozen strays joined the six embassy dogs on the metro, bound for 460 Petrovsky. The train heading back into the centre of town wasn’t nearly as busy as the one going out, which was a good thing, since eighteen dogs took up an awful lot of space. In fact, they took up an entire car of their own, much to the bewilderment of the human passengers.
“Move along, move along,” Fyodor said as a woman stumbled down the aisle, trying to avoid stepping on legs and tails. “This car’s for the canines, lady.”
The dogs chuckled.
Ania, however, wasn’t laughing. “What time is the show?” she asked JR.
“Eight o’clock,” he said. He tuned in to his stomach. “About an hour from now.”
She nodded. “I hope this works.”
JR swallowed hard. He hoped so, too.
Four-sixty Petrovsky was indeed in the middle of an industrial area. The street was lined on either side with ugly brown warehouses. Many had cracked windows, and JR could smell the rats inside from half a block away. If it hadn’t been for the long line of humans in front of one building, he would have assumed he had the wrong address.
“That must be it,” Beatrix said as they watched the crowd from across the street. “Those people look important. Look how they’re dressed. All those suits and fancy shoes.”
She was right. Which made it all the more strange to see them queuing in front of a decrepit warehouse.
“Okay, we’ve got to split up,” said Ania. “Eighteen dogs can’t just barge in there together. I’ll take a group, and Fyodor, you’ll take another. JR, you’ll take one, too.”
JR gulped. He’d been hoping to just follow Ania’s lead. But he nodded, and the embassy dogs clustered around him, claiming him for their leader. That made him feel stronger.
“Fyodor, you go first. Try to find a way inside, but make sure they don’t spot you,” Ania instructed.
Fyodor nodded and led his group toward the building, keeping a good distance from the crowd. JR watched them, amazed at how they managed to slink along, practically blending into the street. He stole a glance at his own group—from big-haired Beatrix to hyperactive Hazan. If they managed not to draw the humans’ attention, it would be a miracle.
“Look!” Ania hissed. “They’ve found a door. They’re in.”
Sure enough, the dogs were disappearing into the warehouse through a side door. Fyodor glanced back at them, winked, and slipped into the building. No one in line appeared to notice.
“Okay, JR. Wait a few minutes, then take your team in there, too,” said Ania.
“Okay,” JR whispered. “Ready guys?”
“Ready!” said Robert.
“Ready!” said Diego.
Hazan whined and pranced on the spot.
“Hazan, you’ve got to stay calm,” JR told her.
“I’ll try,” she whimpered. “It’s just all so exciting.”
To reach the side door, they had to approach the humans, close enough to hear their conversations. Most were speaking Russian, of course, but JR’s ears picked up a bit of English. He listened hard.
“Beauty vs. Filth is supposed to be the greatest art show of the year,” a woman was saying. “I think it’s brilliant of Filipov to make a statement about society through fashion.”
“Oh yeah?” said the man next to her. “What’s he trying to say?”
JR stopped. He knew that voice. And … He sniffed. Leather with a hint of cinnamon. He looked up, and sure enough, there was George, standing in line with John Cowley, chatting with the woman beside them.
What had George done, he wondered, when he’d come home and found JR gone? Katerina must have cooked up some kind of excuse. Otherwise, surely he wouldn’t be here, chatting as if nothing were amiss.
“Why are we stopping?” Arne hissed, and JR shook himself.
“Sorry,” he whispered. “That’s my human.”
“And mine next to his,” added Robert. “Come on, keep going. If they see us, we’re done for.”
They made a dash for the side door and slipped inside. Within seconds, they were all blinking in the dim light of the warehouse.