Chapter Three
Hawkeye
When Hawkeye Kesse signed onto Cerberus Tactical K9 Team Charlie, the unspoken rule was that Iniquus Security’s reputation would be upheld at all times.
Uniforms were always on point.
The operators' demeanors were always respectful, minds sharp, bodies ready for action.
Their dogs were immaculately groomed, and they presented with impeccable behavior.
Events would unfold in a professional and orderly manner.
What got laid out in no uncertain terms was that, to the extent possible, the teams were to keep their images off the Internet.
And in this day and age, that was easier said than done.
With phones clutched in people’s fingers and immediate access to social media, when things got out of hand, when emergencies popped up, folks were filming. And posting.
Doing the kinds of jobs Cerberus Tactical did for Iniquus—jumping into the fray—it was often impossible to maintain their anonymity. Not to say they didn’t try.
Luckily, the folks in tech support back at headquarters were wizards at taking down images before they got enough traction to go viral.
And man, oh man, did the tech team have their work cut out for them today.
It had all started out fine.
Team Charlie, the newest K9 team at Iniquus, was heading down to the southern campus on St. Kitts by way of St. Croix. St. Kitts was a convenient jumping-off spot for Iniquus to provide area security and safety support to their clients—the U.S. alphabets, corporate accounts, universities and other institutions.
In St. Croix, their objectives were to meet the emergency managers, get a lay of the land, and, most importantly, teach their dogs to surf.
Hawkeye couldn’t wait. This was going to be a great time.
The first hiccup came when two planes consolidated into a single flight.
Logistics worked what magic they could, and while the team was downgraded from first class, they got the next best thing. They were seated together and grouped at the bulkhead.
With the plane’s setup, the business class seats were to the left of the door. All the team needed to do was turn to the right, round the wall to the bulkhead, and sit down.
They’d wait away from the public outside near the support stairs and load last.
It would be seamless.
Easy.
They had a plan.
Out where the workers loaded last-minute carry-on luggage into place, there was no overhead protection from the ice crystals falling.
Under the operators’ umbrellas, the K9s sat between their handlers' legs to keep the dogs as dry as possible.
Even though the K9s all wore “working dog, do not touch” vests, it wasn’t enough to keep their fur dry.
Seven hours of wet dog would be tough in such an enclosed space. Multiply that by four K9s, and, understandably, there might be bad feelings and complaints.
So, the handlers did everything in their power to prevent that.
Once the flight attendant signaled to the team that it was their turn to board, Ash and K9 Hoover were the first ones up the metal stairs. Three members of Team Charlie climbed behind him. Arriving on the sky bridge just outside the plane’s door, the attendant halted their progress by holding up a hand to signal stop.
“Welcome.” She smiled and scanned over the dogs before looking up to catch Ash’s gaze. “We’re ready for you.” She put her hand on her heart as she blushed. “Can I just tell you how excited we are to have you on our flight? It’s an honor, sirs.”
Lucky for Hawkeye, he was second in line, so it was Ash who had to smile and nod. Hawkeye wasn’t one that much liked attention or recognition. It didn’t sit right with him. A man took pride in the job he did. That should be enough motivation to do the right thing.
“Your company has an understanding with our airlines,” she said. “Y’all have flown with us in the past, I’m sure. We always make an announcement to try to dissuade people from taking videos of the dog teams. That’s both for your sake and ours. We don’t want people jumping up and getting in the aisle. We’re trying to depart on time.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ash said.
The woman’s blush deepened as she turned away to do her thing.
Today, Hawkeye drew the long straw. He’d be the one who got the extra legroom as he sat in the bulkhead row. He was also the point guy for the four dogs, as his teammates wouldn’t have easy access though they were sitting right behind their partner K9s. As tall as the men were, it took a bit of unfolding to get in and out of a regular seat.
This configuration was new to Hawkeye.
In his short time with the company, Iniquus always chose first-class seats for their operators and their K9s.
With the men’s large builds, they had the comfort to rest for their upcoming assignment, good food, and the dogs could curl up on the bigger seats or the floor. Disembarking first was helpful, so was being in a curtained space apart from the other passengers who might have allergies or fears associated with bigger dogs or dogs in general.
And just as importantly, they were away from cameras and could let their guard down a bit on long-haul flights.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the attendant spoke into the handheld PA system, “as you settle into your seats, I would like to announce that flying with us today are four K9 heroes. These working dogs are on the Iniquus team that recently made two search and rescue saves in the Washington, D.C. area. Over the summer, K9 Max found a grandmother who had wandered into the mountains during a fierce storm. And here, just recently, K9 Cooper found the four-year-old child who went missing for two days in the cold after the child wandered away from his caregiver. Thanks to this wonderful team, that child has made a complete recovery and is back home in the arms of his family. As the men and their dog partners come onto the plane, we ask that you keep your phones away and that you not take either pictures or videos. These men and their dogs often protect our nation’s lawmakers and diplomats overseas, and it’s important they maintain their anonymity for security reasons. We thank you for your cooperation.” The attendant paused, then finished with a rousing, “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our national heroes.”
Ash turned and sent the rest of the team an “oh shit” raise of his eyebrows.
Iniquus culled its tactical teams from the lists of retired special forces operators. True, sometimes their missions did require heroic action, but to all the men in this line, the heroes were the ones who made the ultimate sacrifice.
For this team, work in the field was another day in the office.
Hawkeye didn’t like to admit it, but he was a might superstitious on this subject. Someone calling him a hero was a little bit like prophesying the worst.
And by the look on Ash’s face, he felt the same.
When the applause broke out, the team adjusted the bills on their caps slightly lower over their eyes.
While the hats gave them a bit more anonymity, Hawkeye also learned in training that obscuring his face came at a price. The forehead was where most people started a scan of a face to identify that person, and it was also the means by which they read the person’s emotions. A covered forehead created distrust of the hat wearer.
It was an odd snippet of applied psychology, but once he was aware of it, Hawkeye saw it play out in real-world scenarios.
For that reason, Iniquus operators only wore hats when it made them more effective on the job. Usually, that had to do with glare. Iniquus Logistics must have been concerned about the seat changes when the airline combined the two flights, putting the team on the more public side of the first-class curtain.
Had it not been for their orders, the team wouldn’t be wearing the hats.
While it was unusual, Hawkeye was grateful.
As the applause continued, Ash squared his shoulders, gave his K9, Hoover, a hand signal, and moved onto the plane.
Hawkeye followed him on, waiting patiently as Ash signaled Hoover into seat A by the window.
When Hoover jumped onto the seat he turned to put his paws on his headrest, looking out over the plane of clapping passengers, the applause turned to cheers.
Hoover’s behavior wasn’t atypical. Their dogs were highly intelligent and trained to be observant. When moving into any kind of new environment, the operators let the dogs get a sense of the space, knowing their dogs could hear, smell, and see far better than their handlers could. In a security situation, the team wanted their dogs to have all the information available.
What was not part of the game plan, though, was that the tabby cat at the back of the plane was in its owner's arms instead of in its case. Hawkeye assumed it must be an emotional support animal by the way that the woman clutched the cat to her chest. But even from the back of the plane, the cat must have smelled big, wet dogs.
The cat pressed its front paws against the woman’s face, pushing itself into a backbend as it let out an ungodly shriek.
The intake of breath among the passengers seemed choreographed.
They released their seatbelts and whipped themselves around to better understand what was going on and if there was a threat.
Typical human behavior.
Hoover was hard-focused with alert ears, his gaze fixed.
Ash reached forward and wrapped Hoover’s lead around his hand in case Hoover’s prey drive got the best of him.
Hawkeye swept his gaze down to catch Cooper’s eye, then signaled him onto his assigned seat. He sent a glance toward the woman sitting in the window seat to assess her comfort with the enormous German shepherd leaping onto the aisle seat.
In one hand, she had an eye mask, and with the other, she was pressing earbuds into place, seemingly oblivious to the drama in the back.
Apparently, he’d be sitting next to a Zen passenger. At least that worked in his favor.
Halo signaled to Max, and they were backing out of the plane to join Levi and Mojo on the platform, giving the flight attendant the space to move toward the disruption.
Hawkeye ducked under the luggage bin, stepping backward into his row, letting the attendant hustle authoritatively by.
By the time she passed, and he was standing in the aisle, the scene had changed.
The woman in the back had lost her grip on the cat.
The cat—a massive orange ball of pissed off—launched itself into the air with a hiss, landing on the seat back and using the available passenger head as a launching pad. That woman startled and screamed as first the front cat legs, then the back pressed into her scalp.
She lifted her purse and whacked at the menace.
“Stop hurting my cat! Don’t you dare hurt my cat!” The woman at the very back shoved at the person sitting in the middle seat as she flailed her arm to show she needed to get out.
The whole plane heaved in waves as each person responded—most with laughter, some cheers, dismay, anger, fear—it was chaos.
The cat zigged and zagged, evading the hands that reached out to snag it.
Hawkeye positioned himself in the aisle between the bulkhead walls to try to keep the cat from escaping the plane, which seemed to be the cat’s trajectory.
Hands held wide and at the ready, Hawkeye was biding his time.
Three rows down, a man, clutching a chihuahua that wore a tiny “emotional support” vest, batted the cat away.
The chihuahua was pissed , snapping his teeth and growling his rage.
The cat stretched its front legs long and smacked the chihuahua across the muzzle.
This momentarily silenced the chihuahua as it sat there with a stunned “oh no, you didn’t” look on its face.
While the chihuahua stopped barking, the other lap dogs seemed incensed for their fellow pup and took up the chorus.
The cat leaped to the aisle.
The chihuahua was in hot pursuit.
The other lap dogs cheered him on—as did some of the passengers.
Seeing this, the flight attendant dropped to her hands and knees, making a dam of sorts to trap the chihuahua.
Hawkeye glanced over to give Cooper the signal that whatever was going to happen next, Cooper needed to leave it alone.
But Hawkeye shouldn’t have been worried.
The Zen passenger must have raised the arms between the seats because Cooper was stretched out on the first two seats with his head in the woman’s lap, getting a gentle rub behind his ears.
It was the same technique that Hawkeye used to help Cooper relax, and she did it absentmindedly as she focused on the journal in her hand, her pink eye mask waiting ready on her forehead, the window shade already down.
Out of the corner of his eye, Hawkeye saw the kneeling attendant reach out to grab the chihuahua.
The chihuahua pivoted in the last second and dashed out of reach.
The woman lost her balance and splatted out flat with a “Haroomph.”
The gasps and calls that went out were peppered with laughter as the cat raced across the poor woman’s back straight toward Hawkeye.
Reflexively, Hawkeye made the grab, lifting the cat overhead not as a trophy but to keep the claws as far away as possible.
Ash was red-faced, trying not to laugh as he crouched under the baggage bins with a grip on his German shepherd’s collar.
As the attendant hefted herself onto all fours, the chihuahua thought he spotted his chance at escape and reappeared, shooting out of a row of children who had their feet on their seats, gripping their arms around their legs to keep them clear.
The chihuahua rounded through the woman’s arms and scooted this way and that, trying to find an exit.
Passengers had their hands on the attendant, trying to help her up. The poor woman seemed to have just given up on grabbing the dog because, as she jostled her way to her feet, she didn’t even reach for it. Simply turned her head toward Hawkeye with a plea in her eyes.
“I’ve got him,” Hawkeye said, shifting into the aisle to use his booted feet as a barricade.
Once again, Hawkeye grabbed a fur ball up by the scruff of the neck.
Sidling sideways, Hawkeye first deposited the chihuahua into the owner’s hands, then handed the cat into the open arms of the woman wearing a sweater with the same kind of cat knit into the design on the chest.
The claps resumed, and Hawkeye tried to wave them off as he returned to his seat.
“Sit down,” yelled the attendant, hair in disarray, face red with exertion. “Sit down.” She stabbed a stern finger toward the ground to emphasize her directive.
As the passengers complied, Hawkeye arrived at his seat. “Cooper, dude, you only get one seat at a time. Move your butt.” Cooper peeked over at him and then walked his hind legs into the middle seat without lifting from the woman, who was now shifting her attention away from what looked like a scientific journal.
The only person on the plane not involved with the shit show was this woman and, by association, Cooper.
Hawkeye swiped his ball cap off as he dropped into his seat to give his teammates room to board.
Halo walked on with Max. Levi loaded with Mojo. Ash released Hoover’s collar, and the three dogs, after observing Cooper’s relaxed position, lay on the ground up against the wall, curling up as if to sleep.
The noise in the cabin was still electrified by the unexpected chase and recovery.
And the cameras were all out and video rolling.
Ash held his phone up, “I already texted Iniquus to give them a heads up that the mission started off SNAFU. Hopefully, this wasn’t a foreshadowing for things to come.”