in an English accent. Then he lifted Roger-the-Dodger expertly and checked his privates.
“Don’t touch the dog,” the bartender said.
“I’ll be snookered,” Paper Collar John muttered softly, admiring the dog. “That’s the damnedest thing I ever saw.”
“What?” Texaco said, his interest vaguely piqued.
John ignored him and turned to the bartender. “Y’know what this little bloke here is?” he said.
“No, sir,” the bartender answered. “Guy said he was valuable, is all.”
“Valuable?” Paper Collar John started to laugh. When he finally got himself under control, he shook his head in lingering amusement. “Valuable, I daresay, barely captures it. Try priceless.”
“Really?” the bartender said.
Texaco had all of his attention on this conversation now, his pea brain cranked up to its full cerebral volume.
“I’ll give you nine thousand dollars for this animal, right now.” John put his briefcase up on the bar, snapped it open and started to drop crisp new hundred-dollar bills on the bar. “I just sold one of my racehorses for cash,” he said to Texaco, who nodded dumbly, eyeing the money like a timberwolf scoping a jackrabbit.
“Whatta you doing?” The bartender tried to stop John, who now had hundred-dollar bills all over the bar. It was some of the pearl money stolen yesterday from Texaco’s psychopathic boss.
“Look, put your money away, mister. The dog isn’t mine,” the bartender said. “Some guy just left him here for me to watch ‘cause the ramp guards wouldn’t let him go to the gate.”
Having shown the poke. Paper Collar John scooped up the bills and put them back into his briefcase, snapped it shut, and looked at the bartender. “That dog is a bloody rare Baunchatrain Scottish Terrier. I venture there are only a hundred of these animals in the world. Not only that, he’s a stud. Most of that breed has been neutered. They were originally for Turkish kings who had them bred in South Scotland. The Turkish prelates killed all of the males except for a few to protect their ownership of the line. Besides breeding racehorses, I sometimes write articles for the English Kennel Club,” he explained. “There are less than ten or twelve ungelded males in the world … and you’ve got one of the little buggers sitting right here in front of you. This little fellow is worth a fortune in stud fees.”
Roger was panting; he seemed happy to be ungelded and worth so much money.
“If the lucky gent who owns him wants t’sell the dog, my offer still goes. I’ll be over at Gate Sixteen. My flight to Dallas leaves in an hour.” He finished his drink, threw a huge tip on the bar, and left.
Texaco watched him go, then slid off the stool and found Beano on a phone down the corridor.
“… I don’t know,” Beano was saying into the receiver. “We don’t have enough money for that. When did he say she had to have it done?” He listened for a moment and frowned. “I thought you said she’d be on this flight.”
Texaco tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, bud, I wanna talk to you about your dog,” he said.
Beano turned and looked at him for a long moment, listening intently to the receiver.
“I can’t talk to you,” Beano whispered and turned away from him. “But look,” he said into the receiver, “how the hell much could that possibly cost? I was just getting set to pick her up. I thought you said the tests came back negative.” There was a long pause while he pretended to listen. … “Is she gonna stay in the hospital over there?” And then he pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his eyes. “Okay. But where the hell am I gonna get ten thousand dollars for a bone marrow transplant? You sure the insurance won’t handle it?” And then he nodded. “Okay, I’ll find a way. Okay … okay, kiss her for me. Tell her I love her and I’ll get the money somehow,” and he started to sob again, softly. When he hung up he had tears on his face. Beano turned and started to walk back toward the front of the airport. Texaco grabbed him by the arm.
“Hey, bud … maybe I can help ya,” he said.
“Huh?” Beano looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Who are you?” he said, distracted, looking down at his watch.
“I was in the bar back there where you left yer dog. My kid was with me and he was, well, he kinda fell in love with