I rapped on the RV door.

‘Come in.’ Jane shouted from within.

With no small amount of trepidation, I opened the door and an icy cool wave, smelling faintly of Jane’s perfume, greeted me.

‘C’mon in and close the door please.’

Jane was sitting on her blood red diner style bench, the table before here littered with sepia images. The same type I had seen hundreds of times in the military. Satellite images. Papers, and a laptop. Around her the persona of the RV’s habitat area had been transformed into something that resembled a military, operational intelligence briefing room. Most external cupboard space was also occupied by photos. All reconnaissance, military types. Someone’s been a busy bee, I thought until I saw the Frenchy. She was sitting up on the opposite bench, looking at me expectantly with a Belly-rub-time expression.

Jane was busy studying one of the photos. She had changed in the blink of an eye and was now wearing jeans, trainers, and a white vest. She was peering at the print through clear, black rimmed glasses. The kind you pick up at the pharmacy because you sat on your designer ones.

I sat down and the Frenchy assumed her position. On her back, all four paws in the air. I could only see one eye, which was laser focused on me as her ear twitched. And me? Of course I relented and rubbed belly.

Jane picked up a sharpie and drew a dotted line across the glossy surface before removing her glasses and setting them down next to the sharpie. She sat back. Her face softened as she saw my arm movement, which from her perspective, if she didn’t know the dog was there, would appear rather rude.

Looking around, I had been wondering about the continuous droning noise and subtle, yet consistent vibration running through the RV and my body. Then it dawned on me. One of the conversions on this old RV must have been to add a super silent diesel generator, which was powering the RV’s aircon unit which was pumping out the most wonderous cool air onto my neck. Yes, I like secondment, I thought as I met Janes interrogating stare that frankly made me feel like a little boy again. About to be read the riot act by my Irish mother. I shuddered involuntary and the Frenchy gave me a threatening eye bawling. I continued to scratch.

‘So, what have you been told.’

I thought about the best way to summarise my meeting with the chief. Then it came to me.

‘I’m your bitch. Command me your highness.’

At least I got a smile this time. Hey, who knew, she has a sense of humour. She nodded curtly.

‘Good, that makes what I’m about to tell you much easier.’

Oh shit.

‘We’re going to find the people responsible for taking Vanessa and Lucile. Get back Lucile and persuade them to find new career choices.’

Say what? I gawked with my mouth gaping. I was semi with her on the first part, the second…not so much. After all, I’m from Chicago. But I kept stumm.

‘I have identified and isolated three potential safe houses where Lucile may be kept.’

Of course, you have.

‘I need your help to recce them and or ask them some questions.’

Questions? If somebody lives in the desert surrounded by five of miles of nothing, they tend to be awkward, sometimes crazy, no doubt, armed. I nodded solemnly, staring at the aerial prints. My orders were clear. She says “Jump”, I ask. “How high”. I started to feel like I had just embarked on a roller coaster I could only see the station entrance off. My stomach started to twist into knots, as a mix of excitement and sheer terror flooded over me.

Jane began to sort the prints and papers into three piles. On each pile she attached a yellow post-it with some handwritten co-ordinates.

‘Today, I want to visit all three of the sites. We’ll do some long-range recognisance first and if inconclusive we’ll take a closer look.’

Very sensible. Still, what if we need backup in the middle of nowhere? As if reading my mind, Jane added.

‘We shouldn’t need any assistance.’ She grinned broadly. ‘We’re just going to chat.’