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Michael helped Faith to her feet and the three of them resumed running—away from the gate, which was now protected by a half-dozen dogs. They were in the open now, and in addition to a few more Dobermans, Faith could see Pit Bulls and Rottweilers. Those breeds weren’t violent by nature, but they were ferociously protective. She knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill if they felt threatened.
Or if their master commanded them to.
Michael clearly felt the same way. Faith heard the soft scrape of a slide being pulled back and turned to see him chambering a round in his service weapon.
“No!” she called to him, shouting to be heard over the dogs. “Not unless there’s no other choice!”
“I don’t see many other choices, do you?” he shouted back.
Still, he took his finger off of the trigger.
They reached the other fence, and the dogs immediately surrounded them in a half-circle, rushing in whenever any of the three tried to break to the side.Turk stood bravely in front of them, holding his ground as the dogs approached and not letting himself get torn up.
That wouldn’t last long, though. There were a dozen of them and one of Turk, and many of the dogs were massive Rottweilers half again as big as Turk. Michael lifted his weapon and looked to Faith, who shook her head.
David had told her something once about how to handle aggressive dogs. She needed to be firm and commanding without being aggressive. Basically, to act and speak like an alpha.
One of the Rottweilers probed at them, and Turk snapped at it. The big dog sauntered back to the pack, unconcerned but unwilling to test the German Shepherd yet.
Faith stood tall and squared her shoulders. She frowned down at the dogs and said firmly, “Heel!”
The dogs paused a moment, looking at her with confusion.
“Stand down!” she said.
The dogs glanced behind them, then back at Faith, as if to ask, "Are you talking tous?”
“Stand down,” she repeated.
One of the pit bulls rushed at Faith. Turk leaped in between them, teeth bared, ears flat, but the pit bull didn't stop.
“Stop!” she called to the dog.
Amazingly, the dog stopped. It looked up at Faith, cocking its head to the side in obvious bewilderment. Turk lunged at the pit, and it jumped backward, snarling, but once it landed it stopped snarling and once more looked behind its friends and then back at Faith.
Faith tried taking a few steps forward, but immediately, several of the dogs converged on her and Turk and didn’t back off when she commanded them.
She tried a different tactic. She looked behind the dogs, in the direction they had glanced earlier. She didn’t see anything, but her ruse worked. Instantly, all of the dogs stopped and turned to look expectantly in the same direction.
Faith sprinted toward a small gap in between a few of the dogs, Turk following. If she could get free and get the pack to chase her and Turk, there was a chance Michael could call for help.
They nearly made it, but one of the Dobermans turned around and caught them just before they reached the gap. It whirled around and snapped at Faith. Turk leaped forward and closed his jaws around the taller dog's front paw. The Doberman yelped and snapped at Turk's neck. Turk was able to sidestep the bite but had to release the Doberman.
Three Rottweilers charged when the Doberman was bit and both Faith and Turk had to jump backwards to avoid getting bit. She noticed that the dogs didn't pursue them back to the fence but allowed a few yards gap between them. They weren't trying to kill them, just hold them there.
They looked behind themselves again, although this time, a few Dobermans kept their gazes locked on the agents in case they tried to escape again. Instead of turning back around, they started barking enthusiastically. Faith followed their gaze and saw a heavily bearded man in a faded leather jacket and a cowboy hat running their direction.
When he drew close, he pulled a revolver from his pocket and aimed it at the agents. Michael snapped his handgun up to cover the suspect, and Faith drew her own weapon but quickly called to the man to try to de-escalate the situation.
“FBI!” she called out. “Stand down!”
The dogs must have been familiar with guns because they reacted poorly to the sight of two weapons trained on their owner. They sprinted toward the three agents, and only a sharp command from the junkyard owner stopped them.
“FBI!” Faith called again, opening her vest to show her Federal ID. “Call your dogs off!”
“What?” the man called back. “FBI? What the hell are you doing here?” He turned to his dogs and shouted, “Quiet!”
The dogs instantly fell silent, looking between their owner and the agents in confusion. Did their master not want them to attack the trespassers who were threatening him with guns?
