CHAPTER 13: High Speed Pursuit

From their prison behind the gate, the two dogs watched the car take off in pursuit. Kala barked loudly, rearing on her hind legs and jumping, as if attempting to clear to top of the fence. The exertion, however, proved too much on her delicate, show-dog frame, and she quickly tired. Lying down in defeat at the foot of the gate, she whined in Scooby's direction, as if imploring him to help.

Scooby stood on his hind legs and easily lifted the latch to open the gate; it swung open, instantly. "Rollow re," he instructed, walking through the gate and emerging on the street; Kala followed, not yet certain of the other dog's intent. Putting his canine "super sniffer" to work, Scooby soon picked up the trail of the van and the car. "Ret's rave rose ruppies," he ordered. Kala barked in agreement.

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Laura's BMW made a wide turn around a corner, narrowly missing a pedestrian. She wove in and out of the lanes, tailgating the turquoise and orange van.

The van's driver focused his attention intently on the road ahead, his hands locked firmly on the steering wheel to maintain control of the vehicle. And although the van's driver had found himself in chase situations many times in the past, it was the first time he wasn't trying to outrun his pursuant; he was trying to lead it into a trap. In the back of the van, his three passengers bounced around like the numbered balls in a bingo machine; the seatbelts did little to restrain them against the abrupt movements and sudden turns of the vehicle.

"So, like, what are we going to do now, Fred?" asked Shaggy.

Fred made an abrupt right turn, just as the light changed from yellow to red. "First of all," he began, never shifting his gaze from the road ahead, "we should notify the police. Second of all, we should call Marc and update him on the situation."

"Why can't we just take the puppies back to Marc's place?" queried Daphne, as she slid to the left side, squishing Velma.

"No, Daphne," replied Velma, "that's exactly what Laura expects us to do; and if we do that, then we're right back to where we were ten minutes ago. Those puppies would be no safer there than they were back at Laura's garden."

"What about the SPCA?"

"They're still a little young," countered Velma. "I think they'd do better if they stay with us."

The van swerved and ran through another red light.

"Besides, these little guys are somewhat fearful of humans after what they've been through; no sense exposing them to strangers more so than they need be."

Fred continued driving, his eyes staring intently ahead. He glanced briefly up at his rear-view mirror to see the damage caused by running that last traffic signal. Laura was still trailing the van, but a five-car pile-up had ensued at the intersection.

* * * * * * * * * *

Scooby and Kala walked intently along the city streets, following the path of the two vehicles. Reaching the intersection where the accident had occurred, he surveyed the territory. The scent of radiator fluid, oil and antifreeze had obscured the scent of his original quarry. Gradually, Scooby began to realize that he could no longer track his friends without human intervention. Retracing his steps, he turned and walked in the opposite direction; Kala stood poised at the corner, unsure of what to do next. "Ris ray," Scooby barked. "Rack ris ray."

* * * * * * * * * * ** * * *

Scooby's followed a preselected course, passing directly in front of the steps to the police station. "Hey, isn't that Scooby-Doo?" commented an off duty officer, just climbing out of his car.

"Yeah," his partner replied, recognizing the dog. "Seems he's got his girl friend with him, too."

"Wonder what he's doing off the leash like that, and without those kids, too."

"Beats me."

The squad car's radio crackled to life. All units in the vicinity of highway 80 eastbound, report for a potential suspect pursuit. Two vehicles involved, a late model BMW and a 1968 Volkswagen Traveler van, the car appears to be pursuing the van…

"Well, back to work we go," the man commented to his partner.

The other man hesitated for a moment. "Now wait a minute, did the description of the second vehicle sound familiar by any chance?"

The older, skinnier officer shrugged. "Nah, there's got to be a million aging hippies driving run down vans like that."

"A high speed chase, a Volkswagen van, and this dog just happens to show up on our doorstep. It can't be a coincidence, Mike. I think there's more to it than that." The younger man looked at Scooby, gesticulating and barking wildly. "I think he recognizes his own car's description."

The older man sighed in disbelief. "Oh, come on, Pete, you can't tell me you think that that dog understood the radio transmission; he's a DOG, for crying out loud."

"Whether he did or not doesn't matter; we ought to take him with us, it's the least we can do. Those kids are probably worried sick over him." The younger man signaled to the two Danes. "Get in boy. You too, girl." He turned to his partner. "Alright, now let's answer that call."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The van turned off the highway and headed toward the waterfront. "I have plan," the blond man announced, as he swerved into the neighboring lane on the off ramp.

"Good time for one," commented Velma, only half seriously, as she slammed into Daphne.

"See that area up ahead?" he asked, pointing through the windshield, "that's the cargo loading area. See those containers? We can use them to set up a trap."

"Trap?" cried Velma, exasperated. "Freddie, we are NOT getting out of this car to go set up one of your crazy traps that will probably backfire anyhow. Can't you think of something better?"

"We don't have to get out of the car," Fred countered, "all I want to do is use those containers as a speed block. If we continue to lead Laura towards them, then turn around at the last minute, she won't be able to correct fast enough, she'll crash into the containers, and we'll have her."

"I've got news for you, Fred," the bespectacled girl said, a note of disquietude creeping into her voice, "we're moving at sixty miles per hour. That velocity, combined with the mass of this vehicle plus the wet surface of the docks makes such a maneuver next to impossible. If I were you, I'd abandon that idea entirely and come up with something else."

"Like, we don't have time for anything else," yelled Shaggy. "Psycho dog show woman is right on our tail and we're about to run out of road."

"We don't have a choice," Fred spoke, flatly. "I'm going to do it, and I hope everyone is buckled in!" Daphne, Velma and Shaggy gripped the pps protectively. The blond man's heart pounded as he though about what the maneuver entailed. The last time he had performed such an act, he had landed the van in a pile of freshly caught fish; and although no one had been hurt, he, Shaggy, Velma and Daphne had been forcefully ejected from the vehicle.

Carefully calculating the distance in front of him, he began counting off the seconds. Ten…nine…eight…seven…

Laura Whitney was close on his tail.

Six…five…four…

The cargo containers grew ever closer, their towering loading cranes looming high overhead.

Three…two…one. The blond man turned the steering wheel sharply to the left, sending the van spinning in an abrupt U-turn. Daphne, Velma and Shaggy bounced around in the back.

Unable to compensate quickly enough, Laura lost control of her car, and, as the blond man had envisioned, crashed head on into the cargo containers. The Mystery Machine skidded to a stop about 100 yards away, its four passengers breathing heavily in relief. Fred Jones heaved a huge sigh of relief, as he slid down in the driver's seat, completely unwound.

"Great plan, Freddie," breathed Velma, wiping her brow in relief. "How'd you know it would work?"

"I didn't," he replied, under his breath, "but I figured, I had done it once before, so I already had the practice."

The others sighed in disbelief, but it was a sigh tinged with laughter. Daphne rolled her eyes at her husband. "Oh, brother," she intoned, stifling a laugh.

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