Chapter 5

This was certainly going well.

Any plans that Velma might have had about working with the client on the 8-hour flight to Frankfurt were thwarted by the frosty shoulder presented to us both by the now re-furious Marcie. It would appear that, if you are willing to spend enough money, it is not hard to change seat assignments from business class to first class. It could have been worse, she could have changed us from business to economy. Back with the riff-raff.

The last time that I had traveled to Europe was at the height of the original show when it had been launched in France. For some reason, the French had decided to change all of our names in their version even though there were no direct French equivalents. My name had been changed to Scoubidou and, in the jet-lagged blur of autograph signing, I remembered that it was different and thought I would be debonair and sign my name in the French version. Failing to remember it correctly, I signed several hundred autographs as Scoobi Dieu. The Roman Catholic Church of France was less than pleased. When I got home, I found that the churches of Quebec were not my biggest fans, either. Pickets were made, comic books were burned, sound bites were created, and a heartfelt apology from me was translated into multiple languages and published by every means available.

But, at present, the most challenging thing for me in visiting our neighbors across the Atlantic was that none of them had passed any specific laws regarding my rights. So, in Germany, I was legally a dog, pure and simple. But I was also an American citizen. This created a huge amount of confusion which was not assisted by the fact that the border agents didn't stand a chance of understanding me.

Velma walked up and assisted me by addressing the border agent in German. He responded in English. And they went back and forth that way until Velma proved that her German was better than his English. At which point the border agent called in reinforcements. What I suppose was their version of a manager came by and took us off to the side. She ignored me and spoke directly to Velma, (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German)

Velma responded, (German) (German) (German) Scooby Doo (German) (German) Amerika-something (German) (German) (German). Velma then held up the photograph page of my passport next to my face in order to avoid confusion with the other talking Great Danes entering Germany that day.

The Border Manager nodded, (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German) (German)

Velma went toe-to-toe, (German) (German) Scooby Doo (German) (German) (German).

The Border Manager then got on her phone for fifteen minutes during which she passed the phone to Velma twice. After that, more German was spoken and the Manager escorted us back to the original booth and my passport was stamped. And we were in Germany.

"Rwhat ras rhat all arout?" I asked when we were standing on the back side of the border patrol booths.

Velma looked at me, "Yes, Scooby Doo, they do remember you."

That was what it was. We had a layover in Frankfurt before the final domestic flight to Munich. Frankfurt is one of the biggest, busiest, and most devoid-of-restrooms airports in the world. This is a big deal to me since airport lavatories are too small for me to turn sideways to the toilet which means I had not gone to the restroom for over nine hours. I know… too much information. But life is nothing more than a compilation of little day-to-day dramas. And my bladder was one of those. We did have time to make it through one of the myriad of restroom waiting lines and allow me to take care of my business – which improved my outlook. The purchase of ten large pretzels from a vending cart in our dash through the airport improved it further.

We met up with Marcie at the gate in the domestic terminal for the quick flight to Munich. She joined us in the line, "I've decided to get over the tantrum I had in New York. I still need for you to succeed in the case regardless of how cold and heartless you have once again proven yourself to be."

Her definition of 'get over' must be different from mine.

Velma, shockingly, handled this well, "Marcie, I apologize for my inability to express my emotions properly. I had no intent to hurt your feelings."

Marcie was as taken aback by this as I was, "Okay. Truce, then."

Velma fired back, "How about a peace treaty?"

Marcie shook her head, "I'll go as far as cease-fire."

Only Velma and Marcie could turn this conversation into a negotiation. The flight to Munich was just a few minutes and took less time than boarding and deboarding the airplane. Discussion was sparce and centered on exactly what Velma wanted to accomplish in the Munich Airport after we landed. After two overnight flights in as many days, my vote was to pass through it as quickly as possible on our way to the hotel. I was ignored.

We landed in Munich's domestic terminal, picked up our bags, and handed them off to the driver that Marcie had hired. He gave us directions as to where he would meet us. Marcie and Velma both seemed to understand the directions. I was floating around in my sleep-deprived brain fog. Going outside was required to get to the International Terminal. The day was overcast and brisk. It was late-morning and I could handle the temperature with just my fur. If it got colder after sunset, then I would need to wear my jacket. I didn't like wearing the jacket but I also didn't like being cold. Sometimes, life just threw you lemons. And I don't like lemonade.

Terminal 2, the international terminal, was laid out per the floor plans which Velma had memorized from the internet and she walked us through Reggie's route, all the while pointing out the various cameras into which she had hacked to pinpoint his location. She had a stopwatch and we walked from place to place comparing our times against the timestamps. Reggie had been walking quickly as if he were either nervous or on a deadline. We got to the last stop on our tour which was the exit door leading to the MAC. We walked straight out and headed toward the opposite terminal when Velma stopped, turned back, and pointed, "This is where we lost sight of him from that camera. There are cameras in this area, but they have severe blind spots. I spent some time mapping them." She pulled out a printed sheet with the floor plan of the MAC laid out and the various fields-of-view of the cameras. Turning and looking north (that's right coming out of Terminal 2 for the directionally challenged) shed started speaking almost to herself – which was not uncommon. "With just a little meandering, he could have made it almost to the taxi stand. But the taxi stand itself has two cameras and the waiting line would have required him to stand relatively still for a long period." She began walking and muttering to herself. We followed. This was vintage Velma.

We stopped at the taxi stand and she looked back and forth between the two cameras and then at the waiting queue, back at the cameras, and then she spun around and took in the entire area. Still mumbling to herself, she led us back into the MAC and we found a table open. Within a minute, she was holding down a pile of papers against the wind and she was scrolling through camera footage on her laptop.

Marcie stood, "If we are going to solve this right here and now, I need coffee. Anybody else?"

My eyelids were dropping. Coffee probably wouldn't be enough, but it was better than nothing, "Rye'll rake a rup. Rextra ream and rextra rugar. Rots of rextra rugar."

Velma made a small grunting noise. Marcie nodded, "One with extra everything and one black."

"Rand a roughnut."

Marcie looked at me and smiled, "And five doughnuts." Sometimes it was nice to have a client who knew me. Of course, it would be nicer if she wasn't historically a villain. And then Marcie left us alone which gave Velma and I the chance to compare notes and for her to fill me in on everything she was thinking. I said it gave us the chance. Of course, Velma didn't take it and continued to work silently as if I wasn't there.

When the doughnuts arrived, Velma was typing and clicking on her computer in a frenzy. Having just finished ten large pretzels, it took me nearly a full minute to put down the doughnuts. I was almost dainty. Old age must be catching up with me. European doughnut just don't taste right. They are like slightly sweet pretzels with glazing and not enough of it. But they were carbs and I love my carbs. Enough of the important stuff – back to the case.

Velma made one final click with her mouse and waved her hand in the air with a flourish. Velma really was a nerd. I mean… it was painful to watch sometimes.

"Gotcha!"

That was Marcie and my cue to scoot around next to her. Velma started pointing and talking, gesturing back-and-forth between the screen, her map of camera dead zones, and the world around us. "We lost him right over there. At that point, he made his way through this dead zone, I between those two tables, and made his way to that coffee stand. That is where we pick up this freeze frame from the video."

Marcie and I looked at it. Marcie spoke first, "I don't see him."

Velma pointed at the person behind the counter who was leaning way over and had a hand to his ear, "The barista is obviously straining to communicate with someone who is not standing in the normal location. Now look down into the lower left-hand corner", her finger moved over the screen to that point "Look at that foot there."

"Rhat's a root. Refinitely a root."

Marcie was keeping up better than I was, "You've crossed referenced that with the shoes Reggie was wearing."

Velma tapped some keys and the screen was now split between two pictures of the same type of shoe. "So, he deliberately delayed here for enough time to drink a cup of coffee or eat whatever he had ordered. He also had with him his rollaboard which you can see in both pictures." It was plain, black piece of luggage – the type that takes you forever to find at baggage claim because there are so many just like it. It included no ribbons or unique markings of any kind – which made it stand out in a way since most people with that type of bag did give it some form of unique marker.

Marcie was right in there, "He was changing his appearance."

Velma nodded, "Exactly. From his rollaboard, he could change everything but his pants and shirt in a public place without drawing any undo attention. Changing over to the taxi stand cameras, we find this guy here." The screen zoomed in on what appeared to be an elderly man waiting in line for the taxi. He was wearing a hat pulled down against the wind and blocking his face from both cameras and an overcoat that stood out slightly against the lighter coats of those standing near him. It covered his shirt and his pants down to above the knees. The shoes were different. The color and cut of the pants and the small piece of luggage were the same. He did not overplay being older. It was done with subtlety and did not come off as a caricature. He waited his turn and eventually entered a cab. The cameras were specifically laid out to provide the license number.

Marcie looked at Velma, "Have you called the taxi company?"

"I was waiting for you to get back."

Marcie gestured approval with her hand, "Please by all means."

Velma dialed a number into her phone and waited. There were two short rounds of German before a lengthy discussion in German ended the call. Velma looked at me since Marcie had understood the conversation, "The taxi took him to the Hauptbahnhof. He paid in cash."

I puzzled that out, "Rauptbahnhof? Is rhat a beer place?" It sounded like it to me but everything in German sounded to me like an argument or a beer place.

"No, it's the main train station. Which means we've got a few hours going through more camera footage to try and track him through the European Rail System. But now we know that he is actively trying to avoid detection."

"And rhat's a bad thing."

Velma shook her head, "No. That makes him a Metox."

I didn't want to, but I had to, "A Retox?"

Marcie answered, "In World War II, German U-Boats were getting sunk because the British had radar that could detect them before the planes were in visual range. So, the Germans used a radar detection system which had been developed by the French called Metox. It turned out that Metox was not completely passive and actually sent out a signal. The British were able to detect this signal and then they could locate the U-Boats from farther away and with more precision than with just the radar."

Velma took over, "So, when someone – especially a novice – is actively trying to avoid detection, they tend to do very standard things which make them actually easier to detect. So, we start going through the camera footage looking for people who are trying not to be seen."

This traveling with two geniuses was getting old fast.

But at least we were now headed to the hotel to get some sleep. And maybe some lunch to tide me over until mid-afternoon snack time. Velma would not sleep. I had not seen her like this since the old mystery days. She was traveling and working a mystery. So much adrenaline was pumping through her system that she was shaking. This was the old Velma. The limousine drove too slowly, the desk clerk was slow, and inefficient. The elevator was antiquated. And they all heard about it. Anybody that kept her from getting back to her computer and pulling at the threads of this case heard about it. I lagged behind and turned on the old charm to keep the service staff from getting a vendetta against us. I've lived it. It's not good.

My plan was to order room service. Eat room service. And then go to sleep. Velma and Marcie appeared to have other ideas when I got off the elevator and found them standing at my door. Velma was loaded down with equipment.

"Ray Rye relp roo?"

Velma was going through her bag of tricks and spoke without looking up, "I've got my computer running an algorithm right now which is going through the security cameras at the Munich and Berlin train stations looking for red flags. It will take a few hours to run."

"Rood, then ree can ret some sleep."

Velma's left eyebrow went up. An affectation which she had adapted from Mr. Spock. It meant that she was surprised that sleep was even being considered. I was definitely having flashbacks of the old days. They weren't all good and there wasn't a musical medley score. She dismissed the concept of sleep, "Marcie got you put into the same room that Reggie stayed in for six weeks. I am wanting to go in there and see if we can get some DNA samples.

I had been through this before. Velma would go into the room in which I was supposed to sleep and would use a magic blue light to show me that the room was absolutely covered in the bodily fluids of a veritable army of disease-infested strangers from the past. The first time she had done it, I had lost my appetite for nearly 18 minutes. Once the picture was painted in my brain of the germ-ridden slime dripping down the walls, sleep would be impossible.

"Rye don't ree switch rooms?"

Velma shrugged, "No problem. But let's get this started first."

"Rye don't ree switch rooms first and then Rye rill sleep while roo and Rarcie look at all the nasty in this room."

Velma sighed, she was a superior sigher, "Fine. Just open your door so that I can put this stuff down. It's heavy."

I held up the keycard and the electronic lock clicked. Pushing the door in, I started to step through and heard from within the room a deep voice with a thick German accent, "Hello, Marcia."

There's something about the view from the top of Velma's head that gives one perspective. And that's where I found myself. Marcie stepped past Velma and I and turned on the light, "Hello Claus."

Claus was sitting in the chair next to the window which was closed. He wasn't holding a gun or making any threatening gestures, so I climbed back down. It was a good spooky opening line but one had to wonder how long he had been required to sit alone in a dark room to accomplish it.

Marcie turned back toward us, "Velma, Scooby Doo, this is Claus Rheinder. He is head of security of Barbarossa Pharmaceuticals here in Munich. That is where Reggie was working for six weeks before he disappeared." She turned back to the German, "And Claus is now going to tell is what he is doing here."

Claus did not stand, "Since Herr Myung disappeared from Munich, I have taken a special interest in the situation. I was searching the room."

"Rye ritting arone in the dark?"

Claus looked at me and then at Marcie, "Your dog speaks?"

Marcie looked back at him, "That is not my dog." I give this one to Marcie. I'm a big Pink Panther fan and the line was delivered well. The German didn't get it.

Velma stepped in, "That's Scooby Doo and I'm Velma Dinkley."

Claus looked at me, "You are the dog that irritated the French?"

"Rat ras a risunderstanding."

"It gave me pleasure. I was not sitting alone in the dark. But when I heard you outside the door, I turned out the lights and indulged myself in a little staged melodrama. Now, I will report to you what I have learned." He paused to make sure that we were all listening, We were riveted, "Herr Myung made it to the airport two hours before his flight and then left Terminal 2 apparently moving toward Terminal 1. He never arrived at Terminal 1."

Velma picked up a notepad and started writing, "That is very helpful information, Mr. Rheinder, we appreciate your sharing it with us."

"And I hope that you will be equally free in sharing information with me." He finally stood and held out a business card to Velma. I, of course, was just a dog in Europe.

Velma took the card and smiled, "Of course, we will find Reggie much more quickly if we all work together. And I'm sure, with your connections, you will have access to far more information than we can get. Thank you for your kind offer."

Claus walked through the door into the corridor and turned back toward the room, "I understand, Marcia, that you will be visiting our offices tomorrow."

Marcie also dropped a stunning and (judging from the obvious caps) expensive smile on him as well, "That is correct, Claus. We will be there around 9:00. Is that convenient?"

"We will make it convenient. So, until tomorrow." He did not click his heels but simply turned and walked down toward the elevators. This is the part where I describe Claus as having scars on his cheeks, a shaved head, and a monocle. Boringly, he was average to handsome with a pleasant non-descript face, blonde hair, and blue eyes. He was about six feet tall and did not walk with a limp. But he still had a German accent which made him ripe to be a villain.

My main goal at this point was to get out of that room, into another room, fed, and asleep before Velma had the opportunity to torment me with what the dreaded blue light revealed on every surface of an average hotel room. But, of course, before I could even get started toward the door, Velma shut it and turned on the blue light in the dark room. The room turned into a germaphobe's bad acid trip. Being an everything-a-phobe, germs are on the list, and I did the only thing a rational dog could do. I fainted. But I did so in a manfully manful, manly way.