-- A Plain-Dealing Villain 22.Six hours later, I waited in the baggage claim at O’Hare in a stiff blue vinyl chair, idly watching a bank of monitors. Flights came and flights went, white block numbers flickering and shuffling by the minute. Every now and then, one of the conveyor belts in the vast room would kick to life, sending suitcase after battered suitcase to the clustered waiting crowds. I was surprised when I saw Mack and Zeke steaming my way. Not that they found me, but that it had taken them so long. I didn’t bother getting up. They loomed over me, triumphant. “We’ve got you now,” Zeke said with a sneer. “Curses,” I deadpanned, rolling my eyes. “Foiled again. I would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn’t for you kids and your meddling dog.” “Hound,” said the man who casually strolled up behind them, speaking with a breezy English accent. “The proper title is hound.” Mack and Zeke parted to make room. “We spotted you twenty minutes ago,” Mack said.
