On the video, it was nearly dusk. A woman, fumbling for her card, stepped into the frame. Q paused the tape. "In the back, here, you can see a dog looking very intently at what she's doing." Q pressed Play. When she withdrew the notes, the dog bounded forward, biting and snarling. The woman fled, leaving her cash and card; the dog dropped them into a pouch fastened around its neck.

Bonf raised an eyebrow. "Brings new meaning to the phrase 'thieving cur.'"

"That's not all, 007. This segment is from another ATM, two miles away, fifteen minutes later." The same dog gingerly inserted the stolen card and tapped on the keypad. "It's entering the PIN, which it watched the victim type in earlier." Moments later, the dog stuffed more cash into the pouch and retrieved the card.

"We've seen this happen with different dogs and different cash machines, with the same method. Our investigators have concluded that these dogs can read, at least enough to operate a cash machine. Someone is teaching these dogs, 007. Find out who and stop them."

Bonf took his Aston Martin south out of London. As he sped by on the M23, a golden retriever watched intently from an overpass, then dialed a number on a cellular phone. When it connected, he entered a four- digit code and hung up.

At an ATM in an area of Brighton that had not yet been hit, Bonf opened several cans of dog food, spooning their contents into a large bowl. A portable fan pushed the scent into the moist evening air. Soon a dozen assorted dogs had appeared, jostling each other, gorging themselves. Bonf gazed at them, wondering which one was smart and remorseless enough to steal from hard-working families. None seemed to have a pouch.

Trying a different approach, Bonf inserted his card, entered his PIN, and selected Withdraw. Frenzied barking erupted from beyond a hedge across the road. With his infrared mirror, Bonf sighted one dog there, its white form hiding behind gray bushes. Ominously, the other dogs stepped away from the food and turned to face Bonf.

The area was suddenly silent, save for the fan, and the ATM dispensing £20 notes into a tray. After a signaling bark, the dogs leapt on him.

Bonf awoke with his hands and legs bound. It was morning. A collar and chain tethered him to a tree in the front yard of a Tudor house. Dogs of all different breeds surrounded him in a twenty-foot circle. A slim auburn- haired woman, the ringleader, stood above him.

"At least you've learned to 'stay.' Most human men can't even figure that one out."

"You've had some bad experiences with men," said Bonf.

"On the contrary, I'm quite happy with the men in my life. Look around you. Loyal, trustworthy, quiet, dedicated. Almost as smart, slightly better hygiene. Happy with a good meal and a walk in the park."

All male dogs, Bonf noted. No bitches. He filed this fact away for later reference. "You wouldn't fancy bringing me a cream tea?" said Bonf. "I'm quite famished."

"I won't bother," she said. "Louis is coming around with a meat grinder. You'll be ground dog food this afternoon. Consuela, get him cleaned up." The maid untied Bonf, then motioned him into the house with a pistol.

After a long hot shower, Bonf wrapped himself in a towel. Consuela kept the pistol pointed at him. "It won't be necessary to get back into your clothes, Mr. Bonf. Marian will insert you into the grinder au naturel." As they waited, Bonf gradually seduced her, then tied her nude body to the bedpost, gagging her with the towel. He made two phone calls: to the police and to a pet store.

The police arrived first, but were soon overpowered by Marian's dogs. Marian took her four largest dogs inside to take care of Bonf. When the pet store clerk arrived, pandemonium broke loose: she had brought five female dogs, all in passionate, turbulent heat. They ran for their lives as every one of Marian's army pursued them into a nearby meadow. When Louis arrived, Bonf and the police took them into custody.