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The sleek white limousine slid to a stop outside the River View Hotel at 9:33 pm. In the back, Randy was all nerves. Tammy squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Just remember what Detective Piscatelli said,” she reminded him, “don’t look around for her people. Just act naturally. And remember; you’re supposed to be familiar with the place already.”
“Okay, okay,” he replied, his brain already so full of instructions that he could barely take in what she was saying.
He remembered the call to Piscatelli. She'd been seriously annoyed when Piho proudly told her about the trap. She told them off, then she tried to call it off, but finally she had agreed to go ahead. “Do you know,” she had said, “we’ve been trying to get this guy for eight years. Has he been doing the German accent?”
“Ya.”
“It’s mostly a put-on. He’s an Australian citizen, been living here for thirty years. Used to be Bulgarian.”
“Really?”
“Really. And he’s pretty damn smart. I’m surprised that he fell for your ruse.”
“Hey, everyone gets greedy. We ... ah, we sort of know that.”
“Hmmm,” she had said, “okay. Now, let’s work out the details...”
#
“IT’S GOING TO BE ALRIGHT,” said Tammy, breaking into his thoughts and bringing him back to the present. He looked down at his garish boardies and T-shirt.
“I just hope they let us in.”
Tammy sighed impatiently, “Piscatelli said she'd take care of that, remember?”
“Oh yeah. Okay.” The limo stopped. He took a deep breath, “Let’s do this!”
He didn’t have any other choice anyway. At that moment an immaculately dressed doorman opened the limo door and said stiffly, “Welcome to the River City.”
Piho passed a twenty to Nikki saying, “Tip the driver,” then led the way out. Randy soon found himself blinking in the thousands of watts of lighting that poured down from the fancy glass roof over the entrance. The air was hot and muggy. Another doorman was opening the big fancy main door and Randy felt as if he were being drawn inside by a force beyond his control. His heart was racing, mainly because he didn’t have a clue how to behave in a place like this.
Piho moved along beside him with an exaggerated swagger, carrying the egg inside the fake ball tucked under his arm. He always walked with a swagger when things were tense. He paused flamboyantly to tip the doorman with a twenty as they strode into the cool bright interior.
Everything was immaculate, and it seemed to Randy that everyone, but everyone was looking at him. Quickly he looked around for the main stairs, then the alcoves near the stairs where, he saw with a mixture of relief and panic, he saw Reinhold sitting alone.
Piho turned boldly towards him and Randy dithered along behind, feeling more self-conscious in that swish place than he had ever felt in his entire life before. And he simply couldn’t stop himself from having a quick glance around. There were about eight women in view, most of them in hotel uniforms, and he wondered which one was Piscatelli. Above his beating heart he became dimly aware of sweet relaxing music playing through some invisible sound system. – ‘elevator music’ they called it, except at that moment it was doing nothing to elevate him.
Reinhold was sitting watching them intently. The boys swung into his alcove and slid onto the richly padded red leather seat that curled around the little table. Reinhold smiled thinly and nodded them a curt kind of greeting. “Pass me the item under the table,” he ordered in his usual blunt way.
Piho passed him the bag. Reinhold looked down, unzipped it and studied the egg for about a minute, once again using his jeweller’s eye-piece. They heard him zip the bag closed, then Reinhold put away his optical device.
“That’s very good,” he said, looking up to nod at someone behind the boys, “Now, I guess you’ll be wanting something in return?”
Randy twisted to see who he had nodded at. A big guy in a dark suit was already looming up behind him. It was the big ape he'd seen in Ipswich. Beside him was an almost identical clone. They both wore official-looking name tags with the words ‘Special Security’ on them.
“Is there a problem here?” rumbled one of them.
“Yes,” said Reinhold, “These youths are harassing me.”
“We’ll take care of that, sir.”
“Hey but wait a minute...” yelped Randy.
Reinhold was leaving the table with the egg-bag discreetly gripped in his big meaty hand. At the same moment another big meaty hand fell upon Randy’s shoulder. It was Clone-one. “Outside, punk,” he grunted, “Or we’ll call the cops.”
Randy twisted suddenly away and went up and over the back of the seat, landing on top of a young couple on the other side. Amid their shouts and consternation he kept going, kicking aside empty plates and coffee cups as he went across their table. Reinhold's goons shouted. One of them lunged to grab Randy, missed by millimetres, uttered another expletive and began around the intervening headland of luxury leather to try to head him off so Randy changed direction, went over the back of the next alcove and scrambled through a planter-box full of plastic ferns. He landed back on the shiny lobby floor but on a slightly higher level.
Behind him there was more shouting mixed with the clatter of the last coffee cup hitting the floor. All conversations stopped. All eyes were suddenly on Randy Cathro. Someone shouted “Security!” Someone else shouted, “Hey!”
People were running in all directions, uniformed staff, most of them heading for him and Piho, but two of them, distinctly policeman-like in build, were heading for Reinhold was still walking swiftly towards the elevators.
Randy changed course once again, suddenly very worried that Reinhold was actually going to get with this scam after all.
He wondering whether he should shout, ‘Stop thief!’ Seemed a bit corny.
Nope – worth a go! But he never got the words out of his mouth. A woman dressed in hotel uniform suddenly jumped out from behind the main counter and shouted after Reinhold, “Police! Stop where you are!”
So that was Piscatelli!
Reinhold took one look at her and suddenly changed direction once more. He rushed towards a doorway labelled STAIRS TO CAR-PARK. Randy saw him wrench open the door, then recoil in horror. A Doberman-sized dinosaur came whirring out of the doorway, its jaws snapping. Reinhold stumbled back, lost his balance, and fell on his butt. The nearest of his men stumbled over him, accidentally kicking the fossil-bag from Reinhold’s grasp. Gasps of pain and swearing ensued.
Winton, evidently enjoying his moment, set Fossie onto Clone-two. Fossie’s stainless steel teeth clamped onto his arm. A scream of pain!
The whole scene was now a chaotic mess of thrashing dinosaur, struggling men, and leaping Tammy.
Tammy?
She sprang bravely into view from behind Winton and lunged to get to the bag first. A catch! But Clone-one was close behind. Twisting upright as she skidded on the polished marble floor, Tammy hastily lobbed it to Randy. It went wide! Just as Randy expected to hear the clunk of breaking fossil on the floor, Piho swept though, caught it on the run, then lost balance and slammed noisily into the opposite wall.
“Get it!” hissed Reinhold to his men, but as soon as their backs were turned he leaped over the dinosaur, shoved past Winton and disappeared down the stairs. His two goons raced for Piho, their shiny black shoes clacking on the shiny white marble, and Piho, realising he was about to be conered, ran straight towards the only possible escape path: a big set of fancy double doors under a sign: BALLROOM.
Randy had already sussed the same situation, and had made the same decision. He figured he could help smooth Piho’s escape plan by getting through the doors first. Randy sped past a sign that said: Tonight’s Event – Gala Cricket Banquet, and burst through the doors. Two guys in natty uniforms snapped around, startled.
“Sorry. This is a closed event...” began one of them as Randy paused just inside, trying to take in his new surroundings. It was a huge richly-appointed room full of richly-appointed people sitting at richly-appointed tables. And whatever had just been going on, it had also just been well and truly interrupted by his arrival.
Then a familiar voice shouted, “NOOOO! No, no, no, no, no!”
Randy’s head flicked around. It was Beau! She was standing at the side of the room with some others all dressed in clean white uniforms much like those of chefs, and evidently awaiting some kind of task; possibly the serving of cake.
And speaking of cake; in the centre of the room, straight down from where Randy stood puffing like a hunted animal, stood THE CAKE. In the microseconds Randy had at his disposal, he saw a colourful set of wickets topped by two crossed cricket bats and above it all was a hand holding aloft a larger-than-life cricket ball.
In all it would have stood two metres high above its display base.
But he didn’t have time to take in any more. Behind him he heard a shout, “Randy! Catch!” He spun around to see the ball-bag was already in the air, coming his way. Damn: Piho had been caught!
Too high!
With his running shoes squeaking into action on the gleaming floor Randy took off directly under it, his eyes firmly on the prize. Everything was riding on this catch.
He had to do it! For Tammy! For Fossie! For palaeontologists everywhere! He couldn’t let it smash. No way!
Still racing across the floor he stretched up, and got it! At the same moment a great gasp swept through the crowd.
“LOOK OUT!”