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He had always thought of cakes as very soft things. They always were in the movies. When someone hit a cake in a movie they always went squishing right into it. It would disintegrate in a satisfying splat of colourful whipped cream and fluffy bits.
But this was not fantasy-land, and these were not special effects. When Randy hit the cake at full tilt it fair knocked the wind out of him. It was hard! He sort of went over it actually, dragging it over with him and scraping one shin on the edge of its little table into the bargain. Next thing he was sprawling along the floor on the far side of the table amidst a chaos of cake lumps and thick sticky icing. There seemed to be an extraordinary amount of it, and he was amazed at how much of it had managed to stick to him.
Curiously the only thing that didn’t stick with him was the heavy toiletries bag. He had lost his grip on it about three tenths of a second after hitting the floor upon an ever-expanding asteroid belt of exploded cake. As he slithered towards the VIP table he cast about wildly for any glimpse of the vital sphere. To his immense relief he spotted it rolling along just ahead of him.
The ball, the cake remnants and Randy all slid as one; straight under the tablecloth. He came to a halt in front of a row of anonymous shoes that he knew had to match the row of famous cricketers he had barely glimpsed at the table moments before.
There was plenty of shouting, of course, not the least of it being his sister’s voice screaming, “Damn you Randy, I’m gonna bloody kill you this time I swear!”
Also amidst the shouting he managed to make out Tammy’s distinctive voice. “Randy! Don’t let them get it!”
Close by he heard heavy footsteps pursuing him, then a crash as someone heavy slithered into the table above him. As glasses broke and crockery clattered to the floor he heard the deep nasty voice of the big ape he had encountered in the lobby.
“Sorry folks. Let me handle this. He could be dangerous.”
Randy, scrambling around for the egg in the mess of cake he had managed to drag with him under the table, realised that there was now a row of faces peering anxiously under the table at him from the far side (those familiar celebrity faces again, but now all upside down and oddly unrecognisable).
“Don’t listen to him!” he urged them hastily, “He’s lying!”
Not waiting for a reply he seized the egg and scrambled towards them, stood up on the far side of the table and turned to look back. Clone-two was a bare metre away and the other thug was already circling around the nearest end of the table.
And holy cripes there was a third one, now, circling the other end of the table and bearing down on Randy. Any moment now he'd be captured!
“Randy!” shouted Tammy from somewhere mid-field, “Throw it!”
In cricket terms she was at ‘silly mid-on’: halfway down the pitch. Beyond her was a scene of barely controlled pandemonium, with hotel staff, security guards, gala guests, and a shouting snarling Piho held savagely by some overzealous lunk of a hotel guard – one of the real ones.
And there was Police-officer Piscatelli, trying to assert herself over the whole mess, shouting, “This is a police matter! Secure the building! Restrain those men!”
Back at Randy’s end of the room, Clone-two took a lunge at him across the table just as he threw the icing-smothered ball towards Tammy. The moment it left his hand Randy realised it had been a bum throw. It went left, to the wrong side of the cake-less cake table from where Tammy was standing. She tried to dodge around the table but slipped on some icing and went down in a leggy heap.
There was a horrified gasp from the crowd.
Reinhold’s goons had already abandoned their interest in Randy and were making a rush for the ball, but everyone could see they’d be too late. Randy held his breath and once again waited for the sound of a million bucks worth of fossil to shatter on a marble floor.
But wait! There was a new kind of gasp from the crowd. There was someone there! It was Winton! He rose beautifully to the ball and took it front and centre.
And the ball shattered in his hands!
Tammy screamed, “Noooooooo!”
The smattering of applause that naturally sprang forth in acknowledgement of a good catch (after all, these were cricket people) died away just as fast. The crowd murmured in confusion. Randy’s jaw fell open in amazement as his brain took about three seconds to catch up with what had just happened. He of all people should have been the first to figure it out. In his haste he must have mistakenly grabbed the cake ball! So where was the real ball?
Tammy was on her knees, weeping, when a white figure stepped from the crowd and laid a comforting hand on Tammy’s shoulder. It was Beau. As Randy watched, Beau lifted her eyes and delivered him a look of pure poison.
Randy quickly shifted his attention back to Winton. Winton was still looking at his hands in disbelief. It was the only time Randy have ever seen him look stupid, and it was a sight that pleased him mightily.
#
BUT THINGS HADN’T STOPPED there. Piscatelli had finally convinced the hotel people as to who the real villains were. They released Piho and turned their attention to Reinhold’s goons, who were suddenly looking distinctly less confident. Clone-one, noticing the shift in attention, quickly tried to bluff his way out.
“Sorry for the fuss, folks,” he said to anyone who cared to listen, “We’re acting on orders to recover some stolen property.”
“You’re under arrest!” declared Piscatelli as her undercover cops closed in.
Reinhold's thugs abandoned their pretence and tried to made a run for it. None got very far. Clone-two slithering promptly to the floor on loose icing, while the Australian cricket team grabbed the guy to the left and the New Zealand cricket team sprang forth and nabbed the guy on the right.
Randy just stood where he was, bewildered by it all.
Then a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned. It was the Aussie captain.
“Looking for this, mate?”
It was the toiletries bag with the fossil, safe and secure.
“Cheers, bro,” puffed Randy, “you beaut!”
#
THERE WAS STILL PANDEMONIUM in the ballroom for some time afterwards. People were milling about, demanding explanations or spluttering about the mess. Dozens of people were babbling into their mobile phones. Two guys with TV cameras had mysteriously appeared and were filming everything. Randy discreetly scooped up some cake and ate it because he was so hungry.
Beau came over and gave him a total verbal hammering. “You idiot! You’ve ruined our whole event! You’ve destroyed a hundred hours of work! ...”
She wasn’t at all amused when he just shrugged lamely and said, “But they were going to eat it anyway.”
Finally Piscatelli arrived to break it up.
“You must be Randy,” she said to him once Beau had been restrained and persuaded to back off a bit.
He nodded glumly.
“Come on,” said the policewoman, “We’ve organised a room where we can talk in private.” She turned to a hotel person who had tagged along, “This is Narelle. She’s going to show you to the Green Room.”
Randy followed the uniformed woman to a room out the back. It was a sort of a lounge, except it wasn’t green at all. Piho, Tammy, Winton and Nikki were already there. He was pleased to see them intact after all the chaos.
“So what happened to Reinhold?” he asked straight off.
“I dunno,” said Piho
“Didn’t he get arrested?”
“I dunno.”
Detective Piscatelli swept in. “So, we’re all together now? Good. I’m glad to meet you all at last, and I appreciate your co-operation in this matter. I’m sorry that it turned ugly. If I had’ve known in advance that he was going to pull that stunt I certainly wouldn’t have agreed to this strategy, but that can’t be undone now... Excuse me.”
One of her phones was ringing. She answered it. “Piscatelli, yes, report.”
She listened for about twenty seconds then said, “Excellent result! Got him! And can you arrange to have the fossil send straight up here? I’ll get an I.D. on it right away. Well done, Watson!”
She turned to the boys, seeing their expectant faces. “We just arrested your friend Reinhold in the underground car park. His vehicle was searched and we found a fossil egg...”
“With a little baby dinosaur in it?” interrupted Randy.
“... we’ll see. I’m hoping you can identify it for me in a minute.”
“Sure, no worries,” said Piho.
“Good, and after that I want to ask you quite a few questions.” Randy’s face sagged with worry and the detective noticed. She spoke directly to him, “I have to advise you, young man, that you have been involved in an illegal activity. If you co-operate fully with our enquiries it will certainly help to diminish the severity of your consequences.”
“But they’re innocent!” interjected Tammy, then added, “Mostly.”
“Way to go, Tammy,” growled Piho.
“Just take us away,” said Randy tiredly, putting out his wrists for the handcuffs. He figured the sooner he got arrested the sooner they would feed him.
Piscatelli just looked at him and laughed.