Game Play (3 page)

Chapter 5

It was Amy who first noticed the snake.

They were waiting to collect their bags. Their flight number winked above the baggage carousel. Even inside, the airport was steamy hot.

‘Look!'

Amongst the slowly circling baggage on the carousel tumbled a snake. It wriggled. Then the snake fell against Amy's purple and aqua bag as the belt jerked on. A blue sports bag with hockey stick attached was next in line.

Other stick-bags littered the moving belt. Many had GROUP TRAVEL labels.

‘Wild life!' Christopher often made bad jokes. He grabbed HIS bag which was metres away from the snake.

‘What about MY backpack?' muttered Amy staring at her purple and aqua bag as it jerked past. The snake was writhing near the label which said AMY LEE in big writing. Any moment, it might slip off the on that floor. What if it slithered up her leg? Or what if it clung to her bag forever?

‘Leave your bag until the next time around,' suggested Christopher. ‘The sniffer dogs might have got the snake by then.'

But Amy was not going to lose her luggage! Edwina was in that bag. She could imagine the headlines. Edwina strangled by snake! She glanced around for a weapon.

‘Excuse me,' she said to an athlete. He was waiting beside the roundabout for his second bag. His first sports bag was on the floor alongside his fashionable, running shoes. ‘Could I borrow this?'

‘What?'

Amy didn't wait for permission. Her backpack had almost finished its circle. On the moving belt, the snake was still wriggling. Its tail was near the strap of Amy's bag. Grabbing a hockey stick from outside his sports bag, she hooked her aqua shoulder strap. She jerked. The bag fell off the belt. The snake vanished behind the flaps with the unclaimed bags.

‘Let's see if the snake comes around again,' said Christopher.

Amy watched. Now Edwina was safe, the snake didn't matter so much. But she wasn't telling her brother that. He thought teddies were babyish for ten year old sleuths like them. But Edwina had travelled everywhere with her.

‘Hey!' At that moment, a big hand landed on her shoulder.

She jumped.

‘Finished with my stick? I need it for the game today.'

Amy turned. ‘Er.....Thanks.' She handed the stick back to him.

‘Could be a great snake hooker.'

The athlete laughed. ‘We're not playing against the Snakes, as far as I know. I think the first match is against the Staghorns.'

‘Are you playing in the International Games?' asked Christopher politely as he watched for the snake. But this time around, the only wild life was the drug detector dog, sniffing the bags. There were two left that no one claimed.

‘Snake must have slithered off.'

‘Maybe the sniffer dog ate it?' Amy unzipped her bag to check

Edwina was still inside.

‘They don't eat snakes!'

‘Good luck for your game,' called Amy as the athlete strode away with his two bags. ‘Know why the team's called Staghorns?'

‘Dumb name for a sports team,' said Christopher.

‘Staghorn is a coral from the Great Barrier Reef.'

Christopher wasn't going to ask where she read that. He knew.

‘Sports teams are hard to miss,' said Amy as the Blue Blazers walked past. ‘All look the same. It would be easy to hide in a group like that.'

Blue Blazers piled their baggage on the greeny-blue airport carpet.

Their sports bags had stick shapes strapped outside. In Cairns they'd be hot in those blazers!

‘'More hockey players.' Christopher was starting to sketch as usual. ‘That other team at Singapore Airport had yellow blazers. They were footballers.'

There were two exits from the Customs Hall. Red was for people with something to declare. Green was for people who had nothing to declare. Officers could search travellers in either line. People had to put their bags on the long counters. If the officer asked, the bag had to be opened. The twins were in the Green queue. Tom Savvas stood behind them. His voice was soft, with a slight accent.

‘Gloria told me you're the frequent flyer twins. You've helped her catch smugglers before. She said you might keep your eyes open to help me with my research. My name's Tom Savvas.'

‘Hi. This is my brother Christopher. And I'm Amy.' Slinging her bags awkwardly across her shoulder, Amy went to shake his hand. Their Mum was strict about manners like that. But for a moment, the journalist looked a bit surprised.

Transferring his soft, black computer-bag to his other arm, he shook Amy's hand. Then he shook Christopher's.

‘Gloria said you're good at sketching.' The journalist looked at Christopher who was watching one of the Blazers. ‘And you notice things.'

‘Yes , he does.' Amy was not used to being ignored. ‘Is that a laptop in your bag?' Amy pointed.

‘Yes. So I can work anywhere.'

‘Do you have a mini printer, too?' Amy always looked at all the hi- tech gadgets in the Singapore Duty Free. A sleuth needed the latest hi-tech gear. But Amy's pocket money had gone on HOT TUNA stickers and new badges like RECYCLE RECYCLERS and SAVE EVERYTHING.

‘Yes.'

‘Are you doing a story on steroids?'

‘Yes. Gloria was tipped off. Steroids are being brought into the Games today. She thought we might notice something that Customs miss. If we do, we're to share it with her.'

Chapter 6

Tom Savvas flipped through Christopher's sketch pad. He looked closely at the Mr Muscles' sketch and the one of the track suited soccer player. ‘Was that the guy with the heavy bag?'

Christopher nodded. ‘And the different socks.'

Around them the Green queue snail-moved through Customs.

Tom gave him back the sketch pad. ‘Keep those portraits. They could be useful.'

‘Tell me about the steroids?' asked Christopher who hadn't read the inflight article. He preferred looking at cartoons or maps. He'd already checked the map of Cairns. He'd worked out places like the night market that he wanted to visit.

‘Steroids are a drug. Some sports people use them to build their muscles quickly. To stack them.'

Amy remembered Mr Muscles' comment. ‘What's wrong with stacking?'

‘It's cheating.'

‘Oh.'

‘And taking steroids can also mess up your body later.'

‘How?'

‘Take your pick. It might make you hungry all the time. Give you a heart attack. Might make your nose bleed. Might give you nightmares. Or might make you go bald.' Tom put his passport away inside his jacket pocket. He combed his thick, fair hair.

Christopher touched HIS black hair and pushed back his glasses. He didn't want to go bald at ten. Perhaps he'd stay off steroids. ‘All of those things going wrong?'

‘Maybe.'

Amy couldn't understand. ‘Why would anyone WANT to take them?' Mr Muscles was losing his hair. But so was their Dad and he wasn't on steroids. Going bald was one of the reasons Dad had grown a beard. In a hairy way, he was sort of making up.

‘Some use steroids without a doctor's prescription to make them better at sport or to increase muscle,' Tom explained.

Christopher wouldn't mind being taller or having bigger muscles.

So he said so.

‘But you wouldn't want to be treated with drugs meant for animals would you?'

Christopher shook his head.

Amy nearly said, ‘Well he acts like a pig sometimes,' but she didn't. ‘Where do the steroids come from?'

Just then, Gloria walked up to them and said, ‘France, Germany, UK Italy, Mexico, and India are the main sources. Some steroid users pay for their supplies by selling other drugs. Only imported ones fall within our area.'

‘Do you catch many? ‘ asked Tom. ‘I need to have some facts and figures for my article.' He was getting a bit edgy about his deadline.

Or maybe he was edgy about something else?

Gloria nodded. ‘Recently, Customs have made 43 seizures with an approximate weight of 100 kilograms and a street value of $2.5 million on the black market..'

‘Wow,' said Christopher.

‘Traffickers face fines of up to $20,000 and five years in jail.'

Christopher would remember those numbers. ‘$20,000 is a lot of money.'

‘The pills make them run faster or lift heavier weights, for a while. Depends how badly they want to win at the time.'

Tom fiddled with the button on his tape recorder. The tape whirred. ‘Who are ‘they'?

‘Some elite athletes. Footballers. Power lifters. Or weight lifters. Professional aerobics instructors.'

‘Any martial artists?' Amy was thinking of learning self defence, sometime. Sleuths should know how to look after themselves.

‘Yes. Especially the kick boxers.'

‘How do they get the steroids in?' Christopher liked to know how things worked. ‘We know about the drugged birds being strapped on a person. And the ones hidden in cases. Amy found some birds ‘dumped' by a frightened smuggler. The birds were flying around in the Ladies toilets at Melbourne Airport.'

Amy would never forget that. ‘The birds dropped everywhere!'

Christopher scratched his head. ‘I don't even know what steroids look like.' He pushed back his glasses in his ‘thinking hard' mode. ‘It's hard to find stuff when you don't know what you're looking for.'

‘Little white pills mainly. Or ampoules looking a bit like injections.'

Amy explained. ‘At least that's what it said in your article Tom ... er Mr Savvas. I didn't know the word ampoule before.'

He nodded. ‘My editor will be glad to know passengers DO read inflight magazines. Call me Tom. It's easier. Every time someone says

Mr Savvas I think they're talking about my Dad.'

‘Where are they hidden?' repeated Christopher. ‘The steroids?'

‘In soft-sided suitcases with false bottoms. Disguised as health products. Hidden as pills with the wrong labels.' Tom glanced around the Customs Hall. ‘They're here somewhere.'

Amy remembered Mr Muscles' vitamin bottles. But they might just be ordinary vitamins. passed by security. He certainly looked as though he ate extra of everything.

‘Some steroids are legal, if prescribed by a doctor,' Tom added.

‘But they're just for people who are VERY small. Steroids help them grow.'

If Mr Muscles grew any more, he'd need a whole plane to himself, thought Amy. Or at least a double seat with extra leg room and a seat belt extender. And there weren't any small people amongst the sports teams on board today. It must have been difficult for the airline clerk giving the seat allocations.

They all had long legs.

‘Are they worth much? The steroids? ‘ Christopher liked talking about money. And money liked Christopher. He kept most of his.

Amy spent hers. That's why she'd never have enough for a sleuth's hi-tech communications kit. But maybe one day she'd have enough for a tiny recorder like Tom's. Just for sleuthing work.

‘Street prices for fifty tablets range from $50 to $200.' Tom rewound the tape and put it in his top pocket.

‘That's a lot of money.'

‘Some ampoules cost $200.' Tom stepped out and looked back along the queue. More people had joined them from another plane which had touched down just after the Singapore flight. Several parallel queues had formed. Some Islander women in brightly coloured skirts holding babies, waited in the queue.

‘Wow. Two hundred dollars!' That would buy lots of art paper and pens and paint and nibs. Calligraphy was something Christopher wanted to try soon. But the special pens cost a lot.

‘A competing body-builder could spend $400-700 per week.

Easily.'

Christopher flipped back the pages. He found his drawings of Mr

Muscles. If the body builder spent that much on steroids, how did he earn it? Christopher glanced across at the real Mr Muscles who was looking closely at Tom.

‘Some sell steroids to others to pay for their own.' Tom peered around the queue trying to see ahead. It hadn't moved much. Custom officers were making most people open their cases. Tom's voice seemed quite loud all of a sudden. ‘They're pretty slow here today. The Green lane is usually fast. Customs must be checking everything. Perhaps it's because of Gloria's tip-off?'

In the queue alongside, Mr Muscles overheard. ‘Tip-off? What sort of tip-off?'