Game Play (5 page)

Chapter 10

He had too many bits to hold. Jacket. Bag. Sketch pad. Boarding pass. Christopher put away his passport. It fitted into the neck pocket on a leather string which Mum had made them.

‘How many passports have you got, Gloria?'

She looked surprised. ‘One.'

‘I mean, how many have you worn out? Filled up?'

‘Lost count.'

Gloria's security work meant she flew everywhere inside and outside the country. Her passport must be full of stamps.

‘What have you been doing this week, or was it secret?'

A messy packer, Christopher stuffed his jacket in the side pocket. Cairns was too hot for coats. The Blazers team were going to be hot. The navy track suits with the t-shirts were a better outfit for the tropics. Or even see-through, nothing clothes would be better. Unless you turned red with sunburn.

He turned back to Gloria who smiled. ‘We like the public to know when we catch smugglers. But sometimes the court case takes ages. Last week, two Italian nationals were each fined $5,000. They were smuggling nearly three kilos of gold into Western Australia. Or tried to.'

‘What sort of gold?' Amy fiddled with her birthday bracelet. It was interesting the formal way Gloria said ‘Italian nationals'. She and Christopher would have said ‘Italians.' Like Mum and Dad's photo jargon, Customs had special ways of saying things, too.

‘18 carat gold chains and bracelets worth about $110,000. They were ordered to pay court costs of $216 each. The gold was forfeit to the Crown.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘The Government gets it.' added Tom Savvas. ‘Like most things.'

He changed the mega-shuffle in his mini recorder, scribbled on the outside of the used unit and slipped it in his bag.

Gloria went on.'The men were charged under the Customs Act with failing to pay duty and sales tax on the chains when they brought them into Australia. They tried to sell the gold to several Perth jewellers.'

‘Aren't you allowed to bring in bling?' Christopher remembered his sketch of Mrs Gold and Mrs Silver.

‘Personal stuff is okay. But if you're reselling it, there are taxes for new or old jewellery. Unless it's antique.'

‘Our Aunty Viv says she's an antique,' laughed Christopher.

‘Is she more than one hundred years old?' smiled Gloria.

‘She might be, by the time she finds us in Cairns. ‘It was okay to say that. Aunty Viv would have laughed if she'd heard Amy's comment.

She was good like that. Amy looked around. Mr Muscles' bags were being searched next.

Apart from his hand luggage, he had a heavy suitcase. The rolled newspaper was put on the counter, too.

‘Want a hand?' Christopher helped him heave the suitcase onto the counter. It was VERY heavy.

‘What are these?' The Customs officer looked closely at the vitamin bottles.

‘Just multi-vitamins, with medical clearance,' said Mr Muscles who was sweating. He turned to see who was watching him being watched by Customs.

It was hot in the Customs Hall. But Amy was beginning to suspect that Mr Muscles was more than a body-builder.

She peered across, trying to read the print on the label. But then ... somehow he managed to drop it. The bottle rolled on the floor.

White tablets fell out. That created a fuss. Everybody looked. Mr Muscles went dark red. He swore.

‘Pick those up, sir. We'll just have a look in here.'

As Mr Muscles bent over to pick up the rolling pills, the Customs officer went through his now open case.

‘We'll help.'

Quickly the twins helped him collect them. They looked like ordinary white pills. Amy hid one pill in her pocket. Christopher saw her.

‘Don't!' he whispered. ‘We still have to go through Customs. If you're caught with that pill, they might think you're the smuggler!'

Just as the twins started to walk back to their place in the line, there were shouts. People were fussing and calling out to each other.

Voices echoed in the hall but it was hard to hear exactly what was being said. The dog-handler followed the sniffer dog who bounded across the open space to the Customs baggage bench.

This time the fuss was in the Red Line. That was where people queued if they had something to declare. Attracted by the noise, people were crowding around the customs marshalling officer.

What is it?'

‘What's happened?'

‘Have they caught someone?'

Just then the young man being checked at the baggage bench, broke lose from the queue. He ran fast. He was heading for the exit. He wasn't carrying anything. His face was a white blur.

‘Stop him!'

Immediately, the security staff chased him. Navy and brown uniforms puffed across the floor. But they were too slow.

He was getting away! A very big official appeared, his arms outstretched, blocking the first EXIT. The young man swerved. He ran Christopher could see him coming closer. What could he do to stop him?

Christopher went into SUPER FAST mode. He put out his foot. The young man tripped, recovered and kept running. The second EXIT was just ahead. Once through there, he could run into the open part of the airport, past the carpark and get away across the swampy area.

Most of the passengers were watching, frozen in position.

Realising what was happening, one of the watching athletes took off. His sneakers covered the ground much faster than the runaway. He sprinted across the shining, clean floor and made a dive for the still running escapee. Everything happened so fast. He tackled the runner around the middle and fell to the floor with him. They were just under the EXIT doorway sign.

Within seconds, other security staff piled on top of them. Waving legs stuck out. Heads yelling. Brown and navy uniforms mixed with fleshy ankles and big feet. A whistle blew.

‘Just a minute!'

‘Thanks' puffed the senior security man. ‘A good rugby tackle.'

‘I'm a soccer player,' gasped the athlete.

‘Well done,' echoed Gloria. She panted up behind them. Hurriedly the officials talked. Then Gloria checked with the Customs officials.

‘Why did he run?' she asked.

‘We picked up some steroids hidden in this mega-player.' The Customs official pointed to a box. ‘Belongs to him.'

‘Did you X- ray the boxes holding the mefa-player?' Gloria asked.

The Customs official nodded.

‘Our tip-off was right. It was this flight!' Gloria was very pleased.

You could see it in her face. She looked at the paperwork Customs was holding. Meanwhile the escapee was being led away. He looked about eighteen. Across his face, the sweaty hair clung like rats-tails.

‘Probably a student. That was what was on his form. Of course that might be fake, too. We'll check straightaway.'

‘Where did they come from?' asked Christopher. ‘The steroids.'

‘India. Students are a worry. They get ‘conned' into acting as couriers or distributing steroids.'

‘So you've caught your smuggler?' Tom was scribbling notes. His mega-shuffle was recording too. ‘Can I get an official quote later?”

That was it! It was great that the smuggler had been caught. But the frequent flyer twins hadn't helped much.

‘At least you put out your foot to slow him down, Christopher.'

Suddenly Amy felt overwhelmed with disappointment.

Gloria had caught her steroid smuggler. The tip-off had been right.

But now there were two more hours to wait until Aunty Viv came. And there was no more need to sleuth. Amy loved mysteries. Even just thinking about them was fun. But now, it was over.

Gloria was talking to Tom. The twins listened. Sometimes it was handy being short. If you weren't at eye level, people forgot you. Then you could pick up interesting facts.

‘The use of performance enhancing drugs in sport is still a worry,' concluded Gloria. ‘Others are just interested in having more muscles to show. Use that as a quote if you like.'

Tom nodded and scribbled a few notes.

Like a hologram, Mr Muscles flashed into Amy's mind. He had acted so suspiciously.

‘Like Mr Muscles,' suggested Amy. ‘His muscles look like balloons.'

Gloria looked down at her. ‘Mmm.'

‘But you have no proof that Mr Muscles is on steroids.'

Christopher looked at Amy. He knew what she was thinking about Mr Muscles.

‘The man has some very definite views,' said Tom looking down at Amy as if he'd just remembered she was there. ‘But that's not enough. Proof is needed.'

While the fuss had been occurring on the Customs Red Line, Mr

Muscles had been cleared through the Green Line.

‘Here, you've forgotten your newspaper.' The Customs officer hurried after Mr Muscles.

‘Thanks.' Mr Muscles looked awkward as if he didn't want the rolled newspaper.

Peering, Amy didn't recognise the newspaper in the rolled shape. Sometimes newspapers were free onboard. It wasn't the ‘Straits Times' from Singapore. He must have carried it from somewhere else. Although it was possible to buy international newspapers at most airport shops. They just cost more than in the original country. She wondered why he'd made such a fuss about her NOT reading it before. Then he practically pushed it onto her. Maybe she should have looked at it then. But Mr Muscles had hurried out the EXIT doorway. Probably she'd never see him again.

Meanwhile, behind them, Mrs Silver and Mrs Gold were not happy. They were arguing loudly with the official.

‘This is jewellery from my family in England. This is all antique jewellery.' Mrs Gold had opened her bag which was full of chains, brooches and rings.

‘Must have a BIG family.' Christopher stared. ‘Or a rich one.'

‘What's antique mean?' whispered Amy. ‘Is it really old, like them?'

‘Antique jewellery has to be more than one hundred years old.' said the Customs officer firmly.

‘This is from the estate of my grandmother,' said Mrs Gold firmly.

‘What's estate jewellery?' whispered Christopher.

‘A fancy name for second hand stuff, I think,' said Tom. ‘But I'll have to check it out. There might be a story in this. See you later, twins.

I have a story to send.'

The Customs queue was moving quickly now. ‘Nothing to declare? Go straight through,' said the officials.

Within minutes, the twins were outside in the seagreeny-blue hall.

That's when Christopher remembered. ‘Amy, what did you do with that pill you picked up off the floor?'

Amy went red. She felt like a smuggler. She fumbled in her jeans pocket. ‘I forgot it. I forgot to declare it to Customs.'

She looked at the little white pill. ‘D'you think I should go back?'

Christopher thought for a moment. ‘It's probably just a vitamin pill. That's what he said. You don't know for sure that it's anything else.

Why don't you give it to Gloria when she comes back. She can send it for testing if she wants to.'