A Croc Called Capone (5 page)

‘You never know,' he said.

‘Excuse me, sir. You have been selected for a random explosives test. Would you please step this way?'

Of course they would pick out Dylan. Of course they would. We stood around yet again while Dyl was given a going-over with a security wand. At least this pleased him.

‘Cool,' said Dylan. ‘Just like in the movies. Do you want me to spread my legs and adopt the position?'

‘You can adopt a whale as far as I'm concerned,' replied the security guard, showing there was at least one person in the airport with a sense of humour.

Surprisingly, no trace of explosives was found anywhere about Dyl's person. Mum and Dad looked vaguely depressed when he was given the all-clear and we trooped upstairs to the departure lounge. There was still an hour and a half before our plane took off.

Dyl was overexcited. You could tell by the gleam in his eye and the way his muscles twitched, even when sitting down. An under-excited Dylan is too much for most people to handle. An overexcited Dylan is a disaster waiting to happen. So I took him off to one side of the room where there were a few arcade games consoles.

‘Guess who came to see me last night, Dyl,' I said when we were far enough away.

‘Paris Hilton?' he said.

‘Whaaaat?'

‘Well, I dunno. You asked me to guess. Do I get another go?'

‘Never mind, Dyl. It was Blacky.'

‘Whoah! You're kiddin'. Blacky the white dog? Does he have another mission for us, Marc? Does he?'

Dylan was my partner-in-crime last time Blacky had called. He'd had so much fun. More importantly, I think our success in completing the mission made him feel he wasn't useless, like everyone said. That he could succeed. That he had a talent. I know I couldn't have done it without him. Now I felt really sad that both of us might miss out on a new adventure.

Dylan's face was glowing brighter and brighter with excitement. I needed to dampen his enthusiasm before his head exploded.

‘Yes,' I said. ‘But I don't know if it'll still be around when we get back.'

I explained what had happened and how Blacky had left without giving any details. We mulled the situation over.

‘Well,' said Dyl eventually. ‘Nothing to be done now, mate. And at least you can be grateful for one thing.'

‘Yeah?'

‘You avoided Paris Hilton.'

Our flight was called and we joined the queue to board. Dyl and I had boarding passes giving us seats together. Cy Ob Han and the demented sibling were behind us. I let Dylan have the window seat because this was his first time in the air. We buckled ourselves in and settled down for the flight.

‘This is so cool,' said Dylan after ten minutes or so. He was peering through the thick plastic of the window. ‘The people look just like ants.'

‘They
are
ants, Dyl,' I replied. ‘We haven't taken off yet.'

I've said before that Dylan has no fear. The normal human instinct that makes the rest of us shy away from fire, for example, is simply missing in Dyl. He's more likely to stick his hand into a fire to see if he can use his fingers as candles. But, as we taxied along the runway, I noticed that his knuckles were white. I glanced at his face, which wore a matching colour.

‘Not nervous, are you, Dyl?' I enquired.

‘You kiddin'?' he replied in a shaky voice. ‘Piece of cake, mate.'

But when the plane accelerated and we felt that force pushing us back into our seats, I heard him whimper. I filed this information away. Dylan was scared of flying. I had no idea what I'd do with this fact. It was enough just to know he was scared of something.

Mind you, it didn't stop him eating all of his in-flight dinner when we finally settled at our flying altitude. Even I couldn't eat the food and I'll eat just about anything. The flight attendant called it salmon tortellini with basil pesto. It looked like she'd thrown up in an aluminium container. Dylan ate mine as well.

Then we put on headphones for the movie, which was a particularly putrid romantic comedy. Dyl wouldn't normally watch bilge like that. Unless a movie had chainsaws, mutant monsters and fountains of blood gushing from severed arteries, he'd give it the flick. But now he watched as girl met boy, girl met other boy, girl had row with girl, girl learned the true nature of romance. Blah, blah, blah. Maybe he was hoping there'd be a dramatic plot switch. Girl gets sick of romance and sparks up a chainsaw. Maybe it was because the movie was free. Dylan liked free things. This probably explained his double helping of flight-attendant vomit.

Anyway, after half an hour I took off my headphones and left him to the wholesome fun. I closed my eyes. After the night I'd had, I could do with catching up on sleep. I nearly dozed off. It was only a commotion towards the front of the plane that snapped my eyelids open.

For a moment I couldn't work out what was going on. It seemed as if the entire first-class section was visiting the toilets at the back of the plane at the same time. I was puzzled. Didn't they have their own toilets? I thought one of the advantages of travelling first class was that you didn't have to use a seat polluted by an economy bum.

Then I noticed they all seemed distressed. Most were holding their noses and some appeared on the verge of throwing up. Possibly the movie was even worse than I imagined. Or maybe their first-class stomachs were rebelling against fish-smelling puke in an aluminium container.

I don't know which hit me first – the blinding realisation or the evil smell.

‘Blacky!' I yelled.

‘Wotcha, tosh,' came the voice in my head. ‘That's cleared a bit of space. What's the point of travelling first class if you're crammed in like a sardine?'

‘Can't someone open a window?'

The flight attendant was pale, but still standing. ‘I'm sorry, sir,' she said to the man across the aisle from me. ‘That's not a good idea at thirty-two thousand feet.'

‘Can I have a parachute, then? I'm prepared to take my chances.'

I left them to their conversation and concentrated on the voices in my head.

‘Blacky! What are you doing here?'

‘Well, mush, at the moment I'm watching a particularly excellent movie. It's a girl-meets-boy-meets …'

‘Yeah, I know about the movie.
Why
are you here?'

‘The mission, tosh, the mission. Even you can't have forgotten so soon.'

‘But I thought that was back home.'

‘Thinking isn't your strong suit, boyo. Best leave that to me.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘I've noticed.'

‘Are you saying our mission is based in the Northern Territory?' I felt a sudden surge of excitement. ‘That all the time you knew I was going on holiday there?'

‘Amazing!' said Blacky. ‘It can work out simple problems!'

‘But
how
did you know I was holidaying in the
NT
?'

‘Sorry, tosh. I never reveal my sources.'

‘And how did you manage to get on board this plane?'

Blacky sighed in my head.

‘I'm trying to watch the movie here, you twonk! Not field questions from a certified halfwit. However, in the desperate hope of shutting you up … I am, as I have told you before, a master of disguise. It is, therefore, but the work of a moment to avoid airport security measures. I always travel first class, by the way. If I was eligible, my frequent flyer points would be a wonder to behold. Now, I would take it as a personal favour if you would kindly shut your cakehole.'

‘But what about the mission, Blacky? What does the mission involve?'

‘I have my limits, mush. I have my limits. Okay. I'll tell you this much. Can you see a guy in an expensive suit? He'll be one of those who deserted the first-class cabin a few moments ago. Built like a medium-sized skyscraper? Head like a bowling ball?'

I craned my neck. People were still milling around the toilets at the back of the plane, waiting for the atmosphere to become breathable. I spotted him immediately. Blacky wasn't exaggerating. He was
huge
. Muscles piled upon muscles. And bald as a coot. Balder, probably. I have no idea what a coot is.

‘Got him,' I said.

‘Well, the mission is simple, tosh. You've got to stop him.'

After that, Blacky refused to say anything more.

I filled Dyl in on developments. He stood and peered back over the headrests to check out the muscled guy. Judging by the yelps from Rose and Cy, they obviously weren't expecting Dylan's face to suddenly loom up like a scary, loomy-up thing. It was small payback for the early-morning facepack terror, but I was grateful.

‘Man,' said Dyl. ‘He is
humungous
. What have we got to stop him doing?'

‘No idea, mate. Blacky, the annoying little mongrel, refused to say.' I allowed this thought to roll around in my head, but the annoying little mongrel was still ignoring me.

‘The size of him,' moaned Dyl. ‘You couldn't stop him with a tank.'

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘Whatever it is, we are going to have to rely on brains and cunning.'

‘You're on your own as far as brains are concerned,' replied Dyl. ‘But I've got a black belt in cunning.'

It was true.

‘Which makes us a brilliant combination,' I said. ‘Holmes and Watson; Batman and Robin; Frodo and Samwise.'

‘Kath and Kim,' said Dyl.

I sighed and closed my eyes.

We landed in Darwin. Briefly. The wilderness lodge we were booked in to was a further hour's flight, so we transferred to another plane. I kept my eyes peeled for Blacky, but there was no sign. Not so the bald-headed mountain. He boarded the small aircraft ahead of us. I swear I could see the plane sink a metre or two as it took his weight.

‘Why do we have to put our heads between our knees in the event of an emergency?' Dyl whispered to me as we watched our second safety demonstration of the day.

‘To kiss our bums goodbye,' I replied.

Dyl just nodded.

An uneventful hour later, we landed at a small airstrip. While everyone waited for their luggage, Dyl and I stepped outside to have our first proper look at the Territory.

The first thing I noticed was the heat. It was like a thick wet blanket. A bead of sweat formed on the back of my neck, trickled and itched its way inside my T-shirt. The second thing I noticed was the sky. It was huge. Night was drawing in and the vast bowl above us was dusted with stars. Even as we watched, the sky darkened and pinpoints of light multiplied. I was amazed. I had never seen night fall so quickly, so dramatically. I saw the spiky silhouette of palm leaves against the sky. The sunset flooded the horizon with yellows, reds, purples. As I stared, the colours shifted, rearranged themselves. It was a miracle. The hairs on the back of my neck stood. I shivered with the wonder of it.

‘Dylan,' I said, my eyes fixed on the glory above. ‘Is that the most wonderful thing you've ever seen?'

‘It certainly is,' whispered Dyl. Like me, his voice hushed with emotion. We stood in silence for a moment. ‘Can you lend me a dollar?' he added.

‘What?' I wrenched my eyes away from the sunset and looked at Dyl. He stared at something away to my left. I followed the direction of his gaze. A cola-dispensing machine.

‘Beautiful,' he whispered. ‘Just beautiful.'

A guy waited by the baggage collection area. He held up white card which read
BRANAGHAN WILDERNESS LODGE
. A number of people were already standing by him, including our target, Goliath.

Mum and Dad lugged our cases off the conveyor belt and we moved to join the group. Rose and Cy Ob Han were wheeling their own personal mountains. We identified ourselves to the card-carrying dude, who checked our names off a list, looked at the luggage and scratched his chin.

‘Congratulations,' he said. ‘You are the proud owners of the tallest structure in the
NT
.'