was rapt in the idea of a silver chain and padlock. What if the key were lost? What if it fell down the airline toilet? What if there were only one key in the whole world? Would they have to use a hacksaw to chop the chain off? What would you do if for the rest of your life, until you were a hundred, you were chained to a briefcase? ‘Who has the key?’ asked Christopher peering across at the chunky man sitting alongside the courier. He looked scruffy but the courier was well-dressed. They didn’t speak to each other, so perhaps they weren’t together.
‘That’s a secret,’ said the courier. After talking such a lot, he was returning to his short answers. Perhaps he’d run out of words, like a car runs out of petrol? But no, he revved up again when Christopher asked,’ Do you know what’s in there?’ ‘Not exactly. I just know that it’s important for the gallery and for me. And it must stay with me all the time, until I hand the briefcase to the right person at the Tokyo airport.’
Christopher wondered how the courier could hand over the briefcase if it was still locked to him. So either the courier had the key or the person he was meeting had the key. Or maybe it was with the other chunky man, sitting alongside? Although they hadn’t spoken yet.
‘How will you know who the right person is?’ Amy was curious. Tokyo was a very big airport. They’d been there before. There were Japanese signs everywhere.
‘You ask a lot of questions,’ said The Holder of the Silver Chain.
Amy nodded. It was one of her hobbies. But she didn’t need to ask his name. KEI was printed on his boarding pass which was on his knee.
‘They have to show me the right papers to identify themselves. And I have to show them my identity.’
‘You have to prove to them you are Mr Kei.’
‘Mmm.’ He glanced down at his boarding pass. ‘You noticed Kei on that. Pretty quick for a kid. You can read upside down can you?’
Amy nodded. So his name was said like a ‘key’. That was funny. The courier called Kei who needed a key. Her next thought was that being a courier might be a good job for someone who liked flying for free. But it wouldn’t suit Aunty Viv. She wouldn’t fly if you paid her! The twins looked up at the seat belts ON sign .
The plane was ready for take-off. They could feel the engines. Amy smiled at Christopher. She loved the going-up when her tummy was left behind. It was like riding a roller coaster. A tour director was giving out packets of photos to his ‘Sunny Tours’ people.
He was also trying to explain to one couple holding a giant bunch of dried wedding flowers. ‘You need a permit for dried banksia flowers, cacti or orchids.’ Quickly the newly weds pulled out their piece of paper. ‘Permit. The shop gave us one. They said we could take them out of the country and into Japan.’
The director shrugged. ‘Fine.’
‘Sit down please sir,’ William said. ‘We’re ready for take off.’
Obediently the director sat, just as a man in an old-fashioned red cloak swept past and joined people a few seats behind the twins. He was carrying a packet in one hand and a saggy bag in the other. His beard stuck out like a mini shelf. He looked as if he’d stepped out of an old movie.
‘Look, the guards!’ Christopher pointed. ‘They’re heading for the front seats.’
The two security guards were the last people to come on board. The plane door was shut and the crew went through the usual safety checks. The video screen lowered from the roof and a William-look- alike told them what to do in an emergency. The twins had heard it all before.
‘Are you okay?’ William checked on them before he strapped himself into his own seat. He seemed to check on everything as if he wasn’t used to doing some things. Perhaps he was new?
‘No worries.’ said the twins. Amy wasn’t worried about flying, but she was interested in what was in the chained briefcase and whether anyone would artnap the Rembrandt. Why would someone going to modern Tokyo wear such an old fashioned cloak? Or was he just playing the fool?
During the flight, the frequent flyer twins would find out. They usually did discover what they wanted to know.
Chapter 3
Wrong Shots
‘Excuse me.’ The ‘Sunny Tours’ director was trying to visit his tour people in seats all over the plane. He was giving out envelopes.
Meanwhile, there was a fuss in the seats nearby.
‘No! Not right! The passenger pointed with a sparkly, gold ringed finger.
Not us!’ On her lap was a big, silver envelope. Some photos spilled out.
‘Wrong photos?’ Amy peered curiously across the aisle.
Just before take-off, the tour director had given out some of his envelopes. Obediently the tour group had sat still until the seatbelt sign went off. Then they started to open their silver edged photo envelopes from the airport FAST-FOTO shop. The woman nodded, very upset. Her gold ring was so sparkly and looked very new. Her partner’s gold ring looked new too. Their hand luggage was hot pink. So were the bags of most of the group. Further down the aisle, there were cries as the envelopes were opened. Someone had made a mistake. A mix up!
‘A baby!’ With no hair! It is not ours! We have no baby yet.’
One couple had 24 photos of the same bald baby. Obviously it was not theirs. From the row behind, a girl with greenish hair leaned across, smiling.
‘Honeymooners. And they’ve probably only just had the wedding in Australia. Cheaper than Tokyo. Even a cup of coffee there costs $25.’
Amy nodded. Mum had told them that too. Since the flight was going to Tokyo, that meant Green Hair must have been in Japan before. She was so tall. Her elbows and knees stuck out so much even when she was sitting. She looked a bit like a grasshopper, Christopher decided. With her see-through green top and wispy skirt, and green streaks in her blond hair,she was the right colour for a grasshopper. But why was her hair greenish? Christopher puzzled. Perhaps she swam a lot in chlorinated water?
‘Hi. I’m Tess. I’m an art student. But I prefer to develop my own photos. Or use digital shots. Don’t want to get mine mixed up with someone else’s, like them.’’
Tess explained that she had just travelled around Europe learning from all the famous paintings in the galleries. Sometimes she tried to copy them, so she’d improve her own painting..
‘But if you’re a backpacker it’s hard to carry canvas to paint on. So, in Amsterdam, I used to draw in chalk on the pavement. And people would throw coins.’
‘Like a busker?’ asked Amy. Tess was a great talker. You didn’t even need to ask questions. ‘Mmm. It was a good way of paying my rent,’ smiled Tess. ‘And getting some commissions to paint murals on shop walls. Sometimes I had to get a permit from the council.’
Christopher liked the fact that Tess could paint. He was going to be an artist, later. To fill in time now, he decided to sketch all the passengers as if they were wildlife. He sketched quickly. Tess was a grasshopper. That Japanese woman passenger could be a butterfly with her brilliant coloured clothes.
The man in the red cloak was a beetle. And the courier with the silver chain was a chameleon, a lizard who changed colour according to the surroundings. William was a dragon fly.
‘What sort of insect am I?’ Amy peered over his shoulder.
‘An ant. A nuis-ANT’ He laughed loudly.
Annoyed, Amy turned to look at the next unhappy couple who were opening photos of a beautiful Chinese vase. ‘Wrong ones!’ they said.
Tess