False Bottom

by Hazel Edwards

  ‘Careful! Give that back!’

  Amy tried to lift the box and her fingers slipped, by accident of course, and felt something soft, inside.

  ‘Don’t do that!’ He grabbed the box.

  ‘Sit down, sir. The plane will be leaving soon.’ Brett hovered.’I’ll put this up for you.’

  But Mr Smith didn’t want Brett to touch his box.

  Why, wondered Amy.

  At last, while Mr Smith fixed his seat belt and Amy cuddled Edwina, she saw something white and powdery in her lap. Was it drugs? The white stuff had fallen out of the box. Was Mr Smith a drug smuggler?

  From across the aisle, Christopher nudged her.

  Amy touched the white stuff. She put it to her nose. It smelt sugary. Should she taste it? She went to put it to her lips and then stopped. If it were a drug, she didn’t want to put it in her body.

  ‘What is it?’ hissed Christopher.

  ‘Don’t know, yet.’ whispered Amy.

  What was in the box? Could she find out before they landed?

  Someone leant over her. Amy started.

  ‘Your call light was on.’ said Brett.

  ‘Sorry. It was a mistake.’ Amy had tried all the buttons. The phones were better than a Walkman.

  Brett checked the seat belts. ‘Even when we’ve taken off, keep your belt on. I’ll be back with something special for you.’

  Take- off! Amy’s favourite time. She loved the feeling in her tummy when the plane left the ground. The plane engines were throbbing. Door hatches were closed. The TV safety monitor slid down and the safety video started. Aunty Viv would freak out now.

  ‘She’d just love this,’ muttered Christopher, and Amy knew who he meant.

  Aunty Viv expected plane disasters.

  ‘Oxygen mask above your head,’ said the square TV face.

  Amy looked up. That mystery box was in the locker above her head, too. As the Brett-look-alike showed them how to work the safety gear, Amy shivered with excitement.

  The plane noise grew louder, it was moving. Takeoff! Amy’s ears went funny. She looked sideways at Mr Smith. He was determinedly reading a magazine and chewing something.

  Takeoff! The plane went up. Then the plane levelled out. Christopher winked at her and pointed behind to The Mouth but she couldn’t twist and see because of her seat belt.

  ‘Please observe the Fasten Safety Belts sign,’ said the Captain’s voice.

  She looked across at Mr Smith. Amy squinted sideways. In big letters were the words DRUG BUYING. That was a clue. Mr Smith WAS interested in drugs. Something white and powdery was in the box. What was it? How could she find out?

  Brett handed out the flight packs.

  ‘Showbags! Thanks,’ said Christopher. ‘Any pencils?’

  ‘Here, have mine.’ Amy pulled out a packet. ‘Swap you for a book, if you’ve got one.’

  Amy unclipped her seat belt and stood up.

  She had already skimmed the In Flight magazine.. She’d read about the Beagle Brigade and about a Poo-seum. This was a poo museum in some African country. It was for tourists. There were photographs of animals with trays containing the animal’s paw or hoof print under them. There was also a sample of its droppings.

  She showed Christopher the photos.

  ‘Poo!’ said Christopher and held his nose.

  ‘Droppings are changed every few months,’ Amy added quickly.

  ‘Going to the toilet already?’ Christopher started sketching a poo museum.

  ‘Looking for something more to read, too.’

  Slowly Amy walked down the aisle, looking at the passengers. Some were chatting. Some were reading. Rainbow Wig was sitting next to a window, writing squiggles on lined paper.

  The thin woman with the floppy hat was sitting stiffly. She looked very uncomfortable. On the aisle seat, near the toilets, was an ordinary- looking woman, who bent over to pick something up as Amy passed.

  There were several toilets on board. Before they reached Singapore, Amy wanted to try them all.

  Luckily the first one she tried was empty. Fitting past the funny door was a challenge. A fat lady might have problems. Or someone in a wheelchair. That reminded Amy. Where had Mrs Smart, the Lizard Lady, gone? Perhaps she could walk without the chair?

  Amy slid shut the bolt on the toilet door. That turned on the light. She stared at herself in the mirror. What if someone got stuck in here? How would the attendants get them out? Even worse, what if someone died in here?

  Amy turned around slowly. She squirted free hand lotion on both hands. Then she squirted perfume behind her ears. Just for fun, she squirted perfume near her sneakers. Sometimes Christopher called her Smelly Feet. Lastly she combed her hair with the free little comb which you could keep.

  In the aisle, she passed a pile of magazines for passengers’ use. The Mouth’s face was on the cover of one of them. It was the same magazine Wilhelmina had probably eaten by now. The Mouth was holding his dog Bozo.

  Ah! That was a clue!

  An attendant started to push the snacks trolley up the aisle towards her. If she didn’t move soon, Amy would be squashed like an insect.

  Rainbow Wig was staring across at The Mouth as the drinks were given out. In an aisle seat, the man who knew about planes was still reading his Flight Today magazine. He winked as Amy crab-walked past.

  There was a bump and the plane tilted downwards.

  ‘Excuse me passengers. This is the captain speaking. A small problem has cropped up. We’re landing at Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport and it may be some time before we fly onto Singapore.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s engine trouble?’

  “Or a bomb threat?’ suggested another passenger.

  Christopher and Amy wondered if all Aunty Viv’s warnings about crashes were coming true. Usually Amy loved mysteries, but now she had a planeload of them! What was Mr Smith carrying in his box? Why did The Mouth pretend not to know Rainbow Wig? Why were the spare-parts manager’s business cards printed at the airport? Was something missing from the plane?

  Where and why had the wheelchaired Mrs Smart gone?

  Chapter 10

  Bird,Birds, Birds!

  ‘Transit passengers this way,’ said the official who shepherded the passengers. He did look a bit like a sheepdog, thought Christopher. But with arms instead of paws. Transit meant they weren’t staying

  ‘You’ll have to wait in the Transit Lounge until your plane’s ready for Singapore. If it takes a long time to fix, you’ll stay in a hotel in Melbourne overnight.’

  ‘Ace,’ said Christopher. ‘But why are we stopping?”

  ‘Technical difficulties.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Anything.’

  So Amy returned to people-watching.

  Rainbow Wig got off quickly. She was still following, but pretending not to know The Mouth. He saw her, but didn’t speak. Passengers had been told to take their hand luggage. So Mr Smith had brought his box with him. The Mouth struggled with all his bags. The old man who knew about planes came next. The came the thin-faced woman, still wearing her floppy hat.

  All walked towards the transit lounge, except the fat woman with the heavy overcoat. She slipped into the women’s toilets. Christopher stared at the quarantine amnesty bins . People were asked to drop fruit or other illegal food.

  A sniffer dog bounded towards Mr Smith. Mr Smith went pale. ‘I hate flying and I don’t like dogs,’ he said.

  The dog went straight past him, with the handler following. Amy noticed a wheelchair going past, pushed by a porter.

  Why had Mrs Smart been on their flight? Was she going to Singapore too?

  ‘Excuse me, Mrs Smart.’

  The woman turned around. It was not Mrs Smart!

  ‘Sorry,’ said Am
y, blushing.

  ‘Wheelchair mania, that’s what you’ve got.’ Christopher said, and headed for the transit lounge.

  ‘See you in a sec.’ Amy pushed open the door of the women’s toilets.

  It squeaked. Suddenly something flapped past her head.

  Flap! Flap! Flap!

  She took a step back. Feathers brushed her face.

  ‘Get away!’

  A frightened bird flapped its wings and caught her hair.

  Amy cried out.

  The bird escaped into the passageway. Something dropped on the blue carpet, but the bird kept flying. The toilet was full of flapping bird wings. Twenty. Thirty. Hundreds. Reflected in the wall mirrors , the bird numbers doubled, and tripled!

  Someone had shut birds into the toilets.

  Nervous birds drop mess. These birds were very nervous. Plop! Plop! Plop! White bits fell on the basins and the floor and dripped down the mirrors.

  ‘Yuk!’ said Amy.

  She turned. The door to the passageway was still open. In about two seconds, the birds would fly out there!

  Quickly, to keep the birds from flying all over the airport, Amy closed the door behind her. She went to find bird-catching help.

  Things happened quickly. A woman from their flight was hurrying past.

  ‘Are there birds in there?’ she asked Amy, who nodded.

  ‘Bird smugglers lost their nerve again. Tried the dump the birds.’

  The woman whipped out a two-way radio and spoke into it.’ Gloria here. Birds in the women’s toilets near the transit lounge. Smugglers gone. Check the security camera.’

  Fascinated, Amy listened. ‘D’you work for customs?’

  ‘Undercover. Security.’ Gloria winked.

  Amy hadn’t taken much notice of her on the flight. She looked so ordinary. But perhaps that’s how an undercover person should look. Just then, a stray bird who had escaped into the passageway circled over Amy. It fluttered its wings. Amy ducked, but she was too late.

  Something landed on her shoulder. ‘Yuk!’

  Christopher had lent her a hanky, a black one from Aunty Viv. The birds’ mess showed up on that, really well.

  Soon the wildlife officers arrived to catch the birds. They had nets with them.

  ‘Put the net over here.’

  ‘Quietly, you’ll frighten them,’

  ‘This way.’

  ‘Shhhh,’

  ‘Well done, lass. Quick thinking,’ said one of the officers to Amy.

  ‘Good idea to shut the door.’

  ‘Who left the birds there?’ asked Amy.

  ‘Smugglers,’ said Gloria. ‘I had my eye on them in Sydney. When we put into Melbourne, they must have panicked. They tried to get rid of the evidence.’

  Amy noticed that she said them. Was there more than one smuggler on this flight?

  ‘Wild,’ said Christopher, who had been watching closely from the passageway. He’d even helped with the nets. Curious travellers gathered around.

  ‘That’s right. Wild. We’re from wildlife,’ said one of the men as they took the birds away in large cages. ‘You’ve probably saved the life of some of these birds. More than eighty percent of smuggled birds die .’

  ‘That many?’ Christopher hadn’t realised so many birds died.

  ‘It’s cruel,’ agreed Amy.

  Two cleaners with buckets and mops arrived to wash away the white spots and dribbles.

  ‘Call it bird art. Charge for looking at it,’ suggested Christopher, peering in the open door. ‘Bird graffiti.’

  Gloria laughed. ‘Bird art. That’s good. Last week we had more trouble with the lizards. They were running all over the floor in our Sydney offices. Nervous types, frillies. Well camouflaged too.’

  Amy remembered the lizard ring on Mrs Smart. And the other jewellery.

  ‘I’ve worked out one thing about one of the bird smugglers,’ she said.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘She was female.’

  ‘Why?’

  Amy pointed to the women’s toilet sign. ‘The birds were dumped in the women’s toilets. A bit hard for a man to go in there.’

  ‘Perhaps there was more than one smuggler,’ suggested Christopher. ‘A woman AND a man.’

  ‘Why? Did you see birds flying around the Men’s too?’

  ‘No. But I did see The Mouth opening his guitar case and.’

  ‘Never mind.’ Gloria changed the subject.’Want to know how some bird smugglers work?’

  The twins nodded.

  ‘Usually Q9 would just touch down in Melbourne, then fly onto Singapore. But the engine trouble could mean the plane stayed for hours longer. So the birds which had been drugged for the flight to Singapore might have woken up too early. That’s why the smuggler released them into the toilets.’

  Amy screwed up her nose and frowned as she always did when she went into heavy thinking. She pushed back her rainbow framed glasses.

  ‘How long’s the flight from Sydney to Singapore?’

  ‘At least seven hours. Probably eight. Depends upon the wind.’

  ‘But if some of the birds had been drugged for a seven hour flight to Singapore, why would they wake up after an hour’s flight from Sydney to Melbourne?’

  Gloria agreed that it didn’t add up. ‘Perhaps the smuggler wasn’t sure how long passengers would have to wait in transit in Melbourne because of the engine. Perhaps he was scared the birds would wake up in the cabin when the plane was still flying. Imagine birds flying all around the cabin!’

  A little smile grew on Christopher’s mouth. ‘Imagine scared birds dropping on passengers. If you had your seat belt on, you couldn’t duck! Yuk!’

  ‘Or maybe the smuggler got frightened and thought someone was onto him or her and tried to get rid of the evidence.’ Amy’s mind was working.

  A security guard walked up to them.’ You’re the Lee twins, aren’t you? The

  UM s?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Thanks for your help. We knew the birds would be dumped somewhere between the plane and the arrivals area.’

  ‘How did you know that?’ Amy was curious to learn about airport sleuthing.

  ‘She was fingered. One of the air crew was suspicious of the uncomfortable way she was sitting. Brett notices lots of things. All those birds strapped around her middle. She must have realised she was being watched. So she went in to the toilets on the way out and released the birds.

  ‘Was the smuggler an old woman?’ asked Amy.

  ‘No,’ said Gloria.

  ‘I know,’ Christopher flipped back through his sketchbook. ‘The bumpy lady with the heavy coat on her arm. I drew her. See!’

  ‘That’s the one whose dress blew up when we were boarding,’ remembered Amy. ‘Perhaps she was worried I’d see the birds underneath.’

  ‘They would have been strapped around her middle. Although some smugglers have strapped birds across their chests. One well muscled man actually had birds where we thought his muscles would be.’ Gloria smiled. ‘Sounds funny, but it’s hard on the birds. Most of them never make it.’

  They crowded around Christopher’s sketchbook. His black and white drawing looked lifelike.

  ‘Well done,’ said Gloria. ‘Would you mind if we kept your sketch?’

  Seeing that Christopher didn’t look too happy about losing his artwork, she quickly suggested, ‘Since we can’t pay you the millions which the sketch is worth, I’ll give you a behind-the-scenes, personal tour of the customs, quarantine and immigration areas. How’s that?’

  ‘Great!’ Amy’s eyes were shining. She loved ‘sticky beaking’ around and visiting unusual places. On her last trip, she’d talked their way into a flight deck visit with the captain.

  Chapter 11

  Body Language


  ‘Hey, I drew it, not you,’ said Christopher.’But you can tag along if you like.’

  They walked towards the transit lounge which was full of passengers waiting to go on to Singapore. Were any of them bird smugglers, too?

  Amy looked for clues everywhere. Suddenly the airport seemed full of mysterious, smuggling possibilities.

  ‘Body language usually gives them away,’ said Gloria.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Amy’s mouth was the only part of her body that usually gave her away. She talked too much. Jet Jaws they called her at home.

  ‘Smugglers. Couriers. People trying to take illegal things in to or out of the country.’

  ‘How does the body give them away?’

  ‘The way they move. How they pull jackets or coats across their middles. How and where they sit. How they look when we ask questions. ‘

  ‘But what if someone is just nervous?’

  Amy remembered the first time that she and Christopher had flown alone. She’d been nervous then. Christopher hadn’t noticed. Why would the customs officers?

  ‘We’re experienced. We can tell whether someone is just nervous or if they’re trying to hide something.’

  ‘How?’ asked Christopher.

  ‘We look for lumps and bumps in the wrong places.’

  ‘Ah.’ That was something Christopher understood. As an artist,he liked to draw bodies. Lumps, bumps and curves were more interesting than straight lines.

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Out of fashion or odd clothes. A big fur coat on a hot day. Those things show that a person is trying to cover up something.’

  Christopher was interested in the fate of the smuggled birds.

  ‘Where will the birds go now?’

  ‘The wildlife people look after them. Customs and quarantine security officers are trained to spot smugglers. We do a special training course.

  We learn the correct method of body search too. We don’t like doing body searches. But sometimes smugglers put things in funny places. It’s up to us to find smuggled goods.’

  ‘How do you tell they’re smugglers?’ Amy remembered her suspicions about Mr Smith.