by steve higgs
The extra five feet had the desired effect. I had a great field of vision now. To my right, where the fireworks were going up, were maybe half a dozen police in uniform all gathered in one place. I looked for him but could still not spot Tempest. Picking one person out of a crowd in the dark was like playing a live version of Where’s Waldo where the figures keep moving. I changed my focus. It took a few seconds, but I found the steampunk girls. The two pairs were not far apart. Each of the dolly birds dragging or pushing the guy on its sack barrow.
Huh. Guys and Dolls.
I jumped down and tried to keep them in my sight as I made my way as fast as I could through the crowd. I bumped a couple, nearly ran into a dawdling toddler that surely should have been either holding a hand or attached umbilically to a parent somehow and had to jump over it for fear I was just going to kick it if I didn’t.
I emerged from a group of bodies and there was Cheryl and her friend with the impressive chest. I stopped running. There was something dodgy going on with them. They had been concerned that I might be police and I had wondered if their charity was real. These things I could dismiss, but that fact that neither had given me their phone number or address… or knickers for that matter was the clue ringing all my alarm bells.
I stopped short and just watched. They were targeting people, men, women, families, groups of teenagers. Their appearances, stuffed as they were into saucy outfits with their boobs hiked high, was getting the attention of more men than women, but I did not see them commit a crime as I watched. I could see their hands from my vantage point, for the most part, they stayed on the handle of the buckets each held.
Just as I was telling myself I had jumped to a wrong conclusion, I saw something that my brain dismissed as impossible.
The guy had moved.
Not much, but I was sure I hadn’t imagined it. I moved closer but now I was watching the stuffed, floppy bundle of clothing each girl was pushing along with them. I could see straw sticking out of the neck and sleeves. The arms ended with old, mismatched woollen gloves. The legs were shod in tatty, charity-shop trousers which terminated in wellington boots and the heads looked bulbous as if it was a balloon inside. Each had a mask covering the face and a wig on top.
I was no longer fooled though. The Guys had a man inside. No one was paying them any close attention and the eyes of the people the girls spoke to were on their faces, or in the case of most of the men, their boobs. The man inside the Guy, undoubtedly peeking out through the mask's eyeholes, was able to watch where the victim put their wallet or purse and then snag it as they turned away. They hadn't got mine because it was in my inner jacket pocket and too high to be easily snatched.
It was a slick operation.
I checked around, but there were no police to be seen. I would have to spoil their game myself.
I strode up to Cheryl. ‘Hello again.’ I smiled. She gawped at me, once again looking worried. ‘The games up, I’m afraid.’
Before she could reply, two small girls, twins given their matching outfits, height, and looks, had dragged daddy over to see the Guys and the fancily dressed ladies. Daddy didn’t mind one little bit.
‘Look, daddy.’ One said. ‘It’s Guy Fawkes. Only, aren’t they supposed to go on top of the bonfire before it is lit?’
‘Yes, they are.’ I replied. It’s not too late though is it?’ I asked, locking eyes with Cheryl.
‘Err…’
‘Mind if I borrow this?’ I plucked a metal badge from the nearest little girl's jacket, folded out the pin in the back and jabbed it into the Guy's head. I expected a sharp shout of pain or a swearword perhaps. I had not expected the head to pop though.
It was a balloon.
‘Oi, what’s your game?’ the little girl’s father asked.
Without looking his way, I handed him the badge then poked the Guy’s chest. It felt like straw inside. I grabbed the right arm around the bicep and squeezed. There was nothing inside it but straw.
The little girl began crying. Then, as always happens when a tall man is stood next to a bawling child, the focus of the crowd began to shift to me.
People moved nearer. I glanced at Cheryl. She was looking triumphant.
Around me, people were asking what had happened and trying to make sense of what the little girl was saying. The father accused me of attacking his precious daughter, saying it loud enough that it drew even more people in.
‘What seems to be the problem here?’ I turned to find the new voice was coming from the young police officer that had dismissed me a few minutes ago.
Perfect.
He looked me up and down, then made a space in the crowd. ‘Perhaps you had better come with me, sir.’
The crowd of onlookers started applauding.
I hesitated, my right leg twitched as it started to turn in the direction he was indicating, but this was not how I felt the evening should go. There was something amiss with these two ladies.
‘Sir?’ the young officer said with a little more insistence.
‘No.' I replied. Then in one fluid motion, I bent down, grasped the bottom of the sack barrow the Guy was on and lifted the whole thing above my head.
‘Oh shit.’ It said from about nine feet in the air. The moment I had engaged my muscles to lift it, I knew I had been right. It was far too heavy to be filled with straw.
The voice was that of a child though, so my plan to now launch the Guy across the heads of the crowd was dismissed and I set it back on the ground. With a sea of stunned faces around me, I crouched and found the split in the middle of the Guy.
Cheryl piped up, 'Here, can you two do your job and get rid of this idiot. He's going to ruin my Guy.' She must have been hoping that the child's voice hadn't carried from inside the fake Guy.
She made to grab my arm, trying to stop me and the young Police Officer stepped forward to do likewise.
As he went for my arm, I lifted the top half off of the Guy and there inside was a boy of about nine or ten. All around him were purses and wallets stuffed into the hollow compartment that formed the legs.
It was genius.
Cheryl took off at a sprint, her friend with the boobs hot on her heels, and pushing the sack barrow with her Guy in front of her.
I looked at the two stationary police officers incredulously. ‘You might want to stop them?’ I suggested.
Like a switch being activated, one slapped the other on the arm and they both took off.
‘Don’t forget the other two.’ I called after them.
Still trapped in the bottom half of the Guy suit, the boy was now trying to clamber out but was held in place by all the pilfered purses and wallets. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook my head when he looked up at me.
Now, where is Tempest? I hadn't seen him in a while. The fireworks were drawing to a grand finale and soon the event would be over. No doubt he would claim that he won the bet and I was buying supper, but fair was fair I suppose.
‘That was impressive.’ I looked up to find a woman standing right in front of me. She had long blond hair, woven into a ponytail and hooked over her left shoulder where it sat in the hood of her coat. She looked Scandinavian and must have been six feet two inches tall or maybe slightly more than that.
‘It was, wasn’t it?’ I echoed, laughing as I spoke so she would know I was joking.
‘Care to buy me a drink?’
‘Do you have a plan for the night? Because I think I can do better than a drink.’
She smiled coyly, and that, folks, is how Big Ben operates.
The End.
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