Artnapping. Hazel Edwards

keep up for a long time. She taught us backstroke.’ Afraid-of-Flying Aunty Viv looked after them when their parents were working.

      William smiled. “We’re flying over a lot of water. But we won’t crash. All the crew have to do safety courses regularly.’ Aunty Viv would say the need for safety courses proved flying was dangerous.

      Amy moved to her proper seat, still thinking about artnapping. ‘How would the thief would know which painting to take? And where to sell it?’ ‘Put it this way.’ William looked at Amy. ‘Ever heard of the Mona Lisa? It’s the painting of that lady with a strange smile.’

      The twins nodded. Once Amy had a Mona Lisa post card. ‘If you were a thief, what could you do with the stolen Mona Lisa? ‘ asked William as he checked their seat belts. Then he looked at his list. His brain seemed programmed to do three things at once. And his teeth kept smiling while his eyes darted, noticing everything.

      The twins shrugged. ‘Everybody would know where the painting came from. So you couldn’t show it to the public. You’d be caught straight away.’

      ‘But if you were a millionaire collector who wasn’t too fussy about the law, you’d pay the thief a fortune, then put the Mona Lisa in your own room and look at it, whenever you liked.’ William ran his finger down the list.

      ‘What’s the use of that?’ Amy liked to show her phone card collection to anyone who’d look. ‘Some collectors are obsessed with collecting particular artworks. But today,

      I only collect U.M.s like you .’ William ticked their names on his list. ‘Your aunt filled in all the right forms for you, but her writing is ... er... .’

      ‘... hard to read?’ suggested Christopher.

      ‘Yes,’ agreed William.

      Aunty Viv was different from other aunts. She ran ‘Animal Actors’ which provided animals for TV. commercials. The twins helped with the animals when they stayed with her. That was quite often, whenever their parents were working overseas. They were used to being U.M.s. They’d travelled all over the world to meet their parents who were eco-photographers. Mum and Dad ‘shot’ endangered wildlife,but only with their cameras. The last passengers were coming onto the aircraft now.

      ‘See you in a few minutes. Okay?’ Just as William left them to attend to the other passengers, Christopher asked, ’Any chance of going up to the cockpit, later, William?’

      It was worth a try. They’d been up with the captain once before on a Singapore- Sydney flight.

      ‘I’ll ask,’ said William. ‘Depends a bit on the weather. We’re expecting some turbulence.’

      Amy knew what that meant. Seatbelts and lots of going up, down and sideways. Like Luna Park. Ace. She dug into her pocket to check. Yes, she had her phone card collection safely held by a rubber band. Later, she’d look at them.

      Just then, two passengers stopped alongside her seat. A silver chain was wound around the wrist of one man. It dangled down, catching the light. And there was a tiny padlock! Amy nudged Christopher and pointed. The light glinted on the chain.

      Was the man handcuffed? Or was he just chained to the bag?

      The twins would soon find out.

      Chapter 2

      Chained

      That silver chain around his wrist! Was he a prisoner? Amy squirmed to get a better look. Apart from the chain, the man now sitting across the aircraft aisle looked ordinary. Who was the chunky man sitting on his other side? Was the chain a handcuff? Were they linked together or did the chain go only around the bag? Accidentally, on purpose, Amy dropped her in-flight magazine, then leaned across, to pick it up. From this angle she could see the small, silver padlock dangling from the chain. Was he a prisoner? No, he didn’t seem to be attached to the next passenger. The silver chain led down to the leather briefcase between his legs. It went around both handles.

      He was locked to the briefcase! Or the briefcase was locked to him! It just depended upon how you looked at it. On his watch were silver charms dangling from the band.

      Amy nudged Christopher, then pointed to the chain again.

      His eyes widened. Then he whispered, ‘Diplomatic courier?’

      When they were younger, she thought ‘courier’ meant a person carrying something bad, like a drug courier, carrying drugs. Now she knew that couriers could carry legal things too. Diplomatic couriers carried letters between government embassies. ’Courier’ just meant ‘carrying’ ‘D’you think Silver Chain is a legal carry-person?’ whispered Amy.

      ‘Carrier,’ corrected Christopher. ‘Or courier.’

      ‘Same difference.’ Amy didn’t like being corrected. Words were her thing.

      Christopher was better with drawing and pictures.

      They were sitting in Economy. Government officials might travel First Class.

      A diplomatic courier carried a bag between the embassies of different countries. But this was a plain brief case. No official seals on the outside. But worth asking about. At the very worst, he could ignore her or say no.

      ‘Excuse me, I guess you’re carrying something very important?’ Amy’s voice went up like a question. The Holder of the Silver Chain turned his head.

      ‘Yes.’ His voice was deep and rich, like dark chocolate.

      ‘Are you called a courier?’ asked Christopher.

      ‘Today I am.’ said the man. You’d think he had to pay for each word he spoke, he used so few words.

      ‘What happens when you go to the toilet?’ asked Christopher. ‘Does the briefcase go with you? How would you turn around in that little washroom on the plane?’

      Christopher had often worried about super fat people on board. He always watched to see if they could get around the sideways doors on the plane’s washroom. Once a woman did get stuck, on the Darwin-Bali flight, but Christopher was asleep. Amy told him about it later. He was disappointed he’d missed seeing her wedged in the doorway. He liked sketching people from unusual angles.

      The courier looked a little surprised, but he answered,’ I’ll try not to drink much on the flight. Then I won’t need to go.’

      It was a long flight to Tokyo. William would be serving orange juice soon. Adults often had other drinks too, from the bar trolley. It must be hard not to drink.

      Amy asked. ‘Do you fly a lot?’

      He nodded. ‘You do too, don’t you?’

      Amy was pleased he knew that. Of course he couldn’t miss the I.D. tags the ground staff had pinned on their tops. Name, age, destination and a contact person. Mum’s was the contact name this time.

      ‘Yes. We’re U.M.s Our parents are eco-photographers. They work all over Asia. We’re flying to meet our Mum in Tokyo. What do you carry in your bag?’

      Amy was a question- firing machine. Surprised at the children’s interest, the man answered gruffly,

      ‘Contracts usually. Legal promises to do things. Bits of special paper’

      ‘What are they for?’ asked Amy.

      ‘Something that’s very important to a big international company. Something they can’t trust to the mail. And I..er...they can’t fax or scan it in case someone else sees it, by mistake.’ That was a big speech for him. Amy wondered why he said ‘I’ at first and then ‘they’. Using his