“You’re certain we can trust him?” the short dark one asked.
“For five thousand dollars you can trust anyone.”
“He leaves the fire exit open–that’s what he said, eh–after six p.m.?”
“That’s when they close today. There’ll be just the two security guards after that–and one of them’s one of us.” The one with the ponytail laughed, enjoying his little secret.
The two plotters finished their food and drinks and were off down Yonge Street. Travis shifted carefully as they passed, always keeping his face out of sight, and when they were gone he let out his breath as if he were letting a balloon go.
Nish came running up.
“Done! He never even noticed.”
“Good,” said Travis. “But now we’ve got another problem.”
Most of the Screech Owls were gathered in the lobby when Travis and Nish returned from their mission to return the stolen sunglasses. Liz raced toward them with the news.
“The Towers lost!”
“What?” Nish couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“You’re kidding,” Travis said.
“No, I’m not. They ran into a really hot goaltender and lost 3–2. It came down to total goals–and we’re in!”
“Fan–tas–tic!!” shouted Nish.
The rest of the team–what was left of it, anyway–came running over to tell Nish and Travis, even though they obviously already knew. Travis could feel the excitement in his teammates, Gordie, Jennie, Willie, Jesse, all of them shouting his and Nish’s name. Then he caught sight of Andy Higgins along the far wall, just staring. Travis couldn’t tell what Andy’s stare meant. Resentment over the excitement everyone else was showing toward Travis and Nish? Jealousy? Or just that he didn’t feel a full part of the Screech Owls yet?
Travis saw Muck and the assistants coming in through the hotel’s revolving doors and went over. Muck showed no emotion.
“Well,” he said. “I guess we got in the back door.”
Travis was startled at the contrast between his teammates and his coaches. The team had all been celebrating; the coaches, particularly Muck, looked as if they’d just come from a funeral.
Travis didn’t have to have it spelled out for him. Muck had been embarrassed and humiliated by the incident at the Hockey Hall of Fame. It didn’t matter that Muck himself had nothing to do with what had happened–in the coach’s eyes he had everything to do with it. A team wasn’t made up of individuals, just as he’d said when they played the Muskoka Wildlife; if the Screech Owls were a real team, then what some of them did affected them all. And whatever the team did, both on and off the ice, reflected on the coach.
Travis felt just as disappointed himself. He didn’t feel excited like his teammates. He felt empty.
The final was scheduled for the next day at 11:00 a.m. Muck put them through an afternoon practice, and they all worked hard. Nish skated and even played a little scrimmage, but still wasn’t fully recovered. The rest were sharp and eager, which seemed to please Muck. He didn’t cancel the planned visit to the Ontario Science Centre as he had the Leafs game.
It was a difficult afternoon for Travis. He did laugh once, when the Science Centre guide selected Nish to stand on a rubber mat and put his hand on a silver globe while they shot a charge of static electricity through him. Nish’s hair looked like it was trying to run away from him! But there was a big difference between laughing at a little moment and feeling good about their whole time in Toronto.
They went to the Science Centre cafeteria for a snack at the end, and Muck asked Travis to come and sit with him. Muck had two Cokes, one for each of them.
Travis felt his stomach churning. He didn’t know what Muck wanted. He didn’t know what to say. Maybe he’d get a chance to talk about the two plotters.
Muck took a long drink of his Coke, swallowed, and stared hard at Travis.
“Did you know anything about the stealing?” he asked.
Travis shook his head. He knew Muck was talking about the Hockey Hall of Fame, and he had known nothing about it. But he did know about the other stealing, only it had involved others, not the three who were sent home, and Travis couldn’t tell on Andy and Nish. He couldn’t squeal. Certainly not on his best friend.
Technically, he was right to shake his head. But he was wrong, too. Either way, he was behaving like a wimp. A wimp if he squealed. A wimp by letting Muck think something was true when it wasn’t exactly true.
“A good captain has to lead by example, Travis,” Muck said. “I wanted you as captain for precisely that reason.”
Travis swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”
Surprisingly, Muck gave a slight grin. “Think we can win with half a bench?”
Travis was relieved at the change of topic. “I hope so,” he said.
Muck took another swallow, nodding.
“We don’t deserve to,” he said.
Muck gave them a free evening. He set the rules when they got back to the hotel lobby: “Stay in groups of a minimum of three. Stay off the streets, except for those who plan to go shopping at the Eaton Centre. Be in your rooms, lights out, by nine-thirty. I’ll be checking.”
Some of the Owls were going shopping with their parents. Some wanted to stay around the pool.
Travis was in the elevator when he decided to act. He and Nish were headed up to their rooms to change into their swimsuits, not knowing what else to do. Travis figured that, as captain and assistant captain, it was clear what their duty was.
All he could think about was Muck’s enormous disappointment in the team and how a captain was expected to lead by example. Perhaps if he could prevent one of the thefts–a much bigger one than the lighters or sunglasses or T-shirts–he could be a good example, at least in his own eyes. That might be a start, anyway.
The elevator was just coming to a halt on their floor.
“Let’s go back to the Hall of Fame,” he said.
“Been there, done that,” said Nish, unimpressed.
Travis made the decision he’d been avoiding. He had to tell Nish.
“We have to go back.”
“What d’ya mean?”
“There’s two guys planning to steal the Stanley Cup tonight.”
Nish turned, staring. If his hair could have shot straight up without static electricity, it would have.
Good old Nish. Once Travis had explained, he was all for it, almost like a player who’s been sitting on the bench all along and finally gets a chance to play. He understood why Travis had been unable to tell Muck. He was outraged that the police, as well as the Hall of Fame, had dismissed Travis as a childish prankster when he’d called. He saw this as a marvellous opportunity for them, supposedly the team leaders, to right a few wrongs. He had put back the sunglasses, and now he’d make sure the Stanley Cup never got lifted by anyone who wasn’t on a winning team.
They prepared carefully. Nish had his little backpack, and they had apples and chocolate bars and drinking boxes to put in it.
“I hate those stupid boxes,” said Nish.
“So do I, but pop cans make noise.”
“Right.”
“Do you have any shin-pad tape?” Travis asked.
“A couple rolls.”
“Get them. You never know, they might come in handy.”
“How’ll we get there?” Nish asked.
“I’ve got subway tokens. It’ll take us twenty minutes, tops.”
Nish suddenly frowned: “We can’t go.”
“What do you mean?”
“Muck says we have to stick in threes.”
Nish was right. They were already risking enough trouble just in going. But they might not even get out the front door of the hotel if they were on their own. More important, even if they did manage to slip away unnoticed, they were still only two peewee hockey players against two grown crooks. They could use at least a third person–if only to serve as lookout.
“We’d better find someone,” Nish said.
/>
“Data would be perfect.”
“Data’s probably been sent to his room until the end of the next century.”
“Derek?”
Nish shook his head. “Went to the movies.”
They were stuck. Willie, their roommate, was down in the pool. Besides, they needed Willie here if they blew curfew. They’d left a note on Willie’s pillow telling him they might be a bit late and to answer for them if Muck happened to knock on the door.
They went down to the lobby, looking and checking around. Everyone was either gone or else tied up with plans.
All except one.
“Andy,” Nish said. “He’s not with anybody.”
“Take a thief to catch a thief?” Travis asked, incredulous.
“Why not?” Nish grinned. “He already thinks like them.”
Andy was sulking around the lobby. Since the three shop-lifters had been sent home, he’d been more or less frozen out by the rest of the team.
Travis shrugged.
Nish headed toward Andy and Travis followed, feeling he really had no choice. Andy saw them coming. He was sitting on one of the big lobby chesterfields and had a plastic shopping bag on his lap. He shifted uncomfortably.
“What’re you doing?” Nish asked, plunking down beside Andy.
“Nothin’,” Andy replied. He seemed nervous.
“What’s in the bag?” Nish asked. Good old Nish. Never shy about things.
“Nothin’.”
“C’mon, let me see.”
Nish grabbed the bag out of Andy’s hands and dumped the contents out. The CN Tower lighters and the Blue Jays mug and the deck of cards came spilling out, as well as several loonies. As quick as he had dumped them out, Nish scooped everything back into the bag and threw it in Andy’s lap.
Travis’s first thought was that Andy had been stealing again from the shop. But why the loonies?
“I was trying to figure out how to get it back,” Andy said.
“What’s the money for?”
“To pay for the cigarettes, I guess. Whatever.”
Nish was grinning: “Why the change of heart?”
“It’s my fault they got caught, obviously.” He stared hard at Travis. “You don’t have to pretend everyone isn’t blaming me for what happened.”
Travis said nothing. What was there to say to Andy?
“I’ll put it back for you,” Nish said.
Andy looked at Nish, not understanding.
“I am the world’s leading expert at returning stolen merchandise,” Nish announced with pride. “Just give it to me.”
Andy handed over the bag. Without a word, Nish got up and walked straight over into the gift shop. As casual as could be, Nish began talking with the old woman at the cash register and pointing to a cap clipped to a rack high above the front window. She nodded, got a short stool and a stick with a hook on it, and began reaching for the cap.
With the woman’s back turned, Nish simply leaned over and stuffed the bag in one of the low shelves full of candy. She’d find it soon enough, but never figure it out.
She lowered the cap and handed it to an angelic-looking Nish, who tried it on, looked at his reflection in the window, and then, seeming disappointed, handed it back to the old woman. She nodded and turned to replace the cap. Nish walked out.
When he got back to where the others were waiting, he said, looking at Andy, “Travis, I think we’ve got our third man.”
Travis found himself nodding.
They took the subway down and, with their car fairly empty, explained all to Andy along the way. Travis couldn’t believe the change in Andy. No longer surly, no longer staring at Travis as if there were some mysterious grudge between them. He seemed as keen as Nish to stop the heist of the Stanley Cup. He seemed proud to be part of the team that was setting out to save the cup.
Travis tried to figure it out. Maybe it all had to do with wanting to fit in instead of being different. Andy wasn’t a good enough player that he’d make an impression on the other Screech Owls by his play alone. The team automatically loved Dmitri because he scored the goals, but for third-line players like Andy, it was different.
Andy had brought attention to himself with the shoplifting. He’d even been, momentarily, popular because of it. But now three of the players had been sent home for stealing and Andy had become a virtual outcast from the team. They paid to go in. “We close in less than an hour,” the young woman taking their money had said, but they had nodded and thanked her and happily paid the admission.
Travis kept looking at the various security guards, wondering which one was on the take for the five thousand dollars. The crooked security guard made it impossible for the boys to go to one of them and say that there was about to be a break-in. If they happened to pick the wrong one–and there weren’t many to choose from–they would either blow their plan or, even worse, end up being taken hostage.
There was nothing to do but wait.
Travis felt a deep, deep shiver go through his body when the announcement came that the Hockey Hall of Fame was closing at 6:00 p.m. and visitors were to begin to leave. He knew now that it was just a matter of minutes. He also knew that in many ways these were the most crucial minutes. If they got kicked out, they wouldn’t be able to do anything to prevent the theft.
The boys were concerned that the Hall of Fame might have taken a body count of all those entering and leaving. But Nish had already thought of this and, just for safety, had triggered the exit turnstiles three times as Travis was paying. If there was a counter, then the three boys would be cancelled out the moment they entered.
Travis couldn’t believe the change in Andy. He’d suddenly come to life. Travis’s idea had been for them to hide in the washroom while they closed the building. They could shut the doors and stand on the toilet seats and no one would see them.
“But they’d see closed doors and wonder,” Andy cautioned. He was right.
And after they looked around, Andy had a better idea.
“Come on over here,” he whispered just before the final closing announcement came.
They followed Andy to the minivan that was supposed to show a typical suburban hockey family of the 1990s. In the back was a hockey bag as high as the window, sticks stuffed in every which way, and in the seats up front the “family” was happily driving: dummy dad, dummy mom, dummy kids.
“Data’s dad has one exactly the same,” said Nish. “Right down to the little dummy in the back.”
“We could crawl in here and wait them out,” Andy said.
An excellent idea. Good for Andy, Travis thought, even though he shuddered slightly at the idea that he’d be in the pitch dark. No night light for him here. But this was much better than hoping to pass unnoticed in the washrooms. How would someone react, pushing open a door and seeing Nish standing on the lid?
Nish hurried over and carefully tried the latch. It clicked and gave. He quickly checked to see if any of the custodians were watching, but there was no one. He lifted up the tailgate.
“Hey, Data,” Nish said to the closest dummy kid. “Looking good, man. Looking good.”
The boys scrambled in underneath the hockey equipment. Andy pulled down the tailgate so the roof light inside went out but the lock didn’t catch. Getting back out would be a simple matter of pushing out from the bottom.
They settled down and everything went quiet. Travis could see out of the tinted glass even if he was at the far side of the trunk. He was pretty sure no one could see in.
“How long do we have to wait?” Andy asked.
“Not long,” said Travis. “The security guard’s supposed to rig the fire exit for them so they can come in without setting off the alarm.”
“What if I have to go to the can?” Nish asked.
“Tough,” said Travis. Then he giggled: “You should have brought extra underwear.”
“Very funny,” Nish said.
Travis checked his watch: 6:44 p.m. The Hockey Hall of Fame was da
rk but hardly pitch black. He was grateful for the dim glow of the security lights. It was so silent he thought he could hear his heart beating.
They’d eaten their food and drunk the fruit juice. And then they had waited.
“Ssshhhhh!”
It was Andy, who’d been on lookout. He ducked down below the windows. “Someone’s coming with a flashlight!”
Travis stretched up, careful not to put his face too close to the tinted glass. He barely peeked out–he felt like a frog in water, with just his eyeballs showing–and could see the swinging wash of a flashlight along the hallway.
The beam turned full into the large room where the minivan sat. Travis instinctively ducked as it swept over the van. The light moved closer. Travis could sense Nish bobbing up to see, and he put his hand on his head and pushed down.
The beam turned and washed back over the robber with the ponytail.
“The elevator’s over this way!” said another voice. It was like a hiss. But Travis could still recognize it. The smaller, darker one with the scar.
“Hold your horses,” the ponytail told him. “We’ve all the time in the world.”
They moved on, past the stairs and toward the elevator. Travis knew why they weren’t taking the stairs; the steps were visible from the front entrance. The elevator, on the other hand, was well hidden.
“Where’s the security guard?” Andy whispered. Travis hadn’t realized that his head had popped up and he was watching. Travis’s hand was still on Nish’s head, holding him down. But now Nish was pushing up again.
“I don’t know,” said Travis.
“Maybe already up there,” Nish said. “Maybe he went ahead to disconnect another alarm system.”
“We’ll wait one minute,” Travis said, “then go.”
It was a long minute. Travis could feel the tension. Usually, when he felt like this, he’d be chewing a fingernail. But now he didn’t even feel the urge.
“Let’s go!”
Andy pushed up on the tailgate and it swung silently out and up. The three of them scrambled out. Nish set the gate back down, careful not to let it close all the way.
The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 1 Page 18
