The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 4

by Roy MacGregor

  Travis was beginning to suspect that they all were – that the Mini-Olympics were going to be the great equalizer for the Owls.

  17

  Data picked up a copy of the Herald on their way back to the hotel. There was a photograph of the shark that had been released by the aquarium, and an update on the mysterious head that had been burped up by the huge fish.

  “He’s a Filipino!” Data announced after he had scanned the article.

  “How can they tell?” Fahd asked.

  “Maybe that’s where his shoes were made,” offered Nish.

  “Save your sick jokes for your friends,” Sarah advised. “If you have any left.”

  Travis couldn’t help notice that Sarah still hadn’t forgiven Nish for his hit on Wiz.

  Nish was in trouble with his whole team, not just Sarah. Travis had told him that Wiz had said he “owed him one,” but Nish had just laughed it off as if the whole thing was no big deal.

  Data laid the paper open on his lap and gave the Owls the essence of the article.

  “Dental analysis,” he said. “Something about the type of filling material only being available in the Philippines, anyway.”

  “Great,” said Wilson. “Only eighty million dental records to check.”

  “It’s a start,” Data argued.

  “Why don’t they just look for a body that’s missing a head?” Nish suggested.

  There was a sharp rap at the door.

  Travis, who’d been lying on his bed half watching television while Nish and Fahd napped, jumped up and went quickly to the peephole.

  It was Andy, a look of concern on his face.

  Travis opened the door to let him in, but Andy had other ideas. He wanted Travis to come with him. “Data’s been on the Internet again,” he said. “Says he thinks he might have found something.”

  Data was deep in thought when they walked in, staring at the screen of his laptop as if it held some enormous secret he could not quite read.

  He turned his chair when he heard the door click. “Hi, Trav,” he said. “I’ve been doing some research for us. Did you know the number-one research spot for seahorses is in Canada? Project Seahorse, at McGill University in Montreal.”

  Travis shook his head. Of course he didn’t know.

  “Project Seahorse has links to everyone. They’ve even funded an experiment with fishermen in the Philippines to see if they can build a seahorse fishery that’s sustainable.”

  Travis wondered when Data was going to get to the interesting part. But he said nothing.

  “The Philippines is where almost all seahorse fishermen come from,” Data continued. He clicked the mouse and a page from a scientific article popped up. “The average income in those villages is around three hundred dollars,” he read. “That’s for an entire year. Can you imagine?”

  “I get almost that for my allowance,” said Andy.

  Travis shook his head. It was exactly the amount of money he’d brought on this trip, and he’d been planning to spend every penny before leaving. He felt a little guilty that a person might make no more than that in an entire year – and be expected to feed a family on it.

  “That’s the huge attraction of seahorse harvesting,” Data continued. “Remember that bowl of seahorse soup Fahd found on the Internet – four hundred and fifty dollars for just one bowl in Taiwan?”

  Travis nodded. He remembered.

  “And a kilogram of dried seahorses being worth as much as fifteen thousand dollars?”

  Travis nodded again.

  “That’s why there’s such a big concern about the future of seahorses. Already one species on the endangered list and several others in trouble. Areas that used to produce lots of seahorses are now fished out around the Philippines, and now there are press reports about Philippine fishermen in Australian waters after seahorses – apparently it’s becoming a major political issue.”

  Travis could no longer help himself. “So?”

  “So,” Data said slowly, as if explaining to a very dull student, “if seahorses are that valuable, what must a seadragon be worth?”

  Travis half followed, but still couldn’t figure out exactly where Data was headed.

  “Did you get a good look at that guy who attacked Nish?” Data asked.

  Travis shook his head. “I didn’t see much.”

  “Anything?” Data asked. “Eyes? Colour of hair? Anything at all.”

  “Black,” Travis answered after he thought about it. “He had black hair. Thick and fairly long. It was flowing when they fought.”

  Data clicked through a few more pages. Travis waited for him to say more, but Data seemed deep in thought.

  “What?” Travis finally asked.

  “Remember Wiz saying the head had been sliced off by a machete?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that suggests he was executed. The police have said he was Filipino. Maybe he was poaching around that island and maybe the guy who attacked Nish – or the gang that guy belonged to – decided they wanted him out of there so they could have all the seadragons to themselves.”

  “I don’t know,” said Travis.

  “How much do you think that sack of seadragons he had weighed?”

  Travis had no idea. They’d immediately let go the ones that were still alive, and they’d thrown overboard the ones that were dead – except, of course, for the one that Sarah had so carefully saved and that was now dried out on a dresser in the room Sarah was sharing with Liz, Sam, and Jenny.

  “Wet or dry?” Travis asked. He’d noted there was quite a difference after being allowed to examine Sarah’s treasure.

  “Dried,” Data said.

  “I don’t know. A couple of pounds, at least. More than a kilo.”

  Data gave a very slight nod of satisfaction. “Seahorses at fifteen thousand dollars a kilogram,” he said slowly. “Think how much a kilogram of seadragons would be worth to a poor fisherman.”

  Travis tried.

  He could imagine the money. He could not, however, imagine it being worth taking a machete and lopping off a person’s head.

  Nothing could be worth that.

  18

  Sarah and Wiz went back to the aquarium to see if they could find out where, exactly, the Great White Shark had been caught up in the fishing nets.

  They came back an hour later. Their new friends had been helpful, but no one kept records like that. All the aquarium staff had was a phone number for the captain of the fishing boat that had brought the shark in. Sarah and Wiz had been able to reach him straight away, but he wasn’t exactly helpful. He figured it had been in the direction of the island they were thinking of, but he pointed out with a laugh, “Sharks swim around, you know. The Pacific Ocean is a bit bigger than a holding tank at the Sydney Aquarium.”

  “The direction is right,” said Data, who was convinced there was a connection. “Let’s say they executed him the same day the shark got caught. The head hadn’t been digested at all. We can presume the shark was at least in the vicinity of the island around that time. And we know that the seadragons are found there.”

  “Circumstantial evidence,” said Sam. “The police would laugh in your face.”

  “We need more,” Data said. “What about the video Wiz’s mother took?”

  “You can barely make it out,” said Sarah. “It was shot into the sun. You can’t make out anything on the boat. No name, nothing. You can barely see what shape it is. There’s no flag – so we have no idea where they came from.”

  “What about going back?” Data asked.

  “How?” Andy wondered.

  “What about Wiz?” Data said. “Maybe he could ask his father?”

  Somehow, Wiz had talked his father into doing it. With Sarah and Travis’s help, he laid out all the evidence that the Owls had gathered – no matter how questionable it was – and asked him simply to take them back out to the island the following morning with the video camera. If the seadragon fishermen weren’t there, then they�
��d have to admit they were beat.

  Mr. Roberts had understood. He wasn’t convinced there was any connection between the head and the seadragons, but he was convinced that his son would never forgive him if he didn’t at least try.

  They met at the Mosman Bay marina shortly after breakfast. They were a smaller group this time, just Mr. Roberts, Wiz, Sarah, Travis, and Nish. Travis had worked hard to convince Nish to come. He hoped Nish might apologize to Wiz so that they could make up, but it seemed that Nish agreed to come only because he had nothing else to do.

  Wiz had said nothing. He’d never mentioned the hit again. Travis envied him his endlessly sunny disposition.

  The seas were as calm as they had been the first day. Mr. Roberts ran at three-quarters throttle, the sleek boat clipping over the low waves in a steady machine-gun chop that cut down on the rolling and made Travis feel sleepy. He slouched down in the sun, spread on some sunscreen, and let himself doze off.

  He woke up only when he sensed the engines being cut. It took several moments for his eyes to adjust to the brightness. He blinked, and blinked again. The boat was settling, rolling and rocking as it slowed. Off in the distance he could make out the island.

  Mr. Roberts had the binoculars up to his eyes. He was scanning the seas on all sides. Travis was certain he had seen something when Mr. Roberts suddenly held the binoculars steady and adjusted the focus.

  He handed them to Wiz. “About two o’clock,” Mr. Roberts said.

  Wiz looped the strap around his own neck and stared off in the direction of the 2 on a clock face.

  “There’s something there all right,” he said after a while.

  They all took turns looking. When Travis got the binoculars, it took him several moments to settle on a glimmering white object that seemed to bob and wink in the swells. It was much too far, even with the powerful binoculars, for him to make out anything on the boat. He couldn’t even tell if there were any people on deck.

  “Can we get closer?” Wiz asked.

  “Not without them seeing us,” said Mr. Roberts.

  “But we need a photograph,” Sarah added.

  Mr. Roberts nodded. “You’d get nothing from here, even with the zoom,” he said. “We’ve got to get closer – but we have to do it without alerting them.”

  “How?” asked Wiz.

  Mr. Roberts smiled. “Simple. We run right at ’em full throttle. By the time they see us, we’ll have your shot. Okay?”

  Sarah shrieked. “Okay!”

  “Let’s do it!” shouted Wiz.

  “Get the camera ready,” Mr. Roberts said. “And hang on for your life!”

  The big boat shuddered, reared like a horse, and bolted straight into the coming waves. As it gathered speed it rose gradually until they were planing over the waves, heading straight for the unknown boat.

  Travis felt the deck shudder. He grabbed onto the handrail, the wind whipping his face as he stared straight ahead.

  Nish clung to the boat’s antenna, which was bolted to the port side of the cabin area. He held fast, his flesh jiggling as the boat clipped hard over the water. Travis could barely see Nish’s face. He could see enough, however, to know that Nish was not liking this. Not liking it at all.

  Up ahead, staring straight into the wind, Wiz and Sarah hung partly onto the railing, partly onto each other.

  Mr. Roberts pushed the engine to full throttle, the boat roaring loudly as it seemed to rise even higher, all but flying over the low swells.

  The strange boat was fast coming into view. It was difficult to tell – they would have to compare when they got home – but it looked like the one on Mrs. Roberts’ video.

  Sarah had the camera. She was trying to steady herself and focus ahead on the boat, which now seemed to be rushing towards them.

  Something moved on the deck!

  It was a man, and he was throwing scuba equipment into a hold. Another man emerged from the tiny cabin, stared towards them, then drew his head back in.

  The water began to churn at the stern of the boat, the engines firing in a cloud of blue smoke.

  “They’re running!” Wiz called from the bow.

  Travis took a quick glance at Nish. He was green, his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth in a painful grimace. He looked like he was about to be sick.

  The first man on the unknown boat now ran to a wooden box on deck, reached in, and pulled out something long and dark.

  “Get down!” Mr. Roberts yelled. “He’s got a gun!”

  Mr. Roberts turned the boat sharply, sending Travis spilling across the deck. He caught himself and looked quickly back to where Nish had been.

  He was still there, glued to the antenna, his eyes still shut! Travis suddenly realized how dangerously exposed his friend was.

  The man levelled the gun at the approaching boat.

  “NISH!”

  The voice belonged to Wiz.

  Wiz left Sarah, who was still taking pictures, and ran towards the antenna. He dove before he got to Nish, knocking him away from the antenna and down onto the deck, and landing hard on top!

  KRRRRACK!

  SSSSSMACK!

  The two sounds were almost simultaneous.

  The first came from the boat just ahead of them. The second came from Mr. Roberts’s antenna.

  Travis turned just in time to see the antenna crash down over the railing and break off into the sea. The shot had struck it exactly where Nish had been clinging.

  “Hang on!” Mr. Roberts yelled.

  KRRRRACK!

  Another shot, but not nearly so close.

  KRRRRACK!

  Again, but still farther away.

  Mr. Roberts had the boat turned right around now and was racing back hard in the direction they had come.

  Travis chanced a look over the railing. The other boat wasn’t following. They were free.

  He heard a groan and knew it was Nish.

  Had he been hit?

  But there was no blood. Wiz was carefully disentangling himself from Nish, who was twisting and moaning on the deck. Wiz grabbed Nish’s hand and pulled him to a sitting position.

  “What hit me?” Nish asked.

  “It’s what didn’t hit you that you should be thinking about,” Wiz said, laughing.

  Nish shook his head, still not understanding.

  He turned and looked back at the shattered antenna.

  Exactly where he would have been standing, if Wiz hadn’t taken him out.

  Nish looked over at Wiz, his mouth moving helplessly.

  Wiz smiled. “Hey,” he said. “I owed you one – remember?”

  Sarah hurried over, breathless. She was holding the camera as if she were afraid it might break, or vanish.

  “I got some great shots!” she said.

  Wiz laughed. “Thank God they didn’t or we’d be one Nish short right about now!”

  Nish shook his head and stared at Wiz.

  He still didn’t know what had just happened.

  19

  They returned to Mosman Bay with no trouble. The mystery boat had not given chase, and Mr. Roberts, fortunately, knew the sea and shoreline so well he was able to find his way back even though the antenna was useless.

  They’d turned over Data’s theories and Sarah’s photographs to the Coast Guard and told them about being fired on by the mysterious fishing boat. The Coast Guard promised they’d look into the matter immediately.

  There was nothing else for the Owls to do. There was no point in just waiting around to see what the Coast Guard could find out. It might take days.

  Besides, the Games were about to begin.

  As soon as they were off the ice, the Screech Owls became the underdogs.

  Whoever had set up the Mini-Olympics had done a wonderful job. There were roughly ten Australians for every Screech Owl, but everything was evened out by turning the first six places in each event into points, and multiplying by ten each time a Screech Owl placed in the top six.

  Fahd took silver
in archery. Sarah took a gold in the 200-metre, a silver in the long jump, and a bronze in both the high jump and the hurdles. Wilson took a silver in weightlifting. Derek and Jesse came fourth in tennis doubles. Andy took bronze in the javelin, and Simon took a bronze in wrestling. Travis came fourth in the 400-metre and fifth in the pole vault, an event he’d never even tried until this day.

  The best story, however, was in the pool, where Sarah and Wiz seemed to be stepping onto the podium every few minutes. Wiz was a wonderful swimmer, and took three golds in different events. Sarah took two golds and a silver. Liz took a silver and a gold in the butterfly – the only Owl who could do the difficult stroke – and Jesse came fifth in the backstroke.

  The final scheduled event of the day was diving. Players, parents, and competitors packed into the Olympic pool for the windup to what had already been a wonderful day. Two Aussies – a girl from Melbourne, and a teammate of Wiz’s on the Sydney Sharks – dominated the events and took the top medals. Sam, diving in the individual events, took a silver and a bronze, and Sarah took a fourth in the one-metre competition.

  Just before the synchronized diving event, the organizers called a time out.

  “Just thought you might all like to know the running tally,” a man wearing an Australian team tracksuit said over the public address system. “With the scores weighted to take into consideration our special visitors from Canada, we have the day’s standings at Australia 211, Canada 209.”

  A huge cheer went up from the mostly Australian crowd.

  “Can you believe it?” Sarah said, turning with her hands pressed to the side of her face. “We’re almost tied.”

  “Down to the final event,” Muck chuckled. “Sudden death overtime in the Olympics.”

  “But, but,” Sam sputtered, “we only entered synchronized diving as a joke!”

  “Well,” said Mr. Dillinger. “Looks like the joke’s on us, then. Which reminds me. Where is our other diver?”

  Everyone looked around for Nish.

  “He went back to the hotel around noon,” Andy said.

  Sarah looked stricken. “He wouldn’t bail on us?”