anything he could sue you
for - we don’t want him getting his hands on any more of the family
finances, do we?’
‘OK Pete, I’ll
be careful. Better go, this call will be costing us heaps. I’ll
give you a shout and let you know how it goes. See ya!’
She hung up the
phone feeling much happier. Pete was good to bounce ideas off, and
although he might be a bit over-cautious, at least she knew he was
on her side.
Now it was time
for some real skirmishing. Guerrilla tactics were what she needed,
make some lightning raids here and there then head for the hills.
That would keep her target off-balance, and would effectively stop
his enjoyment of his stolen lifestyle.
She rummaged in
her pack for a few key items, regretfully setting aside the lamb
docker for the moment, and made a list of other things she’d need
to obtain. Then she set forth to equip herself with weapons and
ammunition ready to do battle with the enemy.
Her first
purchase was a pair of small plastic water pistols, followed by a
little tin of white enamel paint and another of black. From the
same toy-shop, she picked up a light peashooter which would fit
discreetly in her hand. At a supermarket she bought bleach, a few
items of food, some scissors, and a temporary hair dye. From a
cheap souvenir stall she got a Blue Jays cap and a Maple Leaf
T-shirt, figuring that they would help her to blend in to the local
scene without being too noticeable. Then she went back to the hotel
to assemble her purchases into weapons of - perhaps not mass
destruction, but at least severe harassment.
One water
pistol was loaded with the white paint and a dash of black, while
the other was carefully filled with bleach. She put a plastic cap
on the end of the peashooter and found a bag it would fit into. She
put on the T-shirt and cap, then emptied most of the camera gear
from her camera bag and loaded it up with the equipment she’d
bought.
She looked in
the fly-speckled mirror and smiled grimly. Time to kick some ass!
When Mr. Symons came back from his boat trip, she’d be waiting for
him, tucked away out of sight so she could follow him home and find
out where he lived. But somehow she didn’t think he’d reach home in
quite the same immaculate condition as he’d set out.
The heat of the
day was subsiding as Robyn walked back to the marina, though the
air was still warm. Towards the lakefront people were sitting at
tables outside restaurants, enjoying the summer evening. Snatches
of music mingled with laughter and clinks of glasses, drowned out
by the roar of traffic as Robyn walked under the expressway
overpass. A soft orange light played across the lake and a cool
breeze felt good against her skin. She reached the marina gates,
and started down the dock towards berth 217.
Before she’d
gone more than a few steps, she saw Colwyn Symons coming the other
way, accompanied by an older couple. The woman was laughing and
patting him on the arm, while the man smiled and feigned a punch to
his jaw. Robyn turned around quickly and hurried across to the next
dock, where she positioned herself out of view behind a boat and
waited with pounding heart for the group to pass by. At last, after
many cheerful quips, they shook hands and parted company.
Robyn slipped
away from her hiding place and followed Colwyn Symons at a safe
distance until he was on a busier street downtown. Then she edged
nearer, and pulled the paint-loaded water pistol from her bag. As a
flock of seagulls flew overhead, she took aim and landed a splash
of paint on his right shoulder, then ducked back into the crowd.
She watched with glee as he looked skyward, then pulled out a crisp
white handkerchief and dabbed ineffectually at the stain.
‘Love is
Armani-splendored thing…’ she trilled, savouring the moment. Score
one for a hefty dry-cleaning bill. She twisted the cap on her head
until it faced backwards to change her appearance in case she’d
been noticed. It was time to look for some other
for - we don’t want him getting his hands on any more of the family
finances, do we?’
‘OK Pete, I’ll
be careful. Better go, this call will be costing us heaps. I’ll
give you a shout and let you know how it goes. See ya!’
She hung up the
phone feeling much happier. Pete was good to bounce ideas off, and
although he might be a bit over-cautious, at least she knew he was
on her side.
Now it was time
for some real skirmishing. Guerrilla tactics were what she needed,
make some lightning raids here and there then head for the hills.
That would keep her target off-balance, and would effectively stop
his enjoyment of his stolen lifestyle.
She rummaged in
her pack for a few key items, regretfully setting aside the lamb
docker for the moment, and made a list of other things she’d need
to obtain. Then she set forth to equip herself with weapons and
ammunition ready to do battle with the enemy.
Her first
purchase was a pair of small plastic water pistols, followed by a
little tin of white enamel paint and another of black. From the
same toy-shop, she picked up a light peashooter which would fit
discreetly in her hand. At a supermarket she bought bleach, a few
items of food, some scissors, and a temporary hair dye. From a
cheap souvenir stall she got a Blue Jays cap and a Maple Leaf
T-shirt, figuring that they would help her to blend in to the local
scene without being too noticeable. Then she went back to the hotel
to assemble her purchases into weapons of - perhaps not mass
destruction, but at least severe harassment.
One water
pistol was loaded with the white paint and a dash of black, while
the other was carefully filled with bleach. She put a plastic cap
on the end of the peashooter and found a bag it would fit into. She
put on the T-shirt and cap, then emptied most of the camera gear
from her camera bag and loaded it up with the equipment she’d
bought.
She looked in
the fly-speckled mirror and smiled grimly. Time to kick some ass!
When Mr. Symons came back from his boat trip, she’d be waiting for
him, tucked away out of sight so she could follow him home and find
out where he lived. But somehow she didn’t think he’d reach home in
quite the same immaculate condition as he’d set out.
The heat of the
day was subsiding as Robyn walked back to the marina, though the
air was still warm. Towards the lakefront people were sitting at
tables outside restaurants, enjoying the summer evening. Snatches
of music mingled with laughter and clinks of glasses, drowned out
by the roar of traffic as Robyn walked under the expressway
overpass. A soft orange light played across the lake and a cool
breeze felt good against her skin. She reached the marina gates,
and started down the dock towards berth 217.
Before she’d
gone more than a few steps, she saw Colwyn Symons coming the other
way, accompanied by an older couple. The woman was laughing and
patting him on the arm, while the man smiled and feigned a punch to
his jaw. Robyn turned around quickly and hurried across to the next
dock, where she positioned herself out of view behind a boat and
waited with pounding heart for the group to pass by. At last, after
many cheerful quips, they shook hands and parted company.
Robyn slipped
away from her hiding place and followed Colwyn Symons at a safe
distance until he was on a busier street downtown. Then she edged
nearer, and pulled the paint-loaded water pistol from her bag. As a
flock of seagulls flew overhead, she took aim and landed a splash
of paint on his right shoulder, then ducked back into the crowd.
She watched with glee as he looked skyward, then pulled out a crisp
white handkerchief and dabbed ineffectually at the stain.
‘Love is
Armani-splendored thing…’ she trilled, savouring the moment. Score
one for a hefty dry-cleaning bill. She twisted the cap on her head
until it faced backwards to change her appearance in case she’d
been noticed. It was time to look for some other
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