Kookaburra Gambit

Laundry Refulgent Girl.'

'But no dialogue.'

'Will you shut up about the dialogue! It's not an easy role. I'm in this Laundromat, you see, and I have to wink at this good-looking guy, then toss back my head with a laugh'-she paused to give a pale shadow of the tinkling laugh she'd been perfecting for weeks-'and then I smile a Refulgent smile.'

'But no actual dialogue?' said Lonnie.

I had to physically restrain Melodie, or I suspect there would have been blood on the floor.

Denting the pink convertible Cadillac had depressed Alf mightily. He drove the car with only a trace of his former verve. 'I'll be returning this damaged beauty to the rental place,' he said. 'For LA. I need something tougher. Maybe a Hummer. What do you think, Chicka?'

Chicka wasn't for the Hummer. 'How about a truck with a decent bullbar? That'd give you a fighting chance in the traffic around here.'

Trucks seemed to be a favorite subject in the Hartnidge family. For the next twenty minutes I heard just about every possible comment one could make about a truck and its equipment. I let my mind drift, contemplating an interesting thought that had occurred to me. Although the Hartnidge twins were virtually indistinguishable, and dressed pretty close to identically, I'd always known who was Alf and who was Chicka. I'd never mixed them up.

'Who was born first?' I asked.

They broke off their truck talk to look at me. 'I'm the eldest,' said Alf. 'Can't you tell? Chicka here's my baby brother.'

'Only by ten minutes,' he said.

'Being the firstborn changes you,' Alf declared.

Chicka muttered something that sounded like, 'And not for the better,' but fortunately at that point our destination came into view.

The arch over the driveway into Lamb White's studios had the words lamb white: movies of integrity in scintillating blue letters on a silver background. The guards at the gate had the same words on their uniform jackets.

Each of us had to produce proof of identity. Our names were then checked off a list, and we were given visitor badges to wear. Our vehicle was searched. One guard shook his head over the state of the Cadillac's grille.

'A bloody Hummer, mate,' said Alf in explanation. 'A bloody Hummer.'

'Backed into you, did it?'

'No, mate,' said Alf. 'The Hummer cut me off. Believe me, I've got reflexes like a tiger, but I still couldn't stop in time. Whacked right into the big bastard.'

There was much head-shaking all round, then finally we were waved through.

The exclamation queen, Rachelle, was sitting at the reception desk, her curly black hair pulled back in a ponytail, and her notable cleavage hidden by a demure blue outfit that proclaimed lamb white: we care so much across her left breast.

Rachelle flashed a professional smile our way, then did a double take, obviously recalling us from the barbecue. 'Don't tell me! I know you! The twins! And you!'

'Kylie.'

'And you, Kylie!'

A mousy woman in the same blue outfit, but bearing the words lamb white: purity in film, escorted us to a lift and took us up the executive suites. The script meeting was to be held in a conference room, and Tami Eckholdt was waiting outside. Her short copper hair seemed to have an even more metallic sheen than previously, and her tight green dress displayed her impressively fit body to advantage.

She gave a perfunctory greeting to Alf and Chicka but turned her full charm on me. 'Kylie, so truly wonderful you could spare the time.' She seized my hand in a tight grasp.

'Pleased to be here, Tami.'

I reclaimed my fingers with difficulty. Tami gave me the once-over, and said, 'You're looking very fit, Kylie. Do you work out?'

'Not so you'd notice.'

'I do, myself. Regularly, every day. Lamb White has an executive gym. A healthy mind in a healthy body, you know.'

'Interesting,' I said.

'It is. Perhaps you'd like to come by someday?'

'Maybe someday,' I said vaguely.

'Unarmed combat,' said Tami.

I stared at her. 'I beg your pardon?'

'Unarmed combat. It's a wonderful way to sharpen reflexes, improve balance, and energize one's self- image.'

'I'll take your word for it.'

Tami laughed as if I'd said something funny. 'Oh, you Aussies!' she said. 'I just love you to pieces!'

'I suppose we'd better join the others,' I said, making moves in the direction of the conference room.

'Later, then, Kylie. Let's talk.'

The conference room was over-the-top luxurious. The pale carpet was practically ankle deep; the walls were hung with what had to be original paintings; and the large, round conference table and accompanying chairs were sleekly expensive. Each leather place mat had a bound copy of the Oz Mob script precisely centered. Everyone was provided with a crystal water flask and a crystal glass. One side of the room contained a miniature kitchen setup with an espresso machine and a glass-fronted refrigerator containing a wide selection of fruit juices and other bottled drinks.

My skin prickled with alarm. I'd caught sight of a bloke already sitting at the conference table. Quip. He could blow my cover in ten seconds flat.

While Tami was barking commands at some underling-I noted she had a much harsher tone when speaking to staff-I sidled up to Quip. 'You don't know me,' I hissed out of the corner of my mouth. 'We've never met.'

Quip grinned at me. 'Why, hello,' he said loudly. 'I don't believe we've met.' He got to his feet to shake my hand. 'I'm Quip. Quip Trent.'

'Kylie.'

He grinned. 'Lovely name. Australian, is it?'

'Shall we begin?' Tami asked. It wasn't a question.

There were seven of us-Alf, Chicka, Quip, Tami Eckholdt, and two young men, who stood back waiting, watching Tami like well-trained servants ready to leap to her command. One was dark and one was fair, but otherwise they seemed interchangeable.

'Tami's yes-men,' whispered Alf with the closest thing to a sneer I'd ever seen on his face.

'Please note,' said Tami, smiling at me, 'the egalitarian round-table arrangement. This reflects Lamb White's charter: 'All for one and one for all.''

'I think that's the motto of the Three Musketeers,' I said.

Tami frowned. 'I don't believe so. If these musketeers are using Lamb White's slogan, there'll be legal action, I'm afraid. We're very zealous in protecting our intellectual property.'

Alf suddenly seemed to remember I was supposed to be his girlfriend, putting an arm around my waist and squeezing me till I yelped. 'Sorry, love. Come and sit down by me.'

'There's a chair here, Kylie,' said Tami, 'beside me.'

Crikey, I was getting popular. They'd be fighting over me next. I ended up with Alf to my right and Tami to my left. Chicka sat on Tami's other side, and next to him was one of the nameless yes-men. The circle was completed by the other yes-man next to Alf, and Quip beside him.

Tami looked around the table with a complacent air. I had the sense she particularly liked meetings where she was in charge. 'For those of you who don't know him, let me introduce Quip Trent, an experienced script doctor,' Tami said. Quip nodded modestly.

Experienced? I happened to know Quip had written several screenplays but had never had one picked up.

Chicka, perturbed, cracked his knuckles. Alf glared at him. Tami looked pained.