Kookaburra Gambit

Alf got up to shake Marty-O's hand. 'I was just saying to Chicka-when was it, Chicka, yesterday morning?- where the hell's Marty-O got to? Didn't you get our messages?'

'Messages?' said Marty-O. 'You left messages?'

A line from my Complete Handbook popped into my head: Liars often repeat questions; it's a stalling mechanism, while the person fabricates an answer.

'We did,' said Chicka. 'You were always in a meeting, or out of town.'

Marty-O's face suddenly transformed from bland to twisted rage. 'My fucking assistant's fucked up for the last time. I'll fire the bitch.'

Alf looked horrified. 'Holy cow, I don't want to get anyone fired.'

'Alf,' said Marty-O, abruptly becoming calm and very serious, 'when one of my clients, one of my major clients, has anything less than the absolute ultimate in unsurpassed service, someone has to pay. Pay dearly.' He shook his head ruefully. 'I mean, Alf, ask yourself, where would Marty-O be in this town if he didn't promptly return every call?'

One of the yes-men sniggered. A burning glare from Tami sobered him quick smart.

'My friends!' boomed Brother Owen in his deep, resonant voice. Apparently the attention had been off him for long enough. When he had everyone looking his way, he went on, 'I am here with a purpose.' He flicked a glance at Tami. 'Your meeting has concluded?'

'Yes. Yes, it has, Brother Owen.'

'Excellent.' He indicated Tami's yes-men and Quip. 'You may leave us.' Then his gaze stopped at me. 'Kylie, how delightful to see you again.'

I was impressed he'd remembered my name. 'Bonzer to see you too.'

'I've been wanting to speak with you about something. Something important.'

'You have?' I said, astonished. To him I was just Alf's Aussie girlfriend, so what could he want with me?

Quip, who'd gathered up his things and was following the yes-men out of the room, raised an eyebrow in my direction, and mouthed, 'Lucky girl.'

When the three men had left, closing the door behind them, Brother Owen said to the agent, 'Marty-O, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like a glass of mango juice with ice.' He gestured toward the refrigerated glass-fronted cabinet.

Marty-O stared at him. 'You want me to get you a drink?' He indicated Tami, and then me. 'Surely…' His expression made it clear he considered this was women's work.

Brother Owen appeared surprised to have any discussion on the matter. 'And while you're there, Marty-O, I'm sure others would like some refreshments too.'

Marty-O hesitated, then, face red and lips compressed, he went over to the mini kitchen. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to prevent myself from grinning. Brother Owen was quite an operator. In the clash of titanic egos, it was Brother Owen one, Marty-O nil.

I wandered over to get my own orange juice. Marty-O glanced my way but didn't speak. 'G'day,' I said. 'I'm Kylie.' He ignored me.

Brother Owen indicated we should take our seats around the table. 'Before we begin, I have an invitation for you all. This Saturday evening the Church of Possibilities will be holding our famed annual fund-raising gala for children stricken with cancer. This exclusive, star-studded event will be attended by the cream of Los Angeles society. As you might imagine, although very expensive, tickets are snapped up months before the gala, leaving many disappointed socialites and other, lesser people.'

'One of the events of the year,' said Tami.

'Not one of the events, Tami. The premier event of the Los Angeles charity social calendar.' He spread his arms wide. 'And I'm extending to each of you an invitation to be my guest at the central table of honor.'

'We'll be there,' said Alf.

Chicka nodded enthusiastically. 'Anything to help the sick kiddies.'

'Excellent.' Brother Owen turned to me. 'And you, my dear? I hope you're free?'

Thank heavens I had the perfect excuse to dip out. 'It's a blow, but I'm not free, I'm afraid. My aunt has just flown in from Australia.'

'Your aunt? Bring her along.' Brother Owen smiled expansively. 'I imagine she'll be thrilled to rub shoulders with the many celebrities attending the gala.'

'I'll ask Aunt Millie, but I can't promise anything.'

Brother Owen switched his attention to Alf. 'I'm counting on you to bring Kylie and her Aunt Millie to the gala.'

Dismay clouded Alf's features. I knew he'd do almost anything to avoid seeing Millie. 'I dunno…'

'Thank you, Alf. I knew I could rely on you. Everyone, Tami will be advising you later regarding tickets, parking, and security procedures at the gala. Now, before we continue further, let us pray for guidance.'

Clasping his hands on the table in front of him, he bowed his head and waited until the coughs and foot- shufflings had ceased.

'Guiding Spirit,' Brother Owen began, using that singsong addressing-the-heavens tone I'd noticed preachers often favored, 'in the darkness of the night you spoke to me, enlightened me. You revealed a revelation. 'Brother Owen,' you said, 'your vision of your role in the Church of Possibilities is too small, too limited, even though, according to the latest available figures, it is one of the most successful ministries in the world.''

During the pause that followed, I opened my eyes. I reckoned the Guiding Spirit would know everything as a matter of course, but I had to admit I was surprised it seemed necessary to put in a mini-ad for COP while in the middle of a revelation.

Sneaking a quick look at the others, I found everyone but me had their eyes shut, except for Marty-O. He was glaring at a point on the table top so fiercely I found myself checking to see if he'd melted a hole.

'Guiding Spirit!' We were off again. I shut my eyes. 'I am the leader of an immense and ever-growing flock, each person yearning to reach their God-given potential. Even as leader, it is humbling to find I, too, can be shaken with negative thoughts of uncertainty and indecision.'

Another pause. 'Yet at that murky moment-the dark night of my soul, if you will-your voice spoke to me, yet again. 'Brother Owen,' you said. 'Hark.' And I harked. Then came those inspiring, transcendental words: 'If Mel can do it, so can you, Brother Owen.''

'Who's Mel?' I heard Chicka whisper.

'Not now!' Alf hissed.

Brother Owen was building to a crescendo. 'Guiding Spirit! I accept this great task you have entrusted to me, and will bring it to full, glorious fruition. Amen!'

Sitting back with a satisfied sigh, he said, 'So? What do you think?'

No one spoke. Chicka looked mystified. Alf was bewildered. Marty-O examined his fingernails.

'Could we have more details of the great task?' I said.

'Of course you may. The moment I had this revelation, and realized the Oz Mob characters were involved, I contacted Marty O. Ziema to discuss the concept in depth. Tell them, Marty-O.'

Marty-O didn't look too happy. I reckoned he wasn't used to being treated like the hired help. He cleared his throat. 'Brother Owen believes his life story is-'

'Not believes. Knows.'

'Brother Owen knows his life story is the stuff of legend.' Marty-O's voice had an irritating mosquito whine to it. 'Religion is big at the box office. Religious books are at the top of best-seller lists. In these trying times, audiences are craving the spiritual, and to reach them effectively you need-'

'The multigenerational approach!' interrupted Brother Owen. 'That was my revelation-to simultaneously reach out to the whole spectrum of humanity. To run the gamut from the very young to the very old, and everyone in between.'

'Where's the Oz Mob come in?' asked Chicka, his face suspicious. 'You're not trying to dump us, are you?'

Brother Owen appeared deeply offended. 'Absolutely not. Let me explain my vision in its entirety, and your unreasonable fears will be laid to rest.'

Brother Owen held up on finger. 'First, the Brother Owen autobiography. My ghostwriter has almost finished