CHAPTER 2.

"Never mind him," said Ray, giving a bemused Turnbull an encouraging slap on the back. "C'mon, it's your turn again."

Turnbull was starting to realise that he would never understand Americans.

"Turnbull, you only got six last time," Meg spoke loudly as Turnbull selected a ball. "You're carrying the reputation of the RCMP on your shoulders; pick up your game."

Turnbull froze to the spot and the colour drained from his face. The reputation of the RCMP? Nothing in his life was more important to him than that. He felt as if he was going to faint.

"That was a bit mean, I thought he did great," sneered Francesca.

Meg was about to snap a terse reply to the civilian woman in the ridiculous pink bowling shoes, but Fraser stepped in – literally – putting himself between the two fiery women.

Fraser looked from Meg's face to Francesca's and immediately regretted his decision. "Er, um," he mumbled, using every ounce of his strength to stop himself running away. "Er, I understand, Sir, that Constable Turnbull's previous bowling experience lies with the traditional Canadian five pin variety. As does mine," he explained. "He is having a little trouble adjusting."

"Well you're not having any trouble," Meg pointed out.

"I'm sorry, Sir," said Turnbull, hanging his head in shame. "I will try harder to apply my knowledge and experience of five pin bowling to this game in a manner more becoming of an officer of the RCMP."

"Give the guy a break; it's his birthday!" said Welsh, feeling uncharacteristically sorry for the young Mountie.

Meg glanced at Turnbull; he looked like a puppy expecting another good kicking from an abusive owner. Was that really how she made him feel? "Yes…yes, of course," replied Meg. She felt her face flush when she saw the disapproving looks on the faces of everyone else in the group. Her competitive nature had got the better of her again and she'd unwittingly shown a rather ugly side of her personality. "Just do your best, Turnbull."

"Always, Sir," replied Turnbull with a tiny bow of his head and he took his turn, scoring a perfectly respectable eight.

Ray leaned over to Fraser. "What's five pin bowling?" he asked.

"It's very similar to ten pin bowling," explained Fraser, "except there are only five pins."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks, buddy," sneered Ray. "I, er, I kinda figured that much out already."

"Sorry, Ray," replied Fraser, "but I thought perhaps you wouldn't be interested in a more detailed explanation.

"Some details would be OK," replied Ray, warily, as Welsh stood up to take his turn.

Fraser's face lit up. "Ah, well, five pin bowling is a sport played exclusively in Canada," he began. "It was devised by Thomas F Ryan in 1909. The pins are approximately seventy five per cent of the size of those used in the ten pin variety and are arranged in a V formation. Each pin is worth either two, three or five points depending on its position, thus giving more scope for strategic play."

Ray's eyes had started to glaze over. "That's really, er, interesting, Fraser," he said unconvincingly.

"We play with hand sized balls," added Fraser.

"Oh, OK, now that is interesting," grinned Ray. "Next time we get sent to Canada for a boring conference I might give it a try."

"I'd be more than willing to introduce you to Canadian sport, Ray," replied Fraser.

"Well, it's gotta be more exciting than curling," retorted Ray.

Turnbull had been applauding Welsh for throwing another strike, but stopped when he heard Ray's disrespectful comment. He was about to protest, but he was distracted by Francesca.

"Frase, could you please help me with my technique?" she smiled, fluttering her eyelashes at him.

"I'd be delighted," replied Fraser, oblivious – as usual – to her blatant attempt at flirting.

Meg couldn't bear to watch as Francesca tricked Fraser into standing close behind her, reaching around her with one arm to help her with her aim and using his other hand to adjust the position of her hips in an effort to improve her score.

The Inspector went to order some more drinks from Candy and was soon joined by Lieutenant Welsh.

"Is it over yet?" she asked the Lieutenant.

"The whole evening, or are we talking about Miss Vecchio placing Fraser's hands all over her body?" replied Welsh with his eyebrows raised.

"Both," answered Meg.

"I think the Duck Boys had the right idea," noted Welsh. He started to wonder if the Captain's Cocktail Soiree might not have been a better bet after all.

Candy was pouring a Diet Coke for Meg, but she seemed very distracted. Her eyes were firmly fixed on the clock on the wall behind her.

"When the big hand is on the nine it's a quarter to," Meg pointed out with a hint of sarcasm, assuming the blonde was having difficulty telling the time.

"Yeah," replied Candy, still not paying any attention to what she was doing. "That's kinda what I thought." She started to bite her lip nervously, oblivious to the fact that the glass was now overflowing.

"Hey!" exclaimed Meg as the sticky liquid spilled all over the counter, but Candy didn't respond.

The group of teenagers let out another huge cheer as one of their group scored a strike and the noise finally snapped Candy out of her trance.

"Oh my god!" she squealed, realising the mess she'd made. "I am so sorry." She grabbed a cloth and started mopping up the spillage.

"Are you counting down to the end of your shift?" asked Welsh with a chuckle, remembering how he'd done the same thing himself every day when he worked in a diner to pay his way through the Academy.

"Er, yeah," smiled Candy. "I mean, no. What time is it?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "It's a quarter to ten," she replied, speaking deliberately slowly.

"Oh," Candy replied, biting her lip again and she continued pouring drinks.

Back at the lane, Ray had just taken his turn again. "Oh jeez, the machine's busted!" he exclaimed suddenly and he kicked the console. "Now we've lost all the scores!"

Turnbull looked up at the blank screen despondently.

"Of course now that your team has lost two members the only fair thing would be to start again with two teams of three," Fraser pointed out as he pressed buttons on the console in an attempt to bring it back to life.

"OK, we'll have you, Fraser," said Ray, quickly.

Fraser nodded, but Meg had heard the end of the conversation as she returned with the drinks.

"Constable Fraser is staying on our team," Meg stated. "You can have Francesca."

Francesca let out a whimper.

"It's nothing personal," added Meg.

Francesca folded her arms sulkily and reluctantly agreed.

"Come on, Miss Vecchio," said Welsh, with a grin, "we'll wipe the floor with these Canadians."

Turnbull went to report the faulty scoring machine and soon returned with Dominic.

"Sorry guys," said the young employee. "This happened last week. We're still waiting for the repair man. I'll see if I can get it working again, or you can move to another lane." He produced a screwdriver from his back pocket and began removing the cover. "Oh I see," he said and started poking at components.

"Do you have the schematics?" asked Fraser.

"Don't need them," shrugged Dominic. "This is pretty simple circuitry."

Ray shook his head. Freakazoid, he thought.

"It's no different to your ability with an engine," whispered Fraser. "I think your opinions are being unduly influenced by a stereotype."

Ray had to concede that his buddy had a point. Maybe I'm being too hard on the kid?

Meg sat down and sighed. "If Dr Spock here doesn't fix it in five minutes I'm leaving," she hissed to Welsh.

"That's Mr Spock, Sir," Fraser pointed out in a low voice.

Meg scowled at him.

"Dr Spock is a renowned expert in early stage childcare," explained Fraser. "I assume you were referring in this instance to the Star Trek character of Mr Spock. Don't worry, it's a common mistake."

Before Meg could reply, she was distracted by a commotion at the desk. Three men and a woman had appeared and one of the men was arguing loudly with Candy.

Fraser had noticed them too. Something was very wrong. Candy had been acting suspiciously all evening; this could be connected. "I'll go and ask if I can be of assistance," he said.

"No, I'll go," snapped Meg. She was not in the mood for watching Fraser playing the hero to another damsel in distress. She stood up, but didn't get very far before the sound of three gunshots rang out.

Candy screamed, closely followed by Francesca and then the teenage girls in the adjacent lane screamed too as everyone threw themselves to the ground.

"Get up!" yelled the man who had fired the gun. "I'm not gonna shoot anyone so stop screaming. I'm trying to think."

"There weren't supposed to be people here, Karl," said another of the new arrivals.

"I know that, Manny," snapped Karl. "But your airhead of a girlfriend can't tell the time."

"I can too," said Candy, indignantly, "but I got confused, that's all."

Karl sighed deeply and desperately tried to come up with a new plan. "Stewie, lock the doors," he snapped. "Amy-Jo, get me a beer. I need it."

Fraser glanced at Ray. "Do you have your boot gun?" he whispered to his buddy.

Ray pointed to the brightly coloured shoes on his feet. "I don't even have my boots, Fraser!" he hissed.

"Sir?" Fraser looked hopefully at Lieutenant Welsh, but the older man just shook his head. It hadn't occurred to the seasoned police officer to bring a weapon to Constable Turnbull's birthday party.

No one holds up a bowling alley, thought Meg. There's more to this. She looked at the four intruders who were arguing amongst themselves.

Fraser looked at the family with the two young boys in the lane next to them and tried to smile reassuringly.

"OK people, listen up!" shouted Karl, suddenly. "This is a robbery. Hand over your wallets."

Fraser and Ray exchanged a glance. This made no sense at all. A few minutes ago the robbers admitted they hadn't been expecting anyone to be in the building.

"Don't just stand there, Manny," Karl snapped to his accomplice. "Get everyone's wallets."

"What shall I put them in?" asked Manny.

"I don't know!" Karl exclaimed. "Think of something."

"I have an old box here," said Candy, nervously. "Will that do?"

"Yeah, thanks babe," smiled Manny and he went around collecting wallets. He got to Fraser and waited.

"I'm sorry, but I don't have a wallet," explained Fraser. "I keep my money in my hat."

"Oh. Er…well put your hat in the box then," shrugged Manny.

Fraser picked up his Stetson and tried to put it into the box, but it didn't fit.

Manny looked at Karl for advice.

"Take the money out of the hat!" yelled Karl. "Do I have to think of everything?"

"Right, boss," nodded Manny and he handed Fraser back his Stetson, minus the few dollars he had removed from inside.

"OK, now everyone just sit there and be quiet," said Karl.

"Excuse me," said Fraser. "Now that you have our money, why don't you just leave?"

"Because we like it here," replied Karl. "Now stop asking stupid questions."

"These are the dumbest perps I've ever seen," whispered Ray to the others. "We can take them down, guns or no guns. We're cops. Let's do it."

"And risk the lives of these civilians?" asked Inspector Thatcher.

Ray's face fell. He'd been looking forward to arresting Karl and his goons.

"Besides, I'm not sure that we're seeing the whole picture here, Ray," added Fraser.

"Fraser's right," said Welsh. "These morons aren't here to rob a bowling alley. Something else is going on, something big. We go in now and all we can bust 'em for is stealing a few wallets."

"Ooh, do you think they might be undercover terrorists, or international drug smugglers, or something?" asked Francesca.

Meg looked at her. "No," she replied. "They're idiots."

"But they're most likely working for someone else," noted Fraser. "We should wait and see what happens. Although I'm not at all comfortable about the number of innocent civilians involved here. Including you, Francesca."

Francesca smiled and grabbed his arm. "Don't worry about me," she whispered. "I know you'll protect me."

Meg rolled her eyes and Welsh sniggered.

"Excuse me," Fraser called out again, before anyone could stop him. "May I ask why you need so many hostages? As a gesture of goodwill you could let this family and this group of young people go free."

"Will you shut up!" yelled Karl. "I'm in charge here. I decide what we're going to do."

"We could let the kids go. I didn't get into this to hurt kids, or women," said Stewie. "If we just keep the mouthy guy in the hat and his buddies, that's enough, isn't it?"

"Whose side are you on?" snapped Karl.

Stewie sighed. He was starting to regret getting involved in Karl's scheme. This was supposed to be easy money. If only Candy had told them the right time they wouldn't be in this mess.

Manny was regretting it too, now. He was happy with the original plan, but it was all different. He had to do something to take his mind off how nervous he was getting. "Can I play?" he asked Candy. "Fire up lane five for me, babe."

Karl couldn't think of a good reason why Manny shouldn't bowl for a while. They still had an hour to wait, he realised, so at least it might stop him doing something stupid.

Manny tucked his gun into his waistband with a grin and went to select a ball.

"You should wear bowling shoes," Dominic called out.

Ray winced. Manny seemed slightly crazy and a crazy guy with a gun was dangerous guy. The last thing they wanted to do was wind him up. He and Fraser instinctively moved protectively towards Dominic.

They needn't have worried, though.

"Oh yeah," nodded Manny. "Size ten."

"Second shelf down, third from the left," called out Dominic.

"Thanks, man," grinned Manny and went to get his shoes.

Ray couldn't believe it. Who was this idiot? Karl had done this sort of thing before – that much was obvious – but Manny didn't seem to be aware of the seriousness of what they were doing. Or maybe he was just crazy? Right now, who knew?

Manny persuaded three of the teenagers to bowl with him and for a while they forgot the dangerous situation they were in. Fraser hadn't forgotten, though and he tried to think of the best way to get the civilians to safety.

"How do long do we have to sit around waiting?" Ray whispered impatiently to Welsh.

"As long as we have to, Detective," replied Welsh.

Fraser glanced across at the Santini family in the lane next to them. Ritchie and his brother were sitting in between their parents eating chocolate. Julie was rubbing her back again when suddenly she screwed up her face in apparent pain.

"Contraction?" asked Fraser with concern, keeping his voice low.

Julie shrugged. "Maybe," she replied. "I know I've done this all before – twice – but it's been a while," she added, nodding at her sons. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her rising panic at bay. "What am I going to do?"

"Please try not to worry," replied Fraser reassuringly. He glanced over at Manny who was still engaged in his game of bowling and then at Karl who was deep in conversation with his other two cronies. Then he turned back to Julie and spoke in an even quieter voice. "My friends and I are police officers."

Julie gasped.

Fraser put his finger to his lips. "Sshh, it's imperative that you keep that knowledge to yourself for now," he said.

Julie nodded.

"It appears that you are indeed in the early stages of labour," continued Fraser. "If you feel things are progressing more rapidly than you'd expect then please alert me. I do have experience of delivering babies, if it should come to that."

"I'm not having this baby in a bowling alley!" exclaimed Julie, louder than she had meant to.

Fraser's head snapped round, but fortunately Karl and the others hadn't noticed. "I share your sentiments," replied Fraser, with a concerned nod. "Please just try to breathe and stay calm. We'll have you out of here as soon as we can."

Julie tried to smile, but inside she was terrified.

"What's going on, buddy?" asked Ray.

"Mrs Santini has gone into labour," replied Fraser.

"What?" exclaimed Ray. "That's it, I'm done waiting, let's bust these guys."

He tried to stand up, but Fraser and Welsh grabbed a shoulder each and pulled him down.

"No," snapped Welsh. "For once in your life will you please follow my orders!"

Ray was about to protest, but he was interrupted by a piercing scream from Manny.