Author's note: Thanks for your encouraging comments. I am glad you are enjoying the interplay between our friends and the case. I am having a little bit of fun with this story…he he.

Friday morning started more leisurely for Tommy and Barbara. After being up until four o'clock Skyping with Winston they had emailed Davo a quick report and informed him they would come to the office after lunch. Tommy woke around ten and allowed Barbara to snooze while he brewed fresh coffee. He sat on the edge of the desk looking out at the ferries darting around the harbour and the little ant-like people scurrying around the shore. Barbara came shuffling into the living room dressed only in his tee-shirt. Her hair stuck up at odd angles and she reminded him of a sleepy child. He half-expected to see her dragging a stuffed toy behind her.

"Sorry, I tried not to wake you," he smiled apologetically.

"You didn't. It's time we got up I guess. So much for a romantic evening," she said stretching in a way that raised the shirt over her naked hips.

Tommy stopped sipping his coffee and watched. She was oblivious to the affect she was having on him and that only added to his pleasure. "It was romantic," he retorted as he beckoned her closer. He began to nuzzle into her neck. "What could be more romantic than falling asleep in your arms?"

"Mmm, shagging each other senseless did spring to mind."

Tommy began to laugh. "You do have such a way with words my love; such a wicked tongue."

"Oh you haven't seen how wicked that can be yet." Barbara grinned when she saw his eyes widen. She enjoyed shocking him once in a while. It would keep him on his toes.

Tommy put his coffee cup on the window ledge then picked up his laptop from the desk and threw it onto the couch. He swept everything else onto the floor. In one quick movement Barbara found herself lifted onto the desk, her tee-shirt being pushed over her arms as Tommy was wiggling out of his shorts and retrieving his little foil pack from the pocket. "Tommy!... behave…oh my…you wouldn't dare!...oh Tom…"

If Barbara thought Tommy was used to such behaviour she was mistaken. Despite his reputation he had always been an attentive, considerate but somewhat conservative lover. Barbara brought out some traits in him that he found vaguely ungentlemanly and embarrassing but extremely satisfying. "I'm sorry about that," he said later as they lay panting on the desk.

"Why? I'm not," she said before she kissed him reassuringly.

"Well that could hardly be called romantic."

"I don't know. There's something very romantic about being desired like that and it certainly fits into the 'shagging each other senseless' box."

"You did seem to enjoy yourself,' he said gently as he kissed her neck, "you got quite vocal there at one stage. I expected security to come through the door and arrest me!"

"Your fault," she protested, "seems I'm not the only one with a wicked tongue."

"You bring out the beast in me," he growled playfully as he traced kisses down her chest.

He was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. "Lynley!" he snapped impatiently. He listened and made a few acknowledging grunts. "We'll be there in an hour."

"They think they've tracked down Roo's friend. They want us to go in."

Whitey had followed up on Winston's leads. Roo's online alias was RooBoy and his account had been largely filled with chat about school, robotics, soccer and chess. Most of RooBoy's friends had been based in England but one attracted their attention, 'KoolCat' whose IP address indicated they lived in Sydney. The conversations were different too, much more personal and yet still not giving anything away. "There are allusions to things not mentioned on the chat site," Whitey said, "I think they had some other form of secret communication too but there is no trace of it on his PC."

"Maybe they did it the old fashioned way and picked up the phone," Barbara suggested slightly acerbically.

Whitey looked up at her. "I never thought of that. I'll check. Anyway we chased KoolCat's IP address. It's registered to an address in Sydney."

"Do we have any idea who owns the account?" Barbara asked, "is there any way to see who is behind the alias?"

"Now that's where it gets interestin'. It links back to a simple online email anyone can open but I thought about tracin' other places KoolCat interacts and guess what?"

"I'm a little too tired for guessing," Tommy said flatly.

"Right, sorry. Geelong Cats – their fan page has a lot of posts from KoolCat ."

"That might explain the tickets for tonight. Do you have anything else?"

"Roo contacted KoolCat after he was kidnapped and when he was in Australia. He didn't do that with anyone else. Then the conversations ceased the day you arrived. I think they might have met up physically."

"Possibly, do we have any way to find a street address or a phone number linked to the IP address or KoolCat?"

"Yes," Cam said from the doorway where he was leaning looking pleased with himself. "I think we have an address in Bondi but it's an internet cafe."

"Great," Barbara groaned, "so it could be anyone."

"Except there's a pattern. He only ever posts before school or after school so we think it's a kid."

Tommy ran his hand through his hair. "Hmm, with the game tonight he might post something this afternoon. What time do schools finish?"

"Depends but generally about three-thirty."

"How long to get there?" Tommy asked looking at his watch.

"Thirty minutes at this time of the day. We'd have time."

The internet cafe was nothing more than a bank of computers in an old shop. There was no attendant and each PC had a cash or card machine built in to allow its clientele, mainly tourists, to purchase blocks of time. The foursome arrived just on three and waited patiently. A group of girls came in first followed ten minutes later by a smaller group of schoolboys. They were all high school age and older than the age bracket they expected but they scrutinised each of the boys carefully. No one stood out. Whitey scanned his iPad watching for any posts on the Geelong website but none came.

After an hour they headed back to the city. No one spoke. They had all believed this was a major lead. Finally Tommy spoke, "cheer up we will just have to see what Roo has planned for us tonight."

The Sydney Cricket Ground was a ground Tommy had seen on television many times as he watched generations of hapless English cricket teams lose The Ashes to the rampaging Australian teams. Tonight, under lights, the atmosphere was different. It buzzed with excitement as they tried to find firstly the stand they were in and then the section and row.

"I should have looked at a seating plan online," Tommy said to Barbara.

"Too clinical," she replied, "this is more fun."

He was unconvinced that any of this was fun. Hordes of fans in red and white surged past them clearly heading for their season seats. Red dominated his vision. There were family groups all dressed in team shirts struggling to keep together mixing with couples in beanies and scarves holding hands. Groups of young friends wearing the traditional sleeveless team guernsey rushed along the tunnel between stands chanting 'Go the Swannies!'. Grey-haired fans in thick red jackets walked more sedately, discussing whether Buddy would boot six again tonight. As they passed each stairway that led up into the concourse of the stand noise and energy pulsated at them.

Tommy took a firm grip on Barbara's hand. At one point most of the red army peeled off and climbed the stairs into the cauldron and they were left to follow a scraggly line of blue. At the base of the stand a stall sold souvenirs. "We should dress the part," Barbara said pulling him towards the stall.

"Why?"

"Because the tickets made it very clear who we were to support."

Begrudgingly Tommy paid for a navy baseball cap embroidered with a cheeky white pussycat for Barbara and settled on a navy and white woollen scarf for his neck with the logo discreetly woven into the ends before the tassels. "Happy?" he asked gruffly.

"Very, you look very dignified," she replied.

"Sorry but with that thing on your head I can't say the same."

"I thought I might wear it to bed tonight if we win," she said cheekily.

Tommy turned to look at her and raised his eyebrows but he could not suppress a grin that slowly spread across his face. Barbara grabbed his scarf and pulled him down to her and gave him a kiss. "Now everyone's seen you kiss me even though I have this on my head," she said triumphantly.

"I'll make sacrifices to solve the case."

They found their seats in amongst a small but vocal Geelong crowd who had started a slow chant, 'Gee-long...Gee-long'. The seats were, Tommy imagined, very good. The ground, unlike any other football code he knew was oval. At each end four goalposts rose high into the air, the outer two being shorter than the pair in the middle. A box was marked on the ground creating a square in front of the centre posts. Unlike rugby or gridiron codes there was no cross bar between the posts and no yard line marking out the metres of the field. Instead two large arcs with the big 50s on them marked out the fifty metre distance from the centre of the goalposts. A large square sat between the arcs and in turn it had a circle inside it, bifurcated by a line. Their seats were almost in line with fifty metre arc, on the middle tier high enough to see the action across the whole ground.

"Do you want a beer?" he asked.

"Should we? We're on duty."

"We'd blend in more," he replied.

"One," she said, "for the novelty. You couldn't do this in England."

Tommy headed back downstairs to find the bar. He had seen the sign shortly before they found their seats. "Record! Get ya Record heer-ya! Footy Record!"

Tommy saw a boy standing on a box selling a programme. He decided to buy one to help them understand the game. When he returned to Barbara he gave her the Record. "Here, see if you can work out what happens."

Barbara enjoyed the tribal atmosphere. While Tommy had been gone both teams had come onto the ground for a warm up. They were much bigger bodied than she imagined. There were different builds but each one had beautifully defined legs and biceps a weightlifter would be proud to show off. In their sleeveless, tight-fitting guernseys the definition of their pecs and abs was magnificent.

"Are you listening to me?" Tommy asked.

"Hmm, oh no sorry I was watching our boys. Number twenty-six is huge but he's like an Adonis. Look at those legs, they're like tree trunks, and oh look there he is on the big-screen, look at those baby blue eyes and that blonde hair. It flops just like yours."

Tommy felt a surge of jealousy. His physique was no match for any of the players. "Barbara! Please."

She poked him in the ribs. "Don't worry I wouldn't trade you for any of them besides it doesn't matter where you get your appetite as long as you eat at home."

Tommy pressed the soft plastic cup too hard as he took a sip and spluttered his beer over his trousers. "What have I fallen in love with?"

"Someone who adores you but still likes to knock his lordship off his poncy perch every once in a while." She leant over and kissed him.

"Getta room!" someone yelled out from behind then amongst whistling and whoops.

Tommy felt the colour surge up his neck. "The natives are restless," he remarked scanning the stand for any sign of Roo. Barbara started to laugh. "What's funny now?"

She showed him the team photos and he saw the name of her beefy Cat - Tommy! They looked at each other and grinned. "Well just make sure you come home with the right one please."

"Number three, Jimmy, he looks good too. This one's nice but he's got too many tattoos. This one is adorable but he's too young. Yes, says he's only eighteen. Okay, okay, I'll behave...What about number twenty-two?"

The stand slowly started to fill. The teams disappeared from the ground and the cheer squads lifted huge poles and unfurled delicate paper banners. The Geelong one read 'Support the Greatest Team of All' on one side and a big 'Congratulations on 300 Boris!' On the other. The rival banner had more mundane messages, 'Join the Swans' and 'Sing, Sing the red and the white; honour the name by day and by night'.

A huge roar went around the ground as the Swans returned to the ground and ran through their banner to the strains of their theme song. Barbara stood and cheered loudly as the Cats took the field. Boris had the honour of going through the banner alone followed by his team. All around them off-key voices screamed out their song, 'We are Geelong, the greatest team of all. We are Geelong, we're always on the ball; we play the game as it should be played, At home or far awaaaaaaay!...'. Tommy thought Bizet would spin in his grave to hear his Toreador's song mangled so.

Five men in lime green shirts and tight grey shorts marshalled the teams towards the centre. A coin was tossed by a fan and the Swans captain, a cheeky looking blonde, pointed towards the end of the ground they were sitting. One of the umpires raised the yellow ball, which looked very much like a rugby ball, aloft between his hands. The crowd hushed in anticipation. A siren sounded and the umpire slammed the ball into the ground with such force that it bounced high in the air. The crowd erupted into a cheer as two tall men, one from each side, took running leaps to grab the ball as it fell back to Earth. The tall Cat tapped it with his extended right hand past a Swan and onto the chest of his teammate, a speedy little blonde who zigzagged between two descending Swans and charged towards the goal. After twenty metres he bounced the ball, ran a few more yards then sensing an impending tackle used his fist to punch the ball to another Cat ten metres to his right. That man ran then kicked the ball long towards the big, blonde Tommy who charged from the goal-square to mark the ball on his chest. The Swans crowd groaned but the Cats fans cheered. Big Tommy took out his mouthguard and stuffed it into his sock then went back and lined up the goals. He walked in, began to trot then at running pace kicked the ball high. It sailed through the centre posts and into the crowds behind. The Cats fans cheered and stomped their feet and the players returned to the centre for another bounce.

Barbara watched the score go up on the big screen surprised that six points were awarded for the goal -1-0-6. "Why six points?" she asked her Tommy who was studying the Record.

"Six points for a goal and if it goes between the two outside posts it's called a behind and is only one point."

"A behind?"

"Yeah, doesn't say why they call it that."

They watched the game ebb and flow. It was fast and brutal. The men ran hard and tackled ferociously. Bodies thumped into each other bringing running men to a teeth-chattering halt. They squabbled in packs on the ground fighting over the ball and kicked it long or short to maintain possession. For the first ten minutes the Cats dominated kicking four goals, one an exciting snap from the boundary line that swung in a huge J-curve through the goals. The kicker raised his hands in the air in celebration and was mobbed by his team. Then the tempo changed. The Swans had more possession of the ball and after fighting their way up the field managed to score one goal and two behinds. By quarter time the Cats lead by three goals, 4-2-26 to 1-2-8.

Tommy went to get them another beer while Barbara sat watching the teams in their huddles, sipping on drinks and being barked at by coaches pointing furiously at large whiteboards held up by assistants. "Been a fan long?" a teenaged girl beside Barbara asked just as Tommy returned with their beers.

"Us? No…we were given tickets by someone we know. It is an exciting game though. It seems to have almost no rules."

"We'll you chose the right team to support. There's heaps of rules but you don't really need to know 'em to like the game. Just pick a side and cheer."

"Do you live in Sydney or are you up from Geelong?" Tommy asked trying to be friendly.

"Nah, live 'ere. Dad was a Cats fan when he was alive so I followed the tradition. Did you know Geelong is the second oldest club formed in 1859, the same year as Melbourne footy club."

"Wow, that's a long history," Barbara said, "what's the oldest soccer club in England?"

"Sheffield I think," he replied thoughtfully, "about 1857 if memory serves me correctly."

"Do you have any connection to the team?" the girl asked.

"No, not really," Barbara replied cheerily, "although this one has the same first name as your big full forward."

"And our centre back number thirteen then too," the girl answered. "Tommy is a good name."

The siren blew and the teams took their places. Another bounce started the quarter. It was tight and physical. A couple of heads clashed together hard and both men had to be substituted off under the blood rule returning with bandages swathing their heads as soon as they could be patched. A ball was kicked high and long and one of the Cats leapt high in the air and tumbled to the ground with the ball to the cheers of the Geelong fans and the appreciative applause of the Swans. "How do they leap that high?" Barbara asked, "his knees were above that Swan's shoulders and the guy looks about seven foot tall!"

"They're certainly athletic," Tommy replied glumly. He was uncertain about whether he liked Barbara openly admiring other men. As if she sensed his distress she put her hand on his knee and softly stroked the inside of his thigh. He looked up and smiled at her but her eyes were firmly directed at the other Tommy and his team of blue and white hooped athletes.

At half time Barbara left Tommy in the seats while she went to the restroom and to buy them some food. There were choices but she had asked Cam what was traditional footy fare so bought them a meat pie with tomato sauce and another beer each. She balanced the grey, moulded paper tray carefully as she climbed back up to their seats. There had been no sign of Roo or any form of contact. She and Tommy had both looked and had left each other alone to promote opportunities. He shook his head when she returned.

"One dog's eye and dead horse," she said as she handed him his paper bag.

Tommy screwed up his face as if he were in pain. "Pardon?"

"One meat pie and tomato sauce," she said laughing at his expression as he tentatively opened the bag.

The third quarter was quick and the Cats got away to a healthy lead but in the fourth Sydney made a run and started to pare back the gap. The ball moved quickly up and down the ground leaving the English couple a little bewildered and uncertain who would win. After three lightening quick goals from the Swans the crowd was on their feet roaring. With two minutes to go they were only nine points behind the Cats with plenty of time to win. The ball was stuck in one area of the ground at the Sydney end and the girl next to Barbara was getting nervous. She fidgeted and stood and sat trying to get a better view. The yellow pill was forced out of bounds again and for the third time in a minute the umpire stood facing the crowd the ball held high. As he bent his knees and leapt up he threw the ball over his head back into play and men flew to take possession. It was tapped down to the Geelong captain, a wily, nuggetty man, who weaved in and around three Swans and stormed down the ground. From the centre square he kicked it straight onto the chest of the big full forward and the chant of 'Tom-my, Tom-my' started in the Geelong crowd.

"C'arn the Cats!" the girl sitting beside Barbara yelled.

Barbara joined in the fun and stood with the others to see him go back and slot it straight between the goals. The Swans would need to kick three goals in a minute to win and the crowd sensed the Geelong victory. Lines of red started to stream up the aisles trying to beat the mass exodus after the game while the Gee-long chant became louder. Barbara joined in and pulled Tommy to his feet. With a sharp jab in the ribs he joined in the chant as the last minute played out. The siren went and the Geelong fans erupted into song. The Cats theme crackled over the loudspeaker and Barbara sang along. Tommy watched in amusement that his little feisty sergeant who had only ever shown disdain for sport at home could get so carried away with a game that did not have the rigour, structure or beauty of rugby or soccer. Actually the game suited her personality well. The 300 game veteran was chaired from the ground on the shoulders of his teammates and all the Geelong faithful clapped and cheered wildly for their long-serving hero.

At the end of the song everyone started to head for the exits. The girl next to Barbara tugged at her sleeve. "I'm glad you liked the game. Here have my Record as a souvenir."

Before Barbara could thank her she had slipped out of sight and disappeared into the crowd swarming out of the stadium. Barbara turned to Tommy. "That girl gave me her Record as a souvenir but we have yours."

She was about to toss it into a rubbish bin when he stopped her. "Wait, let me see."

He thumbed through it quickly. "A curse on the House of York!"

Barbara thought he had been jostled. "What? Why can't you just swear like normal people?" she said laughing.

"Because I'm not a normal person!" He showed her the Record. "That girl was KoolCat!"

* Okay, so most of you will not be footy fans but now you might guess the origin of my penname. And yes, number twenty-six is Tommy and built as described and the player nicknamed Boris plays his 300th game in a few weeks. Oh and this Saturday guess which two teams play!