Page 10

Malcolm held up the paperwork, his frown shifting to a squint as he read out the numbers.

‘Those mongrels pinched 98 croc eggs from six nests—and 45 juveniles from four clutches. All wild caught, genetically pristine saltwater crocodiles, which makes it an easy half a million in stock.’ Malcolm aimed his lethal glare at Lenora, who hung her head low. ‘How did you miss that, girl?’

‘Um, sir?’ On the far side of the room a technician, wearing a white lab coat, held up a telephone. ‘It’s them.’

‘Dammit.’ Malcolm shook his head as if the fight had leached right out of him. ‘If you need anything, ask my kids, while I do damage control.’ Malcolm stared down Lenora as he crossed to the other side of the room and snatched up the phone.

‘Don’t worry, Lenora. We’ll do everything we can to get them back.’ Stone patted her shoulder.

‘Stone, over here…’ Finn motioned him into a huddle by the windows. ‘You know these people, anything they don’t want to share?’

Stone shrugged, keeping his voice low. ‘I’ve known Celeste and Malcolm for a while.

Celeste is a friend, and young Jed and Lenora have been crocodile collecting with me a few times.

No skeletons that I know of, other than what is already town gossip, which is mostly about Malcolm being a hard-arse. ’

‘Malcolm’s moods are like suffering from a bad day every day,’ mumbled Craig. ‘But you always got along with him?’

‘Crocodile wrangler’s privileges, Malcolm called it.’ Which basically meant, if he ever tried that crap on Stone, the grouch would’ve copped one in the mouth—and Stone would’ve taken his business to the competition.

‘How do you transport that many crocodiles?’ Amara asked the team.

‘Stone, this is your field of expertise.’ Finn nodded at him. ‘Think like a thief. How would they do it?’

‘Well, hell…’ Stone thoughtfully rubbed his jaw for a moment.

‘The eggs would need to be kept in portable incubation units. Which aren’t easy to come by as they’d need to be temperature controlled with lots of protective padding for safe transport, so they’ll remain stable enough to not shake them up and drown the embryos.

So I’m guessing they didn’t pack them here for long-term travel, but they’d have to pack them enough to get them past the corrugations on the roads to get out of here. ’

‘And do the long-term packing offsite somewhere?’ Finn asked.

Stone shrugged again. ‘If this was my heist, and seeing as how they were selective in what they took, they’d need to keep the stock separated.

But these creatures need to remain stable.

The eggs especially. Before hatching they’re at their most vulnerable, with a very particular list of specific needs to survive.

They’d need insulated, well-padded egg containers.

Something that has temperature and humidity control, like medical-grade transport cases. ’

‘But it’s not impossible. You could build something?’

‘Sure. You could use large ice coolers and rig up some battery powered contraption for consistent temperatures and humidity, which would be the main concern, because a big change in temperature could cause the entire lot to spoil. Crocodile eggs are tricky, they’re not like bird eggs.

And they wouldn’t keep them in there for long. An hour max.’

‘Why not?’

‘They’d suffocate or dehydrate if they hatched during transport.’

‘Which fits your theory on stashing them somewhere to do the packing offsite. So somewhere not too far?’ Finn stroked his jaw in thought.

‘I’d search within a drive-time radius of an hour, at most.’ Stone nodded. ‘They wouldn’t go far, not with the risk of losing those eggs during transport. If they were smart, they’d wait until they hatched. Hatchlings would be easier to haul.’

‘How would you transport hatchlings?’

‘You’d need large tanks, or tubs with holes in the side for airflow. Again, they’d need to keep the heat and humidity up.’

‘How big a carrier would they need for that kind of haul?’

‘A van would be enough.’

‘Damn…’ Finn muttered to Amara. ‘Constable, put out a broadcast—any vans or enclosed trucks on main roads. I want them stopped and contents checked.’

‘Heat and humidity will be the big giveaway,’ said Stone. ‘They need the heat if they’re going down south, so that van will be like sitting in a sauna, with a distinct smell of an aquarium store on a bad day. Look for large plastic tubs with airholes in them.’

‘Got it.’ Amara began looking for a way out. ‘I’ll need to use the radio in the car, sir.’

‘I’ll take you.’ Jed held up his hand like he was in school.

‘Craig, Stone, you two go with Lenora and see if you can find any tracks. I’ll talk to the owners about the security.

Constable, after you put out the broadcast, I’d like you to dust for fingerprints and take photos of the crime scene and whatever Craig and Stone find.

I’ll get a list of staff names, their work shifts, and the architectural plans on this place. We good?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Even though Amara was probably itching to salute, she settled for a short sharp nod. Spinning on her sheep farmer’s shoes, she marched for the door, with Jed racing after her.

Meanwhile, Stone and Craig sauntered along like the odd couple. They weren’t cops, but they had skills.

‘Um, Stone?’ Romy waved at him from the far side of the room.

Oops. He’d forgotten about her. ‘Come on, shortcake. The tour is just beginning.’

Romy raced up to him. ‘I don’t think I should be here.’

‘Hey, Craig? Do you mind if Romy tags along?’

‘If I can interview rodeo bull owners with my wife as part of the job, your friend can come check out the croc farm.’ Craig gave Romy a nod.

Her brown eyes lit up as if she’d won the lottery. ‘If that’s okay with you, Lenora?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Lenora gave a heavy sigh, using her shoulder to shove open the meshed door. ‘This way.’

‘Any idea how they got in?’ Craig asked Lenora.

‘No. Like Dad said, we didn’t even notice that anything got pinched.’ Lenora led with a light foot tread across the gangplank and pointed to the separated pens. ‘The juveniles were in these four pens.’

‘How many are in here?’ Craig asked the questions, while Stone stood beside Romy, who was biting her bottom lip as if to stop herself from speaking—or more likely the little filmmaker was struggling with the need to use her camera.

Was there such a thing as camera withdrawals, the way some people were addicted to their phones?

‘We average sixty per clutch in our forty juvenile pond bays, and we try to keep the brothers and sisters together,’ explained Lenora.

‘The thieves took ten hatchlings from that pen, ten from that one, fifteen from the clutch on the other side, and another ten from that group. 45 juveniles in total.’

‘And the eggs?’

‘They took them from the nesting pods on the far side. 6 nests—98 eggs. We’ve only got 9 of the 12 pods in use.’

Craig’s eyebrows rose. ‘Do those nesting pods have key-card entry, like Stone used to bring us in here?’

‘Everywhere within this hatchery is key-card entry, and it all gets recorded up there.’ Lenora pointed back to the tower. ‘Bastion is pulling the data now for Dad.’

‘No forced entry?’

Lenora shook her head. ‘We didn’t even know someone had been in here until Dad noticed the clutch numbers were down.’ She pointed to the swarms of crocodiles that lay beneath them. They were constantly moving, swimming, crawling over each other, making it difficult to count.

‘Craig? Have you got any ideas?’ He might be the pilot, but he’d back the Rowntree family—and their crocs—any way he could.

‘I think we need to go outside for the next part.’