Page 35 of The Unlikely Spare

“Very original,” Nicholas deadpans.

I keep one eye on Nicholas and the other on the maintenance worker, who now appears to be typing a message. Singh is closing in, moving casually but purposefully.

The python slithers higher on Nicholas’s shoulders.

“I’ve always wanted a living scarf,” Nicholas quips to the crowd. “Though I typically prefer accessories that don’t squeeze.”

“Olive pythons can grow up to six meters long,” the keeper explains with obvious pride. “Sheila here is still a juvenile at two and a half meters.”

The maintenance worker is now speaking into his phone, eyes still tracking Nicholas. My gut’s screaming.

I key my wrist mic. “Possible situation near the east service entrance. Male, Caucasian, blue overalls, approximately one hundred and seventy-five centimeters, brown hair. Suspicious behavior.”

Cavendish’s voice crackles back. “Copy. Federal police will move to intercept.”

But before the police can reach him, the worker spots Singh approaching and immediately turns and disappears through the staff door. Singh quickens his pace, following through the same exit.

The keeper steps forward, gently coaxing Sheila back into her arms. Nicholas surrenders the python with a theatrical bow that has the crowd eating out of his hand.

As the keeper heads off to return the snake to her enclosure, Nicholas drifts closer to me, angling his body away from the press pack. His smile remains fixed for the cameras, but his eyes are sharp.

“Is everything all right, Officer O’Connell?”

“Just a routine check, sir,” I reply. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

His eyes narrow slightly, but he lets it go, following the director toward the koala setup where they’ve built some kind of platform.

Two keepers stand ready, one holding a sleepy-looking koala.

“This is Gumby. One of our ambassador koalas,” the director announces.

Nicholas steps onto the platform, and the keeper transfers the koala into his arms. The animal immediately grips onto Nicholas’s shirt, blinking lazily up at the prince.

“Hello there,” Nicholas says softly. “Aren’t you a handsome fellow?”

The cameras lose their minds again, desperate for the money shot that’ll make tomorrow’s front pages—British royalty cuddling Australia’s favorite marsupial.

And I have to admit, Nicholas does actually look happy to be holding a koala. There’s a softness to his expression that I haven’t seen before as he glances down at Gumby.

“He likes you,” the keeper says.

“I’m honored,” Nicholas replies, and his smile actually seems genuine for once.

I take advantage of the peace to scan the crowd again, looking for any sign of our maintenance worker.

Nothing.

But that itch between my shoulder blades won’t quit.

After they’ve got enough photos to wallpaper Buckingham Palace and the koala’s back with its keeper, the director leads us away from the media circus to some rehabilitation area they keep locked away from normal tourists.

“Did you know that koalas are actually quite aggressive?” Nicholas says to me as I walk beside him. “Those cute faces are nature’s greatest con job.”

“Didn’t know you were a koala expert,” I say.

“It was in the briefing papers the Prince of Wales put together for me,” Nicholas says. “I found it quite interesting that, despite looking like plush toys, koalas can turn violent very easily. Apparently, their bite can cause serious infection.”

“An attractive exterior hiding a vicious temperament is definitely something to be vigilant around,” I reply.