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Mahmoud looked at me with eyes the size of softballs. I was still in the tunnel, racking my brain for a plausible alibi, worried about what he would tell his father, the man who peeled infiltrators like ripe bananas. But there was always a chance Mahmoud could be bought. I plastered a smile the size of Panama on my face.
"Thank goodness you opened the door! I've been scared to death! What on Earth is this place?" I bent over and wormed my way past the kid and back into the house. We were in a game room of some sort. There were ping pong tables, dart boards and video games scattered everywhere. Mahmoud was holding a game piece. I squinted -- it was the top hat from Monopoly.
"Boy, are you going to be in trouble," the kid said in a matter-of-fact voice. I brushed myself off, less because there was anything to brush and more to buy myself some time.
"Why would I be in trouble for making an honest mistake?" I asked with as much innocence as I could muster.
"Mistake?"
"You don't think I ended up in that awful place on purpose, do you? Honey, I'm afraid of the dark." Of course, I didn't mention my trusty little flashlight, which was concealed in my pocket. Mahmoud looked thoughtful.
"How'd you get in there?"
"I don't really know. I was dusting my room and all of a sudden this little door slid open and when I stepped through it to see where it led, it shut on me. I've been out there for nearly five whole minutes!" Actually, it was closer to 20 minutes. Mahmoud seemed to be buying it.
"My father will be very angry if he finds you were in the passage," he said.
"Why would your father be angry?"
"He does not like stupidity," the kid said.
"Well, on that note, I think I'll just go back up to my room," I started toward the door.
"I don't think so. Not after I tell my father where you've been."
Uh-oh. I sensed a change in the air. I decided to try bribery.
"Name your price: I need this job," I told Mahmoud.
"Monopoly. I want someone to play with me."
Monopoly? Heck, yeah, I'd play Monopoly. I smiled. Maybe the kid wasn't so bad after all. He just needs a friend. I chose the little Scottie dog as my game piece and sat down at the board.
I'd kick his little butt at Monopoly and still have time for a bubble bath before dinner.
Three hours later I was almost willing to take my chances with Mahmoud's old man. I wasn't kicking the kid's butt -- he was being a pain in mine.
"You can't charge me rent on Boardwalk," he said, refusing to give me my money.
"And why not? May I point out that I own it? And I bought it fair and square." I held up the little card. "In fact, I also own Park Place and have hotels on both. Just call me Donald Trump and hand over the moolah."
"But I own all the railroads."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"It's a rule," he said. "If you have the railroads, you don't have to pay rent when you land where hotels are at." He smiled at me again-- a self-satisfied little smile just like the one Hannibal Lector has right before he eats his lunch.
"That's not a rule," I said.
"Is too."
"Let me see it, then." I held out my hand.
"I lost the rule book. Besides, it's my game. We play it my way or not at all."
"I vote for not at all," I said, and started to get up.
"Well, ooooh-kay," he said, drawing the word out like a dead snake on the road. "Guess my dad should be in his library about now. Want to go see what kind of a day he's having?" The kid had me. If I looked really close, I thought I could see knobs growing out of his head.
"OK. You win. You don't have to pay on Boardwalk." I sat back down with all the enthusiasm of a vestal virgin being prepped for sacrifice.
"Now, as I was saying, I don't pay rent, but since I own the railroads you have to give me a hotel every time I land." He put out his hand. I was tempted to whack it with a ruler, but I didn't have one. I dropped two little plastic hotels in his sweaty palm. He gave me a great big smile.
"Don't you just love this game?" he asked.
Monopoly Hell finally ended when Phil the Pill came in and called us for dinner. I excused myself from eating and announced I preferred to take a walk.
"Trying to lose a little weight," I told Phil.
"As well you should, Madame," he replied in his snotty English accent. I made a mental note to shortsheet his bed and stepped out into the fresh night air. It was pouring down as I set off for the rendezvous site Blake and I had prearranged. But first I had to make certain I wasn't being tailed. I took the long way around, then doubled back.
I finally ducked into the small cafe where Blake and I had agreed to meet, taking a table in the rear with a good view of the door. I ordered a tall latte, opened a book and waited. A few moments later, Blake came in, shaking the rain off his coat like a cocker spaniel.
He took the chair across from me.
"Is this seat taken?" he said aloud and then whispered "Are you clean?"
"No one followed me, if that's what you mean."
"Anything to pass on?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact. They've got a secret tunnel cut into the hill in back of the house. " I told him about my excursion and the conversation I heard.
"Hmmm. Sounds like something's going on in Egypt. I'd better alert the Cairo office. I wonder who Chandler is?"
"Don't know. They never said. Look, Blake, I'm kind of worried about the kid. If he tells Papa I've been in the tunnel, I'm cooked."
"Just keep humoring him. Play Monopoly."
"That's easy for you to say. I'll bet you even liked Candyland." He looked offended.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Never mind. You wouldn't get it anyway." Blake looked at his watch.
"I'll leave here first. Make sure you don't go back the same way."
"I know how to lose a tail," I said. Blake reached inside his coat and looked dismayed.
"Uh-oh. Um, Eileen...."
"No, let me guess. You forgot your wallet."
"You know it's really great working with you again. You can practically read my mind."
"I don't have to. You haven't changed since we were rookies. Go on, Midas. I'll pick up the tab. Again."
Blake left and I finished my latte, then paid the bill and left, turning the opposite way and walking part way down the street before finding a small bookstore still open. I went inside and idly looked through the magazines on a rack. I was just about to leave when I found a copy of Time with a photograph of an attractive young man. I scanned the cover blurb, bought that magazine and a couple others, and practically ran back to the house. Phil let me in..
"Don't drip on the floor," he said as he locked the door behind me. "The master wants young master's lessons started promptly at 8 AM."
"No problem, Phil, old sport," I said, pushing past him and high-tailing it up the stairs. I found my room, checked it over for bugs and intruders, then settled down to read. It was just starting to get interesting when someone knocked on the door. I hid the magazine under my pillow and opened up. It was the Pill.
"Our plans have changed. The master wants you to be prepared to leave in the morning. Pack enough clothes for a three-day stay. If you need more, you can buy it." He turned to leave.
"Hey, Dimples, aren't you going to tell me where we're going?"
"I suppose you're entitled to know," he said. "Cairo. And don't forget your passport."
Cairo! Cleopatra's eyebrows! We were going to the land of the pharaohs. It didn't take long for another thought to strike me. Chandler. He was in Cairo, too.
I fished Time out from under my pillow and looked at the cover again. It said: "Chandler's Expedition: Fishing for A Find Bigger Than Tut."
So far all I'd learned was Chandler was a world-class archaeologist on the trail of a Pharaoh's tomb that had escaped the grave robbers' attention. If found, it would be an archaeological triumph.
Chandler was on his way to Cairo and so was I and somehow our paths were going to converge. This much I knew. What I didn't know was the reason why.
Or how I was going to let Blake know we were leaving first thing in the morning.
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