The Extraordinary Adventures of Alfred Kropp Read Free Page B

of Tintagel International?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWell, it’s one of the biggest international conglomerates there is, maybe bigger than Samson Industries.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œSo here’s the deal, Al. One night I’m on my shift and it’s just like any other night, nobody but me at the desk, doing nothing, when all of a sudden the phone rings and guess who’s on the other end.”
    â€œMr. Myers.”
    â€œRight!”
    â€œWhat’s a conglomerate?”
    â€œIt’s a business that owns businesses, or something like that. That really isn’t the point. Alfred, you need to stop interrupting me and focus a little, okay?”
    â€œI’ll try, Uncle Farrell.”
    â€œSo anyway, Mr. Arthur Myers says he’s got a business proposition for me.”
    â€œThe owner of one of the biggest conglomerates in the world had a business proposition for you?” I asked.
    â€œIt’s crazy!”
    â€œIt sure sounds crazy.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought!” Uncle Farrell tapped his fork on the plate and started talking really fast. “Who am I but this lowly little night watchman? But I met with him and it turns out he’s the real McCoy, and he needs my help. Our help, Alfred.”
    â€œOur help?” The more he talked about this funny deal, the funnier I felt.
    â€œSee, Myers and Bernard Samson go way back. Good buds from, I don’t know, the old country or something. Anyway, Myers convinced Samson to invest in this big business deal—I’m not sure of all the ins and outs but apparently there was a lot of money involved and it went bad. It went real bad. Samson lost a lot of money and he blamed Myers for it.”
    â€œWhy did he blame Myers?”
    â€œI don’t know. Now listen, and stop interrupting, Alfred. We don’t have much time.”
    â€œWhy don’t we have much time?”
    â€œI’m getting to that.”
    â€œTo what?”
    â€œThe reason we don’t have much time!”
    He took a deep breath.
    â€œMr. Samson blamed Mr. Myers for this deal that went bad. He took it pretty hard, Samson did, and so he did a terrible thing.”
    â€œWhat did he do?”
    â€œHe stole something.”
    â€œFrom Mr. Myers?”
    â€œNo, from the Louvre in Paris. Of course from Myers! Samson stole it and locked it away in his office.”
    I started to get it. “His office in Samson Towers?”
    â€œThat’s right. Now you’re getting it. Samson Towers, the night watchman of which happens to be yours truly.”
    â€œAnd Myers wants you to get it back for him.”
    â€œRight. That’s right, and—”
    â€œWhat is it?”
    â€œWhat’s what?”
    â€œThe thing Samson stole.”
    â€œOh. I don’t know.”
    â€œYou don’t know?”
    Uncle Farrell slowly shook his head. “I have no idea.”
    â€œUncle Farrell, how are you going to get it if you don’t know what it is?”
    â€œThat’s a detail, Alfred. Just a detail. The point is—”
    â€œA pretty big detail if you ask me.”
    â€œDo you want to know what the point is?”
    â€œSure.”
    His mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.
    â€œYou interrupt me and every thought in my head just flies away! Whoosh! Right out the window! Where was I?”
    â€œYou were going to tell me the point.”
    â€œThe point? Oh. Yeah! The point is he’s paying me one million dollars to get it.”
    I stared at him. “Did you say one million dollars?” I asked.
    â€œWell, I didn’t say one million pesos, that’s for sure!”
    I thought about it. “This is illegal.”
    â€œNo, it isn’t illegal.”
    â€œBut if Mr. Samson stole it, why doesn’t Mr. Myers go to the police?”
    Uncle Farrell wet his lips. “He said he didn’t want the police involved.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œHe