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“To what?”
“The reason we don’t have much time!”
He took a deep breath.
“Mr. Samson blamed Mr. Myers for this deal that went bad. He took it pretty hard, Samson did, and so he did a terrible thing.”
“What did he do?”
“He stole something.”
“From Mr. Myers?”
“No, 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?”
“That’s right. Now you’re getting it. Samson Towers, the night watchman of which happens to be yours truly.”
“And Myers wants you to get it back for him.”
“Right. That’s right, and—”
“What is it?”
“What’s what?”
“The thing Samson stole.”
“Oh. I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Uncle Farrell slowly shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“Uncle Farrell, how are you going to get it if you don’t know what it is?”
“That’s a detail, Alfred. Just a detail. The point is—”
“A pretty big detail if you ask me.”
“Do you want to know what the point is?”
“Sure.”
His mouth was moving but no sound was coming out.
“You interrupt me and every thought in my head just flies away! Whoosh! Right out the window! Where was I?”
“You were going to tell me the point.”
“The 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.
“Well, I didn’t say one million pesos, that’s for sure!”
I thought about it. “This is illegal.”
