_With one suitcase as his domain, Arthur was desperately in
need of armed henchmen ... for his keys to a kingdom were
typewriter keys!_
I
There was three of us--I mean if you count Arthur. We split up to
avoid attracting attention. Engdahl just came in over the big bridge,
but I had Arthur with me so I had to come the long way around.
[Illustration]
When I registered at the desk, I said I was from Chicago. You know how
it is. If you say you're from Philadelphia, it's like saying you're
from St. Louis or Detroit--I mean _nobody_ lives in Philadelphia any
more. Shows how things change. A couple years ago, Philadelphia was
all the fashion. But not now, and I wanted to make a good impression.
I even tipped the bellboy a hundred and fifty dollars. I said: "Do me
a favor. I've got my baggage booby-trapped--"
"Natch," he said, only mildly impressed by the bill and a half, even
less impressed by me.
"I mean _really_ booby-trapped. Not just a burglar alarm. Besides the
alarm, there's a little surprise on a short fuse. So what I want you
to do, if you hear the alarm go off, is come running. Right?"
"And get my head blown off?" He slammed my bags onto the floor.
"Mister, you can take your damn money and--"
"Wait a minute, friend." I passed over another hundred. "Please? It's
only a shaped charge. It won't hurt anything except anybody who messes
around, see? But I don't want it to go off. So you come running when
you hear the alarm and scare him away and--"
"No!" But he was less positive. I gave him two hundred more and he
said grudgingly: "All right. If I hear it. Say, what's in there that's
worth all that trouble?"
"Papers," I lied.