Faff in the Desert

11

11.

It had been quite a morning for Archie. He had hauled the colonel laden trunk down the lane to the main road and had managed to exchange the case with a street seller for a sack of dates and the use of his donkey. Putting the wrapped colonel into the sack and then covering over him in dates proved to be a good disguise, thought Archie. If anyone were to look in the sack they would only see the fruit. Sometimes he surprised even himself. Mahmoud did not have a monopoly on good ideas, he boasted to himself. Archie too could gain admittance to the Good Ideas Club and drink at the bar with the brightest and best schemers in the land.

The donkey ride was bumpy and rough, like plying and ocean of rocks in a rowing boat. The Egyptian who's donkey it was insisted on coming too, lest Archie not return the animal. Archie thought that only fair. However, there was not much room on one little donkey for two men plus a sackful of thick-cut army officer. The poor animal strained under the weight and Archie found that with each clip of the beast's gait caused his legs to chafe and every clop rub the skin from his buttocks.

His discomfort was a small price to pay. Now Archie was in sight of the prize, he was not prepared to give up that easily.

After what felt like an eternity, Archie arrived at the District Commission. He dragged the sack of dates up the steps only to be met by an angry gentleman in a waiter's uniform.

"What are you doing? You're late!" the waiter said.

"Late?" replied Archie.

"They are already here man!"

"Who are already here?"

"The King and his entourage!"

Archie's face flushed a dark pink immediately, panic once again setting in. He mustn't be late for the unveiling of his own work!

"Come, quickly!" said the waiter, helping him carry the heavy sack into the building.

"I'm not sure we'll need this much, but you're here now," said the waiter. "This way."

What was this man on about? through Archie as he followed the waiter through the building to the back. Before Archie knew where he was he was standing in the kitchen of the building.

"The dates have arrived," shouted the waiter to the packed room of cooks and serving staff.

"Finally! We can get on with the hors d'oeuvres," snapped a sweaty chef.

"Hors d'oeuvres?" said Archie, the pink now draining from his face to be replaced by a sickly white shade of terror.

"Stuffed dates," came the reply. "My own recipe. Sweet dates with a secret filling. Fit for a king!"

Archie didn't think this chef knew just how stuffed the dates in his sack were. Stuffed it was, but with a brutalised cadaver and secret he intended to keep it.

To Archie's great relief, Mahmoud poked his head round the door.

"Mister Archie, sir! The king is here. You must come," and upon grabbing his wrist pulled Archie into the corridor. "Thank Allah I have found you. This way."

They entered a room where there was a crowd of the great and the good of Egypt, sipping champagne and pomegranate juice.

"All these people.. here for us?" smiled Archie.

"Yes! They are all here for the unveiling of Tutankhamen. We must meet the king, he is over there, do you see?"

There was an awful lot of people in the room, but Archie thought he could make out someone at the far end wearing a dark suit and a fez.