Old Faithful Plot

by Dora Benley

  Unlike other times where they had near death escapes, they were met by what seemed to be a wall of people crowding into the parking lot — were they all hired detectives? — intent on shouting at them and flashing cameras. Others thrust papers at the bemused couple and demanded autographs.

  "I want to meet the British spy!" one girl shouted. "Is that him?" She looked straight at Edward. "Boy is he handsome!"

  "You can say that again!" Her girlfriend clapped her hands together and squealed. "And they say he rode with Lawrence of Arabia. He sounds like a romantic hunk to me."

  Both of them flashed their cameras at the couple persistently.

  "Edward," Dora whispered, "what is going on?" She had never seen anything like it before.

  "No doubt we are about to find out any second now," Edward hissed trying to keep his cool no matter what.

  Behind the girls next to their Cadillac stood Michael's detectives that they had first met in New York. They had Edward and Dora surrounded. This time they were preventing them from making a quick getaway.

  "Let me at him!" Another lady from another direction tried to fly at Edward. He had to leap back to avoid the hulking woman with her arms outstretched ready to grab him.

  Dora could hardly comprehend what was happening here. Had the photographers gone into a beauty parlor or a nail salon and stirred up a mob of women about Edward? Dora could hardly believe that her fiance was so attractive to other women, especially mobs of ladies and their friends, too. But then he was handsome. He had a British accent. She supposed that was enough to create a scene especially when the detectives were behind it. No doubt they had paid everybody to be here.

  Edward had once told her about Lawrence himself using Arab Bedouin women in the military. He recruited them to fight against the Ottoman Turks and their German allies during the Great War. They poured tubs of hot oil down upon soldiers' heads in a narrow passageway in the Siq leading into Petra where his Bedouins were holed up. The women trapped the enemy in the Siq with the aid of their Bedouin husbands, fathers, and brothers. It was like perverse poetic justice. Now his enemies had turned a group of Amazons against Edward!

  Edward did not even have time to verbally direct Dora. He merely grabbed her hand and yanked her along behind him. They were carrying their luggage. They had not been expecting to be surprised like this. Dora did not know how she was going to hold onto her suitcase much longer at these speeds.

  But she would not want to see her underwear displayed in pictures in the newspapers or anything else she was carrying in her suitcase for that matter! Who knew what these private detectives were up to? And now they were allied with the German spies, too. Now the photographers, too, were probably on commission to get the Lawrence maps and snatch them anyway they could. H would see to that.

  Edward sped down the street in front of the hotel. The crowd of women with the detectives were right behind them only yards away. They were not heading anywhere in particular. They were only trying to evade and avoid the unexpected mob. Who knew when it would all end and where?

  They were passing the old classic Paramount Theater with its brick facade, terra cotta embellishments, a vertical incandescent bulb sign, and tri-globe street lamps. It was not open. Nor was the restaurant next door advertising steaks and cocktails in neon lights but dinner only, and it was 3PM. Otherwise they might try ducking in there until the mob disappeared frustrated that they could not get their hands on Dora and Edward.

  Suddenly in his tricky fashion Edward ducked into what looked like a movie theater that was open today. The show must be underway. There was no line snaking around the corner all the way to the box office window. Edward hardly paused to buy the tickets and they fled inside.

  "Throw your bag down against the wall in this room!" He directed. "It's the best we can do for now."

  Other bags were there, too. It must be the cloak room next to the restrooms. She thought they were going to hide there. But Edward tugged her into the auditorium itself.

  "Why do we have to go here?" She could hardly be more astounded.

  "It's dark," was all he needed to say. "Too dark for anyone following us to make us out."

  Edward had a genius for intrigue which no doubt accounted for the fact that he was Winston Churchill's top informant and agent. It was certainly the reason the maps were so frequently entrusted to him. She would never have thought of it herself especially in a pinch. But it was certainly true. It would be almost impossible to pick them out in a crowded theater in the pitch black even if the mob of women spurred on by the detectives bothered to follow them into the auditorium.

  Edward yanked her down into two seats near the back third of the movie theater at the end of the row on the aisle. This was obviously in case they needed to leave in a big hurry.

  He immediately grabbed her in his arms and started kissing her, which was something he had never done in public anywhere before. It was, well, too American. It started to remind her of her college days at Bryn Mawr College along the Philadelphia Main Line. She used to have a boyfriend named Charlie Wilkins who was the son of a business tycoon in Philadelphia. He was attending the neighboring men's college, Haverford, and was sweet on her. He used to take her out on walks around the campus and then start making out with her in shady bowers. He used to have a Scripps-Booth Rocket car, and he would drive to some obscure place in the park again just to make love. Not that good old Charlie every got very far. She used to slap him across the face more than she kissed him. And he got so excited that he would often just embarrass himself.

  But those were her adolescent days, her green salad days, about which she had deliberately never informed Edward. And even when he first met her Edward had never, ever acted awkward or gauche like Charlie. So she truly wondered what was going on now, especially since she could tell that Edward was not really concentrating on her or making love to her. His senses were obviously on alert. All his attention was focused outward on the other people and noises in the theater, trying to detect if someone was sneaking up on them. In fact, he was playacting and pretending to make out with her.

  Why had he thought of this? It was obvious by the sounds in the immediate vicinity that this matinee performance was intended for teenagers out on dates who were smooching it up with their boyfriends. Even though she was now thirty-eight years old she had to shed about half her age and pretend she was nineteen years old, something she no longer was.

  Smooching it up in the dark in the movie theater did remind her though of what she was originally supposed to be doing on the rendezvous at the Waldorf Astoria in New York City. She was supposed to be trying to get pregnant. On the trip so far she had made love to Edward only once, and at this pace they might never get to do it again.

  She heard a loud roar and stared up at the screen startled as did half the people in the theater. She had not looked at what was showing as they raced into the theater, sat down, and started to neck. A giant ape towered over an African village. Huge palm trees and other exotic plants loomed up next to the monster. Fires burned illuminating the dark night sky. The villagers had erected a wall made of stones and sticks. The creature proceeded to knock them down as if they were a set of toy blocks.

  The extreme special effects, which she had never experienced before and were something new, were both startling and unexpected. The ape looked all too real. He seemed almost as frightening as Hitler and his agents if such a thing were possible in this particularly scary year of 1933.

  Villagers fled at his approach. The giant ape picked them up and dropped them as if they were toys, instantly killing them. No one could flee fast enough. The great ape moved faster and had an impossibly long arm reach and a big hand with even bigger fingers. He even picked up a pretty lady that the villagers had tied to an altar in the forest. He carried her off kicking and screaming to his lair.

  Dora cringed and looked around the theater. Hitler was always loo
king for them. He, too, was getting more powerful all the time and could crush them in an instant with his long reach. For all she knew his agents were peering at her right now. One might even be reaching for her.

  Every time someone came down the carpeted aisle and brushed against her sleeve, she jumped, afraid what might come next. When she noticed that they were carrying a bucket of popcorn, she relaxed but only a little. Even one of Hitler's agents could be carrying that to disguise himself as an ordinary spectator. They might want to discover where she was hiding, certain that she was concealing herself in the darkness but not knowing exactly which seat. Whoever screamed the loudest, just like the movie actress Fay Wray who played the ape's chief victim, would be their first target.

  Dora dug her fingernails into the seat, trying not to move an inch. She gazed up at the screen to see King Kong attacking New York City. The giant ape was reaching his long, furry arms into moving trains and yanking out passengers. He held them up to his face and glared at them with his blazing yellow eyes. He shook them and hurled them away. He even tromped on them. He grabbed moving cars and shook out the passengers. He snatched the trains from the tracks and dumped the people onto the ground. He even peered into high rise apartment buildings and stole sleeping ladies out of their beds — just like the terror that Hitler was unleashing on Europe and on Edward and Dora.

  Dora thought as she clutched Edward's hand tightly, Hitler never lets you have a moment's sleep either. If he could he would reach into this theater right now and yank me out kicking and screaming just like the monster.

  "Can you stay here alone for a few seconds?" Edward whispered into her ear at just the wrong moment.

  "Where are you going?" she asked anxiously, not wanting to let go of his hand.

  "Out into the lobby to see what is going on if anything or if we lost them," he said.

  "Can I come,too?" she asked.

  "You have got to save the seats in case we still need them," he objected.

  She sighed and then groaned. She supposed he was right whether she liked it or not. She sat there tensely glancing down at her wristwatch as she waited for Edward to return. She did not like to have to keep company with Kong, "the eighth wonder of the world" as the show guy in the movie bragged about the ape he had brought to New York from an island lost in time. It almost sounded like Nazi propaganda calling Adolf Hitler the "great man" or whatever.

  "If you will excuse me!" came that low alto voice she had heard once before. The lady in the dark suit with the striped top and the dark eyes suddenly appeared in the aisle to her left. She was staring down at Dora in the dark like a vampire who had come to prey on her. And where she appeared that creepy husband of hers, Hitler's financier, Herr von Wessel, the one in the white suit with the walking stick, could not be far behind.

  Dora had no idea what to do cornered like this in her movie theater seat with Edward nowhere in sight. As the monster in the film reached into a bedroom window in New York City and snatched the same lady he had run off with in the jungle once again, Fay Wray, Dora leaped up and dashed up the aisle. As the shadow of the great ape loomed large on the wall in front of her, she fled toward the lobby,

  Dora turned at the lobby door and looked back to see who was following her. The vampire-like woman had been blocked by a crowd of teenagers. She was making her way around them coming after Dora as the ape reached the apex of the Empire State Building. The monster was still holding the poor woman in his paw. Dora knew how she felt.

  Dora screamed.

  Chapter 14: Towards Route 66

  A directing hand clapped itself down on Dora's shoulder and yanked her through the door into the lobby.

  "Oh, Edward!" She had never been happier to see him. She pointed behind her. "H is back there in the theater and —"

  "I know!" He grabbed her hand and tugged her forward through the crowd near the concessions stand.

  Edward and Dora raced toward the exit, not even bothering to stop to pick up their luggage.

  "Edward, what about the bags?" she asked.

  "I am afraid we will have to do without them," he exclaimed.

  She supposed if they needed their wardrobes and they survived the von Wessels and their confederates, they would have to send for the bags later wherever they found themselves. Hopefully the movie theater had a lost and found and would keep the luggage for them.

  Edward raced down the sidewalk with Dora hand in hand. He hurried down back alleys trying to lose his pursuers. He did everything he could to evade them until he finally found their blue Cadillac v 16 parked at the Palmer. They did not even have time to check out. They slammed the doors behind them and tried to take off down the street.

  A giant wooden arm in the parking lot came down in front of them and prevented them from reaching the street.

  "Shit!" Edward pounded the steering wheel. "The Palmer must want money for parking, or they will not let us out."

  She gritted her teeth tensely as Edward dashed into the hotel lobby up to the front desk. She ducked down in the seat so no one could see her face from the road or the sidewalk.

  Edward was not back in a flash. She counted the moments until he leaped in beside her, wondering if something else had gone wrong. The arm in the parking lot went up. They zoomed down the road. He was clearly following all the signs to get out of Chicago.

  "Edward, why did you take so long to pay for parking?" She pressed. "You must have had the money for that."

  "I took a phone call from Winston in the lobby. He had been calling the desk trying to get hold of me persistently the whole time we were trapped in the movie theater." He looked at her grimly.

  "But you just talked to him before. He said three days. That is how long we have to get to Yellowstone," Dora remembered.

  'Yes, well that is all changed now," he revealed. "The agent he sent to Yellowstone reported that he was being chased. They were onto him. He had to veer suddenly south. He called Winston from Route 66 through New Mexico and Arizona. That is where the agent is holed up right now. We will have to meet him there instead."

  It took awhile to sink in. Yellowstone seemed an obscure enough place. But Route 66? New Mexico and Arizona? The desert? The American Southwest? She had been to Santa Fe once, yes, but out on the highway in the middle of nowhere? Beyond the reach of a railway station? No way!

  "Route 66 is a long road. Where exactly?" Dora pressed trying to make sense of the sudden change of plans.

  "Twenty-five miles east of the tiny Arizona town of Holbrook to be perfectly exact. The Painted Desert is just off the highway. The Stone Tree House is the rendezvous location. I am to meet my contact in the restaurant. But more on that later." He speeded up.

  The Painted Desert . . . Dora had never heard of it. Just the name evoked images of sand of various wild colors and vividly colored rocks here and there. A wild moonscape to be sure.

  Edward glanced at Dora's bewildered fact expression. "It is a kind of badlands," he told her. "Lots of rocks, mesas, and mountains, things like that. But not much in the way of people, at least white people that is. It is called Indian Country."

  She gaped at him. Like most people in the East, Dora had never seen a real Indian in her life. She had assumed that they had all disappeared decades ago along with cowboys, round ups, high noon events, and shoot outs. Indian Country sounded rather ominous as a place to be going. And she thought it was bad with just plain old German spies and Michael's detectives chasing them!

  Again Edward speeded up even more.

  Dora was almost afraid to look back over her shoulder, suddenly remembering that they were still in Chicago and far from the Desert Southwest and Route 66. A Silver Arrow with dark glass was headed straight for their bumper, shoving aside other cars as they made their way out of Chicago's central core and into the surrounding countryside. Even if it was not King Kong, it was becoming pretty dangerous. The wild car
almost slammed into them. Edward nearly evaded an accident by only seconds of very clever maneuvering with the steering wheel and the gas pedal.

  "That might be a mighty expensive luxury car put out by Studebaker, but it is a heavy and clumsy as one of those Spanish galleons that Queen Elizabeth managed to defeat with her clever little ships," Edward boasted.

  Dora began to follow his line of reasoning as he fooled his pursuers into thinking he was going straight through an intersection only to take a sharp left.

  "We have to get to Grant Park," Edward said. "That is what Winston told me to do. He was looking at a map. Apparently that is where Route 66 begins."

  Dora leaned out of the car and pointed at a sign. "There is a sign that says Begin Route 66."

  "That makes sense. It should be in sight of the Buckingham Fountain, and there it is!" he pointed. "We must be going the right way. It is exactly three hundred miles from here to St. Louis, Missouri."

  A monstrous size fountain modeled after the Latona Fountain at Versailles appeared in front of them as they veered sharply south past the Castle Car Wash and kept on going.

  But the car in fast pursuit turned south too. It was gaining on them as they speeded out of town. Edward was going to have to do something very unusual. Dora could sense it. Along the side of the road he was passing nineteen thousand acres of the Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie to commemorate what the area looked like in the seventeenth century during the era of French exploration.

  At the last minute before the other car gained on them, Edward veered off the road. Dora clapped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming as they headed into a row of tall grass. The Silver Arrow could not maneuver so fast. The drivers probably were not as skillful either. The other car moved straight ahead and started down a four mile hill as she could see in the rearview mirror. No doubt it would try to stop and turn around. But Edward was not standing still either. He was forcing pigs to flee in front of them oinking all the way.