HDA - Living in Darkness Trilogy - Pt 2 - The Search

It wasn’t as difficult as I’d thought it would be. Dad had already laid the back story down that we’d been hired as ‘guest reporters’ by Beautiful People magazine and directed to cover Samantha Chilton’s expedition. Mom was delighted by the fact we’d won such a great honor but was puzzled as to why we hadn’t mentioned it weeks ago when we’d written those essays for the contest about why we wanted to be reporters. In fact, she never knew we were interested in journalism. Aunt Trudy, on the other hand, wasn’t that pleased about it. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said as we ate breakfast at the hotel’s buffet. “What if they get lost in the desert or bitten by scorpions? What if they’re set upon by bandits?”

Dad grinned. “Well, you’re welcome to chaperone them if you like. I can arrange for you to join them.”

“Me? Oh no, most certainly not,” snapped Aunt Trudy. “I’m definitely not going to rough it at my age.”

Which is a joke because Aunt Trudy is as rough and tough as anybody. No scorpion or bandit would bother with her. Dad apparently knew she wouldn’t take him up on his offer. She couldn’t come with us.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea. This Samantha Chilton. I’ve seen the tabloids, I’ve heard the reports. Isn’t she known as a publicity hound? I don’t think the boys should get mixed up with her.”

“Oh, Trudy, it’s an honor to win first prize in a nationwide essay contest,” said Mom.

“Honor, my foot. I don’t think the boys should be messing with someone like her.”

Mom shook her head. “Now, Trudy, it’s an amazing educational experience. Joe and Frank are gentlemen, right, boys? Promise me you’ll be on your best behavior at all times. And I don’t want you two getting too close to Ms. Chilton. You’re there to interview her and follow the expedition, not hang out with her.”

“We promise,” we both said. Then I glanced over at Joe and saw that, behind his back, he had his fingers crossed.

*****

We said goodbye at the airport with Mom, Dad and Aunt Trudy heading home. We had to catch the noon flight to Ras Khalifa, two hundred miles south of Cairo on the banks of the Nile River, Egypt’s lifeline.

Thousands of years ago, when the pharaohs ruled and built their pyramids, most of Egypt’s people lived along the Nile. It’s no different today. For a few miles on either side of the river, there are towns, farms and cities. A little farther away from the Nile, there’s nothing but desert. We could see the lay of the land from the air, the rich green strips on either side of the deep blue ribbon of the river and then sand as far as the eye could see. Well, I could see, that is. Joe had his nose buried in the latest issue of Beautiful People. One of the main features concerned Samantha Chilton. Imagine that.

“Listen to this,” Joe said excitedly. “ ‘Samantha Chilton was seen partying at Atlantis yesterday evening. Everyone’s wondering who her newest flame is. He sure is a hunk!’ “

Joe showed me the magazine. “You think he’s a hunk?” he asked, letting me know by his tone that he didn’t think so at all.

I studied the picture Joe held out to me. Samantha Chilton, clad in a vibrant red sequined mini dress with spiky red sandals, was hanging on the arm of a huge blond-haired guy who, I have to admit, didn’t look too ‘hunky’ or bright. Granted, it was just a photo from some paparazzo – and those pictures are hardly flattering to anyone. “You’re just jealous,” I told him.

He grunted and glared at the photo, as if he was taking me seriously.

“Joe, really. Forget it. You promised Mom.”

“I had my fingers crossed,” Joe said smugly.

I tried a different tack. “She’s taken. Look.”

“What could she possibly see in him?” Joe kept his eyes on the photo, rather than read the rest of the article. “And he’s no ‘hunk’.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not saying a word.”

*****

Ras Khalifa is a dirty, bustling port town, where Nile cruise boats and private feluccas dock for the night and freighters load and unload. We found the Ramses II pulled up to the wharf, just as Q had promised. It was a large boat, dwarfing the smaller feluccas floating around. It made me think of a houseboat but it wasn’t quite as clunky. Everything was polished and gleaming and there was a feeling of age, like it was an antique or something.

Joe and I climbed the wooden ramp and went aboard. A uniformed steward greeted us. “Hello there,” he said, brandishing his clipboard. “Your names, please?”

Joe and I exchanged glances. Q hadn’t said anything about putting us on a list.

“We’re journalists,” I said. “Frank and Joe Hardy, with Beautiful People magazine, here to do a feature on Ms. Chilton and her expedition.”

He looked up and down the list – twice. “I’m so sorry,” he said, sounding overly dramatic. “You are not on the list. Only those on the list are permitted to board.”

This was going to be a big problem. We knew we had to find Samantha Chilton and talk her into taking us along. Why hadn’t Q said anything about this? Hadn’t he known there’d be a list? “Is Ms. Chilton on board yet?” I asked.

The steward looked unsettled. “I’m not allowed to say.” He moved to walk away when an envelope drifted from his clipboard. He bent down to pick it up and frowned. “Excuse me.”

I watched him walk away and felt a moment’s desperation. We had to talk to Samantha. After a few minutes of standing there, Joe muttered something about being prepared. He started to go back down the gangplank but I grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

Just then the steward returned. “Excuse me. Frank and Joe Hardy, you said?”

I nodded, trying not to appear too anxious. “Yes. Reporters with Beautiful People magazine.”

He nodded. “Apparently the telegram to inform us of your arrival was mislaid. Welcome aboard.”

I took a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“Yes, well, Ms. Chilton feels Beautiful People is the only magazine that is worthy of her. I am Hassan and I will see that a cabin is made ready for you.” He disappeared again, leaving us standing there with our luggage.

From this vantage point I could see that the vessel was a customized luxury yacht with teakwood decks and gleaming brass fixtures. Cushioned seating lined the prow of the yacht, done in muted blue striped fabric.

A slender young woman and a tall blond-haired man came toward us and I realized this was Samantha Chilton. Her blond hair was sleek and hung down to her waist. She was wearing cuffed shorts in bright white and a navy and blue striped top. She slowed as she came closer, studying us. “You’re with Beautiful People?” she asked, sounding doubtful.

“Junior reporters,” I said. “We’re fascinated by journalism and this way we get experience plus you get the recognition for finding the treasure.”

I saw her smile but her companion didn’t look too happy. “That would be so awesome. Welcome aboard then, I hope you’ll enjoy yourselves.”

Her companion glared at me and Joe. “Are you sure about this,” he asked. “We don’t need any excess baggage, you know. Besides you don’t even know these guys.”

This must be the new boyfriend, Tommy. He was blond, stood at least six foot three and had corded muscles that looked capable of crushing concrete blocks. He wasn’t too happy to see us either.

“Oh, Tommy,” said Samantha. “Stop fretting. Everything will be fine.” She turned to me and Joe. “Tommy’s going to be the executive producer.”

Tommy grunted at the subject change. “I don’t know. If I were you, I’d ditch ‘em both, right here, right now.”

Samantha stepped away from him. “You’re not me.”

“Fine,” snapped Tommy. “Fine.” He made a throwing away gesture with his hands and walked away.

Samantha rolled her eyes. “He can be so bossy.” She shook her head. “Well, welcome aboard.”

We watched her leave in the same direction as Tommy and disappear from view. I started to say something to my brother, only to notice he looked a bit dazed. “Joe?”

He just stood there, an odd little goofy grin on his face. I snapped my fingers inches from his eyes making him blink. “Hey,” he said, sounding disgruntled.

I sighed as Hassan came back. “Maybe I should have left you at home.”

“I would have missed meeting Samantha Chilton,” said Joe, sounding rather shocked. “That would be pure torture.”

We followed Hassan below decks and I nudged Joe to keep his voice down. He grunted and glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know what she sees in him,” he muttered.

“Well, obviously she plays the field. She was with Roger Corson only a few weeks ago...”

Joe snapped his fingers. “I’ll bet Tommy’s only interested in her because of the treasure,” he whispered.

I thought about it for a moment. “It’s possible. If Samantha does have that map, then she’s in danger and he could very well be a suspect. In any case, we’ll have to watch our step. He’d like nothing more than to toss us overboard.”

Hassan gestured to an open door and we went in to find a small cabin done in teakwood, brass and the nautical blue and white striped fabric. The narrow built-in bunks were at right angles to each other in the farthest corner. One had a porthole beside it. “I claim the porthole,” I said, rushing over to the bunk.

Joe shot me a glare and placed his duffle bag on the other bed. “No fair.”

I shrugged. “I’ve heard somewhere that life is like a bowl of cherries—“

“Just don’t.”

I grinned. The Lethal Weapon movies have some awesome one-liners and I love to razz my brother sometimes. I turned to see Hassan nod and close the door and my good humor faded. We were on our own.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.