They flashed out of the bright Mediterranean morning sunshine into an even brighter desert day. They were heading straight for a black pyramid. For a horrible moment, Jerry thought it was the Krim pyramid. Then, looking more closely, he saw that the pyramid had four sides instead of five, with a glass apex. And the giant sphinx in front of it was painted blue and yellow.
Cruz cleared up the mystery. "That's it!" the paratrooper shouted triumphantly. "Las Vegas! The Luxor casino!"
Athena's yell of triumph turned into a shriek of confusion. The goddess, still clutching Jerry's shoulder, was the only one who wasn't bellowing in glee as they bounced to a rough landing on the small plaza right in front of the Luxor, barely missing the obelisk perched on its south side.
Jerry took a deep breath as he looked around. The traffic on the Strip was already screeching to a halt. Even for Las Vegas, he realized, the sudden apparition of a real sphinx, two dragons and a huge chariot was . . . unusual. A traffic stopper.
Then he caught sight of McKenna. He had a gorgeous girl with the face of Arachne in his arms. Apparently, the transfer to the real world had eradicated the effects of Athena's curse. Of course, since the spider hadn't been wearing clothes, neither was the young woman in Mac's arms. But the sight of a nude woman, he supposed, was only a minor distraction in Las Vegas.
"Talk about luck," muttered Lamont.
Jerry turned on him. "That's just it! LUCK. You've got Tyche's blessing, Lamont! No wonder you never got seriously hurt. No wonder we got home."
Lamont opened his mouth. "And the rest of you?"
"Since we were with you, we shared your luck. I guess."
Jerry took a long look at the shrunken Athena huddled in the bottom of the chariot. Her face and body had obviously benefited from Olympian magic-style plastic surgery. The magic hadn't transferred to their own world. "Athena's spells don't work here. So Arachne is human again."
Lamont grinned. "So I guess Mac's about to get lucky too. I suppose that means my run of luck is over. Pity. I enjoyed fishing."
Jerry Lukacs grinned back and Lamont chuckled. Now that they were back in their own world, the transformation of Jerry Lukacs was more striking than anyone's. This was a very different man from the weedy academic who had been snatched from the Oriental Institute. It wasn't just the tanned face, the ragged clothes or the sinewy brown arms that protruded from the rolled-up tunic sleeves. It was his posture. It hadn't seemed so noticeable back in the Mythworld. But here, back in the U.S.A., the difference was startlingly obvious to Lamont.
"I don't see why," Jerry said cheerfully. "Lady Luck has got to be the one goddess that is still very much in favor. Especially around this part of the world. You could say she still has a fair number of temples and devotees."
Cruz pulled out his dice. "Bet you ten bucks you can't beat me." He threw a straight. Lamont shrugged. Picked up the dice. Tossed a royal flush.
"He's still got it!" Cruz picked up Lamont by the elbows and practically tossed him out of the chariot. "We're going to make a fortune!"
Lamont took a deep breath. "I haven't got any money."
Cruz grinned. He rummaged around in his tattered rucksack. Pulled out a card, miraculously restored from fine-painted ivory to plastic. "I've got a bank card and I'll stake you. And with your luck, it'll still work despite what it's been through."
Lamont nodded determinedly. "Why not? It's not really gambling, when you think about it. And I've got a family to support again." The relief that last thought brought him was almost blinding. "But first I've got to call Marie and let her know I'm back."
By now, a large crowd was gathering and beginning to spill onto Las Vegas Boulevard. Through the mob two policemen pushed their way to the fore, and not far behind them came half a dozen men wearing some kind of uniform. The Luxor's security force, Jerry supposed.
Bes was unhitching the dragons. Medea clung to Cruz's arm. "What king can afford such palaces?"
Jerry was startled to hear Medea speaking in perfect English. Without, even, any accent.
Athena groaned. "Where am I?"
She, too, was speaking English. Somehow, Jerry realized, Medea's language magic was still working. But he didn't have time to figure out how, because the situation began rapidly deteriorating.
"Where am I?" repeated Athena. The goddess' voice was becoming shrill.
Mac, his arms around Arachne, grinned nastily. "You're in trouble. That's where you are, you vindictive bitch. In trouble and a looong way from home. Enjoy!"
The first policeman was now at the side of the chariot. Before he could utter a word, Mac grabbed Athena by the scruff of her tunic and practically tossed her into the cops' arms. "Arrest her, officers! She's a kidnapper!"
The uncertainty of the policemen was immediately dispelled by Athena, who began shrieking like a lunatic and scratching at their faces. Cursing under his breath, one cop subdued her while his partner handcuffed the goddess. Former goddess, rather. Still-practicing deities don't have their Miranda Rights read to them. . . .
Jerry looked around and realized that they were on the verge of pure chaos. And worse.
Even now, Throttler was eagerly advancing on a group of tourists, licking her chops. "Why did the chicken cross the road?" she roared.
"To get to the other side," squeaked several of the tourists, edging back in near panic. One young lad, a brash fellow, snorted and exclaimed: "Oh, bullshit! For a fowl reason!"
Throttler's eager expression changed to a hurt one. She looked reproachfully back at the Americans.
McKenna chuckled. "Everybody here knows that one, Throttler. Try your old standard!" The young paratrooper scanned the crowd cheerfully. "Not too many classical scholars in this bunch, I'm willing to—"
"You idiot!" hissed Cruz. "She'll eat anybody who blows it!"
McKenna looked chagrinned. Hastily, Jerry hopped off the chariot and hurried over to Throttler. "You can't eat people here!" he shouted.
Throttler's scowl was truly frightening. "I'm hungry," she roared.
"fSo are we!" bellowed Bitar and Smitar. The two dragons gave the mob their own hungry look. Bitar's eyes fell on a very good-looking young woman at the forefront, dressed in a halter top and tight shorts.
"Ifs thifs a maiden?" he demanded.
The girl giggled. "In Las Vegas?You want Kansas, you big snake!"
The tourists packed at the front of the crowd tried to edge back further. But it was impossible. The press was becoming incredible from the streams of onlookers racing toward the scene from every direction. The traffic on the Strip was now locked solid. People were clambering out of their cars to get a better look.
Jerry was desperately trying to think of some way to forestall an impromptu slaughter when he caught sight of a burly man in an expensive-looking suit forcing his way to the front. The fellow was balding, middle-aged, and accompanied by several security guards. He had "boss" written all over him.
"Are you in charge here?" Jerry yelled.
The man more or less burst out of the crowd and came up to him. "Hank Flanders. I'm the general manager of the Luxor." He stuck out his hand and gave Jerry a firm handshake.
Firm and very brief. The general manager's eyes were shrewd and knowing. "I'm willing to bet you guys are that one big group of alien abductees that never came back dead. Your photographs have been all over the papers. Although—" The knowing eyes flitted rapidly over the party, spending no more time on the nude figure of Arachne than anyone else. "They didn't do you justice."
Jerry nodded mutely. But Flanders' shrewd gaze was already riveted on the sphinx and the two dragons. "Can we figure you're their agent?" he asked. "I'll give all three of them a top contract. Work starts immediately, and for as long as the monsters are willing to sign for."
Jerry gaped. Flanders eyed him speculatively.
Fortunately, Lamont was more quick-witted. "Everything they can eat," he said immediately. "Starting now."
Flanders started bellowing orders. In the chaos and confusion, logic began to return. A number of the Luxor's employees starting racing back to the casino.
"Okay," said Flanders. "That's that. What else?"
Lamont's knowledge of Las Vegas contract negotiations had clearly reached its limit. He stared at Jerry. Jerry shook his head, trying to clear away his own confusion.
"Mr. Flanders, could we continue this inside? And later?" Jerry took Liz by the uninjured arm. "We need to get her to a doctor right away. And I'd better tell Uncle Sam that we're home."
"No sweat." Flanders started hustling him and Liz and Lamont toward the entrance. A squad of security guards cleared a path.
"You've all got contracts, you want 'em. Top billing every night, for six months running. How we escaped the alien menace. I can get half a dozen top singers and comedians—easy—to warm up the crowd."
Jerry goggled at him. Liz burst into laughter. Lamont grinned and said: "First, Mr. Flanders, I intend to clean you out of several million dollars. I'm feeling very lucky."
The Luxor's general manager grinned back. "If you can do it, without cheating, more power to you. And if it's pure luck you're counting on, the fastest way to make money is with baccarat. Or the hundred-dollar progressive slots. But I'll give you fair warning—those games can gobble up your own money faster than anything, too."
The rest of the party had caught up with them by now. Cruz, hearing Flanders' last remark, smiled evilly and fingered his credit card. "The rest of you guys want in on this? I'll front you the stake."
The fact that everyone nodded like puppets didn't seem to faze Flanders in the least. After a moment's careful assessment of them, he cocked his head toward one of his assistants. "Andy, better get a press release ready. I have a feeling we'll be announcing some big new winners."
Another of his assistants looked worried. "Uh, Hank . . . You remember that time MGM Grand had an entire quarter's profits taken in one night by a guy at the baccarat table?"
Flanders nodded. "Fifteen million bucks. And we lost almost two million not so long ago at the progressive slots. So what?" He jerked his head to the north. The great blue edifice of the MGM Grand was easily visible. "They're still there, aren't they? Making money hand over fist."
And that was apparently as much argument as the Luxor's general manager was willing to accept. "Do it, Andy," he growled. "The publicity'll be fantastic. By tomorrow morning, the Luxor's going to be the most famous casino in the whole world."
Jerry caught side of Throttler and the two dragons, still in the plaza. For such huge and fearsome creatures, they looked amazingly like abandoned puppies. The reproach in their eyes, watching their human companions leave, was almost heartbreaking.
"Hang tight!" Jerry shouted. "We'll be back! And there's food on the way!"
That seemed to mollify them. A little boy edged his way closer to Throttler, holding out a little bag. "You like peanuts?"
The sphinx stared at the bag. "What are 'peanuts'?"
Seconds later, Throttler was beaming. "These are great!" she announced to Smitar and Bitar. "You should try some!"
A moment later, the sphinx and the dragons were being mobbed by tourists offering peanuts and candy bars.
"Gonna ruin their appetite," muttered Lamont. "Thank God."
Flanders seemed like a human bulldog. Before they knew it, he had them halfway up a curving ramp leading toward the casino itself. To their left, a huge replica of Harmakhis loomed overhead, fronting onto the Strip.
"The color scheme's off, y'know," commented Liz. From the pinched look on her face, Jerry thought she was trying to hold off the pain with whimsy. He put his arm around her waist and squeezed gently.
"She's right," he said, more to keep her mind off the pain than because he cared. "Close, but . . . the real Harmakhis is painted red, too."
Flanders was bellowing to yet another assistant before Jerry finished the sentence. "Kenny! Get me some painting contractors!"
"Does anything make you pause?" demanded Liz.
Flanders' grin seemed an immovable part of his face by now. "That's why I get paid the big bucks, ma'am."
"Tell 'em to give you a raise," she snorted.
"I intend to. Unless they fire me." Needless to say, the last remark was said without the slightest pause.
Once they were inside the casino, Jerry's eyes had to make an adjustment. The interior combined dim lighting with, off a bit in the distance, the flashing colors and cheerful sounds of the slot machines and gambling tables. As Flanders hustled them past the long reception desk slanting along the right side of the huge and cavernous space, Jerry got only glimpses of the Egyptian decor. The only thing that registered were two statues of hieracosphinxes.
Then he spotted a bank of phones, next to a coffee bar. The words "International Grounds" registered on his eyes, but not his mind.
"Stop! I've got to make some calls!"
Flanders chortled and shook his head. He guided all of them into a railed-off area in front of the coffee bar. A moment later, all of them were sitting at some round black tables.
"Use my cell phone," he offered, pulling the instrument out of his suit pocket. Then, to Liz: "I'll get you a doctor right away."
Flanders gave some quick orders to yet another assistant. By now, he seemed to have a little mob of them surrounding him, along with at least a dozen security guards. His eyes fell on Arachne, huddled in McKenna's sheltering arms. Now that the excitement of the moment was over, the Greek girl was clearly abashed by her nudity.
The general manager jerked his thumb at a nearby boutique. Luxor Logo Shop, it was called. "Get her a bathrobe, Linda," he ordered. "Now. Comp it. Then go over to the boutique in the Galleria and get her something fancier."
The female assistant's eyes gave Arachne's body a quick and expert size measurement and she was on her way. Not quite running.
"Run!" bellowed Flanders.
He didn't wait to see if she obeyed. He was hauling a large cigar out of one jacket pocket and a Zippo out of another. "Been saving this for a special occasion." A moment later, Flander's still-grinning face was shrouded with blue smoke.
"Best day I've ever had," he announced cheerfully. He eyed Lamont and Cruz, and pointed the cigar toward the gaming tables. "Thattaway, gentlemen. Let's see if you can make good your boast."
Lamont looked at Jerry uncertainly. Jerry paused from punching numbers into the cell phone and smiled. "Go ahead, Lamont. It'll take me a while to get through to somebody, anyway. I'll see the word gets passed to Marie. You might as well take care of your retirement."
Lamont rose from the chair, almost giggling. "No more rusted bolts for me!" A moment later, he and Cruz were gone. Medea began to rise, about to follow her new man. Then she relaxed into her chair and hugged her two children close.
"See?" she demanded. "A good provider! Not like that worthless father of yours!"
From the cloud of blue smoke, Flanders' booming voice issued. "Pedro! Get this lady a divorce lawyer. Best one in town. Comp it."
Perched on his own chair, looking a bit like a squat, lion-headed kid, Bes' voice boomed even louder.
"Where are these dwarf-tossing contests I heard about?"
"Alice!" boomed Flanders. "You heard him—book the act."
Jerry had finally gotten through to the Oriental Institute. But all he got was a message: this number is no longer in service. So he overheard the exchange between Bes and Flanders, which caused him to go slightly pale.
"Uh, Mr. Flanders . . . that's likely to be a little tough on the dwarf tossers. Would-be tossers, I should say." He eyed Bes uncertainly. "Unless he's lost his powers."
Bes stood up and transformed his wrought-iron chair into a modernistic sculpture. In three seconds.
"Guess not," muttered Jerry.
"Better yet!" boomed Flanders. "Rita! Get hold of the World Wrestling Federation! Book half a dozen top figures. Villain types, you hear? The Little Guy's Revenge, we'll call it."
A doctor came rushing up. "Thank god," murmured Liz, holding out her arm. "Something in this place isn't showbiz."
"Wendy!" boomed Flanders. "Get the best illustrator in town! I want this lady's cast to be a piece of art!"
From the direction of the gambling area, a loud and excited murmur was beginning to arise. As if someone was beginning to win big.
"Freddie!" boomed the voice out of the blue clouds. "Tell Andy to get moving on that press release!"
All the numbers Jerry tried to dial seemed out of service. He suddenly remembered that the phones involved had been close to the Krim pyramid. He turned toward Flanders and started to speak. "How much has that thing grown since we were snatched?"
Flanders didn't answer the question directly. "Forget the phone! You're about to go on national TV. Everybody'll get your message."
Sure enough. A TV news crew was hustling forward through the mob in the casino, their way being cleared for them by security guards and policemen.