My Foray Into The World of Crime ©

By Bill Longworth
October 19, 2011

We pulled up to the five star Fairmont Towers Hotel near the Cairo Airport and I slipped out of my chauffeur driven car with my backpack of money and ventured into the front passenger seat of an impeccably polished black Mercedes.

I didn’t know where I was going or who I was with, but the Mercedes driver had given my chauffeur a promise to convert my bag of Egyptian cash into real money in the form of American greenbacks.

I was returning to Canada after finishing my job assignment as Director of a “start up” International High School that paid me about as much as fifty Egyptian teachers and, despite living high off the hog, I had accumulated a healthy sum.

I had no idea how much Egyptian money I had in my bag...but it might well have been the equivalent of $15,000-$20,000US, and I knew that, if unconverted, it only had the value of last week’s newspaper once outside the country.

In retrospect, It’s frightening to contemplate the risks you’ll take when there’s money on the line.

Egypt has tightly regulated foreign exchange controls as the government attempts to lock up all internationally recognized currencies for its own use and for the use of its privileged insiders. Thus my money conversion was illegal and had to be done on the black market.

And neither my driver, nor the Mercedes driver, spoke much English so I had no idea of the specifics of the agreements or discussions they had.

I did know that my safety and security, and that of my bag of money, was in the hands of those I didn’t know and couldn’t communicate with. I was proceeding on blind faith....and a hope and a prayer.

Before hopping into the Mercedes, I had my driver write down the car’s license number, get the driver’s identification, and instructed him to wait until I returned. As if any of this would provide me security!

The Mercedes driver, a heavy-set guy with an olive Arabic complexion, was neatly dressed. His slick-backed hair and “hustler” manner distinguished him as not of the executive set. It appeared to me that his Mercedes was probably the result of criminal activity in this country where the best middle class salaries averaged $240US monthly---certainly not enough to afford these wheels.

As part of the criminal element, I wondered whether the guy was holstering a revolver under his jacket. I knew weapons were common to the Egyptian population. I once witnessed a guy sitting in broad daylight on the curb outside his residence cleaning his revolver.

And everywhere you look in Egypt, bus loads of heavily armed soldiers and police were waiting for immediate dispatch to trouble spots. Unfortunately none of these trouble-shooters were nearby. The only sense of security I got was from the hotel security guards, and who knows, they may have been in cahoots with the Mercedes driver hanging around the hotel parking lot. So it was not just my wild imagination wondering whether this stranger helping me break the law was packing some heat that might be used to do me in and steal my cash.

And I’d often heard rumours in Egypt about the proclivity of police and others to shoot first and ask questions later....a belief reinforced daily as my driver drove through heavily armed police check-points on my return from work, although we didn’t have to stop, perhaps because my car was somehow identified as “safe.”

It’s frightening how the need for practical action often causes you to throw caution to the wind...and this risky, foolhardy, and maybe even dumb-headed money exchange adventure seemed eerily similar to a perilous game of Russian roulette.

But to me, the amount of cash I had was no chicken feed, and I needed to convert it into something of value. Previous unsuccessful attempts to get the cash changed to American currency, had me shopping for Rolex watches as a last resort, but there was no guarantee even these would be real.

Anyway, despite my trepidations, I was in the Mercedes and it sped off through the streets to some unknown destination. After forty minutes or so through a section of Cairo that looked a little seedy to me, the car pulled up in a run-down high-rise apartment complex.

The driver handed me the keys to his Mercedes and gestured for my bag of money and we made the exchange.

He got out of the car and made his way to some unknown “out of sight” destination.

After what seemed like an eternity, he returned and gave me a sheaf of brand new American hundreds and I returned his keys.

Now that I had the real money and he had his keys, was he now going to drive me to some remote location to do me in and reclaim the money?

That question dominated my thinking until I saw the hotel and my chauffeur still there waiting for me. It was only then that I felt relief knowing that the transaction was complete, and I was safe.

I never even bothered counting the cash I got and didn’t care about the huge premium I probably paid, but I did applaud my alchemy at being able to convert my trash to gold.

And, oh yes, I did slip my chauffeur a few hundred for his collusion in this caper knowing that, if he was caught, it may well have resulted in jail time for him.

Now I feel better! This confession has cleansed my soul and absolved my sin! Hey! That’s so easy! Now, what other mischief can I get myself into?

“Won’t you come in?” ...said the Spider to the Fly ©

Illustration©, Story© and Video© By
Bill Longworth
September 31, 2008


It all started innocently enough on that blustery January night.

As an introductory get-together, I arranged to catch a little music and a drink at a pub with a person I’d met casually a few days before. I thought that we might enjoy some light conversation between the music sets and get to know a little about each other.



With the fierce snowstorm and the dangerous driving conditions, I began to question the wisdom of driving anywhere that night and as she lived nearby and figuring I could walk home if the weather further deteriorated, I phoned and suggested that I’d bring over a movie to watch to save us the trek outdoors. She readily agreed…perhaps in retrospect, too readily!

I put her acceptance of our change in plans down to a good natured flexibility. How wrong could I be? She was way ahead of me on this one!

Drinks were dispensed shortly after my arrival at her apartment. The atmosphere was welcoming and relaxing. Aromatic candles were glistening everywhere. The lights were low. Soft romantic music was playing. Easy casual conversation helped us to get a cursory knowledge of each other.

Presently, she brought up the subject of watching the movie I had brought and explained that her television and DVD player were in the other room where we could watch the movie.

At that, she bounced gleefully into the TV room as I soldiered dutifully behind. As I entered, I noted that the TV room was also the bedroom….and there was no place to sit.

“Just make yourself comfortable on the bed,” she whispered suggestively. This should have immediately set off piercing alarm bells screaming in my head. This is strike two, I admonished myself. The first strike might have been coming here in the first place. I’d better brace myself for strike three!

Seeing no escape alternative, if at this point the devil within me really wanted one, I arranged the pillows as a back rest so I could sit comfortably to watch the movie. Once they were suitably arranged, I settled myself down ready to enjoy the video.

While I was arranging myself on the bed, she fed the DVD into the player. Despite numerous “apparent” attempts at getting the movie to play, she exclaimed, “I can’t get the damn thing to play!”

You could almost see the scheming wheels accelerating in her head. “I know I do have something that will play,” she announced, and as if by magic she produced another disk. The machine engorged this one which immediately started to play. It was a fireplace video along with its quiet audio of crackling logs combined with romantic music which, as you can imagine, immediately heated up the surroundings.

“Aren’t you warm?” she chirped teasingly as she started to remove her sweater. “I don’t want my clothing to get wrinkled. I have to wear it to work tomorrow!” This concern seemed to give her excuse to disrobe more as she slipped under the blankets and started nestling closer to me, obviously to keep warm.

“Won’t you come under the covers?” she tempted.

I should have seen all this coming. I could sense strike three rapidly approaching.



In the jungle, hungry carnivores know the habits of those they’re stalking and use this knowledge to skillfully move in for the kill. Was I the victim tonight?

Now, I’ve got to pinch myself to wake up and try to figure out whether this whole tale is fact or fiction—whether it has a figment of truth or is completely a figment of my dreamy imagination. You decide—because it shall remain a secret with me!

Whether fact or fiction, however, the time-worn moral of the tale is true. Be wary of hungry cougars prowling in life’s jungles as it’s near impossible to outfox a scheming and cunning cougar which has you lined up in its sites.