Snarklings Wrestle the Snarkometer, round 47

The French reporter called him when he was already en route, heading for the airport.
"'allo, Cartier. C'est Giraux. I have an event that may be of interest to you, mon ami," the newsman said.
He only wished he was Cartier and said so at length last night, when he sat with Pascal in Il Giordano's pool bar, sipping Glenlivet and watching Cairo's spectacular sunset.
"Cartier, are you there?" he heard Pascal's cigarette-scarred voice.

He's not Cartier? You call him Cartier now and for the rest of the page. I'm confused

Carter glanced out the window. The blue Novotel neon roof sign and square white pillars of the hotel flashed by. He was practically at the airport.
"I'm here, Pascal, but here is a taxi, heading for Cairo International."
"Ah, c'est mal. I have an interesting proposition "attending" an event. When is your flight?"
"Leaves at noon," he said, re-shuffling the priorities in his head. His Delta flight for Istanbul, if on time, was to depart two hours from now. Did he have time to drop by Pascal's "event" and what would be the consequences of taking a later flight?
Hurmutz wasn't waiting for him at the Ataturk International. He begged Yassine to give him a week off to go stay with his dying mother who wasn't expected to last more than two to three days.

Now I'm more confused. You have "Hurmutz" and "him" in the first sentence. To whom does "he" in the second sentence refer?

Yassine didn't just run a one-time security check on a prospective employee, his watchfulness over his staff never ceased. The owner of Papillion Bleu was renowned for sending a couple of his "inspectors" to trail an employee across a continent if need be, just to make sure his generous nature wasn't abused with fanciful tales.

Hurmutz had spend a year establishing five "exit" points that would pass the Lebanese restaurateur's scrutiny. Dying mother was his third excuse in two years of working for Joseph Aziz Yassine.

I'm totally at sea here. I have no idea who is who, and what is going on. Pass.

1 comment:

Bernita said...

C'est un papillonnage, sans doute...