Free The Great Gold Robbery by Jo Nesbø Page B

long, black-handled knife he was holding in his hand.
    “Ahem, yes, isn’t it great?” Nilly said, reveling in his packing brilliance. “Real Monopoly money.”
    “But that’s not worth anything!” Betty said.
    “It’s not?” Nilly said, looking at Betty in surprise. Then he lit up. “Oh, you’re thinking of the money they use in that game . . . what’s it called
again?”
    He looked around but did not receive an answer, just threatening looks from dark-red faces all around.
    “Monopoly!” Nilly exclaimed. “Oh, but that’s fake Monopoly money. This is real Monopoly money.”
    “What’s the difference?” Charlie asked.
    “Well, obviously these authentic bills have watermarks in them,” Nilly said.
    Alfie set his bowler hat back on his head and then held one of the bills up to the light. “I don’t see any watermark,” he said.
    “Of course not,” Nilly said. “It’s made of water.”
    “What kind of nonsense is this?” Mama Crunch said. “Monopoly money is play money whether it’s fake or real.”
    “That’s actually a very common misunderstanding, Mrs. Crunch,” Nilly said, holding up a toenail chip. It was yellow and white and looked exactly like a . . . well, an old,
well-used toenail. “But when they created the game of Monopoly, they copied the money used in Monopolynesia.”
    “Monopolynesia?” Mama Crunch repeated, lowering her arms to her sides in a way that allowed Nilly to see her bulging biceps.
    “Yup,” Nilly said, crunching a toenail chip between his teeth and smiling quickly.
    “There is no country called Monopolynesia,” Alfie said quietly.
    Nilly chewed and chewed. Then he said, “If the Monopolyppians could hear you now, they would be really insulted, Alfie.”
    “Oh yeah?” Alfie said. Then he lifted his chin and pulled his knife across his throat, making a scraping sound. Short, black crumbs of stubble sprinkled onto his fish like pepper.
“And what would they do about that?”
    “Probably not that much,” Nilly said with a shrug. “Because they’re shy, you know, the Monopolyppians. And so small. Their country is just a small atoll in the Pacific
somewhere between Togaparty and Danish Guano.”
    Just then Nilly felt something big, heavy, and warm settle around the back of his neck. Mama Crunch had taken a seat in the chair next to him, and the arm she wrapped around him made Nilly think
of an enormous anaconda snake he had once encountered.
    “Listen up, Mr. Sherl. My boys might not be the brightest geography students. But unfortunately for you, I went to middle school
and
housewifery school. And I’ve
never
heard of Monopolynesia! So I’m going to chop you up into little pieces and put you in the birdcage. Alfie, give me the knife. . . .”
    “With all due respect, Mrs. Crunch,” Nilly said, laughing hysterically as his heart pounded like a piece of cardboard in some bicycle spokes. “Remember that Monopolynesia is so
small that the country doesn’t even have a seat at the UN. They just have a standing spot all the way in the back. Without any voting rights and no key to the restrooms. And if any army
attacks Monopolynesia, no other country would help them, because what good could possibly come from being on the same side as such a small, insignificant country? That’s how it’s always
been for those of us who are small in stature.” Nilly looked up at Mama Crunch with his most sorrowful expression. “And that’s why the Monopolyppians hide and pretend they
don’t exist. There’s hardly any information about the country anywhere.”
    Mama Crunch took the knife Alfie handed her and squeezed her arm around Nilly a little more tightly. “I see, Mr. Sherl. You’re claiming that a whole country is managing to keep
itself a secret?”
    “You guys don’t believe me?” Nilly asked, his voice sounding a little choked up. “Try Google, then! If you find anything on there about the country of Monopolynesia,
I’ll give you my share of