Poor Joe… he sleeps his way through life. That includes the need to wear a bib, as apparently he drools when he naps. Ick.
“The Gig?” What- are they in a band or something? “Onto” or “on to?” I think it’s the latter, but then I am not sure… Did Rusty and Mara go in to the Temple or into the temple? Or they simply entered the Temple… I recently caught myself saying something that I have been saying probably most of my life- a non-word… “Wholenuther,” as in, “that’s a wholenuther thing you’re talking about…” I have to laugh. It’s not a word, obviously, but I think it’s clear what I mean… Oh well.
“Unfortunate” indeed… but that’s not a word that a henchman uses… That’s more a word that the mastermind would use, whilst stroking his cat…
OK. Having also been roused from my drooling slumber, here’s my take on the next few twists of this tale:
Joe is NOT a bad guy. Instead, he and his mysterious radio interlocutor are actually undercover customs agents, working hand in glove with Becky (and perhaps Dr. Carter?) in sussing out a cabal of smugglers of ancient artifacts plaguing the area.
Haven’t yet figured out Dirty’s role in all of this. But I suspect neither has Mr. Allen, given the long exposition we’ve been sitting through so far.
I suspect I’ve got plenty of time to fit together the rest of the puzzle . . . before the dazzling reveal!