Treasure Hunters: Danger Down the Nile Read online

  But soon the five saber-toothed swine were joined by ten of their closest friends. It was a tusk-bucking stampede swarming across the open grassland aiming for Tommy and me. I couldn’t outfox all the warthogs with my matador moves.

  What could possibly save us? Because, of course, as you already know, something or someone did save us. But who? What?

  Don’t forget—this sounder (yes, that’s what you call a group of them) of warthogs was angry and hungry, and they weren’t backing down!

  That’s when Tommy and I heard a horrifying, spine-chilling roar.

  A pride of lions—at least a dozen—appeared on the horizon.

  CHAPTER 93

  What would come charging out of the tall grass next? Gustave, that crazed maneating crocodile? Maybe another bone-crushing African rock python?

  “Don’t worry!” Storm shouted out a window on the expedition vehicle. “You’re saved!”

  Easy for her to say. She was inside the truck, not out in the open with no weapons except a tire iron and a yellow rain slicker.

  “The lion just happens to be the chief predator of warthogs,” Storm continued. For once, I was happy to hear her data dump of fun African facts to know and tell.

  “Um, you guys might want to close your eyes,” said Beck, who was sharing the window with Storm. “This could get ugly. Like a gross National Geographic clip on YouTube.”

  Yes, it was “Circle of Life” time.

  The lions pounced. The warthogs forgot all about Tommy and me while they ran for their lives (some more successfully than others) and scattered to the four corners of the grassland.

  The Kidds (all of us) had lived to hunt treasure for another day!

  CHAPTER 94

  Okay, so that was way more exciting than just ending on a boat bobbing in the middle of the Indian Ocean.

  After packing up our treasure and riding the helicopter back to Nairobi, Uncle Timothy bought us—and the pair of Ming vases—first-class tickets on an Ethiopian Airlines flight headed for Beijing.

  Yes, the pottery had its own seats. No way was Uncle Timothy stowing those priceless artifacts in the cargo hold.

  As we cruised along at thirty thousand feet, the very nice flight attendant offered me a blanket, but I was content to snooze under Dad’s yellow rain slicker. It’d been with me every step of the way on this incredible journey. I guess it had sort of become my security blanket. As I tucked the yellow plastic up under my chin, something extremely random suddenly struck me.

  I remembered Dad’s crude code on the business card for Ronny Venable’s Jewel and Soup Emporium that we found in the safe-deposit box back in New York, where he had scratched out a few letters to tell us “always be-ware” when dealing with Venable.

  That’s when I yanked off my “blanket” and took another look at the label sewn into the raincoat’s collar. Remember how I said the slicker was so old that a couple of the letters in the word made had been worn down and practically rubbed away?

  Maybe they weren’t worn down.

  Maybe Dad had scratched them out on purpose.

  Maybe he had been using the same code he’d used on the business card! When I looked down at the label I saw:

  Are you reading what I read?

  That’s right: ME IN CHINA!

  CHAPTER 95

  I nudged Beck, who was seated next to me. She’d been trying to nap, too.

  “What?” she snapped.

  I put my finger to my lips.

  “What?” she snapped again, a little more quietly.

  “Dad is in China!” I said as softly as I could.

  “Says who?”

  I showed her the tag. “His rain slicker!”

  “You’re whacked, Bickford Kidd. You know that, right?”

  “Maybe. But why else did Dad scratch out the a and the d in made and stuff his foul-weather gear into a secret cubbyhole on The Lost in the middle of the worst storm ever?”

  “Who said he did all that?”

  “Me! I was the last one up on the deck with him. He was wearing this yellow raincoat when he ordered me into the wheelhouse!”

  Beck’s eyes widened. I could tell she was starting to believe me.

  “But why?” she said as we huddled closer so nobody else could hear what we were saying.

  “I don’t know. Maybe he had to go to China on a supersecret mission. That would also explain why a stealthy helicopter plucked him off The Lost in the middle of a tropical storm.”

  “Okay,” said Beck. “What was the mission? What could be so supersecret that Dad would abandon the four of us?”

  “He knew we could take care of ourselves,” I said.

  “True. But what was so important that he’d fake his own death?”

  We both thought about that for a few seconds.

  And then, in a rare moment of total twin harmony, we hit upon the exact same answer: “Uncle Timothy!”

  Now we were both putting our fingers to our lips.

  Because Uncle Timothy was only one row in front of us, sitting by a couple of those “high-ranking” Chinese officials.

  Beck and I started nodding at each other, because our thoughts were in total sync: Dad had to go undercover inside China to find out what the heck Uncle Timothy was really up to over there. Uncle Timothy had told us this mission to find the lost Ming Dynasty treasure ship had been done to solidify relations between two global powers: the United States and China.

  But what if Uncle Timothy had gone rogue?

  What if he was really working for the Chinese?

  What if he had hired Guy Dubonnet Merck to stop Bela Kilgore from passing on information to us from Mom?

  This was why Dad had to sneak into China: to find out if Uncle Timothy was a double agent!

  So now we had two reasons to be in China. First, we had to persuade the authorities to give us one of the Ming vases so we could use it to barter for Mom’s immediate release. And then we needed to find Dad!

  Beck and I were so jazzed neither one of us could go back to sleep.

  Because we both realized, after all our adventures in Africa, we were one step closer to finding the real treasures—Mom and Dad!

  CHAPTER 96

  You’re all invited to come along on our next treasure hunt, in China—and wherever else our continuing quest to find Dad and Mom may lead us!

  We guarantee it’ll be full of thrills, chills, action, excitement, and fun. Adventures should always be like that. Unless, of course, you die, get seriously maimed, or become a warthog’s dinner.

  So see you on our next treasure hunt!

  Zàijiàn!

  (Yes, Beck, that’s how you say good-bye in Mandarin.)

  For more great reads and free samplers, visit

  LBYRDigitalDeals.com

  BOOKS BY JAMES PATTERSON FOR YOUNG READERS

  THE TREASURE HUNTERS NOVELS

  Treasure Hunters

  (with Chris Grabenstein and Mark Shulman, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

  Treasure Hunters: Danger Down the Nile

  (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

  THE MIDDLE SCHOOL NOVELS

  Middle School, The Worst Years of My Life

  (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

  Middle School: Get Me out of Here!

  (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

  Middle School: Big Fat Liar

  (with Lisa Papademetriou, illustrated by Neil Swaab)

  Middle School: How I Survived Bullies, Broccoli, and Snake Hill

  (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

  Middle School: Ultimate Showdown

  (with Julia Bergen, illustrated by Alec Longstreth)

  Middle School: Save Rafe!

  (with Chris Tebbetts, illustrated by Laura Park)

  THE I FUNNY NOVELS

  I Funny

  (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Laura Park)

  I Even Funnier

  (with Chris Grabe
nstein, illustrated by Laura Park)

  THE DANIEL X NOVELS

  The Dangerous Days of Daniel X

  (with Michael Ledwidge)

  Watch the Skies

  (with Ned Rust)

  Demons and Druids

  (with Adam Sadler)

  Game Over

  (with Ned Rust)

  Armageddon

  (with Chris Grabenstein)

  OTHER ILLUSTRATED NOVELS

  House of Robots

  (with Chris Grabenstein, illustrated by Juliana Neufeld)

  Daniel X: Alien Hunter

  (graphic novel; with Leopoldo Gout)

  Daniel X: The Manga, Vols. 1–3

  (with SeungHui Kye)

  For previews of upcoming books in these series and other information, visit middleschoolbooks.com, ifunnybooks.com, treasurehuntersbooks.com, and daniel-x.com.

  For more information about the author, visit jamespatterson.com.

  IF YOU LOVE THE KIDDS, JUST WAIT TILL YOU MEET THE NEW FAMILY ON THE BLOCK!

  Hi, I’m Sammy Hayes-Rodriguez. Maybe you’ve heard of me? I’m the kid everybody’s making fun of because my mother made me bring a robot to school with me—the dumbest, most embarassing thing to ever happen to any kid in the whole history of school. (I’m talking about going back to the Pilgrims and Mayflower Elementary.)

  I need to tell you a wild and crazy story about this robot that—I kid you not—thinks it’s my brother.

  And guess where the dumb-bot got that goofy idea?

  From my mother!

  Oh, guess what? My father is in on this idiotic robot business, too. He even called Mom’s lame-o idea “brilliant.”

  Good thing Maddie is still on my side.

  Maddie’s absolutely the best little sister anybody could ever have. Aren’t her blue eyes incredible? Oh, right. Duh. The drawing is in black-and-white. Well, trust me—her eyes are bluer than that Blizzard Blue crayon in the jumbo sixty-four-color box.

  Anyway, Maddie and I talked about Mom’s latest screwy scheme over breakfast, which, of course, was served by one of Mom’s many wacky inventions: the Breakfastinator.

  Punch the button for Cap’n Crunch and cereal tumbles into a bowl, which slides down to the banana slicer, shuffles off to the milk squirter, scoots over to the sugar sprinkler, and zips down to the dispenser window.

  Want some OJ with your cereal? Bop the orange button.

  But—and this is super important—do NOT push the orange juice and Cap’n Crunch buttons at the same time. Trust me. It’s even worse if you push Cap’n Crunch and scrambled eggs.

  Maddie and I always have breakfast together before I head off to school. The two of us talk about everything, even though Maddie’s two years younger than I am. That means she’d be in the third grade—if she went to school, which she doesn’t.

  I’ll explain later. Promise.

  Maddie knows how crazy Mom and Dad can be sometimes. But to be honest, even though she’s younger, Maddie keeps things under control way better than I do.

  “Everything will be okay, Sammy. Promise.”

  “But you totally agree that Mom’s new idea is ridiculous, right? I could die of embarrassment!”

  “I hope not,” says Maddie. “I’d miss you. Big-time. And yeah, her plan is a little out there.…”

  “Maddie, it’s so far ‘out there’ it might as well be on Mars with that robot rover. They could dig up red rocks together!”

  Okay, now here’s the worst part: My mom told me that this wacko thing she wants me to do is all part of her “most important experiment ever.”

  Yep. I’m just Mom’s poor little guinea pig. She probably put lettuce leaves in my lunch box.

  Mom’s “Take a Robot to School Day” idea is so super nutty, she couldn’t even say it out loud in front of Genna Zagoren, a girl in my class who has a peanut allergy, which is why my best buddy, Trip, can never eat his lunch at Genna’s table. More about Trip later, too. Promise.

  Anyhow, it’s time to begin Mom’s big, superimportant experiment: me and a walking, talking trash can going to school. Together.

  “Just pretend he’s your brother” is what my mom says.

  “I don’t have a brother.”

  “You do now.”

  Can you believe this?

  I can’t.

  As for the robot? I don’t think he’s really going to blend in with the other kids in my class except, maybe, on Halloween.

  He’s already wearing his costume.

  “Good morning, Samuel,” E says when we’re out the front door and on our way up the block to the bus stop. “Lovely weather for matriculating.”

  “Huh?”

  “To matriculate. To enroll or be enrolled in an institution of learning, especially a college or university.”

  I duck my head and hope nobody can tell it’s me walking beside Robo-nerd.

  “We’re not going to college,” I mumble. “It’s just school.”

  “Excellent. Fabulous. Peachy.”

  I guess Mom is still working on E’s word search program. I can hear all sorts of things whirring as the big bulky thing kind of glides up the sidewalk. The robot chugs his arms back and forth like he’s cross-country skiing up the concrete in super-slow motion. Without skis.

  I notice that E is lugging an even bigger backpack than I am.

  Maybe that’s where he keeps his spare batteries.

  According to my mother—whose name is Elizabeth—the robot’s name, E, stands for Egghead, which is what a lot of people call my mom, Professor Elizabeth Hayes, PhD, because she’s so super smart (except when she does super-dumb stuff like making me take a talking robot to school for anything besides show-and-tell).

  My dad, Noah Rodriguez, says the name E stands for Einstein Jr. because the robot is such a genius. Ha! Would a genius go to school without wearing underpants? I don’t think so.

  My sister, Maddie, thinks E is a perfect name all by itself and stands for nothing except E.

  I kind of like Maddie’s idea. Even though Maddie doesn’t go to school, she’s so smart it’s almost impossible to fight or argue with her about anything. Trust me. I’ve tried.

  But the more time I spend with E, the more I think I know what his name really means: ERROR!

  “Remember, Samuel,” E says when we reach the bus stop, “always wait for the school bus on the sidewalk. Do not stand, run, or play in the street.”

  A lot of my friends from the neighborhood are already at the corner. Most of them are gawking at the clunky machine with the glowing blue eyeballs that’s following behind me like an obedient Saint Bernard.

  “What’s with the bright blue eyeballs?” I mumble. “Are those like freeze-ray guns?”

  “Let’s form a straight line, children, away from the street,” E chirps. And get this—E can smile. And blink. (But you can hear the mini-motors clicking and purring inside his head when he does.)

  “I make these suggestions,” E continues, “in an attempt to enhance your school-bus-boarding safety.”

  Everybody stops gawking at E and starts staring at me.

  None of the kids are smiling. Or blinking.

  E is definitely the biggest ERROR my mother has ever made—worse than the time she designed a litter-box-cleaning robot that flung clumps of kitty poop all over the house.

  “What is that thing?” asks Jackson Rehder, one of the kids who ride the bus with me every morning.

  “Another one of my mother’s ridiculous robots,” I say, giving E the stink eye.

  “What’s his name?”

  “E. For Error. Just like in baseball.”

  “I’m sorry, Samuel,” says E. “You are mistaken. You are imparting incorrect information. Your statement is fallacious.”

  Great. Now the stupid robot wants to argue with me? Unbelievable.

  Stick around. This should be fun.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Welcome

  A Quick Note from Bi
ckford Kidd

  Prologue: Bottoming Out Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Part 1: The Hunt for Our Next Treasure Hunt Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Part 2: Bungle in the Jungle Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58