Treasure Hunters--Quest for the City of Gold Page 3

  Oh-kay. So much for Tommy’s Costa Rican girlfriend’s name meaning “silent.”

  I wonder what the Spanish word for “blabbermouth” is?

  “Sileny?” Tommy sort of whimpered. “How could you?”

  “Silence, silly boy!” hissed Sileny, reminding me of that pit viper we’d just met. “You were so easy to fool.”

  Tailspin Tommy crashes and burns once again.

  Guy Dubonnet Merck chuckled.

  “Give us the golden crown and the scepter of the Incan high priest, Dr. Kidd!” he demanded. “Give them to us now! Or I will execute your children one by one. Starting with the girl you call Storm, for she not only tricked me into a wild African goose chase, she is also a very easy and wide target.”

  Dad’s face turned beet red. It always does when somebody makes fun of one of his children.

  “I believe you meant to say she is beautiful and intelligent.” I could see the hair bristling on the back of his neck.

  “She will also be dead if you do not give me what I want!” raged Merck. “Do not forget, Dr. Kidd, I’m a semipsychotic sociopath compensating for a wretchedly unhappy childhood.”

  Whoa. I guess Guy Dubonnet Merck had a psych degree, too.

  “Very well,” said Dad. “If we give you the headpiece and the staff, do you promise you will leave my family unharmed?”

  “Yes! You have my word as a semipsychotic sociopath!”

  “Um, that’s not the best vow I’ve ever heard,” I said.

  “Give them the golden rod, Tommy,” said Dad.

  “Fine,” said Tommy. “But I’m not giving it to her!”

  He handed the ancient Incan staff to the closest biker who wasn’t Sileny.

  “Here you are, Mr. Merck,” said Dad, holding out the Incan headpiece. “I hope it brings you happiness and good fortune.”

  “Ha!” laughed Merck, grabbing the feathered crown out of Dad’s hands. “I’m sure it will.”

  He cradled the headpiece in his lap so he could tap some information into his smartwatch.

  He waited maybe five seconds.

  His watch dinged.

  “Voilà!” Merck announced. “I already have a buyer. Oh, my. Such a generous offer, too! Adieu, annoying Kidd family. It has been a pleasure robbing you. I would kill you all now but I hope to steal more treasures from you in the future. Sileny, my dove? Lead the way!”

  The six dirt bikes took off, their spinning tires chewing up the jungle floor as they barreled down the trail.

  “We should chase after them!” I said.

  “An excellent suggestion, Bick,” said Dad. “However, we forgot to pack our own trail bikes.”

  “I sure wish we had,” said Beck.

  “We still remember all those off-roading moves you taught us,” I told Dad.

  “I’m certain you do.”

  When Beck and I were younger, Dad spent a lot of time teaching us how to ride. We started on tricycles, of course, but we were driving ATVs on rugged mountain ranges all over the world when most kids our age were still on bikes with training wheels.

  “We better get back to the ship,” said Mom. “Fast.”

  “Indeed. But cheer up, family,” said Dad. “All is not lost. Mr. Merck may have taken our shiny gold artifacts but he foolishly left us with the most important Incan treasures.”

  Dad tapped his shoulder bag again.

  The letter and the handle of the sacrificial tumi knife were still in there. We still had the keys to the Lost City of Paititi.

  “Let’s double-time it down the mountain,” said Mom.

  “Yes, ma’am!” we all shouted back, including Dad. Then we took off jogging.

  We could still hear the whine of the motorcycles in the distance. It sounded like they were making their way to the other side of the island.

  “Good,” Dad said when we came to a cliff overlooking the bay where we had anchored the Lost. “Mr. Merck has no interest in looting our ship, too!”

  “Chya,” said Tommy, pulling out his binoculars and studying the sea below. “Maybe because somebody else already beat him to it!”

  CHAPTER 11

  By the time we made it back to the Lost, the boarding party of pirates was gone.

  So was the leather map Dad had discovered in Rome.

  “The Door was unlocked?” said Mom, staring in disbelief at our wide-open bank vault. When she was done doing that, she stared at me and Beck. Hard.

  “I thought Bick was going to check the lock,” said Beck.

  “I thought Beck was going to do it,” I countered.

  Beck whirled around to face me. “Well, then, you should’ve asked me if I was going to check the lock!”

  “You could’ve asked me, too!”

  We were about to erupt into our worst Twin Tirade ever when Storm spoke up.

  “Guess it’s time for me to save your twin tushies again,” she said with a sigh. “Dad?”

  “Yes?” he said. He sounded distracted, probably because we desperately needed that map to find Paititi.

  “Don’t worry,” said Storm. She tapped her temple. “I memorized it.”

  “What?” said Dad.

  “The map. It was ink on leather. Full of interesting hieroglyphs.”

  “When did you see it?”

  “After I saw how important it was to you.”

  “But how did you get into the Room?” asked Mom.

  “Easy. I memorized the code Dad punched into the security system the last time he locked it.”

  “Wait a second,” I said to Storm. “So you’re saying the Door wouldn’t’ve been unlocked if you hadn’t unlocked it?”

  She just shrugged. “Guess not. But you should’ve checked. I can be forgetful about stuff like locking doors.”

  “What?” exclaimed Beck. “You have a photographic memory!”

  “True. But I use it only for important information. Otherwise, my brain would become too crowded. Now, if you guys will excuse me, I’m going to go to my cabin, where I will re-create the map. I think I’ll do it on my laptop instead of leather.”

  Storm eased past the rest of us and headed up to the cabin that she shared with Beck in the ship’s bow.

  Mom smiled. “We have an amazingly talented daughter, Thomas,” she said to Dad.

  “Indeed we do,” said Dad.

  “Bick and I could’ve chased after Merck,” said Beck.

  “If we’d had our trail bikes,” I added.

  “We know,” said Dad. “You two are extremely talented, too.”

  “What about me?” Tommy moped. “What’s my talent? Falling head over heels in love with girls who just want to steal our treasures?”

  “You have a good heart, Tommy,” said Mom.

  “You’re also an amazing big brother,” said Beck.

  “Totally,” I chimed in. “We never would’ve survived without Mom and Dad if we didn’t have you.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe. But this is it. I’m done. No more girlfriends. Well, at least not until I go to college. Or until next month. Maybe I’ll just take a month off…”

  “Sounds like a wise move, Tommy,” said Dad. He checked his dive watch. “Time is of the essence, Kidds. Whoever was on that submarine has our map and a head start.”

  “They’re on their way to Paititi already!” I said, pounding my fist into my open palm.

  “Perhaps,” said Dad mysteriously. “However, the map may not help them all that much if they don’t know how to decode it.”

  “And we do?”

  Dad tapped his satchel again.

  “Is that what’s in the letter?” I asked.

  “Yes, Bick. The letter is the true key to the Lost City of Gold! Without it, the map those submarine pirates stole is practically worthless.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Dad told us more about the crinkly old parchment letter he’d found on Cocos Island.

  “It was written by a priest named Father Toledo and addressed to ‘His Holiness, the Pope.’ The letter and the
Incan artifact it was wrapped around were placed on board the same ship as the Treasure of Lima for the first leg of its journey to Rome.”

  “But the letter never made it past Costa Rica,” said Mom.

  “Because the captain went all pirate on everybody!” I said.

  Dad nodded. “Not knowing he had in his hull a letter that might prove far more valuable than all the treasure he hoped to steal.”

  “Wait a second,” said Tommy. “How come you found the leather map in Rome?”

  “Because,” explained Mom, “Father Toledo was a very clever man. He sent the map on one ship bound for Rome and the code for deciphering it on another!”

  “That was wicked smart,” said Tommy. “I never would’ve thought of it. I probably would’ve blabbed everything to the first pretty girl I met at the dock!”

  Mom smiled. “Go easy on yourself, Tommy.”

  “So that’s why the secret Incan City of Gold has never been found,” I said. “The pope had the map to Paititi but not the magic map-decoder key!”

  “Precisely,” said Dad.

  “So how did Father Toledo end up with a map to Paititi?” I asked.

  “By befriending a local. He used his medical knowledge to save the life of a man’s young daughter. In gratitude, the local told the priest where he could find the fabled City of Gold.”

  “So, was everything in this Incan City of Gold made out of, you know, gold? Like, even the street lamps and sewer pipes and junk?” asked Tommy.

  “Were the streets paved with gold bars instead of bricks?” asked Beck.

  “Not exactly, you guys,” said Mom. Then, while we packed up our gear for the trip south, she gave us a quick refresher course on Paititi.

  “According to legends, the city of Paititi was built by the Incan hero Inkarri, who had outfoxed the Spanish conquistadors and slipped away with more than twenty thousand llamas loaded down with gold and silver!”

  “So, once Storm re-creates the map,” I said, “we can use Father Toledo’s letter to find where Inkarri stashed all that gold and silver!”

  “Not right away,” said Dad. “First we must find the Sacred Stone.”

  “Um, why?” asked Tommy.

  “Because,” said Dad, reading and translating from the parchment letter, “according to Father Toledo, ‘One must first possess the Sacred Stone or the gates to Paititi will remain forever locked!’”

  CHAPTER 13

  “This is, like, the most complicated treasure hunt ever,” I complained to Beck when we were up on deck at sunset, packing gear into duffel bags for the excursion into the Amazon rain forest.

  “Totally,” she agreed.

  Yep, instead of a Twin Tirade, we were having a Twin Harmonious Convergence, a very rare event during which we both peacefully agree about everything. This was only number seven of those.

  “First Dad had to find a map in Rome,” said Beck.

  “Then,” I continued, “we had to dig up a Dear Pope letter off the coast of Costa Rica.”

  “Next,” said Beck, “we have to find the Sacred Stone. What comes after that? The magical marimba? The enchanted empanada?”

  “And this very minute, the rest of the Treasure of Lima is sitting right over there,” I said, gesturing toward Cocos Island, since we were still anchored in its bay. “We just have to crawl into the cave and take it.”

  “So why don’t we?” said Beck.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “I agree.”

  “Wow,” I said. “These Twin Harmonious Convergences are even shorter than Twin Tirades.”

  “There’s less spit involved, too.”

  “We should take a vote,” I suggested. “See if Storm and Tommy agree with us.”

  “Good idea.”

  We bustled down belowdecks to see what Storm thought. She’d just finished the treasure map she’d created from memory and was printing it out.

  “I’m with you guys,” she said after we told her our idea about going back to Cocos even though Mom and Dad said we didn’t have time. “This map is so convoluted and confusing, it might just be one piece of a bigger puzzle. We could end up spending years hiking around in the rain forest. And I hate humidity.”

  Next we polled Tommy.

  “We should definitely go back,” he said. “Merck and Sileny saw us outside that cave. They might put two and two together and decide to go back to steal some more treasure from us.”

  Long story short, the four of us went to Mom and Dad and presented our arguments for going back to the island to retrieve the rest of the treasure.

  “We should take a family vote!” I said.

  “Fine,” said Dad.

  So we did.

  It was four against two. Me, Beck, Storm, and Tommy against Mom and Dad.

  But that didn’t mean we won.

  “I’m sorry, guys,” said Dad with a heavy sigh. “Mom and I have to veto your vote. We are not going back to the island. Too much is at stake.”

  “Now go to bed,” said Mom. “It’s getting late. We’re heading to Peru first thing tomorrow morning.”

  CHAPTER 14

  There was a whole lot of grousing and grumbling belowdecks that evening.

  The four of us gathered in the cabin Tommy and I shared in the bow of our ship. We were all keeping our voices down because Mom and Dad were only two cabins away, snoozing peacefully. Well, we knew Dad was. We could hear his snoring. It sounded like a bear with breathing problems sawing a stump.

  None of us could figure out how Mom could sleep next to that much noise. Maybe when she was a baby, she had a teddy bear that snored, too.

  “Remember the good old days?” I whispered. “Like, a few months ago? When Mom was kidnapped and you guys all thought Dad was dead?”

  Storm raised her eyebrows. “And those days were good how, exactly?”

  “Not the stuff about Mom and Dad,” I answered quickly. “Missing them was horrible.”

  “Scary, too,” added Beck.

  “Definitely,” I said. “But back then, when we decided to do something, we did it!”

  “Chya,” said Tommy. “I’m kind of surprised we’re all still alive. Remember when your feet nearly rotted off in Africa, Bick?”

  “Yes, Tommy. Thanks for reminding me.”

  “No problemo, little bro.”

  “Now it’s as if our votes don’t count,” said Beck. “Four against two and we lose? The system is rigged.”

  “Actually,” said Tommy, “I think parental units always get three votes each. It’s like a rule or something.”

  “Well, it’s a bad rule!” I said.

  We debated the issue for maybe fifteen more minutes. Tommy kept reminding us of all the gross stuff that happened on our kids-only Kidd adventures.

  Finally, we took another vote.

  “Who wants to go back to the island tonight and haul all that treasure out of the cave?” I asked.

  Four hands went up again.

  “Then let’s do it!” said Beck.

  CHAPTER 15

  We tiptoed up the hall, past the engine room, past Mom and Dad’s room, where the snoring inside must have been rattling some of the tribal masks and priceless artifacts mounted on the walls.

  We quietly made our way through the white-washed galley and up the creaky wooden stairs to the deck.

  Finally, we reached the rubber raft we used to travel ashore.

  Mom was there, waiting for us.

  “Hi, guys,” she said super-calmly. “Did you want to borrow the boat?”

  “Um, sort of,” said Tommy.

  “Still thinking about heading back to Cocos Island to pick up all that treasure we left behind?”

  The four of us nodded because none of us can ever lie to our mother.

  “Very well,” she said, stepping out of the landing craft. “You have a choice. You guys can take this boat and go off on your own, or you can trust that your dad and I might know what’s best—not just for this family but for a whole bunch of othe
r people, too.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The people of Peru. Don’t forget, all that gold was stolen from them centuries ago. Your father and I made some discreet calls through back channels. Our good friend Dr. Maria Solis, a Peruvian anthropologist and archaeologist from the National University of San Marcos, is heading up an expedition that will initiate the recovery on Cocos.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “So we’re not just leaving it there sitting in a hole?” said Beck.

  Mom smiled. “Nope.”

  “Cool,” said Tommy with a yawn. “Let’s skip the island and go to Peru tomorrow. Catch you guys later. I’m sleepy.”

  “Yeah,” said Storm. “Me, too.”

  “Night, Mom,” I said.

  “See you in the morning,” added Beck.

  And together we headed back downstairs, trusting that Mom and Dad probably knew what was best.

  That’s why they got all those extra votes.

  CHAPTER 16

  The next morning, Tommy and I were both rudely awakened by the roar of airplane engines.

  The snarling grew closer and was followed by a very loud, very long splash.

  It sounded like somebody had just sent a school bus down a waterslide.

  The Lost rocked as the wake of whatever had just sliced through the Pacific Ocean washed up against its hull.

  “What the heck was that?” I said, bolting up in my bed and hitting the hardwood ceiling. Yes, Tommy always calls dibs on the lower bunk.

  “Might be Dad’s new toy,” said Tommy.

  “Huh?”

  “You didn’t think we were going to sail the Lost all the way to Peru, did you? Especially not if we want to beat those submarine pirates who stole the map to Paititi.”

  “Well, how else are we gonna get there?”

  Tommy went to the porthole.