Jake tried to scramble away, but clawlike hands snatched his uniform’s collar. Before he could break free, a bony arm hooked across his throat, strangling him.
Heavy boots pounded down the passageway. Drummond appeared, now holding two pistols: one pointed down the side hall, one toward the foyer.
The thief swung Jake around, using him like a human shield. “Back off!” the skinny man squeaked at Drummond.
Morgan took in the scenario with a glance and obeyed. He took three large steps toward the rear of the house. The thief returned to the main hall, keeping Jake as a shield.
Once out in the hall, Jake caught sight of a second man in the foyer by the front door, a short bulldog with jowls to match. To the side, Aunt Matilda huddled at the entrance to the library. Her baker’s cap was askew, her white curls tangled. She fixed Jake with a look of raw terror.
“Back to the car!” the skeleton shouted to the bulldog. “As long as we have the boy, they’ll do what we want! Pay any price!”
The thief dragged Jake back with him.
They were going to kidnap him.
Jake met Drummond’s glare down the hall. Both pistols pointed forward now, but the Brit plainly feared shooting and hitting Jake.
Reaching the foyer, Jake struggled to free himself, but his throat was clamped by a hard forearm.
The thief took a last step toward the door when a new noise intruded.
From the sweep of the main staircase, a baying howl flowed. A low brown shape hurtled down the steps, a furry torpedo.
“No, Watson!” Jake gasped out.
The old basset hound was past his fighting prime. At fourteen years, he was almost deaf and half blind. He must have slept through all of the commotion until the booming gunshot woke him up and sent him charging.
Leaping off the last step, Watson flew to Jake’s defense.
But he was no match for the strong thief. Jake’s captor swung out his arm like a club and struck Watson in the shoulder, knocking the dog to the side.
Jake went blind with anger. Free of the choking arm, he ripped open the red belt that tied his uniform and shimmied out of his jacket, leaving the giant holding nothing but cloth.
Once free, Jake twisted and dropped to his back on the floor. He kept hold of his jacket’s sleeve and yanked with all his strength.
The skeleton, caught by surprise, got pulled forward. Jake kicked up with both feet, hitting the man square in the face. Under one heel, bone crunched.
With a cry of surprise and pain, the thief let go of the jacket and stumbled over the door’s threshold and down the front steps outside.
Morgan came running up. “Stay down!” he yelled to Jake, and dashed for the door.
But the thief’s partner already had the car running. Jake heard the engine roar. Morgan’s pistol cracked, but tires spun through gravel.
Jake sat up in time to see the sedan fishtail around the circular drive, crash through a section of garden, then blast away down the driveway. One of Morgan’s shots shattered the rear window, but the sedan kept going and disappeared over a wooded hill.
They’d both gotten away.
Morgan returned, his face beet red. He pointed at Jake. He plainly wanted to yell, to bluster; but instead he kept his words as taut as a bowstring. “Next time I tell you to keep out of sight, boy, bloody do it.”
Jake nodded, relieved.
Morgan crossed to the library. Uncle Edward was tied to an office chair. One of his eyes was swollen shut, his lower lip split and bleeding. But from the flush in his face, he was plainly more angry than hurt. Morgan and Aunt Matilda set about freeing him.
A whimper drew Jake’s attention to the other side. Watson came limping up.
“Oh, no …”
Jake slid on his knees across the limestone floor to meet him. Watson wagged his tail, panting hard, tongue hanging. He looked more embarrassed than wounded. Still, Jake ran his hands over Watson’s side to be sure. He felt no broken bones or ribs. Likely he was only bruised.
Jake hugged the old dog. He was more brother than hound. “I’m so sorry, Watson.”
Morgan appeared behind him. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Jake stared up at him, then down the main hall. Half of the cabinets had been smashed open, the contents scattered or crushed, priceless treasures that went back generations: pinned beetles and rare butterflies, stuffed extinct specimens, precious artifacts and totems from around the world, fossils from every era and epoch.
How much had been lost forever?
His voice was dull with shock. “Then whose fault was it?”
Jake swung to face his aunt and uncle. Aunt Matilda had straightened her cap and tucked her white curls back into order. She had already fetched an ice pack for her husband. Edward had it wrapped in a towel and pressed it over his swollen eye. He had never looked more frail.
Jake’s heart ached.
Edward and Matilda were not really his aunt and uncle. The married couple had been friends of Jake’s grandfather and had managed Ravensgate Manor for three generations. With no surviving relatives to look after Jake and Kady after their parents disappeared, the elderly couple had taken over their guardianship, while continuing to oversee the estate. The pair were as doting as any parents and sometimes as stern.
“What did the thieves want?” Jake asked.
Edward answered. He’d recovered his spectacles from the floor, but they were broken. “That’s just it. It made no sense. They kept asking about your father’s watch. The gold anniversary pocket watch.”
Jake felt his stomach sink. Now he knew whose fault all of this was. He only had to look in a mirror.
Matilda shook her head. “We tried to tell them that it had vanished with Richard and Penelope, but they wouldn’t believe us.”
Jake glanced down the hall toward his parents’ cabinet. It was still intact. And lucky for that. Jake had hidden the watch inside the cabinet, where it belonged. For safekeeping, he had placed it inside an ancient Egyptian funerary jar on the bottom shelf.
After returning from Pangaea, Jake and Kady had made a pact to keep their adventures secret, to tell no one about the discovery of the pocket watch. Who would have believed their story anyway?
Morgan growled. “So the watch isn’t here?”
After all that had happened, Jake almost caved in and told the truth. But suspicions still jangled through him. He did not fully trust Morgan. Could all of this have been a clever ruse? A fallback plan if the thieves failed to find the watch? It seemed odd that Morgan should show up here so suddenly. For that matter, what was the head of security for Bledsworth Sundries and Industries even doing in North Hampshire, Connecticut?
Jake remembered something his father had once told him: all you have to do to keep a secret is to do nothing at all. Of course, his father had been talking about the silence necessary to protect an archaeological dig site. Still, Jake took that advice now.
He said nothing.
Morgan shook his head. “Then you’re right. It makes no sense. Lucky I was keeping tabs on your family.”
“What?” Jake gulped out, shocked and surprised. “Why?”
“Because Bledsworth Sundries and Industries cleans up its own messes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I fear the event we sponsored at the British Museum last April and the publicity generated by your appearance may have stirred up unwanted attention aimed your way. Since you returned home, we’ve been keeping tabs. Then, two days ago, my local sources picked up chatter of a possible burglary attempt. I came out to investigate.”
Jake wasn’t entirely buying it. “So that was you back in town, wasn’t it?” He couldn’t keep an accusatory tone out of his voice.
Morgan’s face tightened with what looked like shame. “I’m afraid so. And I’m afraid that incident with the automobile was also my fault.”
“What do you mean?” Jake asked.
“I only meant to steal your bike.”
“Steal
my bike? What are you talking about?”
“I was trying to protect you, to delay your return home and keep you out of harm’s way.” Morgan’s expression turned sheepish and pained. “But when I got downtown, I found someone spying on you. I recognized one of the burglary team. I tried to grab him. But he released the parking brake on his sedan and darted out the far door. I went after him, only realizing too late where the sedan was heading. I gave up pursuit and chased after the car, but it had gained too much speed. I couldn’t catch up.”
Jake pictured the car smashing through the window. “You almost got me killed.”
Morgan held up a hand. “A miscalculation. The corporation will cover any damages.”
A miscalculation?
Jake stood there, stunned, unable to speak.
He was saved from responding by the sound of a heavy engine. They all turned toward the front door. Gravel crunched, and a small yellow school bus lumbered into view.
Morgan stepped to the door, his hand resting on his holstered pistol.
The bus swung around the circular drive and stopped. The door cranked open, and a tall, lithe figure in a cheerleading outfit stepped out. It was Jake’s older sister, Kady. She swung her length of blond hair like a mane and cast a baleful glance back at the bus as she climbed the stone steps.
Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the welcome party on the front stoop. Her gaze stuck on Morgan, then flashed to Jake.
What’s he doing here? she asked silently.
Aunt Matilda pushed forward. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”
Kady scrunched up her face. “As if riding in a school bus is ever okay. I’ve never been so humiliated.”
“What happened?” Aunt Matilda asked. “I thought Randy was driving you home after cheer practice.”
“He couldn’t get his car started. The shop teacher thinks someone poured sugar in his gas tank.”
All eyes turned to Morgan.
He shrugged. “Kept her away, didn’t it?”
Jake shook his head and headed back inside. He glared at Morgan. “Great. So you put a little sugar in Randy’s gas tank but almost ran me over.”
Morgan leaned to Jake’s ear. “Yet somehow you still got here, boy. Next time I’ll try unloading a dump truck on top of you.”
Jake stared up at the man. Was that just sarcasm, or was there a slight threat hidden behind his words? It was hard to tell. With that British accent, Morgan sounded like James Bond.
Before Jake could figure it out, a squeal of shock erupted from behind them. Kady stood in the doorway and gaped at the destruction down the hall, seeing it for the first time. “What happened?”
It was a good question.
Jake stared at the broken cabinets, the scatter of treasures.
What exactly had happened here?
3
KEY TO TIME
The knock on the door came at midnight.
Jake had been expecting it. He climbed off his bed, careful not to disturb the piles of paper and books spread across the floor like a minefield. It was all of his research for the past three months, everything from Howard Carter’s personal account of the discovery of King Tut’s tomb to Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time (inside, Jake had scribbled a couple of notes where the author got things wrong). He also had books on hieroglyphics, journals covering prehistoric fauna and flora, even scientific articles about the possibility of time travel.
Jake had spent most of the evening rereading the reams of reports and articles he’d collected about Bledsworth Sundries and Industries. Morgan’s sudden appearance had renewed his interest in the corporation. It was amazing the number of rumors—most of them nasty—surrounding the company and its history.
Then again, it wasn’t unusual considering how much of a recluse its head had become. Sigismund Oliphant Bledsworth IX, well into his nineties, had all but disappeared from the world. Only a few photographs still existed of the man. Jake had found only one, taken when Bledsworth was much younger: a stick figure in a British military uniform. The corporation was an old one, its operations stretching back to medieval times. It was said the Bledsworth family had made their first fortune by selling false potions to protect people against the Black Plague. Since then they continued to prosper in pursuits both legal and less so, growing until their corporation was the richest company in England and the fourth largest in the world.
Jake wasn’t comfortable with such a corporation “keeping tabs” on his family.
Like Magellan circumnavigating the world, Jake finally crossed the book-strewn floor and reached the door. He pulled it open to discover Kady standing there in her pajama bottoms and an oversized T-shirt emblazoned with her current favorite punk-pop group, Atomic Vampire Puppies.
She pushed inside his room without waiting for an invitation. “Do you have it?”
“Of course I do. I wasn’t about to leave Dad’s pocket watch downstairs with Morgan Drummond in the house.”
Uncle Edward had invited Morgan to spend the night in one of the guest rooms. It was the only polite thing to do, at least according to Aunt Matilda. Jake knew his aunt and uncle had taken a shine to the big man, but Jake remained suspicious.
Still, it had been a long day of police sirens and ambulances. Wounds had been tended to and reports filled out. A squad car was still parked outside with two police officers on duty.
In case those brigands return, Edward had said.
With the house secure, Kady plopped on Jake’s bed, knocking over a teetering pile of research books.
“Careful!” Jake warned, and set about restacking the texts.
This particular pile contained information about Atlantis. Most of the texts were rubbish, pure fantasy; but Jake had a personal interest in the subject matter. He only had to look at his arm to know that Atlantis was real.
A seamless band of silvery magnetite circled his wrist. He couldn’t take it off. Etched into its surface were faint lines of Atlantean text. Jake had struggled to decipher the writing, copying it and comparing it to other lost languages.
So far he’d been unsuccessful.
The band had been a gift and a reward from the Elder of the Ur tribe, a group of displaced Neanderthals who also shared the prehistoric valley of Calypsos, a land protected by ancient Atlantean technology.
Kady had a wristband, too—though she’d gotten to calling it a bracelet and decorating it with charms of all sorts, using its magnetic properties to hold the trinkets in place. While Jake had frowned at such abuse, Kady’s exploration into jewelry making did reveal an oddity. It was not just iron that clung to the bands—any metal did: silver, gold, even platinum.
Another mystery among many.
Once done stacking the books, Jake sat cross-legged on the bed and pulled the gold watch out of his pajama pocket. He set it between him and his sister.
“How did those thieves know we had it?” Kady asked. “Did you tell anyone?”
“Of course not! How about you?”
Kady rolled her eyes.
So no.
Her eyes settled back on him. “You’re supposed to be the brains of this outfit. You don’t have any theories?”
“Only that Bledsworth must somehow be involved. Back in Calypsos, lots of people knew we’d found Dad’s watch. Maybe word got out, reached ears here in our time. That’s all I can think of.”
“If so, can we trust Drummond?”
“I don’t know.”
Jake had mixed feelings about the man. He knew Morgan must be lying—or at least was not being totally honest—about how he came to be in the house so conveniently. Yet Jake could not discount his gut reaction. He sort of liked the big guy.
Jake took a deep breath and continued. “Which brings up another question: why did those thieves come here for the watch now? We’ve been back for three months. So why come today of all days?”
Neither of them had a clue. A silence spread over them, both lost in their own thoughts.
Kady finally
picked up the watch and turned it around in her fingers. Her gaze grew wistful. “I remember when Mom gave this to Dad. I was only five. He let me sit on his lap and wind it up.”
She opened the case and stared at the watch face. None of the hands moved. After sitting in the cabinet for so long, the watch had run down.
Kady began to turn the stem of the watch, winding up the mechanism. Jake didn’t try to stop her. They’d both done everything they could to manipulate the watch, to see if they could use it to transport them back to Pangaea to continue the search for their mother and father.
But nothing had worked.
They needed to find another way to go back.
Kady stopped winding the stem and let the watch tick away in her hand. Her voice grew as tender as a young child’s. “I remember how he used to carry it in his vest pocket, and I’d place my ear against it and hear it tick. To me, this was always Daddy’s heartbeat.”
Jake saw the pain mixed with happiness in his sister’s eyes.
“Let me,” he said, and took the watch from her.
He placed it against his ear and listened to the soft click of the precise mechanism. He closed his eyes; but instead of his father, Jake pictured the machinery inside the watch. He couldn’t help it. He’d read volumes on watches as a part of his study of horology, the science of the measurement of time.
Jake knew there was something important about watch-making and the movement of time, something just out of his grasp. He continued to listen to the ticking, straining for insight. He pictured the clockworks inside the watch, the precise movement of wheel, shaft, gear, and pivot. And it wasn’t all metal inside the case. To create less friction, watchmakers used jewels for some of the moving parts: rubies, sapphires, emeralds, even diamonds.
As Jake listened, a picture popped into his head. He again stood inside the Astromicon atop the castle of Kalakryss in Calypsos, staring into the mechanism that filled the dome overhead. As the watch ticked in his ear, the copper gears in the Astromicon dome turned, and a parade of crystals orbited around. Sunlight drove the movement. Powered by solar energy, it was a clockwork masterpiece.