Contents
Chapter 1: Hero to Zero
Chapter 2: The Jaws of Defeat
Chapter 3: No Such Thing
Chapter 4: Eye of the Tiger
Chapter 5: Odd, Odder, Oddest
Chapter 6: Multitasking
Chapter 7: Perfect Timing
Chapter 8: Tick Tock
Chapter 9: Messages
Chapter 10: Copper Beech
Chapter 11: An Honest Lawyer
Chapter 12: For Real
Chapter 13: Duped
Chapter 14: Wages
For Bob and Meg Waterhouse
—A. C.
CHAPTER 1
Hero to Zero
Benjamin Pratt had some serious detective work to do, so his plan was to be invisible all day, to do nothing that would draw attention to himself. He was going to glide around the Captain Oakes School like a ghost, observing, examining, analyzing. He had a fresh pack of index cards for organizing his notes, and he’d brought his good digital camera, a tiny thing not much bigger than a pack of gum. He also had a small flashlight and a twelve-foot tape measure. Secret agent stuff.
But the invisibility wasn’t happening, not today.
“Ben, way to go!”
“Hey, Pratt—saving Gerritt and everything? Amazing!”
Before he got to his homeroom on Monday he’d been high-fived four times, and had been called a hero, the champ, Mr. Lifeguard, and Aquaman.
True, he had in fact dived into the choppy ocean to help Robert Gerritt after the guy flipped his sailboat during their race on Saturday. But only because he’d been right there when it happened—what, was he supposed to just watch a kid drown?
When a crowd of reporters had gathered at his mom’s house Saturday evening with lights and cameras, she had scolded them off her lawn. Ben didn’t have anything more to say about it—another boy had been in trouble, and her son had helped out, that was all.
But Robert had had plenty to say.
Propped up in a hospital bed with a bandage wrapping his head, he had talked to everybody. The incident was called “Rescue at Sea” on one Boston TV station and “Escape from Death” on another—a colorful news story both Saturday and Sunday.
To Ben’s surprise, Robert had actually given him some credit.
Looking straight into the camera, he’d said, “Yeah, if it hadn’t been for Ben, I might not have made it.”
However, Robert had also said, “But the worst part? It happened just as I was about to win my first big sailing race of the year!”
Typical.
And today, with everyone treating Ben like a celebrity, he didn’t see how he’d get to do much exploring. Which was too bad—he really needed some fresh ideas.
All weekend he had been chewing on the clues he and Jill had found on Friday, clues that were supposed to help them find stuff—stuff that would somehow keep their school from being torn down . . . that would somehow keep the Glennley Entertainment Group from building their massive theme park on the harbor . . . that would somehow keep the whole town of Edgeport from turning into a huge, neon tourist trap.
That was the mission, and it seemed impossible. Plus completely crazy.
After the final bell clanged for homeroom, everyone stood up and recited the Pledge of Alle-giance, and then the principal began reading the announcements. But Ben couldn’t think about anything except those clues. They ran through his mind for the hundredth time:
AFTER FIVE BELLS SOUND, TIME TO SIT DOWN.
AFTER FOUR TIMES FOUR, TREAD UP ONE MORE.
AFTER THREE HOOKS PASS, ONE WILL BE BRASS.
AFTER TWO TIDES SPIN, A MAN WALKS IN.
AFTER ONE STILL STAR, HORIZONS AFAR.
He had called Jill twice on Sunday and again this morning before school to ask if she’d made any progress.
“Give it a rest, Benjamin. I know we need a breakthrough—but, like, what are we looking for? And where are we supposed to start? And what could we possibly find that could actually stop these people? The Glennley Group has spent thirty-five million dollars. They own the school. And on June eighteenth, they’re going to rip it down. I’ve got to eat breakfast. Good-bye.”
She’d sounded angry, discouraged, too, which wasn’t like her. Ben couldn’t figure it out. Jill had been rock solid last Friday, and she’d seemed great when he’d seen her after the sailboat race on Saturday. So . . . something must have happened over the rest of the weekend. But what? He had no idea. Whatever was bothering her, it wasn’t good. Because Ben was pretty sure that without Jill’s help on this, they might as well go ahead and buy the cheap lifetime passes that Tall Ships Ahoy! had advertised in Sunday’s Boston Globe.
But he’d see Jill in third-period math for sure, and maybe he’d have something figured out by then. Or at least have an idea about what to do next. Maybe she just needed to feel like they were making some real progress. Ben was ready to try anything to cheer her up a little.
Ms. Wilton took attendance, then laid out the week’s schedule. When she finished, there were still about ten minutes before first period. So Ben got out a pencil and a blank index card and started thinking .
He thought about the copper plate he and Jill had found in a secret compartment on the third floor—a message hidden there by the first Keepers of the School back in 1791. One particular sentence about Captain Oakes in that message jumped out at him: He prepared five safeguards to help us in our self-defense.
Ben wrote the word “safeguards” on the card.
Maybe Jill was right. Maybe Captain Oakes was just a rich old weirdo who wanted lots of attention, the kind of guy who would stick his own grave in the middle of a school playground.
No, Ben was already sure there was something more to all this.
He thought about the message stamped on the gold coin Mr. Keane had given him, and then wrote two more words on the index card: “attack” and “defend.”
Those were military terms.
Which made sense—after all, Captain Oakes was a captain, a man of action, the guy in charge. He had commanded one of his own ships in the American navy during the Revolutionary War.
Ben stared at the three words he’d written and tried to imagine being a sea captain, being responsible for a large ship and the life of every person on it. The captain would have to oversee everything. His ship would sail thousands of miles, spend months at a time on the high seas. The captain would have to account for every barrel of water, every sack of flour, every yard of canvas, every musket and cannonball, every ounce of gunpowder, every length of rope.
So Captain Oakes wasn’t some goofball. He must have been an amazing thinker, an incredible long-range planner.
And . . . as the captain was converting his warehouse into this school, it was like he was outfitting a ship for a trip—the long voyage into the future. And he was certain there would be dangers.
Ben remembered the old book the librarian had found for him, and what he’d read about the captain. Oakes had been very old by then, so he knew he wouldn’t be around to command this new ship himself. If it ever came under attack, his officers would have to fight the enemy on their own. But . . .if he planned carefully and left the right kind of weapons—safeguards—then his ship and his crew would survive.
And who did the captain enlist as the commanders for his most important ship? The school janitors.
Ben smiled. That was pure genius, to choose steady, professional caretakers to defend his school, to carry that gold coin with their captain’s instructions on it. And down through the years, each janitor had been responsible for finding his own replacement, someone trustworthy.
And the captain’s plan had worked perfectly from 1783 right up to last Thursday. Except now, there wasn’t a reliable janitor. Which was why
Mr. Keane had given the coin to Ben.
So I’m the new commander, he thought, and his smile got bigger.
But it faded as he thought about Mr. Keane. Just hours after handing the coin to Ben, he had died. And he had warned Ben about his assistant janitor, Lyman: “He’s a snake.”
Worse than a snake, thought Ben.
He was a spy, working for the company that had bought the school—after they’d figured out how to get around the captain’s last will and testament.
Lyman was a big problem.
“Ben?”
He looked up to see his homeroom teacher holding out her hand, and he took a slip of paper from her.
“I almost forgot. Mrs. Sinclair wants to see you in the library before first period.”
“Oh—okay.”
He tucked the index card in his pocket and stood up.
“And Ben, I heard about what you did this weekend. I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks,” he said, beginning to blush, “but really, I was just the closest one to the accident.”
“Well,” Ms. Wilton said, “I’m proud of you anyway—we all are,” and there were nods of agreement from the kids around him.
Ben smiled awkwardly, his face bright red now. He grabbed his book bag and rushed out the door.
So much for being invisible.
The library was on the opposite corner of the first floor, and as he walked through the quiet hallway, Ben knew why Mrs. Sinclair wanted to see him. He and Jill were doing a big social studies project, a report about the history of the Oakes School—which would give them extra time in the building to search for the stuff the captain had left behind, the safeguards.
A brilliant plan—his brilliant plan.
Except Robert Gerritt had butted his way into the project. So that would be a drag. And a complication—one more among a jillion others.
Ben shook his head. This whole thing was crazy. In less than a month the school was scheduled for demolition, and two kids were supposed to stop it all by themselves? But Ben caught himself, made himself stop thinking that way—he was sounding like Jill! And if they both got discouraged, that really would be the end. He had to keep fighting. Still . . . it all seemed pretty insane.
When he walked in from the hallway, Mrs. Sinclair saw him. She nodded toward the glass- walled workroom over in the center of the library. “I’ll be with you in a minute, Ben.”
The library was his favorite place in the old school, so he was glad to have a moment to just sit and look around. It was a large space, and the high ceiling made it feel open and airy. Dark oak bookshelves ran along all four walls of the main room. The shelf edges had been carved to look like thick rope, and the panels along the top of each unit had also been decorated. Some of the carvings showed scenes of ships at sea, complete with waves and clouds and flapping flags. There were carvings of small New England farms and busy seaports, and Ben’s favorite showed a large deer standing on a wooded hillside. The designer of the room had added three shallow alcoves, which broke up the boxy feeling of the long shelves. Centered on the north, east, and west walls, each alcove had a dark oak table and comfy cushioned benches. Wide leaded-glass windows facing east and north let in lots of daylight. Even though the center area had been updated with modern tables and chairs and computer workstations, the original flavor of the room had survived. The place smelled like time.
Looking around, Ben’s thoughts drifted again to Captain Oakes and the safeguards he and Jill had to find. He was glad the library was going to be sort of like the command center for their project, a place they could come before and after school. And since he and Jill would need to make lots of drawings and take lots of photos for the report, they would be able to wander around the school pretty much wherever they wanted to. At least, that was the plan.
His brilliant plan.
Mrs. Sinclair came into the workroom and stood in front of him. He looked up with a smile—which disappeared when he saw her face.
“The book is missing, Ben, the one you used on Friday.” Her voice was flat and cold. “I took it off the reference shelf for you, and you promised to be careful with it. But this morning, Ms. Shubert noticed it wasn’t there.”
Ben felt his throat tighten, felt his face start to get hot. “But I—”
She held up a hand. “No, let me finish. I haven’t talked about this with Mr. Telmer, or with anyone else. I wanted to speak to you first. If for some reason you misunderstood me, and you took that book out of the library, then you can simply return it. And as long as it isn’t damaged, that will be the end of this. All right?” She looked him in the eye. “Now, what do you have to say?”
CHAPTER 2
The Jaws of Defeat
She thinks I’m a thief!
Ben sat there with his mouth open, a hundred different thoughts exploding in his head as the librarian waited for an explanation.
The missing book, the old one about how Captain Oakes founded the school? He had definitely looked at it on Friday. And taken photos of some drawings. And then he had definitely put it back on the shelf. He was sure of it.
He had not stolen that book. Period.
But . . . someone had been watching him. On Friday. In the library.
So he could just explain. . . . Well, you see, Mrs. Sinclair, right before Mr. Keane died, he gave me this gold coin with some writing on it, and now I’m the person in charge of following Captain Oakes’s orders to defend his school. And Mr. Lyman, the other janitor? Well, you see, he actually works for the company that’s going to tear the school down and build the amusement park here. And Lyman knows I was the last person at school who talked to Mr. Keane, so he’s been spying on me—in case I really do figure out a way to mess up the big plans. So I’m pretty sure that Lyman’s the guy who stole that book.
Right.
Tell that to Mrs. Sinclair, and she’d be calling the loony squad in three seconds flat. Every bit of it was true . . . but he was sworn to secrecy—right?
Still . . . what if telling her the complete truth, right now, what if that was the only way to keep himself out of trouble, keep things steady so he and Jill could go on with their searching? Because this situation could wreck everything. Wouldn’t saving the school be more important than keeping the secret?
Maybe Mrs. Sinclair would believe him; maybe she’d even help look for the safeguards; maybe she’d . . .
Her eyes flashed. “Well? I’m waiting .”
Ben had to say something .
He took a deep breath . . . and the assistant librarian, Ms. Shubert, hurried into the room.
“Mrs. Sinclair?”
The librarian turned, clearly annoyed with the interruption. “What?”
“Um . . .” The assistant came close and whispered in her ear.
As Mrs. Sinclair listened, Ben watched her expression change from irritation . . . to sheer horror. Her face went pale.
She looked back to Ben and spoke, almost in a whisper. “You—you’ll have to excuse me a moment.”
She rushed out of the workroom and went right to the front desk, followed by Ms. Shubert.
Ben craned his neck, but all he could see was the two of them, staring at a piece of paper. Then Mrs. Sinclair picked up a large brown envelope, looked inside, and set it down on the desk.
She said something to Ms. Shubert, then headed back toward him. Ben knew his time was up. He had to say something .
He decided to risk it. He had to tell her everything . Right now.
“Mrs. Sinclair, I—”
“No, please. Don’t say a word.” She paused, and took a deep breath. “Ben, I am so, so sorry. And embarrassed. The book, the one about the school? It’s out there on the front desk. And there’s a note from a staff member who borrowed it over the weekend. It’s a valuable book, and when Ms. Shubert noticed it was gone this morning, I jumped to a very wrong conclusion. And I hope you’ll forgive me—I feel terrible about this. I had a hard time imagining you would ever steal anything, Ben, rea
lly. This is just an awful mistake . . . my mistake.”
The librarian looked miserable. Again, Ben didn’t know what to say.
So he gave her a big smile. “It’s okay, Mrs. Sinclair, really. I mean, I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong. And actually”—he paused, thinking fast—“in homeroom, when I got your note, to come to the library? I thought you wanted to talk about the big history project I’m doing with Jill Acton. And Robert Gerritt. For social studies.”
“A research project? How exciting!” She seemed thrilled to have something else to talk about.
Ben felt like grinning, because this mess? It was actually perfect—the worse the librarian felt, the more she’d want to help them with their project.
Ben kept his face earnest and serious. “Well,” he said, “we want to learn about the history of the school, especially since it’s getting torn down and everything. And we asked Mrs. Hinman to talk to you because we need a place to come before school—and after school too. And maybe during lunch. That’s why I was looking at that book, because of our project. And we wanted you to help us too. Didn’t Mrs. Hinman talk to you?”
“No, no, she didn’t, but I think this is a grand idea, and I’ll make sure that the full resources of the media center are at your disposal. And I’ll talk to Mrs. Hinman this morning when she comes in with her second-period class. Oh, this just sounds wonderful!”
“Great,” said Ben. “Um . . . do you think you could make out hall passes for Jill and me . . . and also for Robert? Because we need to get started right away, like, today.”
“Why, of course I can.” She stepped to her desk, opened a drawer, and took out a pad of bright yellow forms. As she began writing, she said, “This is a wonderful idea, and it’ll be exciting to see what you discover.”
“Yeah,” said Ben, “we’re excited about it too.”
Ben wasn’t kidding when he said that, but the idea of telling Jill about everything that had just happened—that was going to be fantastic. He began building the story in his head—first he’d tell her how he’d stayed cool when Mrs. Sinclair had accused him, how he had forgiven her when she discovered her mistake, and then how he had used the situation perfectly to enlist her complete support. He, Benjamin Pratt, had just plucked a victory from the jaws of defeat! And the story he told Jill was going to be upbeat, positive, strong—and maybe he would come right out and ask her why she’d been so down about everything earlier, get her to open up a little, really get her back on board.