The Eureka Key

  Theo looked over at her, startled.

  “You told us you were one of them. One of the Founders. But you never told us which one.”

  Theo hesitated for a second or two. Then he rolled up his sleeve and leaned forward a little so his left arm was in the light. On the inside of his forearm, Sam could see a small black tattoo. An eye, unblinking, hovered over a pyramid, and inside the pyramid there was a sword.

  “The sword stands for courage,” Theo said. “It’s the symbol of the Washington family.”

  “Wow.” Martina drew in a breath. “George Washington? Really?”

  Theo nodded and rolled his sleeve back down. “I’m his great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandnephew. I think. Maybe one more great.”

  “Wow,” Martina repeated. “If we get out of this alive, I want your autograph.”

  Theo grunted. “It’s not . . . like that. I mean, it’s something to live up to, but . . . look at me. My first real mission, and I already failed. The Eureka Key is in the enemy’s hands, and so are we.”

  The van shifted, and its tires ground briefly in gravel. Sam could feel that they were now headed up a hill. “You can’t give up yet, man,” Sam said. “Even George Washington lost a battle now and then, but he didn’t lose the war.”

  “Sam’s right,” Martina added.

  Before Theo could answer them, the van lurched to a halt and Sam and Martina tumbled into a heap. A second later, the doors were flung open.

  Tall figures were standing outside, black silhouettes against the light, and strong hands reached in to haul the three kids out. The sunlight wasn’t as bright as it had been; it was taking on a golden tone that hinted of early evening. But after the dark van, it was still enough to dazzle Sam’s eyes.

  Once he could see again, Sam saw that Flintlock had taken hold of Theo, and one of his men had a hand around Martina’s arm and the other on the collar of Sam’s shirt. Gideon Arnold was nearby, and all of them were standing in front of . . . a castle?

  How did that get here?

  It looked like something from a movie set—cream-colored walls, red roofs, arched doorways, and flags fluttering from turrets. “Welcome to Scotty’s Castle,” Gideon Arnold said. “My home away from home.”

  “Nice place,” Sam said weakly. “Got Wi-Fi?”

  Nobody laughed, but maybe that was because two all-terrain vehicles were roaring up, each carrying a pair of men. When they got off, Sam saw how big they were. And how grim their faces looked. It was as if Arnold and Flintlock had a thug factory somewhere that just kept popping out new goons.

  “It’s part of the park,” Martina said, her words coming out quickly. She was back in her encyclopedia mode; Sam recognized it. And now he realized that a rush of facts was how Martina coped with nervousness, or outright terror. “I read about it,” she went on. “There was this cowboy and prospector, Death Valley Scotty, who had it built. He said it was with the money from his secret gold mine. He was a big liar, though, so nobody actually believed him, but . . . um, where did all the tourists go?”

  “The castle closes at four thirty, and I have paid handsomely to have the place to myself after-hours,” Gideon Arnold answered, eyeing her closely. “I’ve heard about your extraordinary grasp of history, Miss Wright. It’s quite impressive.”

  Martina got quiet.

  “There’s no one around for miles, so I wouldn’t advise trying to escape,” Arnold went on. “You wouldn’t get far in the desert. Shall we go in?”

  “Maybe another time, thanks all the same,” Sam muttered.

  Arnold laughed. “I know all about you too, Mr. Solomon, and your smart mouth. Follow me.”

  With Flintlock still holding onto Theo, and with his man keeping a tight grip on Sam and Martina, they didn’t have much choice. They followed Arnold through the castle gates.

  It looked like a nice enough place, if there weren’t big, ugly, armed men pushing you into it. The three kids were herded down a hallway and into a two-story room. There, Flintlock let Theo go with a shove, and the man holding Sam and Martina released them as well. Sam took a look around.

  A heavy iron chandelier hung overhead. Couches and chairs, all shiny wood and soft cushions, beckoned, reminding Sam how tired he was. Wood was piled in a big fireplace, ready for a match once the desert night turned cold.

  Arnold settled into a fancy wingback armchair as if it were a throne. “So the Founders have been reduced to sending children on their missions,” he said thoughtfully. “My goodness, how the mighty have fallen.” He shook his head and smiled indulgently at Theo’s furious glare. Then he nodded at Flintlock, who advanced on Sam.

  Sam took a step back and bumped into somebody who took hold of both his arms.

  “If we all stay calm, this will be over fairly quickly,” Arnold said, taking a silver revolver out of a holster inside his suit jacket and leveling it at Theo, who looked ready to leap to Sam’s defense. “My men have searched all your packs, and found no trace of the key. I’m a reasonable man, children. Just hand it over.”

  With an eye on the dangerous-looking men surrounding them, Sam decided that he’d have to comply, if only to buy them some time to figure out a plan. He twisted free from the man behind him, who let him go. Reluctantly, Sam pulled the key from his pocket and held it out in his hand. Flintlock snatched it from his outstretched palm and handed it to Arnold. The man’s eyes locked on to the key, and he turned it slowly in the light. “Such a plain little thing,” he mused after a moment. “Amazing that so much power will come from wielding it.”

  “You have no right to take it,” Martina spoke up. “You’re not part of the Franklin family. If it belongs to anyone, it’s Evangeline.”

  “He doesn’t care.” Theo’s voice was scornful. “He’s a thief and a traitor. Just like his ancestor.”

  Arnold stood, straightening his jacket, and walked over to Theo. The way he looked at Theo could have blistered paint on the wall. Sam felt a shiver work its way up his spine.

  “Benedict Arnold tried to sell out the people who trusted him,” Theo said, meeting Arnold’s glare with one of his own and holding his chin up high. “He didn’t know what loyalty was. Or honor.”

  “You know your history as well, I see,” Arnold said. “Your version of it, at least.”

  Then he slapped Theo across the face. Sam jumped; Martina gasped. Theo stood as solidly as a deeply rooted tree and didn’t make a sound.

  “Is that what you’ve been taught, Mr. Washington?” Arnold asked. “History sometimes forgets the truth, you know. Benedict Arnold was a military genius. Your illustrious ancestor would not have gotten as far as he did without my ancestor’s help. He was wounded and crippled, fighting for a desperate cause, and then cast aside by the commander he served. Small-minded men attacked and accused him, and in their jealousy they drove him to do what he did. Today no one remembers his triumphs and his victories. But that is something I plan to change, once I get my hands on the Founders’ weapon.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Theo.

  “Nice try, Mr. Washington,” said Arnold. “You Founders all pride yourselves on your secrets, but I know everything, thanks to Victor Temple. Evangeline’s papa was quite a talker, when we got him into the right . . . frame of mind.”

  “You tortured him, you animal!” Theo snarled.

  Arnold leaned even closer to Theo. “I used my powers of persuasion, that’s all.” He turned and walked away, leaving Theo seething with fury. “My first instinct was just to kill you all—no one would have suspected anything if that tiny plane had crashed in the desert. But somehow you survived, and being from a family of great strategic vision, I changed tack to accommodate. I realized I could use you instead. Why bother searching for the key ourselves, when you could just lead us straight to it?” He paused and looked at Sam. “I didn’t think you’d make it quite so easy.”

  Arnold held the key up to the light and turned it slowly, studying every inch, from the tur
key carved on the handle to the long, elegant shaft. “In his final hours, Victor Temple told me that the Eureka Key would reveal where to search for the next artifact.”

  Sam stood frozen, staring at Arnold and the key. Once Arnold had found the clue—what next? He wouldn’t need Theo or Martina or Sam himself any longer, would he? And Sam was getting a very bad feeling about what happened to people whom Gideon Arnold no longer needed.

  Arnold was frowning at the key with distaste. “Benjamin Franklin enjoyed his childish little puzzles,” he muttered, and then he looked up, his gaze landing on Sam. “How appropriate that we have children here, then. Let me see for myself what Evangeline Temple saw in you, Mr. Solomon,” he said, and tossed the key through the air.

  Automatically, Sam put up his hands to catch it. “Why should I help you?” he asked.

  Arnold smiled at him with a touch of pity. “You don’t actually need me to answer that, do you?”

  The man Martina had hit with her flashlight was standing close behind her. At Arnold’s words, he grabbed hold of her arm, clamping his other hand over her mouth and nose. He grinned as she made a startled, choking sound.

  “Stop it! Let her go!” Sam cried out.

  “Of course, Mr. Solomon. As soon as you tell me what that key has to say.”

  Sam looked at Martina’s face, her glasses askew, her eyes wide over the hand that was stifling her, and quickly turned his attention to the key.

  “You’re happy to sacrifice innocent people to get what you want,” Theo said to Arnold, his fists clenched. “I see the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

  Gideon Arnold shrugged. “How many of George Washington’s soldiers died in battle? Great leaders do what is necessary to win. If you had a real drop of your ancestor’s blood flowing through your veins, you would know that.”

  Theo winced, looking more injured by Gideon’s words than by his slap.

  Sam tuned them both out, his attention on the key in his hand. How was he supposed to solve another puzzle without Martina’s help? It was Martina who knew all about American history. Her brain full of facts had led them to Franklin’s key. Now she was struggling breathlessly, depending on him.

  Sam’s heart began to pick up the pace, and his breath was coming more quickly. Was there something hidden in the carving of the turkey? Letters or numbers somewhere among the feathers of its wings? He couldn’t see anything like that. And Martina was twisting in the thug’s grasp, trying to pull her head away from the hand over her face.

  “We don’t have all day,” Gideon Arnold said calmly. “At least, Miss Wright doesn’t. I’d say another minute at best.”

  Sam would have loved to shoot Arnold the nastiest look he could manage, but he didn’t dare spare the time. He kept his eyes on the key. He couldn’t see any clue. But he could feel something. The key felt light in his hand, lighter than it should. Maybe that was because it was . . . hollow?

  He took the handle in one hand and the shaft of the key in the other, and he twisted.

  The metal resisted for a moment, and then gave way. As quickly as he could, he unscrewed the shaft from the handle, turned it upside down, and shook it. A tiny, rolled-up parchment, light as a feather, drifted into his upturned palm.

  “Okay!” he said. “I got it! Let her go!”

  Arnold nodded. The man holding Martina released his grip, and she stumbled away from him, falling onto her knees and gasping.

  Sam moved to her side, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. “Here,” he said. “You look, Marty.” He figured she deserved it.

  But Arnold crossed the room in a few steps and held out a hand, snapping his fingers. “I’ll take that.”

  Reluctantly, Sam put the scrap of parchment into his hand. A smile lifted one corner of Arnold’s mouth as he carefully unrolled it.

  Then the smile vanished.

  “More games.” He looked back up. “Miss Wright, perhaps it’s your turn. Do you need some . . . . persuasion, like Mr. Solomon? Or can you simply tell me what this means?”

  Martina held out her hand, her eyes narrowed.

  Arnold shook his head. “I don’t think so. You might think of destroying it. Just look.”

  He held the paper out so Martina could see it. Sam looked over her shoulder.

  It was a drawing. A mountain. Some kind of animal with curvy horns underneath it. To the left, a foot, colored black with heavy ink. To the right, a strange-looking person with a head sheared off at the top, like he’d been given a flattop that went horribly wrong.

  Martina rubbed her hands over her face one last time and shook her head. “I—I don’t know . . .”

  Sam shrugged. “Maybe it’s Ben Franklin’s idea of a joke.”

  The back of Arnold’s hand smacked into the side of his face.

  Sam staggered and fell, bouncing off an armchair on the way down. He heard the Eureka Key hit the ground and tried to stand.

  “Sam!” Martina arrived at his side as Theo bent and picked the key up.

  “Hand it over,” Flintlock growled. Theo did so without a word.

  “Are you okay?” Martina asked, helping Sam sit up.

  “Uh. I think so,” Sam muttered, rubbing his cheek. He could taste blood inside his mouth, but he was pretty sure all his teeth were still attached.

  Martina touched Sam’s arm lightly. She glanced at the door twenty feet away, and Sam knew that she was thinking exactly what he was thinking. Gideon and Flintlock were staring at the scrap of parchment. Their men all had their eyes on the bosses, waiting for the next order. Then Martina reached down to a pocket on her hiking pants and silently pulled the zipper open. She slipped something out—it looked like a stick of dynamite, or a hot dog. No . . . it was a flare.

  A horrible thought struck Sam. Waterproof? he mouthed. What if getting soaked in that flooded mine shaft had ruined the flare? What if it wouldn’t even burn?

  Martina nodded just a little bit. “You know me,” she murmured. “Always prepared.”

  Trust Martina not to venture out in the desert without a waterproof distress flare to catch the attention of rescue planes in case she got lost.

  Sam caught Theo’s eye, and then flicked his gaze toward the door. Theo frowned. There was no way Sam could clue him in to Martina’s plan; he just had to trust Theo to be ready to move as soon as the flare went off.

  Sam stood up, pretending to lean on Martina’s arm, but actually shielding her from the sight of Gideon Arnold and his men. Slowly and quietly, she slipped the cap off the end of the flare.

  Gripping the cap in her left hand and the flare in her right, Martina drew her right hand back.

  “Nonsense. It’s utter nonsense,” Arnold muttered. “You two . . .” He scowled and looked up, and his eyes went wide.

  “Surprise!” Martina shouted. She smashed the end of the flare against the cap and threw it straight at Arnold.

  Suddenly the room was blazing with light. It hurt Sam’s eyes, even though he kept his hand over them as he scrambled to his feet and threw himself in the direction where he thought the door must be.

  “Fire! Fire!” somebody was yelling.

  Martina was beside Sam. “Go!” Theo shouted from behind.

  But the key—they were leaving the Eureka Key behind in the hands of the enemy!

  There was nothing Sam could do about that. The only thing they could do now was run. Sam thumped into the door of the room, knocking it open, and the three kids plowed out into the hallway and then outside.

  The sun had set, although the glow from below the horizon still lit up a deep-blue sky. Sam hesitated for a moment, unsure which way to go. Where could they hide?

  Then he heard Martina yell from next to one of the ATVs. “Over here! The keys are still in this one!”

  “Can you drive that?” Sam asked, sprinting to her side. The ATV had four thick, black wheels and two seats, for a driver and a single passenger.

  “Probably better than you!” Martina told Sam.

  “H
ey, you’re talking to a top scorer on Need for Speed,” Sam retorted.

  “Really.” Martina crossed her arms. “A video game. And you think that makes you an expert?”

  “No arguing now. I’m driving!” Theo snapped. “You two get in the back!”

  They did. Sam and Martina squashed into the passenger seat behind Theo as he twisted the key in the ignition. The engine sputtered then roared into life, and Sam and Martina were nearly thrown off as Theo kicked the machine into gear and sped downhill, heading along the driveway and away from the castle.

  They hadn’t gone far before Theo threw his weight against the handlebars and turned the bike off-road onto the hard-packed dirt. The headlights bounced crazily, lighting up scrubby brush and ragged foothills. Sam’s stomach bounced too, up into his throat and back down again as the machine barreled over a rise in the ground, kicking up clouds of grit and dust, and then crashed through a bush and startled a dozing jackrabbit, who ran for its life.

  After dropping heavily into a dry creek bed, Theo turned again to follow the creek’s course. They skidded around a few curves, and then Theo yanked the vehicle to a stop and switched off the engine. A small hill rose over them, cutting them off from the sight of anyone near the castle.

  “Quiet!” he whispered. “Listen!”

  Sam’s ears were still echoing with the rumble of the engine and the pounding of his own heart. Then he heard a sound that made his heart sink—more engines roaring to life. The other ATVs back at the castle? The white van?

  “Maybe they didn’t see which way we went,” Martina whispered. “It’s dark out—that could cover our tracks.” Theo waved a hand to quiet her. All three of them crouched low on the ATV’s seats, listening.

  The engines were getting louder. Sam tensed. Should they take off now? Should they stay still, hoping Arnold and his men would overlook them?

  He saw Theo’s hand move to the ATV key. The growl of the nearest engine grew louder, and then light shone over the top of the hill that was their cover. An ATV had topped the rise over their heads, and caught them in the beams of its headlights.