Kingdom Keepers VI (9781423179214) (10 page)

I
N THE BALCONY SEATING
of the Buena Vista Theatre, Storey Ming was met by Kenny Carlson, a tall,
freckled kid. His sidekick, Bart, looked like a surfer dude.

“They still don't know?” Kenny said.

“Actually, now they do. You've done an excellent job of laying low. But that's changed. They need lookouts. You'll be on Wave Phones reporting directly to Philby.”

“Cool,” Kenny said. “We're ready.”

“This isn't a game.”

“I know that.”

“You're high schoolers.”

“Acknowledged.”

“So act like it.”

“Roger that.”

“Which means don't use radio speak when I'm
sitting next to you.”

Kenny blushed.

“You're excited. I get that. It's exciting work. But their
lives
depend on our doing a good job. You understand? Their
lives
. No exaggeration. So get the giggles out and man up.”

Kenny nodded. Bart looked a little confused.

“Explain it to him,” she said.

“Will do,” Kenny said.

“And don't mess this up!”

Kenny leaned away from her.

“Now you're getting it.” Storey appraised them both. “Cast Members. That's all. You are Cast Members, helping out.”

Not knowing what to say, Kenny said nothing. Storey left the balcony, but not without one last menacing look to drive home her point: they were answering to her.

And she meant business.

* * *

With Maybeck and Willa long gone, the disembarka-tion of Luowski and then Dixon set off a flurry of
Wave Phone texts and conversations that resulted in Philby's leaving his post.

With a bird's eye view from Deck 11, Kenny
reported that Luowski had bypassed the excursion buses and was headed into town on foot. A man––or a big kid––followed nearly the same route, about five minutes later.

Philby closed the distance but lost sight of Luowski behind some massive oil tanks. Kenny reported that he was heading west on the street closest to the docks. “Just below the blimp.”

A miniature blimp, about the size of a car, maneuvered overhead. It bore the Disney Channel logo in bright yellow. Following in the general direction of the blimp, Philby spotted Luowski entering a Quiznos sandwich shop. So far, so good.

Finn left the ship and headed to the taxi queue on schedule. As he was about to climb into the backseat, he heard a report through his earbud that a small boat had just pulled up on the opposite side of the ship from the dock.

“I'm on it,” said Storey's voice.

“No time,” Philby told her.

“I'm taking the express lane,” she replied.

* * *

Storey Ming opened a watertight door marked
CREW ONLY
. It was an exterior deck area where a number of cables as thick as her leg ran through portholes and secured the ship to the dock. These spring lines tied the ship tight to the dock while allowing for, and self-adjusting to, the ship's subtle movements.

She stuck her head out oval porthole and gulped. It was a long way down.

She located a short length of chain and threw it
over a cable, taking hold of the chain at either end. Storey sat on the sill of the open porthole, watching
the dock activity, awaiting her moment. Then she
slid off.

She flew down the line, a tiny speck of girl amid the oversized world of the
Dream
. There were several spring lines securing the bow. She'd chosen the farthest forward line. A second line, set just below hers, gave her a way to break her descent.

Storey raced toward the huge iron cleat on the dock, counting down in her head. At the last second, she let go of the chain, tucked into a ball, and rolled across the dock in a somersault. She scraped both her knees and elbows, but didn't break any bones.

“Hey! You there!”

She took inventory: the ship behind her, stretching a thousand feet to her left; the empty pier and taxi stand to her right.

She took off at a sprint. No dockhand was going to catch her.

As Storey cleared the terminal building, she spotted a pair of umbrellas and behind the umbrellas, two men, all climbing steep stairs from a small boat. She reached for her Wave Phone to report. Gone!

She checked for her wallet: still in her pocket.

When the umbrellas were collapsed, allowing their holders to board a parked taxi, they revealed two women, one small and dark, the other tall and thin.

Diving into the back of another waiting taxicab, Storey yanked the door shut. The driver spun around, a wide smile on his face.

“Welcome to Aruba! Where can I take you?”

She'd always wanted to say the words she said now.

“Follow that car!” Storey cried.

* * *

A sad-looking sandwich sign on the sidewalk advertised an ATM. A tired, darkly tanned man in a loud shirt stood by a dilapidated former school bus, now painted in outrageous colors reading
FANTASY ISLAND TOUR
. Neon lights flashed in various shop windows:
GOLD! JEWELRY! SOUVENIRS! T-SHIRTS!

Philby kept his eye on the door of the Quiznos, his palms sweaty.

The stagehand Dixon entered, obviously to rendezvous with Luowski. Moments later, the two left the shop. Philby followed, keeping a good distance back.

Quickly, the upscale street, Arendstraat, gave way to a seedier side street. The crumbling sidewalks and low concrete-block buildings made Philby feel unsafe. The drone of the overhead blimp grabbed his attention. It was like an annoying insect circling his head.

When he refocused, he'd lost Luowski and Dixon. Philby panicked and studied each of the shops.

Next to Peggy's Yarn Shop, a store window: Bytes, Bits, and Beyond.

A computer store.

Philby crossed the street at a run. The shop's window was filled with gear, some of it switched on and working. One monitor displayed a live video of Philby looking in. To the right was another monitor divided into four video quadrants.

A handwritten ad read:

In the lower-right quadrant, two dark shapes were crouched below the counter. Philby wondered how Luowski could be so dumb.

A police siren grew steadily louder.

And closer still.

At first, Philby assumed Luowski had tripped a silent
alarm, and was delighted at the idea of the bully getting himself locked up. Then he considered his own position.

Not good.
He could easily be mistaken for a lookout. An accomplice.

Tires screeched. A police car slid through the turn onto Jolastraat.

Philby took off running, realizing too late that this was a stupid thing to do. People who ran from cops appeared guilty. Car doors slammed behind him. The dying siren crawled up to a scream again as the police car peeled out.

Cursing under his breath, Philby cut left onto a dirt track. The police car slammed on the brakes, backed up, and took a sharp left, now immediately behind Philby.

Fence
, Philby's brain cried.

The wooden fence was eight feet high, with lumber bracing halfway up. Philby headed for it.

At that same moment, Luowski and Dixon emerged from the shop's back door cradling large cardboard boxes.

For a split second Philby hesitated: he'd led the police directly to the thieves. That had to be a good thing!

But as the police car slowed and the passenger door swung open, dispensing a woman cop who ran straight at Philby, he knew he was in big trouble. If arrested, he would not only miss the ship's departure but he'd look like an idiot to the others—all brains, no brawn, though that was far from the truth.

Wayne had recruited Philby in part for his rock-climbing skills; he'd ended up as the group's techie
only after Maybeck shirked the responsibility. Now—unbeknown to the others—he seemed to be being groomed to lead the Keepers, a role currently all Finn's. Wayne treated him special, gave him secret responsibilities. An arrest would sabotage all he'd been working toward.

Philby scaled the fence like he was flashing a new climbing route, crossed the street, and tried to lose himself in a stand of trees.

The lady cop fell awkwardly into the dust. When she looked up, the tall kid was gone.

* * *

If Dixon hadn't reacted the way he had, Luowski might have frozen in place. At the very least, Luowski would have dropped the stolen computer before running. But Dixon reacted calmly. He wasn't afraid. It gave Luowski strength.

Dixon took off without looking back.

Within seconds Luowski was following him across a busy street amid a flurry of protesting car horns.

The police car's siren cried behind them, but at a distance now; they had the jump on them, and Dixon and Luowski shot though a narrow gap between buildings, knowing a police car would not fit. The driver should have followed on foot. By pursuing in the car, he'd lost his advantage.

Dixon and Luowski seized it.

M
AYBECK AND
C
HARLENE
had disembarked at seven when Cast Members were allowed off the ship. They'd headed for separate taxis and left for separate caves.

Ten minutes out of the city, Maybeck's driver drove him onto a road of sand no wider than the car. After a long, bouncing drive, the taxi arrived at a turnout where three boulders blocked vehicles from entering a weed-infested, trodden-down footpath lined with cactus and discolored by litter. Maybeck told the driver to wait for him.

Maybeck passed a boulder; decaying wrought iron bars blocked access to a dark hole where rock met sand. Hoping that wasn't the cave in question, Maybeck
hurried up a path that climbed a small hill, now facing
a smooth rock formation that rose unexpectedly out of the sand. Giant boulders lay atop one another at odd angles, creating dark spaces between them. The path led under and through the boulders, revealing shaded spaces, but not exactly caves.

Bugs swarmed around Maybeck's head.

None of the spaces matched the copy of the sketch he carried in his back pocket. The path continued through more of the partial caves and broke out again into sunlight.

A bust.

Back in the taxi, he described the cave in Jess's drawing to the driver.

“The cave I'm looking for is on flat ground.” He passed the driver the copy of the sketch. “The cave opening is like a mouth about to smile.”

“A poet,” the driver said.

“Artist, actually.”

“You draw this?”

“A friend.”

The driver dragged his hand over his face, stretching his skin.

“I might know this place,” the driver said. “Not so popular. A ways from here. Cost you twenty florins.”

Maybeck calculated the conversion. Eleven dollars. It seemed like a lot. “And if you wait for me maybe an hour and take me back to the ship?”

The driver considered the proposal. “Thirty florins to return, then the meter back to the ship.”

“Twenty-five,” Maybeck said to the driver. “Then the meter.”

“I wait one hour,” the driver said. “You have the money?”

“U.S. dollars,” Maybeck said.

“Show me.”

Maybeck didn't like the idea of showing a taxi driver he was carrying a bunch of cash.

“No problem.” He struggled to pull a single twenty from his pocket. Waved it toward the front seat. The driver nodded and took off so fast Maybeck's head snapped back.

Five minutes into the ride, Maybeck turned on his charm.

“This cave? You know anything about it?”

“This island got nothing but stories, mister.”

“Any stories about the caves?”

“Guadirikiri, where you're going, has two parts. Holes in the roof of the cave let in the light by day. Let the bats out by night. Thousands of 'em. It's said that they're souls of all them slaves flying each night, trying to find eternity.”

Maybeck felt a chill. He leaned back.

“Slaves?”

“Aruba's first settlers were Indians—natives, like me—escaping other tribes like the Carib. Then the Europeans came, in the year of our Lord 1499. But unlike on the other islands, the Europeans didn't try to grow nothing here. Instead, they packed up the natives and sold them, sent some of them poor souls back to the country their ancestors first escaped from. The bats of Guadirikiri…are souls that stayed behind on the island, even though their bodies left.”

Maybeck swallowed back a knot of anger and frustration.

“You okay?” The driver asked.

“My ancestors…they were slaves.” Maybeck's stomach felt tight, his throat dry.

“That why you look for the Guadirikiri Cave? You look for their souls?”

“Something like that.”

* * *

Seeds carried by the wind and washed ashore by storm tides had found purchase on the island's shores and randomly rooted in clumps, like a poorly planned obstacle course. Maybeck now lay beneath the shade of one of these bushes. Surrounded by a thicket of stickers, engulfed by the unrelenting heat from a steadily rising sun, he kept his eye on Guadirikiri cave. Its similarity to Jess's drawing was unmistakable.

He was glad he'd chosen to be dropped off up the road. Another taxi waited in the sand parking lot. Maybeck had already jumped to the conclusion that
this taxi had brought the Overtakers—to Guadirikiri, a cave not on the tourist list of the top five sightseeing attractions. But Maybeck was here; his moment had arrived.

Bugs swarmed him, landed on his arms and neck. He fanned them away, but they drove his impatience to a barely controlled restlessness. He could not stay
hidden much longer. He was going to have to move.

The cave entrance was concealed within a towering set of rocks, accessed by a concrete staircase that, unfortunately, looked nothing like the painting of the steps in the journal. Other outcroppings of rock rimmed the area, like spaceships that had crashed in a sand-swept desert.

Maybeck swatted away the black bugs, rose, and
ran to the next clump of shrubbery and thorn. As he moved, he saw a person, crouched and running toward him. He tightened his fists and fixed his feet squarely, so that even squatting, he'd have a firm base for
fighting.

Storey Ming slid in next to him.

“How did you—?”

“It's a long story,” Maybeck said. “Later.”

“They're in there!”

“I kinda figured,” he said. “How many?”

“Two women. Two guys,” she said.

“Are those steps the only way in?” Maybeck asked.

“Yes. There are these erosion holes up top, but I don't recommend them. They're way too high. We'd make a scene.”

“You've been watching?”

“I heard them talking. The women, not the guys.”

“What were they saying?”

“Not sure. It was weird, like old ladies arguing.”

“Can we get in there without being seen?” Maybeck asked.

“We can try.”

With his attention moving between the parking lot, the steps, and the cave entrance, Maybeck shielded his eyes from the sun.

“The driver?”

She said, “Asleep, with his seat laid back.”

“Good. Okay. So, I'll check out the entrance. You chill. If it looks good, I'll signal you.”

“Fine, but we go in together,” Storey said.

“You realize how stupid that would be?” Maybeck said. “If I'm caught, I need you to get me out.”

“Strength in numbers.”

“Battle tactics,” he countered.

“It's a deep cave with a bunch of rooms. If you don't signal me to join you one minute after you go inside, I'm going to drop in.”

“You said that would make a scene.”

“Yeah, I did, didn't I?” Storey said proudly.