The Secret Cipher (9 page)

“It's a possibility,” I said. That made a lot more sense than Tyler's theory that she was stalking him, or Juniper's delusion that she was visiting from the Realm of the Gods.

“Remember at the Creamery, how she was asking lots of questions about our aunt? I thought she was being snoopy. I should have told her to mind her own business!” Jax was getting so worked up, she started bouncing. Fortunately, the seat belt kept her from bumping her head on the car's ceiling. “What if the Camels sent her to Chatham to find us? The
Camels know where we live. They know what we look like. What if she went to Merlin's Comics because she wanted to talk to us and find out if we knew where Juniper was hiding? And then we told her. Crud! We fell right into her trap!”

“Are you saying she's not into me?” Tyler asked. “Did you
see
the way she kissed me?”

“Tyler, could you focus on the urn and not on your love life?” Jax pleaded. “We have a serious situation here.”

“Well then, explain this.” He took another sharp turn, following the bus. “If she's
not
into me, then why did she ask the nurse about the comic-book festival? Huh? Why would she want to go to the festival if not to see me? I invited her, remember?”

“She might want more information,” Jax said.

“Or she
might
be into him,” I added. It was a possibility. A long shot, but stranger things had happened—like a tornado flying out of an urn.

We followed the bus to Boston Harbor. A sign on a hotel read,
Welcome, International Comic Book Festival Attendees
. “This place looks like it's been invaded by aliens,” Jax said. Everyone walking down the street was dressed in a bizarre costume. I recognized some of the characters from classic comic books, like
Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. Lots of girls had dyed their hair blue or pink and wore tails. There were pirates and monsters, and all sorts of hats with ears. We drove past a girl in a bikini who'd painted her skin orange.

Tyler rolled down the window. “That's awesome,” he called to the orange girl.

The bus stopped near the Seaport World Trade Center. It was flanked on one side by a cruise ship, the
Spirit of Boston
, and on the other side by the Boston Fish Pier and a fleet of colorful fishing boats. “There she is!” Jax exclaimed. The girl stepped off the bus, a tan leather bag hanging from her shoulder.

“Hey!” Tyler hollered out the window. She didn't turn around. His voice wasn't loud enough to cut through all the traffic noise. His voice . . .

“Wait!” I said, before Tyler could holler again. “I figured it out!”

“Figured what out?” Jax asked.

“Her voice. It's been bugging me. She sounds like another voice I'd heard and I just remembered who it is.” I swallowed hard. “She has the same accent as the man who hired the Camels. Ricardo.”

Jax gasped. “You're right.”

Ricardo was a mysterious man who'd hired Mr. and
Mrs. Camel to find the urn. Jax and I had heard his voice over a phone speaker when we'd been hiding in the Camels' motel room. Along with his odd accent, he'd sounded like a classic movie villain—sinister and cold. But we knew nothing more about him. Only that he was still out there, and that he wanted the urn.

“The Camels are in jail,” Jax said. “But Ricardo could be anywhere. He could even be here, in Boston. Maybe she works for
him
? We've got to get that urn before he gets it!”

A line had formed outside the center's main entrance. The girl walked to the end of the line and waited. “Pull over,” Jax told Tyler.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

Jax laid out a plan. “She doesn't know that we know she has the urn. Right?” Tyler and I both nodded. “She doesn't know we saw her at Sisters of Mercy and that we followed her here. So, we will pretend to be festival geeks. We'll sneak up on her and grab the urn. You brought costumes, right?”

“Of course. It's a comic-book festival.” Tyler pulled into a load/unload zone, got out, and opened the trunk. “Here,” he said, handing Jax a black cape and a stretchy black mask.

“Perfect,” Jax said. She fixed the cape around her shoulders. The mask covered her head and half her face, with two holes for her eyes, and two pointy ears at the very top. “Shouldn't I have a tail?”

“Why?” Tyler asked.

“Because I'm Catwoman.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Have you been living in a cave or something? You're not Catwoman. You're Batgirl.”

“What's the difference?”

“What's the difference?” Tyler's voice rose an octave. “Seriously? One's
a bat
. One's
a cat
.”

“Why do you have to be so snippy all the time?” Jax pulled her mask into place.

I looked down the sidewalk. More people had joined the end of the line. “The line's moving,” I said. Jax grabbed another cape out of the trunk and handed it to me. “No way,” I told her. “I hate costumes.”

“Ethan, I need your help. I can't touch the urn or I'll get those weird feelings again. So I'll distract her and you'll grab the bag.”

“Me? Grab the bag?” I frowned. “Have Tyler do it.”

“Tyler has to stay out here because we're gonna need a getaway car.” Jax tied the cape around my
neck. Mine was solid black, while Jax's had a yellow lining. “Don't worry. You'll make an excellent sidekick.”

“Actually,” Tyler said, “Ethan's not the sidekick. He's wearing the Batman cape. That makes
you
the sidekick.”

“Why is Batgirl the sidekick?” Jax whined. “Just because she's a girl?”

“No, because Batman reigns supreme in the bat universe. He's the nucleus and everyone else revolves around him.” Tyler handed me a mask.

I'd never been the nucleus before. With great trepidation, I took off my baseball cap and pulled the mask over my face. I thought about what the latex might do to my skin. There'd be no circulation. Latex was a common allergen. Would I break out in hives?

Tyler tossed my cap into the trunk. Then he faced us, his arms folded. “Look, as much as I don't want to get anywhere near that urn, I agree that we have to get it back. But if something goes wrong, and she opens it—”

“She's not going to open it. We're going to sneak up on her,” Jax said.

“But if she does open it, you'll both be attacked. Do you understand what that means?”

“We'll turn into zombies,” Jax said.

“Uh, not
technically
zombies,” I corrected, my stomach clenching.

Tyler frowned. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you guys go after this thing. I'm the oldest. I should go.”

“We need you to drive,” Jax reminded him. “Besides, you were the hero last time, Tyler. Now it's our turn.”

Being a hero didn't matter to me. I wished I had my driver's license.

“I'll circle the block,” Tyler said. “Call me as soon as you have it and I'll bring the car right back here, to this spot.”

“Then what?” I asked, my face already starting to sweat.

“I have no idea,” Jax said. “But we'll figure it out. You ready to do this, Batman?”

I felt like we were about to jump off a bridge without a bungee cord. I tugged on my mask. “No.”

She smiled. “That's the spirit. Let's go get our hope-sucking urn back.”

We hurried toward the conference center, capes flapping. Tyler's gaming music would have been the perfect accompaniment. Even though everyone else
was in costume, I still felt like a freak. Luckily, no one could see my face.

A slight breeze blew off the harbor, but I was already hot and miserable. It felt like I'd pulled a pair of tights over my face. We took our place at the end of the line. Twenty people stood between us and the girl. There was another Batman, a pair of ninjas, a bunch of Star Wars characters, and a little kid in a panda suit. I stood real close to Jax, my arm pressing against hers. It was too muggy to stand so close but Jax didn't step away. I needed to feel her arm, to know that I wasn't alone among all these strangers.

We watched the girl. If Jax's eyes had been lasers they would have burned a hole in her back.

“Why don't we go up and ask her to give us the urn?” I suggested. “She seemed very nice at the Creamery. She might give it back.”

“Or she might open it and use it against us,” Jax said.

I didn't argue with that logic. I knew we were both remembering the sound of Tyler's agonizing scream, and the way his body had fallen to the ground like an empty sack. How he'd stared into space, lost in his own emptiness. I tried to push those thoughts away because they were making my legs tremble.

“We'll follow her and snatch the bag when she's distracted,” Jax said.

I hoped the girl hadn't studied karate or any other form of martial arts.

Fifteen minutes later she reached the security gate. The officer opened her leather bag and looked inside. My whole body stiffened. What if the guard pulled out the urn? Could we run fast enough to get to the front of the line and grab it out of the guard's hands? I clenched my toes, ready to sprint. But the guard closed the bag, then said, “Okay, go in.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and headed into the trade center. One minute later, we were through security.

I don't remember the next five minutes.

T
he lobby was blindingly bright, thanks to the giant chandeliers. And it was jam-packed with people, some lined up at registration tables, some hanging out and talking to friends. A giant reader board was set on an easel and read,
International Comic Book Festival
. A voice over a loudspeaker gave directions to the exhibition hall.

As I pushed between people, I caught a glimpse of the girl. She was clearly on a mission. She marched right past a lady who was handing out free smoothies. How can you ignore a free smoothie?

“There she goes,” I said. I was going to jab Ethan with my elbow but he wasn't next to me. “Ethan?”
Even though it was crowded, I was surprised that I'd lost him so quickly. A bunch of other black capes caught my eye until I landed on his. He stood in a corner, next to an escalator, his bat ears blending into the shadows. For a moment I forgot about the urn. Ethan needed me.

I shoved my way through a pack of wookies to get to him. He'd wedged himself into a safe little nook, like a bat might do. “Ethan?” I said.

He covered his real ears, not his bat ears. “It's loud.”

“It is loud,” I agreed. Background music mixed with chattering voices. Constant announcements blasted from the PA system. It was super crowded
and
super loud—a combination that always freaked Ethan out. He'd tried to explain it to me. He'd said that all the noises got jumbled up into one big ball of noise, and it made his head hurt.

“I'm here,” I said, taking his hand. He opened his eyes and stared down at his sneakers. It often took a few minutes to snap him out of this daze. “Come on,” I told him. Then I gently led him to a water fountain.

“But . . .” He frowned.

“Don't worry about germs. Just take a drink.
It will make you feel better.” I glanced over my shoulder. I couldn't see the girl.

Ethan drank. “Feel better?” I asked. He looked really odd with that mask on. But even if he'd been in a lineup with a bunch of other guys in masks, I'd know Ethan's eyes because they were gentle. And kind.

“Guess I'm better as a sidekick,” he said.

“That's not true.” Okay, maybe it was true but at least he was talking. “Do you need to stay here until you feel better? Or can you come with me?”

“You can't do this alone,” he said. “You can't touch the urn, remember?” I wanted to hug him right then, because I knew he'd rather sit in the corner, unnoticed. Or go back outside, where the steady thrum of traffic would be a relief from the convention center's clatter. Ethan was a pain sometimes, with his allergies, his nosebleeds, and his shyness. But then he'd surprise me and face his fears. He was a lot stronger than he looked.

We headed into the main exhibition hall. It was the size of a football field. Rows of booths, separated by wide aisles, ran the length of the room.

I found her right away. She was walking quickly down the first aisle, looking from side to side. The place was packed. I crinkled my nose. Even though
the room was air-conditioned, there were lots of heavy, furry costumes, so the BO factor was pretty strong.

“What's the plan?” Ethan asked.

I started to form one on the spot. “I'll bump into her, then while I'm apologizing, you'll grab her bag and disappear into the crowd.” The same thoughts repeated over and over in my head. Who was she? Had someone paid her to get the urn? But the most important question at that moment was, Could Ethan outrun her? Her legs were longer than his. Maybe I could trip her, to give Ethan a head start.

“Hey,” I said, as a big guy stepped on my foot. I tried to slip around him but his friends got in the way. They wore plastic armor, ridges on their foreheads, and fake beards. The guy said something to me in a weird language, then grunted. They all grunted, and beat their chests. “What's your problem?” I asked, trying to squeeze between them. I'd lost sight of the Greek girl.

They laughed, said more stuff I didn't understand, but the tone made me think it wasn't very nice. Then, after another round of grunts, they let me pass.

“They're jerks,” I said to Ethan.

“Actually, they're Klingons,” he explained. “I think they were speaking Klingon.”

Yeesh. Those
Star Trek
geeks took their role-playing way too seriously. “Hey, where is she?” I forgot all about the rude Trekkies. Where was the girl? My heart jumped into my throat. Had we lost her? I pushed between two ninja turtles. “Get your big green torsos out of my way!”