Halfway across the bottom shelf, Nipper gasped. He gestured for Samantha to come look at a thick book bound in red leather.
Three engraved symbols ran down the spine: an arrow, a slingshot, and a ninja throwing star. Nipper yanked the book from the shelf and stood up.
“ ‘Encyclopedia Missilium,’ ” he read dramatically. He flipped through the pages and stopped about a third of the way through the book.
“ ‘Chapter Four,’ ” he read. “ ‘Shuriken and Those Who Throw Them.’ ”
Samantha held up the throwing star so they could both see the image engraved in the center. Then she turned the star over. An ornate crown with angled swords decorated each side. Nipper flipped forward a few more pages. Then he held the book up for both of them to read.
THE ROYAL ACADEMY OF INTERNATIONAL NINJAS (AKA THE RAIN)
The RAIN is an international crime syndicate. The organization is designed to consist of two dozen members at all times. Said members include twenty-three martial arts masters and a trained monkey. They specialize in stealth, murder, and theft.
They have stolen a super-secret diagram giving them access to hidden doorways and transportation networks around the globe. This has transformed them from a mediocre outlaw gang to a worldwide criminal menace.
The RAIN gathers twice a month to plan crimes. Each meeting’s leader is set on a rotating calendar and is responsible for chairing the meeting and for bringing snacks. Together, the ninjas of the RAIN have perpetrated some of the most daring art robberies and bank heists in history.
They remain at large to this day.
“That’s it!” Samantha exclaimed. She marched around the room shouting at her brother with excitement. “Uncle Paul told me to watch out for the RAIN!”
Nipper stood still in front of the bookcase. He quickly did some math in his head. Twenty-three martial arts masters plus one. Twenty-four meetings.
“Once a year, there’s a meeting that nobody wants to go to,” he said.
“What are you taking about?” asked Samantha.
“Nobody wants snacks from a monkey,” he pointed out.
Section 05, Detail YOWCHINAEI
The Sewers of Paris
Paris has a sewer system different from that of any other city in the world.
The first sewer tunnels were built in Paris in 1370, and the government has been adding to them ever since.
Today, there are more than a thousand miles of tunnels bringing freshwater into the city and taking sewage out.
Many of the tunnels are also lined with delivery tubes. Up until a few years ago, these formed an air-powered mail system responsible for sending plastic cylinders throughout the city. Letters and small packages were delivered from building to building through the pneumatic tubes.
* * *
• • •
Recently, the Royal Academy of International Ninjas lost their top-secret blueprint of hidden passages around the world. They have been stuck in Paris ever since and they use the sewer system as their headquarters. From there they prey upon the citizens and treasures of Paris.
Squeezing through drains, exhaust pipes, and garbage chutes has infused them with the stench and sewage of the City of Light. It has turned them into stink-bandits, known to the French authorities as Les Bandits Putrides.
This has made it difficult for the ninjas to travel. If they venture beyond the sewers for any length of time, their strong odor gives them away.
The RAIN is very, very unhappy about being stuck in Paris. They want the Super-Secret Plans back—now!
Samantha and Nipper stood in the center of their uncle’s apartment for a while. They felt triumphant.
“Uncle Paul was warning me about the ninjas all along,” said Samantha.
“That’s great,” said Nipper. “Now what’s our next move?”
Samantha stood there, tapping one finger on her chin as she tried to come up with an answer. She looked excited for a moment. Then she looked serious again. Then she looked thoughtful. She had nothing.
“We’ve just got to keep looking,” said Samantha. “Somehow, we’re missing an important clue that can lead us to Uncle Paul.”
She started to pace around the room impatiently.
“Why are those ninjas so smelly?” she asked, talking faster and louder. “And how did they find Dennis and Mom and Dad at the Pet Expo?”
She looked at the coffee table. Then she walked over and grabbed the hula hoop trophy. She waved it at the note pinned to the wall.
“And what’s so special about waffles?” she shouted dramatically.
“We don’t even know that Uncle Paul’s alive, Sam!” Nipper shouted back at her. “And I don’t want to puzzle over this place anymore!” He rubbed the bruise on his cheek and cried, “I got hit in the face with money today and I didn’t even get to keep it!”
He gestured toward the window. The sun was starting to set.
“It’s getting dark,” he continued, even louder. “I’m tired, and I—” Nipper stopped mid-complaint and stared.
The sun was sinking lower in the sky, and a nearby streetlamp switched on, shining directly through the windows of the apartment. It cast a web of dark lines from the shadow of the basketball net onto the wall across the room.
Samantha turned and saw what her brother was staring at.
Lines crisscrossed the wall, one running diagonally over Uncle Paul’s note.
The line crossed through four letters: E-D-F-U.
“Edfu?” Nipper asked.
Samantha was already reaching for a large atlas on the shelf next to the Encyclopedia Missilium. She opened the book, turned to the index, and scanned the list of cities and countries.
“Edfu, Egypt,” she answered, and closed the book.
Samantha remembered Edfu from their first visit to the magtrain station. The name was one of those carved into the arches above the tunnels. At the time, she’d had no idea what “Edfu” meant or if it was even a real word.
Now it was their best, clearest clue to what happened to their missing uncle.
“Tomorrow’s a big day,” she told Nipper as they marched back across the driveway. She held the umbrella tightly by the middle, pointing it toward the house.
“This time we’re going to be prepared and we’re going to do things right.”
It occurred to her that she sounded a little bit like a general or a football coach. That was just fine with her.
“We’ll bring snacks,” she said.
“Check,” Nipper answered.
“We’re going to bring some emergency money,” she said.
“Check,” said Nipper.
“Umbrella.”
“Check.”
“Magnifying glass.”
“Hand lens,” Nipper corrected her. “And check.”
Samantha opened the side door of their house, stepped inside, flipped on the kitchen light, and continued.
“And we’ll need some light,” she said. “I’m tired of stumbling around in the dark.”
“Yes,” said Nipper. “And we’re bringing Dennis.”
Samantha looked her brother in the eye and thought about this for a few seconds.
“Okay,” she said.
“Meet here first thing in the morning?” Nipper asked.
She looked over at the refrigerator. A note in her mother’s handwriting was held to the door by a magnet shaped like a pair of boxer shorts.
CHINCHILLA FESTIVAL
SUNDAY
10 A.M.
“Let’s wait until Mom and Dad leave,” she said. “Ten-fifteen.”
Nipper gave her two thumbs up.
Samantha started to march up the stairs. Then she caught herself and stopped. She peered up to make sure her parents weren’t in the hall.
Then she tiptoed quietly to her bedroom and went right to sleep.
* * *
—
At 10:15 a.m., Samantha went down to the kitchen.
Nipper was already waiting for her with Dennis panting happily at his feet.
“I’ve got snacks,” he said, holding up a plastic bag filled with crackers.
Dennis watched the bag carefully.
“I researched Egyptian money,” said Samantha. “There’s no way we’re going to get Egyptian pounds quickly.”
“Don’t worry,” said Nipper. “I’ve got us covered. One hundred.”
He held up a crisp bill and waved it in the air.
“Wait,” said Samantha. “Let me take a closer look at that bill.”
“Uncle Paul gave me this hundred for my birthday last year,” he said, and slipped it into his front pocket.
Dennis kept watch on the bag of crackers.
Samantha felt her pocket to make sure she had the little black journal.
“Wait here and I’ll find some light,” she said.
She headed out of the kitchen, through the living room, and into Mr. Spinner’s study at the back of the house. There were stacks of cardboard boxes everywhere, bulging with papers, electrical cables, and strange tools. There was a framed portrait of George Washington Carver on one wall. Between a tower of rubber bins and a trash can filled with rolled-up posters, she found his little wooden desk.
Samantha knew that her dad kept samples of experimental lightbulbs in the desk drawer. She fished around until she found a small padded envelope labeled “X-27B.” Sure enough, there was a tiny bulb inside.
“This won’t be missed,” she said, holding it up between two fingers and examining it. Then she hurried back to the kitchen.
“Dog, please,” she said.
Her brother hoisted Dennis from the floor and held him out to her. The dog collar buzzed softly. She removed the bulb from the Blinky Barker and replaced it with the X-27B.
“Show ’em what you can do, old pal,” Nipper, imitating Mr. Spinner’s voice, called to Dennis.
“Wruf!” the pug barked on cue.
Instantly, bright white light bathed the room. Powerful beams shot from the collar, reflecting off windows, framed photos, a silver travel mug, and a dozen other surfaces in the kitchen. Some of the rays illuminated the gems on Dennis’s collar, adding a swirling, scintillating light show to the room.
“Yow!” said Samantha, shielding her face with both hands.
“Argh,” said Nipper, dropping the dog and turning away with his eyes shut tight. “So…very…bright.”
“Bark, old pal!” Samantha said, not even trying to sound like their dad.
Dennis gave her a quick “Wruf!”
The collar turned off.
It took a full minute for them to recover from the blinding glare.
“That,” said Nipper, rubbing his eyes, “is one heck of a lightbulb!”
Samantha looked him straight in the eye and pointed at him.
“Don’t forget to remind me to put it back when we get home.”
“Absolutely. I won’t,” said Nipper.
They took two pairs of sunglasses from the junk bowl on the counter.
Samantha left a note on the refrigerator for their parents saying that they were going to an all-day party at the Bogden-Loople house next door. It was going to be a triple-feature movie party and they wouldn’t be home until after dinner.
“Why are you lying to Mom and Dad about going to the Bogden-Looples’?” asked Nipper.
“I hate to do it,” she said. “But Uncle Paul is in danger, and he needs us to find him.”
Then she added, “What would happen if Mom decided to call Morgan Bogan and ask about us?” She grinned a little and waited for Nipper to think.
Nipper grinned, too. Everything their neighbor said was preposterous. Of course he’d confirm that they were at his house.
“You are brilliant, big sister.” He bowed to her. “But more important, you are sneaky!”
Dennis found a cracker that had missed the bag. It was stuck to one leg of the kitchen table a few inches from the floor. Then they all left the house.
* * *
—
With the umbrella, the hand lens, sunglasses, crackers, money, and a pug wearing an extremely powerful lightbulb, Samantha and Nipper headed down the block to an ordinary-looking mailbox.
In minutes, they were standing at the corner of Prospect Street and Thirteenth Avenue. The Volunteer Park water tower rose a block away as they faced the mailbox. This time, they didn’t need to check the Super-Secret Plans.
“Three times,” Nipper reminded his sister.
Samantha reached for the mailbox handle.
Suddenly Dennis sniffed the air and growled.
“Sam—” Nipper reached out and stopped her. “Do you smell burned bacon, dirty socks, and sardines?”
Clang! A throwing star sailed between them and caromed off the top of the mailbox.
“Stop!” someone shouted. “Don’t move!”
Samantha and Nipper couldn’t help it. They turned around.
A squad of shrouded bandits stood in a long, smelly line. One of them held up three shuriken with his left hand.
“Well, okay,” he said, sounding irritated. “You can turn around, but don’t move again.”
Before Samantha or Nipper could do or say anything, the ninjas sprang forward and formed a circle around them. They were surrounded.
Samantha quickly counted the ninjas. There were twenty of them. They were all dressed in black, and every one was soiled from head to toe. One of the ninjas was much shorter than the others. The stink was unbearable.
“Hand over the umbrella now,” said the ninja with the throwing stars. “Or we’ll have to cut this meeting short.”
With his free hand he drew his sword. One after the other, the ninjas unsheathed menacing silver blades. A wave of reflected light rippled around the circle.
Samantha had seen what a single samurai sword could do to a loaf of French bread. Now she faced twenty of them. She looked around the circle again. She and her brother were trapped.
She had no idea what to do. Slowly, she pulled the umbrella from her shoulder.
“Sam?” Nipper asked.
Samantha’s heart ached. She wasn’t just handing over the umbrella. She was giving away her only chance to find Uncle Paul.
Sadly, she held out the Super-Secret Plans.
“Smart girl,” the ninja snarled, stepping forward. He tucked his sword away. Then he reached out a grimy hand and grabbed the closed umbrella.
“We spent six weeks hidden on a garbage barge to get here,” he said, waving the umbrella at them. “It was the only way we could travel here without being smelled. Do you know what monkeys do in the middle of the ocean when—”
The ninja’s words were cut off in a blur of fur as Dennis leaped forward with stunning speed and precision.
Maybe he saw a moment for greatness. Maybe he wanted to save his friends. Or maybe it was because the ninja had just smeared the umbrella with bacon grease and sardine juice.
Dennis seized the umbrella and bit down. Then he was off. He bolted into Volunteer Park.
“Breeep!” the shortest ninja howled. He dropped his sword and banged his knuckles against the ground several times. Then he grabbed the sword and stood up straight again.
Samantha and Nipper pushed their way through the confused ninjas and took off after their hero pug.
It was a five-block run down the length of Volunteer Park, past the art museum and the water tower, around the reservoir and in between some Frisbee players enjoying precious hours in the sun.
Samantha and Nipper caught up with Dennis just as he reached the busy street at the bottom of the park.
He stopped at the corner and looked up at them.
“Good boy,” said Nipper. He took out the plastic bag, opened it, and tossed a cracker to the dog.
Dennis dropped the umbrella and caught the cracker in midair.
Nipper picked up the umbrella and handed it back to Samantha.
“That makes four ninjas in Paris and twenty in Seattle,” said Nipper.
“How did they find us here?” Samantha asked.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “We’re not the ones you can smell from a mile away.”
Samantha nodded. “They must have some special way of tracking us,” she said. They turned left and sped into Capitol Hill’s business district, threading their way through shoppers, joggers, bicycles, and baby strollers.
“Excuse me,” said Samantha as she bumped into a woman juggling for people in line at a coffee cart.
“Sorry!” said Nipper as he slipped between two men doing yoga outside a café.
As they dodged parking meters and dog walkers, the smell of kerosene and used kitty litter began to catch up with them. The sound of split-toe ninja slippers slapping pavement began to grow louder.
“They’re going to chop us into little cubes!” Nipper cried, gasping for air. “We’ll be just like that French bread!”
Samantha looked around quickly. They were in the middle of the block between Coffee Mania and Seattle Fabric Center. They couldn’t outrun the ninjas. And there were too many of them to fight.
“Hold my hand,” she told Nipper.
“What?” he asked his sister. “I like you, too, Sam, but right now we—”
Samantha grabbed his hand, yanked hard, and pulled him into Seattle Fabric Center.
Samantha Spinner and the Super-Secret Plans Page 8
