“Janice,” whispered Celia.
“See?” whispered Oliver. He really hated being right about this sort of thing. Like all their enemies, from Ernest the celebrity impersonator to commercial breaks during their favorite shows, Janice McDermott—grave robber, thief, and mercenary—had a way of coming back over and over again.
16
WE DON’T MIND OUR MANNERS
SIR EDMUND’S PHONE rang. He let it ring while he studied the ancient map in front of him, the strange continents, the old Greek writing, the illustration of the dragon. He twirled his mustache and daydreamed about Atlantis.
The phone stopped ringing.
He looked up from the map to the portraits on his wall, heavy oil paintings of great leaders of the Council who came before him: Napoleon and Julius Caesar, Genghis Khan and Francisco Pizarro. Their grim visages looked down at him.
He smirked, because he would outdo them all.
The phone rang again and this time he answered.
“Tell me you have them,” he said into the receiver without saying hello. We should not be surprised that a villain set on world domination would not place a high value on telephone manners.
He listened quietly for the answer to his question. His smile grew broader and broader as he heard Janice speak. When she was done, he did not answer immediately. Janice McDermott was a talented mercenary, which meant she sold her cruel set of skills—like grave robbing, thieving, and murdering—to whoever could pay her the most, and right now, Sir Edmund was paying her a lot. She was his employee and she could wait for his reply. Again, poor phone manners.
“You there? Hello?” Janice said. “Can you hear me now? I said that the Navels came here, just like you said they would. They’ve got no animals to help them out, no friends lurking in the shadows. They’re all together and they’re all under my control.”
“I heard you,” Sir Edmund said, standing up and resting his hand on the ancient rune stone of Nidhogg the dragon, which he now kept behind his desk. He couldn’t read a word of the ancient language of the runes, but he liked to run his hand over it and know that it was priceless and that it was his.
One day, he believed, there would be monuments like this dedicated to Sir Edmund S. Titheltorpe-Schmidt III. Small though he was in height, he was grand in accomplishment. Now was the moment to complete his plans. Now was the moment to reach Atlantis and to claim the Lost Library. Now the world would be his to—
“Hello? Hello?” Janice’s voice crackled over the phone line, cutting off his reverie.
Sir Edmund set the receiver down on the desk. He pressed a few buttons on his desk and the picture of Genghis Khan slid aside to reveal a screen with a picture of a Viking map of the north. The area of the North Pole was almost as unknown now as it was then, a frozen patch of ocean haunted by ghost-white polar bears and fields of treacherous ice. In Viking times, the only label for the upper reaches of the ice of the north was Asgard, the city of the gods at the top of a rainbow bridge. He zoomed in. He saw an illustration of a dragon, just like the one on Plato’s map. The clues were all falling into place.
He pressed a button and the portrait of Gen-ghis Khan slid back into place. He picked the phone up again.
“Edmund?” Janice was shouting. “Are you still there? Edmund?”
“It’s Sir Edmund,” he said. “Now quit shouting.”
“What do you want me to do?” Janice said, her voice heavy with impatience.
“I’m on my way north. Keep them there. I have a delightful surprise.”
He hung up the phone and set his palms flat on his desk, taking a deep breath and trying to keep from getting too excited. He wanted to squeal with glee, which would not suit a villain of his cunning and power.
Instead, he exhaled slowly.
He picked up the phone and dialed a number. When a gruff voice on the other end answered, Sir Edmund did not offer a greeting. “Tell the rest of the Council that the Navels fell into our trap and success is within our reach.”
“It better be,” said the voice. “Or you’re finished. Their patience has worn out.”
“Oh, don’t go sweating through your little baseball cap. I know you want to take over the Council. I’m sorry to disappoint you.”
“We’ll see,” the man on the phone said.
Sir Edmund wanted to stick his tongue out and make barfing sounds, which also would not suit a villain of his cunning and power and perhaps would not have been very effective over the phone. Instead, he grunted and hung up.
He ran his fingers over the ancient map once more.
He would head off to Svalbard himself to claim his ultimate glory.
And, of course, get rid of the Navel family forever.
17
WE GET SOME TV TIME
JANICE KEPT ONE hand on her pistol as she sipped a steaming cup of hot chocolate. The Navels stood against the wall opposite, their hands above their heads, just as she had ordered.
She leaned back in her chair, which blocked the only door out of the small dining room where the researcher used to sit and eat his lonely meals. Before he’d been kidnapped, that is. It was a heavy steel door, strong enough to keep out any stray polar bears that might somehow find their way past the heavy outer doors to the research station. It looked strong enough to keep out a lot more than bears. It could probably keep out a pliosaur like the one fossilized in the cave outside. Not that anyone wanted to find out.
Janice put her feet up on the table, her wet shoes dripping on the research papers and maps of glaciers that had been left lying about. On the wall behind her, bright posters gave safety advice like: If your hands are feeling numb, don’t be dumb, warm them, chum! Keep bear protection with you at times! and the obvious, Why not stay inside?
“Duh,” Oliver muttered as he read.
Celia stared down the barrel of Janice’s gun, defiant, plotting a way out of yet another mess her parents had gotten them into. Oliver licked his lips and stared at the steaming mug of hot chocolate, defiant, plotting a way to get some of it for himself.
Here, in the far north, they had no hope of being rescued by the sudden appearance of their pet lizard or monkey or chicken. Corey Brandt and Professor Rasmali-Greenberg were long gone in the airplane with their friends, and no other children from some distant tribe could find them here. No one lived this far north. There would be no deus ex machina for Oliver and Celia this time.
“I’ve spoken to Edmund,” Janice said. “And he is very impressed that you were able to find your way here without a map. He sends his compliments.”
“We don’t want his compliments,” their mother snapped.
“Listen, Janice,” said Dr. Navel. “What do you want Oliver and Celia for? They’re only children. At least let them go.”
“Ha!” Janice laughed. “Your children have proven far more dangerous to our efforts than you have. We’re much more likely to keep them and let you go.”
“No way,” said Oliver.
“I was just making a point,” said Janice. “I’m not letting anyone go. In fact, I have a much more interesting idea.”
“And what’s that?” Dr. Navel sneered at her.
She smiled and stood. She sauntered over to a control panel in the corner of the room. She hit a few buttons. The loud hum of the air conditioner stopped. Then she shot the panel several times.
“Aack!” They couldn’t cover their ears fast enough. The loud shots from her gun in such a small space rattled their eardrums.
“That is not proper firearm safety!” Dr. Navel shouted.
“It’s going to start to get warm in here,” said Janice. “And as it does, the ice will melt and the ground will get softer and collapse right onto this research station. Maybe in a few thousand years, some scientists will find your fossils down here near those old dragon bones and wonder what sort of strange creatures would hav
e perished just sitting around in front of a television. A fitting way for two couch potatoes to meet their end, I think?”
“We’re not couch potatoes,” said Oliver.
“We’re audiovisual enthusiasts,” Celia explained again.
“Wait,” said Oliver. “There’s a TV in here?” He glanced to the side and saw a small TV screen in an odd console sitting in the corner.
“Enjoy it,” said Janice. “It will be your last chance. None of you will be getting in our way again.”
“Don’t be a fool, Janice,” Claire Navel warned. “You know you can’t trust Sir Edmund. If you let us go, I’m sure we can work out a reward.”
“Like that’s going to happen,” scoffed Janice. “Watching this cave collapse on you and your snot-nosed kids is my reward. Well, that and twenty-five million dollars.”
“We’re not snot-nosed kids,” said Oliver, wiping his nose on his sleeve just to be sure.
“We’re snot-nosed tweens,” said Celia. “I mean, er, we’re not snot-nosed anythings!”
“Money will be worthless when Sir Edmund brings ruin to us all,” said their mother. “Do you realize what he has planned? If he can find the Lost Library, he will try to raise Atlantis. It’ll bring unimaginable destruction to the world. A new continent rising, geological disaster, floods and fires and famine.”
“Fantasy.” Janice laughed. “It’s all fantasy to me. Money is real and I’ll get plenty of it. Revenge is real and I’m getting that right now.”
“You’re a monster,” said Dr. Navel.
Janice shrugged. “As delightful as it is to sit with you, I’d rather watch ice melt. Sir Edmund is on his way and I can’t wait to show him that I have finally gotten rid of you. Enjoy your time together.”
She strolled out of the small room and stopped at the door. She turned back around and snatched her hot chocolate off the table and took it with her as slammed the door on her way out.
“Darn!” Oliver kicked the table leg, his hot chocolate hopes dashed.
They heard chains rattle and locks snapping shut.
Dr. Navel rushed to the door to pound on it, but to no avail. Janice did not open the door again. “Well, this is a pickle.” He leaned back against the door and rubbed his eyes. “What now?”
“We could watch the TV,” suggested Oliver.
His parents looked at him with mouths agape. Who would want to watch television at a time like this?
“What?” said Oliver.
“He’s right,” said Celia. “It beats just watching the ice melt.”
18
WE WATCH ICE MELT
THEIR PARENTS WATCHED the walls drip with melting ice.
“Let us out! Let us out!” Dr. Navel pounded on the door again.
“She isn’t going to let us out, dear,” said Claire. “She probably can’t even hear us.”
As the air in the research station warmed with every breath they took, beads of condensation formed, like on the outside of cold glass of lemonade on a hot summer day. Oh, how Oliver and Celia wished they were drinking lemonade on a hot summer day instead of being trapped in an underground Arctic research station, watching the ceiling sag under its own weight! The melting ice formed puddles by the walls, dripped onto the table, and ran down the steel door that sealed them inside the room.
The twins fiddled with the little TV in the corner. It had a lot of strange knobs and dials and switches, but they couldn’t figure out how to turn it on.
“You can use the remote if you want,” said Celia.
Oliver rushed over to the backpack, glad he got to be in control of the universal remote control for once. He pressed a button and the TV in the corner hummed to life.
“I can’t believe you two can watch TV right now,” said their father.
“It’s calming,” said Oliver.
“TV has helped us out before,” added Celia. “And it’s more fun than banging on the door.”
However, the TV was not going to be more fun than banging on the door, because it wasn’t a regular TV. It didn’t get any channels at all. It was, however, going to helpful.
It was a security monitor and it showed them an image of themselves standing in front of the TV in the room they were in. They looked over their shoulders and saw the security camera mounted in the corner, pointing down at them.
Oliver waved and watched himself wave on the TV.
Celia snatched the remote from his hand and changed the channel.
“Hey, I was watching that,” he objected.
Their parents came over to see.
Channel two showed the tunnel on the other side of the door, where the saber-toothed tiger and the skeleton of the prehistoric dragon were frozen into the wall. She hit the button again and saw a snow-covered helicopter pad on the roof of the station. The next channel showed the front, where Janice had set up a tent with lights and a heater hooked up to her snowmobile for electricity.
“Why’s she camping out front?” Oliver wondered.
“She’s probably waiting around to watch us get smushed,” said Celia. “That’s her idea of entertainment.”
“She’s probably waiting for Sir Edmund,” said Dr. Navel. “And to watch us get smushed,” he added.
Celia changed the channel again and they saw a kennel on the other side of the research station. There were half a dozen doghouses and a storage shed, all surrounded by a fence to keep the dogs in and polar bears out.
“Dogs,” said Oliver.
“That’s it!” said their mother. “That’s how we’re going to beat Sir Edmund to the North Pole! On a dogsled!”
“Sure,” said Celia. “But how are we going to get out of this room?”
“Hmm.” The room fell silent. Only the sound of dripping water marked the passing minutes.
Oliver was dancing from foot to foot, excited about riding on a dogsled. Or he had to pee. Maybe it was both.
Celia started to sweat. She couldn’t believe how hot she was in the Arctic Circle. She tugged at her collar and slumped against the wall. She groaned and stared at the water dripping from the ceiling. “It’s so hot,” she complained. “I miss the air conditioner.”
“Oh, Celia!” Her mother jumped up. “You’re a genius!”
“She is?” said Oliver.
“I am?” said Celia. “I mean, yes, I am . . . but . . . uh . . . why?”
“The air conditioner isn’t running!” said her mother, stating the most obvious fact in the world. The air conditioner not running was exactly the thing that was going to get them smushed.
The twins watched their mother drag a chair across the room and climb up to the air conditioning vent. She undid the screws and looked in. She banged on the sides.
“It’s big enough for the two of you to go through, get to the tunnel, and open the door from the other side,” she told them.
“Do we have to?” said Celia.
“Do you want to be smushed under a thousand tons of ice and rock until some future explorer digs you up and finds your bones?”
“I guess I’ll go first.” Oliver sighed and stood.
Dr. Navel hoisted Oliver up into the vent.
“Hold on.” Their mother caught Celia by the foot before she climbed in. She fidgeted with the gold ring she wore, the one engraved with the symbol of the Mnemones. “Take this.” She pulled the ring off her finger and pressed the metal into Celia’s hand. She looked her daughter square in the eyes. “Just in case something happens.”
An understanding passed between them. Celia knew that if something went wrong, she had to go on to find the Lost Library and save the day and keep Oliver from getting eaten by a polar bear.
Celia’s mother knew that if her children succeeded, they would be getting televisions in their rooms and she would stay at home to watch with them, never leaving them for another
crazy adventure. Before she knew what she was doing, Celia found herself hugging her mother.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” her mother whispered.
Inside the vent Oliver wondered why it was taking Celia so long to get up there. He didn’t like how narrow the space was. His breath hung heavy in front of him. The air duct was just wide enough for him the crawl forward on his elbows and knees, but not really to look behind him or to turn around. There was no going back. He heard the loud banging as his sister was hoisted in behind him. They clunked along single file through the cool metal air duct.
“This reminds me of going through that tunnel at the Explorers Club when we were going to run away,” said Oliver. “Before we found Mom again.”
“Yeah,” said Celia.
“Do you ever regret not running away?” he asked Celia.
She thought about all the times they’d fallen out of airplanes or been attacked by wild animals or chased by murderous thugs. She thought about meeting Corey Brandt and seeing the Amazon and the open sea and spending time with her whole family together. She thought about all the TV she’d missed. “I dunno,” she said.
“I’m glad we didn’t run away,” said Oliver.
“I guess if I had to not run away from a family, this one’s not so bad to not run away from,” Celia said.
“Huh?” Oliver had no idea what she was talking about, but she didn’t have a chance to explain. He stopped suddenly at another vent and Celia bumped into him from behind.
“Ow!” he said. He jostled the vent cover but couldn’t get it open. The screws wouldn’t budge. He knocked it and it shook a little, but it didn’t open.
“Hurry up,” said Celia. “My legs are getting a cramp!”
“I’m trying,” he said.
“Try harder!” said Celia and she shoved him again. His head hit the vent and it flexed. He looked at it again. He exhaled.
“Do that again,” he said.
We Sled With Dragons Page 9
