“Does it really matter who owns the Triple Top?” Harriet asked. “You want to leave the circus the first chance you get anyway.”
“But it’s not fair!” said Sam. “For weeks people have been talking behind my back, saying that I’m the one wrecking things. But now that we know who it really is, no one’s doing anything about it!”
Harriet shrugged. “What can anyone do? We don’t have enough evidence to go to the police. And you heard what Mr. Pigatto said. Even if we sold out every performance between now and next Monday, we still wouldn’t have enough to pay off both fines.”
“There has to be a way,” Sam insisted. “We can’t just sit back and let Beaverwick win.”
“Are you busy?” Sam asked his parents that evening when the circus convoy was stopped for the night. “Harriet and I were hoping to talk to you about something.”
“What’s up?” Max asked as they approached a large oak tree where Harriet and the Pigattos were already waiting.
Sam cleared his throat. “We were talking about the fine and how you said we didn’t have time to pay it off,” he began nervously. “Harriet and I were wondering what would happen if we added extra performances to the schedule this weekend.”
“Extra performances?” asked Max.
Harriet nodded. “Like an extra matinee on Friday for preschoolers and their parents or for school kids on field trips.”
“And an extra show on Saturday morning and another one on Sunday evening,” said Sam.
Mr. Pigatto rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “That’s a very ambitious schedule.”
“But wouldn’t it be worth it if it meant making enough money to save the Triple Top?” Sam asked anxiously.
“Plus, with my family performing, everyone could take turns,” Harriet pointed out. “No one would have to perform in every show.”
“Look, it’s wonderful that you two want to save the circus,” Irene began.
“It’s just a real long shot,” Max finished for his wife. “To cover our fines, we’d have to sell out every single performance, including the three extra ones you’re proposing. We’ve sold out individual shows before, but never eight in a row. We’ve never even been close.”
“But there are ways we could advertise the circus specially for this weekend,” said Sam. “Harriet and I have a whole bunch of ideas.”
“Come on, let’s hear the kids out,” Mrs. Pigatto said. “They’ve obviously put some effort into this.”
“Thank you,” Sam said with relief. As the four adults listened attentively, he filled in the details of the plan.
“I have to admit, it sounds intriguing,” Max said when Sam was finished.
“It’s a long shot, but it just might work,” said Mr. Pigatto.
“I don’t know about the rest of you,” said Mrs. Pigatto, “but I don’t want to go down without a fight. I’m in.”
“Really?” Sam said in amazement.
“Of course it’s not just up to us,” Irene cautioned the cousins. “Your plan is going to take a lot of hard work on everyone’s part. We’ll talk to your brothers and sisters, Sam, but you’re going to need everyone else’s cooperation too.”
“Better get moving,” Max said with a smile. “You don’t have much time.”
The Triple Top caravan pulled into Hamilton late Tuesday afternoon. By the end of the evening, Sam and Harriet had managed to convince even the most reluctant performer to join in the plan to save the circus. While their siblings got ready for bed, the two cousins held a last-minute strategy session at the picnic table outside the Stringbini bus.
“I think that’s it,” Harriet said a few hours later as she surveyed the scribbled notes and diagrams spread out all around them. “By Thursday night, everyone in the city should know the Triple Top is here.”
“Think we can really do this?” Sam asked, suddenly feeling anxious.
“Hope so,” said Harriet.
Sam wiped his damp palms on his shorts. “Me too. It would sure be nice to get something right for a change.”
Chapter Sixteen
“Uh, thanks for coming, everyone,” Sam began nervously, addressing the performers who’d gathered in the big top after breakfast on Wednesday morning. He shuffled the papers in his hands until he found the one he was looking for. “So, uh, we’ve only got thirty-four hours before the first show on Thursday night. Here’s what we thought we should do.”
“First, we need to have people patrolling the circus grounds at all times,” Harriet said from her place beside her cousin. “We need to make sure there’s no more sabotage.”
“Absolutely. Good thinking,” said Mr. Pigatto as the other performers nodded.
“Everyone else will go into town to promote our weekend shows,” Sam said as he and Harriet began handing out the assignments they’d prepared. “As you know, we have to sell out all eight shows or we won’t make enough to pay off the fines.”
Sam gnawed on the end of his thumb while he waited for the performers to read their handouts. A hush filled the big top as everyone digested the details of the assignments they’d been given.
“Well done, you two,” Max said after a moment, looking up from the paper in his hand. “You’ve laid out our instructions very clearly. Looks like you’ve thought of everything.”
Annabel opened her mouth to say something, but Sam’s mother cut her off. “Good job, both of you. Now it’s our turn. As Sam said, we don’t have much time, so we’d better get moving.”
Mr. Pigatto nodded. “You heard the lady. We’ve got our orders—let’s move out!”
While the performers got organized into their assigned teams, Sam and Harriet returned to the Stringbini bus. Sam felt a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as he took his place at the kitchen table. The bus had been converted into a command center. Using borrowed cell phones, the two cousins were set to collect and pass on any information they received.
“Mr. Pigatto just phoned in,” Sam informed his cousin a few hours later. “He said the first school show they did went well.”
“Good,” said Harriet. “Your mother called too. They handed out over a hundred flyers at their elementary school.”
“Are they on their way to join up with the others?”
“They’re already halfway there,” said Harriet.
Harriet and Sam had arranged for everyone to meet for a mini-parade in a busy part of the city at lunch-time. At the stroke of twelve, the Fritzi sisters started the parade on their stallions. As they made their way down the street, the other performers handed out flyers advertising the Triple Top’s eight performances that weekend.
When the parade was over, the performers split up into smaller groups again and made their way to the next schools on their lists. When school was out at three o’clock, the groups performed wherever they could find an audience—on street corners, in parks, even in parking lots.
“Everything’s going well,” Harriet reported to Sam between incoming calls late that afternoon. “Your parents’ group has handed out all their flyers.”
“Listen to this!” said Sam. “Mr. Pigatto has just been invited to do an interview on one of the local radio stations tomorrow morning!”
“Yes!” said Harriet, pumping her fists in the air. “I don’t remember if I told you—my dad called the local newspapers like we asked.”
“And?”
“And they promised to send photographers to the parade and to one or two of the school performances.” Harriet grinned. “My dad thinks we have a good chance of making tomorrow’s front page.”
“I can’t believe it,” Sam said, shaking his head in amazement. “Our plan is actually working.”
The performers continued their publicity campaign on Thursday, returning to the circus grounds at four o’clock that afternoon. They checked in with Sam and Harriet before they hurried off to eat and prepare for the first show of the weekend.
“Well?” said Max as he climbed onto the Stringbini bus. “How did it go today?”
Sam let out his breath. “Good—I think.”
“We couldn’t have done any better with stage one of the plan,” said Harriet. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see what happens in stage two.”
“Good to hear,” said Max. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead. “Phew. I’m beat already, and the weekend’s just starting. Sure hope all this is worth it.”
“Me too,” Sam said under his breath when his father was gone again.
Chapter Seventeen
Sam and Harriet went over their checklist one final time, half an hour before Thursday evening’s show was scheduled to start.
“The air-conditioning is working?” asked Sam.
“Check,” said Harriet.
“Cotton candy’s been tested?”
“Check,” said Harriet. “And the caramel corn, the snow cones and the hot dogs.”
“Ketchup, mustard and relish too?” asked Sam.
“Check, check and check.”
“The guards are all in place?”
“Check,” said Harriet. “Right now we’ve got my brothers, the Fritzi sisters, Tina Zuccato and your father on duty. They’ll change places with the next shift at intermission.”
“And all the cell phones are working?”
“Check. They were all charged overnight.”
“No one’s called in with anything suspicious yet?” Sam asked.
“Not yet,” said Harriet. “Everyone’s got a copy of the picture of the man in the gray suit. If anyone sees him or anything strange, they’ll let us know right away so we can alert everyone else.”
Sam phoned Mrs. Pigatto in the ticket booth. “How are ticket sales?” he asked.
“Fantastic!” said the ringmaster’s wife. “We’ve got extra benches set up inside, but even with the extra seats, we’re still going to have to turn people away soon.”
“Wait!” Sam said before she could hang up. “Don’t let anyone leave until you’ve sold them tickets for one of tomorrow’s performances!”
“Will do,” Mrs. Pigatto replied.
“Better get to our own stations,” said Harriet. “We’ve got a whole lot of cotton candy and caramel corn to sell tonight!”
Sam kept an eye out for the man in the gray suit as he worked the bleachers, but there was no sign of him. When nothing unusual had occurred by the end of intermission, Sam began to relax.
The second half of the evening show also passed without incident. One after another, Sam’s friends and family members performed their acts flawlessly, to the delight of the capacity audience. At the end of the night, the tired but happy performers received a standing ovation.
The success of Thursday evening’s show was repeated on Friday and again on Saturday. The big top was packed with appreciative spectators for each performance, and each performance ended with a standing ovation.
“If I could have your ATTENTION for a moment,” Mr. Pigatto announced in the performers’ tent after Saturday evening’s show. The room fell silent as the performers all turned to listen to the ringmaster.
“I know you’re tired,” said Mr. Pigatto. “We’ve all been working very hard these last few days, thanks to Sam and Harriet’s plan. But I think you’ll agree that we have a lot to celebrate.”
A cheer went up from the assembled group.
Mr. Pigatto beamed. “I would like to propose a toast.” He waited while the glasses of punch were distributed. When everyone had been served, Mr. Pigatto raised his glass. “To Sam and Harriet, for coming to the rescue of the Triple Top in our hour of need!”
“Hear, hear,” the other performers echoed, raising their glasses.
Sam’s cheeks were burning. “Thanks,” he said. “But we’re not quite done yet.”
“We’re not?” said his brother Andrew. “But we’ve already sold most of tomorrow’s seats in advance. Doesn’t that give us enough money to pay our fines?”
“We can pay the fines this week,” said Harriet. “But what about next week or the week after that?”
“What do you mean?” asked Tony Zuccato.
“Well,” said Sam, “Mr. Beaverwick doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who gives up when he doesn’t get what he wants. If he really is behind all of the Triple Top’s problems, he’s not going to go away just because we beat him this time.”
Max nodded. “Sam is right. Beaverwick didn’t build his empire by disappearing every time he lost a battle. He’s the kind of man who will do whatever it takes to get his way. He’ll be back. He’ll wait until we have our guard down, and then he’ll pounce.”
“Oh dear. What can we do?” asked Erma Fritzi, wringing her hands.
“Fortunately, Sam and Harriet have a plan to deal with Beaverwick,” Mr. Pigatto replied. “And if it works, we’ll never have to worry about Circus Enormicus again.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Everything’s ready,” Harriet told Sam as he joined her at the picnic table outside the Stringbini bus the next morning. “I checked in with Mr. Pigatto. He made the phone calls we asked him to last night.”
“Did he specifically mention the fireworks display?”
“He did. He said Mr. Beaverwick sounded interested.”
“Good,” said Sam. “Now let’s just hope that Beaverwick and his friends take the bait.”
“How is this plan supposed to work again?” Robbie broke in as he and Herbie hopped off the bus. “We didn’t quite get it last night.”
“Simple,” said Sam. “We’re setting a trap. Beaverwick wants to sabotage the circus so he can buy us out, right? So he messes with our fireworks and causes some kind of disturbance that gets us into trouble again.”
“Just think what would happen if someone stole a big firework and lit it inside the big top,” said Harriet. “It could set the tent on fire. Or make people panic and start a stampede. Something like that would be the end of the Triple Top.”
Herbie looked confused. “We get that you want to catch these guys red-handed. But how are they supposed to steal anything when there are guards watching the fireworks tent around the clock?”
“The guards are going to get called away at the last minute,” said Sam. “But we’ll still be watching the tent from hiding places nearby.”
“R-ight,” Robbie said, nodding slowly. “And that’s when the bad guys will make their move. Cool!”
“That’s the plan, anyway,” said Harriet. “And as soon as they leave the tent with the fireworks, we’ll jump on them. Then we’ll call the police. No one gets hurt and we save the circus.”
“Cool,” Robbie said again as he and Herbie took off to help Mr. Pigatto move some cases of caramel corn.
Harriet checked her watch and stood up when her brothers were gone. “Time for me to join Mary Ann on guard duty at the fireworks tent. Honestly, I can’t believe how cooperative my sister is being all of a sudden.”
“Standing up to Beaverwick has made us a team, I guess,” said Sam. “Even Annabel is being nice for a change.”
Sunday’s matinee went off without a hitch. But as the performers came out to take their final bows, there was still no sign of Mr. Beaverwick or any of his associates anywhere on the circus grounds.
Sam called Harriet on his cell phone as the audience filed out of the tent. “You think he’s still coming?”
“Of course he is,” said Harriet. “We’ve been counting on him to wait for the last show of the day. He’s going to try to send the Triple Top out with a bang, just wait and see.”
By seven thirty that evening, everyone was in place and ready for the last performance to begin. At seven thirty-five, Mrs. Pigatto called her husband to let him know that the show was officially sold out.
Sam was standing beside the ringmaster as he took the call. “There are still people lined up out here, and they’re not going away,” Sam heard Mrs. Pigatto say. “They’re setting up lawn chairs and spreading blankets on the ground to wait for the fireworks.”
Mr. Pigatto gave Sam a big thumbs-up
. “Let’s send out a few performers and give them some entertainment while they’re waiting,” he suggested to his wife.
“That would look good for the tv cameras,” Mrs. Pigatto agreed.
“The news crews have arrived, have they?” asked the ringmaster. “I called them, but I wasn’t sure they’d be interested.”
“Well, apparently they are,” said Mrs. Pigatto. “There are no less than three crews out here at the moment.”
“Wonderful,” said Mr. Pigatto. “I’ll check in with you again just before the show.”
Harriet called Sam on his cell phone a few minutes later. “He’s here! I just saw Mr. Beaverwick’s limo pull into the parking lot!”
“Is the man in the gray suit with him?” Sam asked.
“Hang on. No, it’s just Beaverwick—and some guy I don’t recognize.”
“Maybe he’s coming separately,” said Sam.
“Maybe. So are you in position yet?”
“Just got here,” Sam said. “I’m looking through the peephole of the supply tent as we speak. I’ve got a great view of my dad and Mr. Poponopolis guarding the front of the fireworks tent.”
“What about Annabel?” Harriet asked. “Did you check in with her?”
“Yes, she’s inside an empty crate behind the fireworks tent, where your dad and Tony Zuccato are on guard duty,” said Sam. “I still wish we could have had someone other than Annabel as our lookout.”
“Your sister was the only one who would fit in that tiny crate,” said Harriet. “It’s perfect. No one will ever suspect there’s anyone hidden in there spying on them.”
“I guess,” said Sam. “And we’ve got lots of other people hiding nearby, ready to jump out as soon as they get the signal.” He checked his watch. “It’s quarter to eight. Time to call Mr. Pigatto and let him know we’re ready for his ‘special announcement.’”
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