Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas

by Jonathan W. Stokes

  Addison sat comfortably on the sofa, his legs crossed. He checked his wristwatch and cocked an eyebrow. “Thirty-nine seconds. You’re getting rusty, Raj.”

  • • •

  There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Molly let Eddie inside. He still looked bleary-eyed from sleep, his black hair sticking up in back, but he was snappily dressed in his public school uniform. The tallest of the group, Eddie’s pant legs showed a few inches of ankle. He scanned the overturned coffee table and books scattered across the room. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

  “We were ransacked,” explained Molly.

  “Awesome,” said Raj, his eyes glittering with excitement.

  Addison debriefed the team, bringing them up to speed on the kidnapping, the chase, Professor Ragar, Atahualpa’s key, and the Incan treasure. Most people would be astonished by this rapid turn of events, but Eddie and Raj were familiar with Addison’s stunning capacity for getting himself into trouble.

  “So where do we come in?”

  “Raj, you’re here because you graduated from survival camp twice, you’re a brown belt in karate, you can hold your breath for two minutes underwater, and you’re the most highly decorated Boy Scout in PS 141,” said Addison.

  “Why am I here?” asked Eddie.

  “You speak Spanish.”

  “He does?” Molly asked, incredulous.

  “Sí.” Eddie shrugged. “Because of my nanny.” He had wandered into the kitchen to rummage around in the Cookes’ refrigerator. He returned with a tin of olives, some uncooked hot dogs, and a jar of spaghetti sauce.

  Addison pulled out his notebook and showed Eddie his copy of Atahualpa’s key. “It’s a riddle that leads us to the next key. Can you translate it?”

  “It’s impressive writing,” said Eddie, peering at the intricate Spanish cursive inlaid on the key. “It’s like cake frosting.”

  “What does it say?”

  Eddie dipped a raw hot dog into the spaghetti sauce, garnished it with a row of olives, and took a bite.

  Molly grimaced.

  Eddie smiled contentedly. He cleared his throat dramatically and read . . .

  “In the seat of the Andes Mountains,

  By the Río Olvidado,

  Lie the bones of the underworld

  That guard the key to silver and cheese.”

  “Cheese?” asked Molly.

  Eddie tilted the page to the light and studied the ancient calligraphy more closely. “Gold,” he corrected himself. “The key to silver and gold.”

  “Hm,” said Addison.

  “The whole thing rhymes a lot better in Spanish.”

  “Thank you, Eddie.” Addison paced a fresh lap around the overturned coffee table. “The good news,” he announced, “is that I checked out every book in the library on Incan history.” Addison frowned, deep in thought. “The bad news is, all the books are in my backpack. And my backpack is in my uncle Nigel’s office at the museum.”

  “Why’d you leave it there?” asked Eddie.

  “We were fleeing from kidnappers,” Molly answered matter-of-factly.

  “Awesome,” said Raj.

  Addison flipped through his aunt’s gigantic copy of Fiddleton’s World Atlas. “I’m not sure about the second half of the clue, the hidden cave of bones and all that. But the first part seems clear enough.”

  Molly, Eddie, and Raj crowded around the atlas.

  Addison pointed a finger at a map of Colombia. “These are the Andes Mountains. And look—southwest of Bogotá, there is a town called Olvidados.”

  “‘Río’ means ‘river,’” Eddie chimed in, squinting at the map. “And Olvidados is split in half by a tiny river. That could be the Río Olvidado.”

  “So we have a starting point,” said Molly.

  Addison addressed the group. “Gentlemen,” he said dramatically, “and also Molly,” he added, “we are flying to Colombia.” He turned and began pulling camping gear from the hall closet.

  “Wait, shouldn’t we think about this first?” asked Eddie.

  “Think about what?” asked Raj, tightening the straps of his bug-out bag.

  “I mean, shouldn’t we just go to the police?”

  “Ragar could be boarding a plane within the hour,” said Addison. “Once he leaves American soil, there’s nothing the local police can do. We’d just be stuck here praying the Colombian police can be bothered to track Ragar across the Amazon. And frankly, I don’t like those odds.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to tell our parents?”

  Addison was not one to be bothered by details. “Eddie, just leave them a note telling them you’re with me. It’s not lying. Besides, you sleep over here every weekend.”

  “I know, but Colombia? There’s a whole rain forest down there. We could get malaria.”

  “I’ve got pills for that,” Raj piped in.

  “Eddie, I’m an experienced traveler. I’ll have you back in time for school on Monday.”

  “You can’t guarantee that.”

  “I can’t not guarantee it.”

  Eddie pondered this.

  “Look,” said Addison. “If your parents were kidnapped, I’d go and help you.”

  “That’s true,” said Eddie. “But you’d do anything that means getting out of school.”

  Addison felt Eddie had a strong point there.

  “I shouldn’t even be here,” Eddie continued. “You know my mom thinks you’re a questionable influence.”

  “I’m a fantastic influence! Your parents don’t let you do anything. I let you do whatever you want.” Addison pressed his point. “I’m giving you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Eddie. Your parents are workaholics with seven cats. They practically keep you imprisoned under lock and key. If you grow up sheltered and afraid of taking risks, someday you could end up just like them.”

  Eddie shuddered. It was all true. “Okay, fine. But South America? Aren’t there kidnappers?”

  “There are kidnappers here, too.” Molly shrugged.

  “All right—but it’s a different continent. How do we even get there?”

  “I’m glad you asked that, Eddie.” For this was Addison’s trump card, the moment he had been waiting for. “Minutes before my uncle was kidnapped, he gave me one very important item . . .” Addison reached into his back pocket and showed the group. “His wallet.”

  “So?”

  Addison flipped open the billfold and said two magic words: “Credit cards.”

  Addison could sense Eddie’s objections melting away one by one. He forged ahead. “Seventh grade is almost over. We don’t know what the future will bring. Even if we find my aunt and uncle, the museum might lay them off. Molly and I might have to go live with our weird uncle Jasper in England. I’ve known you guys almost all my life. We were raised on 86th Street. We’re ‘86ers,’ and this is it. This could be our last adventure together.”

  Eddie and Raj digested this.

  “I’m in,” said Raj. “Survival camp is one thing. But now I’ll finally get the chance to test my skills in the wild. Besides, when an 86er calls a Code Blue, you help them no matter what.” These were words Raj lived by. He placed his hand into the center of the group.

  “Addison, how much gold did you say there was?” asked Eddie.

  “More than you can spend in a lifetime.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Eddie set his hand on top of Raj’s. “I’m in, too.”

  “Me three,” said Molly. “I guess we’re going to Colombia.”

  Addison joined his hand in the circle. “To the Incan treasure.”

  Chapter Six

  A Journey Abroad

  ADDISON AND HIS TEAM strode through the glittering international airport. Bright morning sunlight flooded the floor-to-ceiling windows of the terminal. “Keep moving quickly
,” said Addison. “We don’t know if the police are looking for us here.”

  Addison was ten weeks shy of his thirteenth birthday. He wasn’t sure if he was legally old enough to fly without an adult. He was about to find out.

  The group kept their heads down as they waved their passports and boarding passes before the guard at the security line. They were almost through the X-ray machines before a security guard called to them. “Hey, aren’t you guys a little young to be traveling alone?”

  “It’s okay,” said Addison, confidently cocking a thumb at Molly. “She’s with us.”

  The guard nodded and ushered them through.

  Molly hurried to keep pace with Addison as they crossed the concourse. “Do you really think we can pull this off and catch up with Ragar?” she whispered.

  “We’ve got to,” Addison replied. “We’re Uncle N and Aunt D’s only chance. But we have two huge advantages over every treasure hunter who’s come before us. One: We have the first Incan clue.”

  “And two?”

  “We’re Cookes, Molly. This is in our blood. We were born for this.”

  Crossing the skywalk to their terminal, Addison thought his whole team looked a bit on the nervous side. He secretly wondered if he was biting off more than he could chew, but he quickly banished such thoughts from his mind. If his friends were going to risk all to help him find his aunt and uncle, the least he could do was make sure they enjoyed themselves. It just required leadership.

  Addison read the seat assignments on their plane tickets. “These seats are coach. I really prefer first class.”

  “That costs a fortune,” said Molly.

  “Not if you ask nicely,” Addison responded. He marched up to the imposing doors of the exclusive Ambassador’s Club, plucked the frequent-flyer card from his uncle’s wallet, and swiped it through the card reader. The great doors swung open, and the team followed him inside.

  Classical music hummed pleasantly throughout the lounge. Leather upholstered couches lined the walls. Business people in expensive suits sipped coffee and discussed the price of stocks.

  An imperious hostess stood at the check-in counter, frowning down at Addison.

  Addison flashed his uncle’s frequent-flyer card and his most winning smile. “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?”

  The hostess checked the frequent-flyer card and examined Addison from head to toe. His hair was neatly parted beneath his Ivy cap, and his school tie was knotted cleanly in a half Windsor.

  “Welcome to the Ambassador’s Club, Mr. Cooke,” said the hostess uncertainly.

  Addison quickly read the name tag on her blazer. “Thank you, Nancy. How full is the seven a.m. flight to Bogotá?”

  “I’d be happy to check that.” Nancy did not look happy to check that. She loudly pounded at the keys of her terminal. “Looks like plenty of room on the flight.”

  “Perfect. Nancy, I have a special favor to ask.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “This is our first time traveling without an adult. My stepfather would feel more comfortable if we were seated in the first-class cabin, where the flight attendants can keep a better eye on us.”

  Nancy fixed Addison with a withering gaze. “I’m sorry, it is not our policy to upgrade our coach passengers to first class.”

  “Of course not. And I’m sure my stepfather would agree with you completely, Nancy.” Addison waited to see if she would take his bait. He counted to three in his head.

  “And . . . who is your stepfather?”

  Addison knew he had her on the line; he just had to reel her in. “We’re not supposed to drop his name,” he demurred. “Especially on his airline.”

  Nancy’s face drained of color. “Wait, are you saying your stepfather is . . .”

  “The chairman of this airline, yes,” said Addison, turning to leave. “Don’t worry about the seats, Nancy, we’ll just be on our way.”

  “Wait!” said Nancy, typing furiously into her terminal. “Let me just recheck the system. Ah! It looks as though we do have some seats available in first class. Would that be acceptable?”

  Addison turned to check with Eddie and Raj. They nodded, wide-eyed. He turned to face Nancy.

  “That will be acceptable.” Addison offered Nancy a reassuring smile. “Nancy, you’re a rainmaker. Here’s my card if you ever need anything.” He slid her one of his uncle’s business cards. “Can you point my friends and me to the bar? We are parched and require refreshment.”

  “With pleasure, Mr. Cooke.” Nancy perked up to her most professional posture and gestured toward the bar.

  As they walked away, Addison turned to Molly. “And that’s how you get a first-class upgrade.”

  • • •

  Addison sidled up to the bar as if his stepfather owned the entire airline. “Four Arnold Palmers, easy on the ice,” he called to the bartender.

  Eddie, Raj, and Molly took seats as well. The bartender examined the middle schoolers in surprise.

  “An Arnold Palmer is half lemonade, half iced tea,” Addison explained to the slack-jawed bartender. “It’s named for the legendary golf pro.”

  “Of course,” said the bartender, snapping his jaw shut. “But how will you be paying for this today?”

  Addison confidently slid his uncle’s credit card across the table.

  The bartender eyed the credit card suspiciously. “All right, Mr. Cooke. May I see some ID to verify this card?”

  Addison fumbled through his uncle’s wallet and handed over his uncle’s New York City Public Library card.

  The bartender carefully compared the names on the two cards and decided they matched up just fine. He shrugged. “Four Arnold Palmers, coming right up.”

  Addison smiled, spinning around in his bar stool to admire the view of the runway. A gaggle of jumbo jets lined up for takeoff. When the Arnold Palmers arrived, Addison clinked glasses with his team. He swiveled the ice cubes around in his drink and took a sip. It was perfect.

  • • •

  Addison reclined his seat in the first-class cabin of the jumbo jet. The chair was as large as his bed back home. Molly sat next to him. Eddie and Raj sat across the aisle, trying on their free first-class slippers.

  “Breakfast is served,” announced a flight attendant, setting steaming plates of eggs and bacon down on their tray tables.

  “Free breakfast!” whispered Eddie. “And it comes with miniature salt and pepper shakers!”

  “Anything to drink?” offered another flight attendant, making her way through the cabin.

  Addison stayed her with a hand. “If you have some orange juice in that trolley, you will win my undying affection.”

  “At once, Mr. Cooke,” crooned the flight attendant.

  Addison spread orange marmalade on a muffin, realizing he had completely missed dinner the night before. He was ravenous. He scooped scrambled eggs onto a slice of toast as he’d once seen his father do. “Mo, why aren’t you eating? Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and all that.”

  Molly held her stomach and frowned. “I can’t eat. I’m worried about Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel.”

  Addison slowly lowered his fork. He looked down at his eggs. Hot and steaming with just the right amount of bacon. But somehow, Addison found he wasn’t as hungry as he’d thought. He turned to gaze out the window. New York faded into the distance as the plane soared over the open ocean, carrying him to a new world.

  Chapter Seven

  Welcome to

  Olvidados

  ADDISON PACED IN FRONT of the Bogotá bus terminal, consulting his pocket copy of Fiddleton’s Atlas. The clouded sky was a gray porridge, the air as warm and wet as a dog’s tongue. Addison loosened his tie against the stifling Colombian heat and addressed his team. “Olvidados is just a hop, skip, and a jump away. We’ll be there before Molly can say something sn
ippy.”

  “That’s exactly what you said when we left New York,” said Molly snippily. "Six hours ago.”

  “Well,” observed Addison, “Rome wasn’t built in six hours.”

  “Maybe. But I bet you can at least get to Rome in six hours.”

  Addison decided to let Molly have this round. International travel was probably enough to make even the Dalai Lama get a bit snappish with his monks. Addison sat down on a bench next to a weather-beaten man sipping a bottle of foul-smelling liquid from a brown paper bag. The leather-skinned man smiled a toothless grin and offered Addison the bottle.

  “Thanks,” said Addison, waving a hand, “but Arnold Palmers are as strong as I go.”

  Eddie returned from the ticket counter, beaming with pleasure. “Four bus tickets to Olvidados.” He fanned them in his hand and doled them out like a card dealer.

  “What took so long?” asked Molly.

  “Olvidados means ‘forgotten,’” Eddie said.

  “So?”

  “So,” Eddie explained, “I kept asking the cashier for a ticket. She’d say, ‘Where to?’ And I’d say, ‘Forgotten.’ And she’d say, ‘Where to?’ And I’d say, ‘Forgotten.’ It went on like that.”

  “Well,” said Addison, “how long until our bus gets here?”

  “I forget.”

  Addison clasped his hands behind his back and resumed his pacing.

  “Another thing,” Eddie continued, interrupting Addison in midpace. “I changed your uncle’s cash into Colombian money.” He handed Addison his uncle’s wallet. “Instead of two hundred dollars, you now have four hundred thousand pesos.”

  Raj tried to let out a low whistle before remembering that he couldn’t whistle.

  “Well,” said Addison, admiring the cash, “Colombia is starting to grow on me. You see, Molly, everything is falling neatly into place.”