“So how are we supposed to find those kids?” Zubov growled.
“The beauty of a castle is it has only one way in and one way out: the main gate. Wherever those kids are, they cannot escape without passing through the wedding. With any luck, they are finding the third key for us.”
Ragar led his men back outside to the tented pavilion. Zubov dragged Guadalupe with her arms pinned behind her back.
Addison turned to his comrades for a strategy session.
“Let’s get out of here!” suggested Eddie.
Raj and Molly bobbed their heads in wholehearted agreement.
“What about Guadalupe?” asked Addison.
“She’s getting what she deserves.” Eddie shrugged.
“She’s always stealing. And now someone stole her,” agreed Molly. “It fits.”
“Let’s make a run for it,” said Raj.
Addison shook his head. “She helped get us this far. We can’t just abandon her.”
Molly, Eddie, and Raj looked at Addison with astonishment.
“She stole your wallet,” said Eddie. “Twice.”
“She lied about being an Amazon expert,” said Raj.
“She almost got us killed,” Molly added.
“She’s got pluck,” Addison agreed. He tried to imagine fleeing the castle and leaving Guadalupe behind, but knew he just couldn’t do it. Addison drew in his breath and looked each team member in the eye. “86ers don’t leave a team member behind.”
“She’s not an 86er,” said Eddie.
“Yes, but we are,” said Addison. “Look, Guadalupe doesn’t have any friends or family besides us. If we don’t help her, nobody will. We landed her in this, and we’re going to steal her back.”
“We can’t trust her, Addison.”
But Addison had made up his mind. He played his trump card, the one thing he knew Raj, Eddie, and Molly could not refuse.
“Code Blue.”
• • •
Addison’s team sneaked through the empty dining room and huddled by the French doors. Addison peered out at the wedding. “All right, everybody clear on the plan?”
“I’m going to sneak up to Zubov and pour a pitcher of ice water down his back,” said Eddie, his voice trembling.
“Then I hit him with a catering tray,” said Molly.
“I whack Ragar with a second catering tray,” said Raj.
“And then?” prompted Addison.
“We grab Guadalupe and run like mad for the parking lot,” said Raj.
“Good. It’s not our finest effort, but we’re working within time constraints.”
“What are you going to do, Addison?” asked Molly.
“I,” said Addison, suavely smoothing the lapels on his jacket, “will provide the diversion.” And with that, he stood up and marched confidently into the wedding reception.
• • •
Addison decided he needed his brain juice—an ice-cold Arnold Palmer—before creating a diversion. Besides, he wanted to relax while his team maneuvered into position. Not caring who saw him, Addison casually took a seat at the bar and extended a hand to the bartender.
“Addison Cooke.”
“Felix,” said the bartender, giving Addison a firm handshake. “American, huh?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Me too.”
“No kidding.”
“Westport, Connecticut. I moved down here for the weather and never looked back. What can I getcha?”
“I wouldn’t say no to an Arnold Palmer.” Addison smiled.
“Coming right up,” said Felix, scooping ice into a fresh glass.
Addison turned to survey the room. He noticed the seating was split down the middle; Don Héctor Guzmán’s cartel sat on one side of the banquet hall, suspiciously eyeing Don Miguel’s cartel on the other side.
Professor Ragar’s table was located in the center. Guadalupe sat beside the Professor, clamped firmly in place by Zubov’s two hands digging into her shoulders. Ragar’s bodyguards roamed the room in dark suits and even darker glasses. No one had yet spotted Addison.
“Arnold Palmer,” said Felix, sliding Addison the glass. “And I went easy on the ice.”
“Felix, you are a rose amongst thorns.” Addison took a careful sip. “Exquisite,” he declared, reaching for his uncle’s wallet. “Credit card is okay?”
“Open bar, Mr. Cooke. Everything’s on the house.”
“Then you don’t mind if I try your shrimp cocktail?”
“Be my guest.”
Addison plucked a fresh shrimp from the buffet and dipped it in cocktail sauce. He breathed the salty sea air, listened to the band’s light cha-cha, and drank in the exotic décor of the party. “Felix, this is a lifestyle I could get used to.”
“Amen, Mr. Cooke.”
Addison savored the moment. His mind turned to all the history he’d learned at his uncle Nigel’s knee. He remembered how Julius Caesar outfoxed the Gauls at the Allier River and conquered France. He thought of the Greeks sneaking into ancient Troy. He thought of the Americans surprising the Germans at Normandy. The trick, Addison knew, was to create a big enough diversion.
He heard a yelp from the crowd and turned to see the headwaiter pinching Eddie’s ear. Eddie, caught in the act of pilfering a pitcher of ice water, turned red with embarrassment. Eddie yielded the water pitcher to the angry waiter as Ragar’s men closed in on him.
Across the reception, Addison spotted Molly and Raj, clutching two filched catering trays and sprinting as a furious caterer chased them down. Raj tripped over something—possibly himself—and his tray flew from his hands to shatter a large and expensive-looking floral centerpiece. Addison’s rescue attempt had officially lost the element of surprise.
Don Héctor Guzmán’s thugs, easily spooked, leapt to their feet and drew guns from the cummerbunds of their tuxedos. They aimed their weapons at Don Miguel’s men.
Don Miguel’s men responded in kind, drawing their weapons from holsters.
Don Miguel himself flapped his hands desperately, waving the gunmen to remain calm. “Relax, there’s no problem!” he exclaimed. “Try the hors d’oeuvres—they’re delicious!”
Ragar’s bodyguards captured Eddie, Molly, and Raj, gripping them by the backs of their necks. Addison’s team’s feeble rescue attempt had lasted all of twenty seconds.
From her table, Guadalupe shook her head in disbelief. She put her face in her palm, unable to watch.
Addison polished off his Arnold Palmer and set the empty glass on the felt-topped bar. He sighed. This was going to require all his powers.
• • •
Professor Ragar’s men dragged Molly, Raj, and Eddie toward the Professor’s table. Nobody noticed Addison stroll casually up to the bandstand, slip the bandleader a few pesos, and step onto the stage.
Addison gripped the microphone, feeling at home under the lights. The mic shrieked with feedback for a second, but then Addison was off and running. “Buenos días.” He smiled at the crowd. “How’s everybody doing out there? Muy bueno?”
The gangsters in the audience cautiously holstered their weapons and sank back into their chairs. They clapped tentatively.
“Here’s a song I’d like to dedicate to a very special professor I know who likes to kidnap orphans,” said Addison. “Everyone, please put your hands together for Professor Ragar!”
A spotlight found the professor just as he was winding up to give Eddie a smack. Ragar froze, bewildered, in the spotlight.
“Let him know how much you love him,” Addison told the applauding crowd. “This number is one of my favorite jazz standards, ‘They Can’t Take That Away From Me.’” Addison plucked the gold key from his pocket and tossed it in his hand so that it sparkled in the light. He winked at Ragar in the audience.
Addis
on gave the band a four count, and they came in hot. He worked the crowd, giving the old Gershwin tune all the topspin he could muster . . .
“The way your smile just beams
The way you sing off-key . . .”
Addison twirled the Incan key in his fingers, taunting Professor Ragar . . .
“The way you haunt my dreams
No, no—they can’t take that away from me.”
What Addison lacked in singing ability, which was a lot, he made up for in showmanship.
Professor Ragar ground his teeth and waved his men toward the bandstand. Eyes glued to the Incan key, the bodyguards released Molly, Eddie, and Raj, and zeroed in on Addison.
Only Zubov remained with Guadalupe. He pressed his stiletto to the skin of her neck so that she flinched.
Addison gave a thumbs-up to the spotlight operator and put his heart into the next verse.
“The way you hold your knife . . .”
Zubov saw everyone’s eyes swivel to him as the spotlight captured him in its glow. He lowered his stiletto uncertainly from Guadalupe’s neck. Addison belted out his big finish.
“The way we danced till three
The way you’ve changed my life!
No, no—they can’t take that away from me.”
Ragar’s men decided enough was enough. They charged the bandstand like pillaging Vikings.
“You guys have been great,” Addison told the applauding audience. “Don’t forget to tip your waitstaff.”
Black-suited guards hurtled onto the stage. Addison dropped his mic in a pitcher of water. The mic crackled loudly and shorted out. Somewhere, a fuse box exploded like a firecracker. The tent’s generators blasted sparks from their transformers. Power cut to the tent. The band’s amplifiers clicked silent. All the bright lights on the bandstand switched off.
Guards lunged for Addison. He took a running start and performed a flying leap off the stage.
• • •
Timing is everything, Addison thought as he sailed through the air and crashed directly into one of Professor Ragar’s guards. They both collapsed on the ground, the man gripping Addison around the knees.
Wedding guests shouted in alarm. The furious bride used the occasion to scream at some more waiters.
Héctor Guzmán’s jittery gunmen drew weapons on Don Miguel’s crew. Don Miguel’s nervous gang drew their weapons right back. Don Miguel stood in the middle, ordering everyone to remain calm. “This is a wedding!” he exclaimed. “Don’t turn it into a funeral!”
Addison managed to roll onto his back and saw Ragar looming over him. Zubov stood beside him, glowering, Guadalupe held tightly in his grasp.
“Zubov did not think you would try to rescue this girl,” said Professor Ragar. “But I knew you would take the bait.”
Addison looked from Ragar to Zubov to Guadalupe. He scrambled to his feet. He considered his options and discovered he didn’t have any.
“Quite,” said Addison.
Don Miguel pushed his way to the front of the crowd. “Ragar, what is the meaning of this?”
“These kids crashed your daughter’s wedding and attempted to rob your castle. I am getting rid of them.”
“All right,” whispered Don Miguel. “But make it fast or we’ll spark a cartel war in here.”
“I will handle it,” said the professor with a slight bow. He bent close to Addison and lowered his voice. “Give me the key.”
Addison clenched his teeth. “I think it’s better if I hold on to it. Somehow, I don’t quite trust you.”
“Remember, I have your aunt and uncle. You would be wise to give me what I want.”
“You can’t hurt my aunt and uncle, Ragar. Not yet. You need their help if you want to have any hope of finding the treasure.”
Ragar extended his open palm. “Give me the key.”
“I don’t think so,” said Addison. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Guadalupe and I are going to get out of here.”
Ragar closed his palm into a fist. “Do you know how many people have died over the centuries to get that key? You cannot handle it, you little fool. The key will get you killed.”
Zubov gripped his stiletto and stabbed at Addison.
Addison leapt back, but too late—the knife struck him square in the chest. He fell to the ground, stunned.
Guadalupe gasped.
“Zubov,” Ragar spat, “Don Miguel wants no violence. You can’t just kill a kid in the middle of his daughter’s wedding.”
Zubov shrugged and spoke in his harsh, grating voice. “I am just encouraging him to hand over key.”
Addison coughed and slowly sat up, feeling his jacket for blood. To his confusion, there didn’t seem to be any. He removed the gold key from his chest pocket, amazed. “You were wrong. The key didn’t kill me—it saved my life.” He looked up at Professor Ragar. “In Russia, do they call that ‘irony’?”
Ragar boiled with rage. He hissed at Zubov. “Okay, you can kill him!”
But as chance would have it, Guadalupe seized that exact moment to snatch the stiletto blade from Zubov. One second the knife was in Zubov’s hand; the next second it was in Guadalupe’s.
Before Zubov could even blink in astonishment, Guadalupe struck him in the ear with the point of the blade. “How about I pierce those pretty ears of yours?” Guadalupe growled.
Zubov clutched his ear, howling in pain.
Guadalupe wheeled on Professor Ragar. “For the record, when you grabbed me in the dining room, I picked your wallet.”
Professor Ragar instinctively checked his pockets.
Guadalupe waved his wallet before his eyes.
“There’s no cash in it,” Ragar said.
“General principle.” Guadalupe pocketed the wallet along with Zubov’s knife. Then turned and fled.
Zubov gripped his bleeding ear and screamed in rage.
Addison noticed that, at least for the moment, he was no longer the subject of attention. And for once he didn’t mind. He turned and dashed after Guadalupe.
• • •
Addison sprinted down an aisle between tables and found his path blocked by Ragar’s men. He spun in the other direction and saw Don Miguel’s men. “This is a sticky wicket,” Addison admitted.
He rolled underneath a table and crawled along its length, upsetting some warbling women who shrieked operatically. The general vibe of the party, Addison reflected, had certainly loosened up. Everywhere people were screaming and shouting, particularly the enraged bride.
Addison sprung up from under the table and found himself immediately cornered by one of Ragar’s thugs. The man lurched toward Addison, arms outstretched. Never in his life had Addison felt so in need of a jetpack.
Out of the corner of his eye, Addison saw Molly sprinting along the dining table, sliding down its length, and landing a well-placed kick right in the guard’s stomach. The shocked man stumbled backward, upset a buffet table, and hit the ground to find gravity delivering a dozen buttered lobster tails directly to his face.
“Wow,” said Raj, galloping up, beaming with admiration. “Molly, you’re amazing.”
Molly blew the wisp of hair from her eyes. “Thanks.”
Addison scrambled to his feet. “Mo, you’re a pretty good soccer player. But with that kick, maybe you should consider kung fu.”
Molly turned the thought over in her mind and decided she liked it.
Across the banquet, the band bravely played on. After all, they were paid by the hour. The stately waltz selected by the bandleader was the perfect counterpoint to the chaos and mayhem now consuming the party.
Furious guards chasing Guadalupe barreled over a waiter carrying an enormous platter of chowder bowls. Several dozen bowls of chowder experienced the miracle of flight. As if a thundercloud of soup had passed over her, the livid bride now discovered her
hair soaked and her dress polka-dotted by several gallons of corn chowder. Hell hath no fury like a woman corned.
Eddie had problems of his own, a guard hot on his tail. He followed his natural instincts and ran straight for a buffet table. He grabbed one of his favorite kebabs and then wisely kept moving, one step ahead of the guard. After another lap Eddie circled back to the buffet table. What the kebabs really needed was some spicy sauce. He dipped them on the fly and kept on running.
Molly chased after Addison, who snatched up dishes of filet mignon and hurled them at the pursuing guards. “Addison, what do we do?”
“Everything is going according to plan!” shouted Addison optimistically. “All we need is a miracle.”
“You said you don’t believe in miracles!”
Raj spotted Professor Ragar and conceived a plan so utterly perfect he could not foresee any possible way in which it could fail. He grabbed a carving knife from the pig roast, clenched it in his teeth like a pirate, and shimmied up a tent pole. Reaching the top, he grabbed one of the lead tent ropes and hacked through it with his carving knife. Gripping the rope in one hand and his knife in the other, Raj leapt from the tent pole. Aiming for Ragar, he swung like Tarzan across the entire party, hollering his savage battle cry: “BHAAAAAAAAAANDARI!!!”
Raj had the very best of intentions. He could not be faulted for lack of effort. Wedding guests screamed and ducked as Raj flailed toward them. He flew past Ragar, missing him entirely. In fact, Raj’s astonishing speed was broken only by the nine-foot-tall wedding cake, which met him with an explosion of whipped cream like the world’s most delicious atom bomb.
“I’m okay!” Raj yelled from inside the cake.
But what Raj had failed to anticipate was that slashing the hitch knot of the lead tent rope would unravel the entire tent. As the bride screamed over the destruction of her wedding dress and her wedding cake, the rest of the party turned to watch the lead tent pole groan, teeter, and collapse. A second tent pole followed suit. Soon tent poles were dropping like dominoes. Support cables strained and snapped, plucking like broken violin strings. The massive flaps of the giant tent descended on the wedding like a collapsing soufflé.
Professor Ragar and his men found themselves trapped under the massive canvas, along with several hundred screaming guests and one rabidly enraged bride.
Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas Page 15
