Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas

by Jonathan W. Stokes

  “They ruined my daughter’s wedding!” Don Miguel snarled through clenched teeth. He was so angry he had the complexion of a man being strangled.

  “They cut my ear,” barked Zubov, still clutching a hand to the wound. “And they keep taking all my knives,” he muttered under his breath.

  “They stole something precious that belongs to me,” hissed Ragar.

  The jefe de policía bowed low, again. His voice trembled, just a little. “They will be locked up at once, Don Miguel.”

  “Good,” said Professor Ragar, leaning close to the jefe and paralyzing him with his cobra stare. Ragar pressed a wad of pesos into the jefe’s palm with one hand, and gestured to Zubov with the other. “My associate will come to your prison tonight to visit them. Let him into their cell and look the other way.”

  The jefe looked to Don Miguel, who signaled his assent with a stiff jerk of his chin. The jefe smiled desperately at Ragar and nodded his head. The wings of his mustache flapped like a heavy bird struggling to take flight. “At midnight. While my men are switching shifts.”

  Professor Ragar smiled. He bent down to where Addison was kneeling. His thin, gloved hand reached inside Addison’s blazer and removed the golden key.

  “Where are my aunt and uncle?” Addison asked through gritted teeth.

  “They are still with me. You stole the wrong car.” Ragar gestured to a black sedan with tinted windows. “But don’t worry, you won’t be alone for long. Zubov will see you soon.”

  Zubov smiled at Addison, his thin lips curling around the points of his teeth.

  Professor Ragar admired the golden key in his hand. He leaned close to Addison so the policía could not hear.

  “When I open the treasure vault,” his whispered, his breath in Addison’s face, “I will finish your aunt and uncle.”

  “Why do this? Just take the treasure and leave us alone.”

  “You mean your aunt and uncle never told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  “Oh, my young Cooke,” purred the professor, patting Addison on the cheek with one velvet-gloved hand. “This isn’t just about treasure. I cannot leave you and your darling sister alive. You see . . .” Ragar leaned very close to breathe into Addison’s ear. “. . . there is a prophecy.”

  Professor Ragar turned to the jefe. “Lock them up.” Ragar turned on his heel and strutted back to his motorcade. He and his men climbed into their black Jeeps.

  The jefe de policía sized up Addison’s team. He swelled up his chest to look official and smoothed the upturned corners of his mustache. “License and registration?”

  “It’s in my other car,” said Addison.

  “Identification?”

  Addison reached for his back pocket and stopped short. He sighed.

  “What now?” asked Molly.

  Addison turned sheepishly to his friends.

  “Guadalupe stole my wallet again.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Stickiest Wicket

  ADDISON AND HIS TEAM, exhausted and filthy, sat huddled in a dark Ecuadorian jail cell. The stone floor was damp with mildew. Spiders crawled along the moss-covered walls. Molly clutched the aching burn on her leg from her jungle tangle with the anaconda. Eddie gripped his stomach in hunger. Raj shook cake frosting from his hair.

  “It could be worse,” said Addison.

  “How?” asked Eddie.

  “Today’s Monday. We could be in school.”

  “Oh God.” Eddie buried his face in his hands. “And I already missed a piano lesson this weekend. When I don’t come home from school today, my parents will definitely know I’m not sleeping over at your house—they’re going to kill me!”

  “Not if Zubov kills you first,” Molly said helpfully.

  “We still have a chance,” said Raj. “Before the guards frisked us, I managed to hide something inside my sock.”

  “What is it?” asked Molly.

  “Something awesome.” Raj dropped to one knee, rolled up his pants leg, and produced a tiny kit from his sock. “My lock-picking set!”

  Raj sprang to his feet, raced to the dungeon door, and discovered it was solid iron. No bars, no visible keyhole. Raj slowly stuffed the lock-picking set back in his sock. He slumped to the ground, defeated.

  “I guess we’ll just make ourselves comfortable,” said Addison. He sensed the team was scared. “The thing is to focus on the positive.”

  The group stared at Addison morosely.

  “We’re on the final puzzle,” Addison said, mustering his optimism. “The last key said the treasure is on ‘top of the world, above a sacred valley in a palace in the sky.’” Addison riffled through his backpack and tossed Molly his copy of Fiddleton’s Atlas. “Mo, see if you can find us anything about a sacred valley.”

  Molly glumly flipped through the index. She had little interest in Fiddleton’s Atlas, but seeing as she was stuck in prison, she figured she had plenty of time to catch up on her reading.

  Addison pursed his lips in concentration and began pacing. “‘On top of the world, in a palace in the sky.’ Where is the top of the world?”

  “The Incas might have thought the mountains were the top of the world,” Raj offered.

  “Yes!” Addison exclaimed. “The peaks of the Andes are among the highest on the planet.”

  “Guys, there is a sacred valley. There’s a whole chapter on it.” Molly read aloud from Fiddleton’s Atlas. “‘The Sacred Valley is the Incan name for the Urubamba Valley near Cusco.’”

  Addison looked over Molly’s shoulder. “So what’s so special about this Sacred Valley that it deserves a whole chapter?”

  “It says you need to walk through the Sacred Valley to get to Machu Picchu.”

  “Machu what-u?” asked Eddie.

  “Machu Picchu is only the most famous Incan archaeological site in the world. It’s an abandoned palace on top of a mountain.” Addison resumed pacing the small floor of the dungeon. “It all fits. The first clue was about the underworld, the second clue was about the end of the world, and the third clue is about the top of the world. It’s a sort of progression. You see—we’re almost there!”

  “Addison,” said Eddie, “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re locked in an Ecuadorian prison.”

  “I’m not a details guy. I think big picture.”

  Molly decided she’d had it. “Addison, you are the world champion at pretending nothing’s wrong.”

  “If we get upset, we don’t think clearly,” Addison replied. “It’s like Raj says, ‘The first rule of survival is not to panic.’”

  “Zubov is coming to kill us at midnight! And once Ragar finds the treasure vault, he’s going to kill Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel!”

  “Maybe he was making an empty threat,” Addison offered. “You know, a lot can happen between now and midnight.”

  “We ruined a gangster’s wedding,” Eddie declared. “So even if Ragar doesn’t come for us, Don Miguel will.”

  “Plus we destroyed the entire town,” added Raj. “So even if Don Miguel doesn’t come for us, we’ll be in jail for years!”

  Molly summed things up. “We’re either going to spend the rest of our lives in prison, or we’re going to spend the rest of our lives dead.”

  Addison could feel the fabric of his team slowly tearing. “Guys, let’s just take a deep breath here.”

  “No, no more smooth talk,” said Eddie. “I’m mad and I’m hungry and I have a right to be mad. And hungry. Mostly hungry. But also mad. Really mad.”

  “Why are you mad at me, Eddie? How is this my fault?”

  “This isn’t what we signed up for! If I die in prison and my parents find out, I’ll be in real trouble.”

  “We’ll figure this out—we always do,” said Addison.

  But Eddie was in no mood to have his mood improved.
“You pressured me into lying to my parents, flying to South America, and stealing a car. Now armed gunmen want to kill me! If I’m dead, it severely hurts my chances of getting into a good college!”

  “Is that all you care about?” shouted Addison. His uncle Jasper had taught him there was never a reason to raise one’s voice outside of the horse track, but Addison was beginning to suspect there were exceptions to this rule. “Getting into trouble with your parents? You care more about your own stupid problems than saving the Incan treasure.”

  “I do care about the stupid treasure,” said Eddie, “but not if it means dying in a stupid prison.”

  “I don’t care about the stupid treasure,” said Raj. “I came along because Addison said it’d be our last adventure together.”

  “There was only one reason to come on this stupid journey. To help our stupid family. But all I ever hear Addison talk about is finding the stupid treasure.” Molly turned to Addison. “So what is more important to you, Addison? The stupid treasure, or your stupid family?”

  Addison knew everyone was upset with him. This was a time to choose his words carefully. “Both? Treasure and family?”

  “Typical,” said Molly.

  Everyone retreated to their own corner of the cell.

  Addison wanted to say something uplifting but found he was too exhausted. He sunk down to the stone floor and leaned his head against the rock wall. He wondered if Zubov would come to finish them. He wondered if they could survive the night.

  • • •

  No moonlight pierced the windowless cell, but everyone sensed it was late. Despite their tiredness, no one could sleep. They were all waiting for Zubov.

  Addison broke the silence. “Eddie, what time is it?”

  Eddie checked his watch for the hundredth time. “Eleven thirty-five p.m. Or twenty-five minutes to Zubov.”

  “He’s probably on his way,” said Molly.

  “Maybe if we all attack him at once, we have a chance,” said Addison. “We did it before.”

  “He’s expecting that now,” said Eddie. “He’ll be prepared this time.”

  “I can’t take this anymore!” said Raj, springing to his feet. Finding footholds in the mortared rock, he snaked his way up the wall, searching for an escape. He climbed until he reached a utility box near the ceiling. Bracing himself, he found a safe perch on a stone outcropping. It supported his weight. He set to work on the utility box with his lock-picking set. “Somebody count to ten!”

  Eddie began counting but lost interest after he passed two hundred.

  The group waited in resigned silence for midnight. Eddie called out the passage of time . . . 11:55 p.m. 11:56 p.m. 11:57 p.m. . . .

  Finally, after twenty-two minutes of fiddling, Raj yelped in triumph, “I got it!” The lock popped like a cork, and the utility hatch swung open.

  “What do you see?” asked Addison.

  “Utility pipes. Some sort of water main.”

  “Does it lead anywhere?”

  Raj gripped the largest pipe with both hands. It jiggled when he shook it. He shook it some more; it was definitely loose. Maybe, Raj reasoned, if he shook the pipe hard enough he could crack the masonry of the outer wall. “Hey, guys, I think I’ve got something!”

  Raj yanked hard on the rusted pipe, and it snapped. A geyser of freezing water blasted into his face. He yelped, sliding back down the wall to land in a wet heap on the ground. On the plus side, the cake frosting was now washed clean from his hair.

  The team hollered as icy cold water sprayed everywhere.

  “I lost my lock-picking set!” Raj groped around the floor in the gurgling torrent.

  Frigid water filled the sealed dungeon at alarming speed. A second pipe burst, and then a third. Water now blasted from several holes in the rock wall. It gushed past everyone’s knees and kept on climbing.

  “Raj, you have not improved our situation!” shouted Addison.

  “Eleven fifty-eight,” cried Eddie.

  “We’re going to drown in here,” called Molly. The water already lapped around her waist.

  “I was just trying to help,” said Raj.

  “Everybody shout and maybe someone will hear us,” Addison said.

  As one, the team hollered at the top of their lungs. But they were locked deep in the basement of the old police station and there was no one to hear their cries.

  As the water surged past his chest, Addison began to wrap his mind around the very real possibility that he might drown.

  “I don’t want to die,” said Eddie. “I’ve never been to a Yankees game.”

  “I’ve never even been to the Empire State Building,” said Raj.

  “I’ve never been to New Jersey,” said Molly.

  “You're not missing much,” said Addison.

  The water bubbled higher, lifting their feet off the ground. Molly treaded water furiously, struggling to keep her head aloft. Soon their heads reached the ceiling. They were running out of air in the sealed cell.

  “I’m sorry for drowning us!” shouted Raj. “I didn’t mean to!”

  “I’m sorry for crashing the limo into the fountain and getting us thrown in prison!” cried Eddie over the rushing torrent.

  “No, I’m sorry!” Addison’s breath came in fast and thick. He knew he didn’t have much time to say what he needed to say, but he knew it needed to be said. “I’m sorry for getting you into this whole mess. I pressured you to come with me—I called the Code Blue. I got swept up in the treasure hunt because I was obsessed with beating Ragar. But Molly was right all along. I forgot what’s really important. It’s not about treasure, it’s about—”

  “You’re not going to say something sappy, are you?” Eddie interrupted. “I mean, because that would be awful. If we all died here just while you were making some cheesy speech.”

  “Eddie, I was trying to apologize. I mean, we’re 86ers. And if this is the end, I’m glad I got to spend it with—”

  “All right, we get it,” said Eddie. “If you’re going to get all sentimental, I’d rather just die already!”

  The water surged past their necks.

  “Just let me say this,” said Addison. “I’m sorry I trusted Guadalupe! We risked our lives saving her from Zubov, and she completely ditched us.”

  “Fine,” said Eddie. “Apology accepted.”

  The team had an inch left of air. They pressed their noses against the ceiling.

  “Addison, are we going to die?” asked Molly.

  “You ask a lot of questions, Mo.”

  “We could use a miracle.”

  Addison treaded water with the last of his strength. He took one last gulp of air. “I don’t believe in miracles.”

  • • •

  The next thing Addison felt was a massive explosion that rattled his bones. What little wind was left in his lungs was knocked out of them. He watched the earth execute a few somersaults. The tumbling world performed a double backflip into a flawless half gainer.

  Addison opened his eyes, coughing and sputtering. He assessed his situation. The wet object he was lying on was definitely the ground. The dark glittery thing above him was almost certainly the night sky. The stuff filling his lungs was fresh air. Very little of this made any sense to him.

  Molly, Eddie, and Raj lay flopped on the ground, gasping for breath. They were surrounded by chunks of broken rock and cement in an alleyway. Addison’s brain wheezed and turned over, struggling to find first gear.

  Addison sat up to see Guadalupe sitting in the cab of an idling tow truck. Slowly, his mind began to catch up with the tide of events. The big truck’s steel tow cables were clamped to exposed chunks of rebar covered in cement. Guadalupe had ripped out the entire dungeon wall.

  “Guadalupe, what are you doing here?” Addison asked in amazement.

  “You guys he
lped me, so I’m helping you.”

  “Where did you get a tow truck?”

  “Five-finger discount,” Guadalupe winked. She gunned the engine.

  “But how did you know to come at the last possible moment?”

  “What last possible moment?” asked Guadalupe. “It took me six hours to find and steal this beautiful truck.”

  Stunned policía emerged from the headquarters, pointing and shouting. In the middle of the group was a tall man in a black leather jacket: Zubov.

  “Addison,” said Molly. “This was a miracle.”

  “You’re welcome,” said Guadalupe. “Time to go!”

  Addison’s team picked themselves up off the ground, amazed to be alive, and piled into the crew cab of Guadalupe’s tow truck. Addison rode shotgun. Molly sat next to him, mashed up against the gearbox. Raj and Eddie crammed into the back with the tools.

  Guadalupe handed Addison his wallet back with a wink. She spun the steering wheel and floored the gas. The truck leapt forward, sending the policía scattering. She snapped the wheel 180 degrees and squeezed the truck down a side street.

  “Bacán,” said Addison, impressed. He watched the policía receding in the rearview mirror. “We should have let you drive the limo.”

  A few resilient police cars gave chase, sirens flashing. Guadalupe checked her mirrors, grinned, and gunned the engine. She led them on a harrowing flight through the tiny alleyways of Casa Azar.

  “Have you ever seen a ‘spinning duck’?” Guadalupe shouted over the roar of the engine.

  “What’s a ‘spinning duck’?”

  “Hold on tight!”

  Guadalupe whipped the truck around a corner and spun the wheel, skidding the truck smartly into a parallel parking spot. It fit like a hand in a glove. She killed the lights and engine. “That was the spin—now everybody duck!”

  Addison’s team hunched down as the string of police cars rounded the corner, gumballs flashing. The policía rocketed past the parked truck, blazing north through the empty town.