The Amazing Adventures of 4¢ Ned (Coinworld: Book Three)

by Benjamin Laskin

  “I dropped something!” Adam called back.

  Adam ignored the ruckus he had caused and continued his search. He wondered how fast the nickel could move on ground. His father had told him that they were “little speed demons,” and surprisingly nimble.

  He looked left and right but saw nothing but shoes, table legs, and two dropped brochures. Was the nickel hiding under one of them? He scooted towards one of the pamphlets and flung it aside. Nothing. He crawled to the other. Again, nothing. The boy sat back on his heels and thought.

  A movement caught his eye. The nickel was crawling up the numismatist’s leg like a caterpillar!

  Adam scrambled towards the coin and was about to slap his hand down on the man’s leg, but then he thought better of it. There was no telling how the man would react. Instead, Adam leaned in close and raised his hand like a pincer. One swift jab and he could nab the coin, and perhaps without the man even noticing.

  He hovered his hand above the nickel and made his calculation. Then, out of the corner of his eye he saw a golden glint. A moment later, the nickel was gone!

  Adam sat back in astonishment as he watched the nickel disappear down the row of tables in the tiny claws of a magnificent gold double eagle.

  Dominique Double Eagle sped beneath the row of tables, the nickel squirming in Erica’s clutches.

  “Settle down,” she ordered the nickel, “you’re not going anywhere.”

  Nathan ignored Dominique’s words and continue to writhe and thrash, but Erica’s talons gripped him like a vise.

  Dominique zigzagged beneath the table avoiding the different pairs of legs, and at the first vacant table, the double eagle ducked out and behind the row of sitting numismatists. She flew back undetected the way she came, and reaching the end of the room, swooped up and alighted atop the box-shaped EXIT sign.

  With her club-like torch jammed lengthwise under Thomas Jefferson’s chin, Dominique pinned Nathan against the wall. Out of view of anyone below, Nicolai rolled up to the nickel and looked him up and down.

  “The mighty Four?” Nicolai said mockingly.

  Nathan didn’t answer.

  The Six had never seen Ned Nickel close up. The nickel was handsome and looked very much like The Four, but there was only one way to know for sure.

  “Turn around,” Nicolai ordered the nickel.

  Dominique pulled back her torch to allow the coin to pivot.

  Nathan used the opportunity to make a dash towards the edge of the sign and take his chances by leaping to the floor below. Dominique, however, had figured as much. As soon as he made his move, she swung her torch at the bottom of his rim and knocked it out from under him. The nickel flopped face first onto the sign, exposing the value inscribed on his reverse side.

  “Five cents!” Nicolai exclaimed, outraged.

  Nathan flipped over, stared up at The Six, and grinned.

  “Where’s The Four?!” Nicolai demanded.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know, you six-cent creep.”

  Nicolai glared at the coin, and then scanned the room. He glanced towards the vent above the Peace Dollar table and saw a squadron of Raider eagle-backed quarters and half dollars stream out from between the slats.

  From the opposite side of the room, two of his own gold eagle squadrons, one composed of $2.50 quarter eagles, the other $5 half eagles, spewed from vents on the other side of the convention hall.

  “He’s here somewhere,” Nicolai said to Dominique. “Find him!”

  “What about the nickel?”

  Nicolai booted the nickel contemptuously off the sign.

  Nathan tumbled through the air headed towards an open trash bin.

  “Go!” Nicolai ordered Dominique.

  The majestic, Saint-Gaudens’s $20 double eagle rolled off the sign and set out in search of The Four.

  Minutes earlier, at the other side of the expo, Harper, Donovan, and Camille emerged from the folds of the felt tablecloth. They proceeded cautiously along the wall’s baseboards behind a long row of sitting numismatists who were busy chatting with visitors to their tables. They rolled behind boxes, briefcases, bags, stacks of bundled pamphlets, and an assortment of gear and personal items brought by the various collectors.

  The three coins had just reached the end of the row when they heard the girl’s shriek. They scrambled to investigate. Careful to avoid the mass of feet shambling nearby, and the chance that enemy forces above might spot them, they pulled up behind an unused coin display case along the back wall.

  Camille Quarter peered around the corner and said, “The girl in the blue skirt is searching for something, and there’s a boy under the table hunting for something too.”

  Harper looked for himself. “It must be Nathan. Whoa! Did you see that? A gold double eagle.”

  “The Six’s pilot,” Camille confirmed.

  “Donovan,” Harper ordered his torch-bearer, “flame on.”

  The ’56 Roosevelt dime ignited his torch and turned it towards Harper.

  “Silver Squadron One,” he said into the flame, “do you read me?”

  “I read you,” came a voice.

  Harper turned to Camille. “Did you see where she took him?”

  The Standing Liberty quarter pointed towards the box-shaped EXIT sign. “Up there.”

  Harper returned to the flame. “Silver Squadron One, exit the vent. Nickel down on the EXIT sign at the back of the floor. Jackpot is go. It’s payout time.”

  “Copy that, Captain.”

  “Put on a good show, but try to keep high and out of view of the humans.”

  “Wilco, Captain. Moving out.”

  Donovan snuffed his flame and Harper said to Camille, “You know what you have to do, but be careful.”

  Camille nodded, sped off rolling, and took flight. When she reached the ceiling she saw the first coins belonging to Silver Squadron One emerging from the vent. She flew to the back corner of the room and hovered behind a banner proclaiming the Reno Coin Show.

  She peered around the corner and saw Nathan nickel go toppling from the EXIT sign and headed straight for an open trash bin. Camille gasped, but she was too far away to help him. Just then an eagle-backed Washington quarter swooped in and rescued the nickel.

  “Good catch, Kirby!” she said.

  The sight of two gold eagle squadrons streaming from other vents in the room cut short her applause.

  “Oh, boy,” she said to Esmeralda.

  Camille glanced back towards the EXIT sign and saw the double eagle launch from her perch and go zooming across the room.

  “She’s fast,” Camille said. “I’ll give her that much.”

  Esmeralda Eagle wasn’t so dazzled, and replied with an harrumphing “Bwak.”

  “Okay, hotshot,” Camille said. “It’s our turn. Show me your stuff.”

  Esmeralda rose towards the ceiling and then took off like a bullet.

  Dominique’s eagle-eyed Erica spotted a second nickel standing within the indented crown of an elderly man’s fedora. She screeched the find to Dominique.

  “Clever, Four,” Dominique said. “But not clever enough.”

  The golden double eagle sped towards the nickel, and dived.

  Norton Nickel saw the golden blur too late. Before he could dodge or leap from the hat, the big gold piece plucked him up and swept him away.

  Rather than make a broad swerve back around and chance being spotted by humans, Dominique carried the nickel outside the show room and into the wide, carpeted hallway. From there she could turn and beeline it back to The Six, skimming just under the ceiling.

  “I know someone who is going to be very happy to see you,” Dominique sneered to the struggling nickel.

  “I kinda doubt that,” Norton Nickel said.

  Dominique squinted down at the ’38 nickel, and then told Erica to flip him over.

  The eagle obeyed.

  “What is this?” Dominique said, furious. “Where’s The Four?!”

  Erica turned the nickel ba
ck around to face Dominique.

  Norton stuck his little tongue at her and spit a razz.

  “Get rid of him!”

  Erica whipped the nickel away like a piece of useless scrap metal.

  Norton crashed into the elevator door with a ping and went tumbling down the hall.

  “Something is wrong,” Dominique muttered.

  She heard two explosive and beastly grunts, and turned to see where the noise came from. Erica Eagle stopped and hovered.

  “You!” Dominique cried.

  “You want some of this?” Chief Iron Tail called out. Beside him bucked Brave Two Loons. “Come and take it, bubbeleh.”

  With that, the chief and Brave Two Loons flipped over and exposed their bison, Buffalo and Liberty, who thanks to the chief and Two Loons’ advanced animating wampum, appeared to double in size. The two buffaloes let out another angry snort, daring the double eagle to attack them.

  Dominique sneered. Tempted though she was to accept the challenge, behind the chief and Two Loons marched ten Jefferson nickels. Outnumbered and certain that one of the ten Jeffersons had to be The Four, she swallowed her pride and ordered Erica back inside the coin show to get the other gold eagles.

  “The old Indian won’t be so smug when he sees a squadron of sharp-clawed gold half eagles coming to rip off his head!” she said.

  But then Dominique had a better idea. When she met up with the squadron leaders she issued orders to them to pluck up every nickel they encountered, and whomever was a five-center, to drop him into the slat at the base of the elevator where they’d be lost for days, if not months, maybe forever. The eagle captains passed the word and Dominique led the two squadrons storming into the hallway.

  Nicolai saw Dominique snatch a nickel from the hat of the old man. He grinned.

  “Where’s she going with him?” Dirk Dime asked.

  “She’ll be back,” Nicolai answered.

  The Six glanced at the squadrons of silver and gold eagles. Both sides had fallen into single file and were keeping high along the corners of the ceiling and out of sight of the humans. He knew it was only a matter of time before they were spotted, but now that Dominique had The Four, he and his coins should be dispersing momentarily.

  “See,” The Six said, “there she is.”

  “But where’s The Four?” Dirk said.

  Nicolai cursed. Did he get away?

  It became quickly evident that Dominique was rounding up the other gold eagles squadrons to lay chase, or perhaps provide backup.

  Nicolai glanced at a clock on the wall—4:10 pm. The show would be ending in two hours, but he became aware that home base was ten minutes late for its 4 o’clock update.

  “Has anyone tried to reach us?” he asked his communications coin.

  “No, Sir,” Dirk replied.

  “Are all channels open?”

  “Always, Sir. I’m as tuned as tuned can be. Is something the matter?”

  “Coin Castle is late,” Nicolai growled.

  “They’re short-handed, Sir—on account of most of our troops being here. Today is the San Diego Open, so those left behind have to remain extra alert for human trespassers.”

  “That stupid golf tournament is today?”

  “Yes, Sir. But why would the old man pass it up for a coin show?”

  “For the girl,” Nicolai said. “There will always be another golf tournament, but not another coin convention of this size nearby for who knows how long. Besides, the old man lets his brother use the garden grounds to watch the tournament. It’s no secret he’s not the biggest fan of his brother. Get the base on the line for me.”

  “Yes, Sir,”

  Dirk Dime fired up his torch and concentrated. He established a link but the connection felt choppy.

  “Well?” Nicolai said impatiently, his gaze on his squadrons of gold eagles swarming out of the room and into the hall.

  “One moment, Sir. I’m turning up my flame for a better connection.”

  He flared his torch brighter and turned it towards The Six. “I think I got someone.”

  “This is The Six. Anyone there? Hello, hello…?”

  “Sir?” Dirk questioned over his shoulder.

  “I only hear whistling.”

  “Whistling, Sir?”

  “If I’m not mistaken, it’s that song from the movie ‘The Bridge over the River Kwai.”

  “I love that tune,” Dirk said.

  Nicolai saw a silvery blur, and before he could react, a screeching eagle-backed quarter carried off his communications officer.

  “No!” Nicolai cursed and stomped his edge.

  Without his radio man, he was stranded and helpless on top of the EXIT sign. Dominique had a torch, but she was nowhere to be seen. Nicolai looked out over the convention floor, and fumed.

  Dominique Double Eagle and the two gold eagle squadrons gushed into the hallway. Claws extended and emitting screeching war cries, they came upon four dismayed humans on their way into the coin show, but no coins in sight.

  “Check everywhere!” Dominique shouted.

  The coins circled the hallway and peered into every possible hiding place—under and above the slot and vending machines, inside potted plants, under tables and chairs, and on chandeliers and the tops of framed paintings.

  All the nickels had vanished!

  “Madame Dominique,” one of the squadron captains said, “the stairwell!”

  The elevator bell dinged, announcing the arrival of another group of persons.

  Other than the elevator, which Dominique knew the coins wouldn’t enter, the stairwell was the only other exit. “Follow me!” she cried.

  The coins fell in behind the double eagle, and flocked towards the staircase.

  “Quarter eagles, downstairs!” Dominique ordered. “Half eagles, with me!”

  The two squadrons split up, and the half eagles streamed behind Dominique up the stairwell.

  Having reached the top floor and not having spotted a single coin, Dominique shouted to the others, “Rooftop! And get ready, they’re going to be waiting for us with a couple of squadrons.”

  Dominique and the half eagles located an open window at the end of the hall and burst from the hotel. They soared in formation to the roof above, but the only thing they saw was their own squadrons of quarter and half gold eagles waiting for their orders.

  Dominique hovered over the squadrons and shouted, “Have you seen any nickels? Any enemy coins?”

  “No, Ma’am,” replied a squadron leader. “We’re watching every vent and opening. Not a cent anywhere.”

  Just as the last golden eagles disappeared into the stairwell, Raider Silver Squadron One rushed from the showroom and into the hallway.

  The four flabbergasted humans pointed at them, and then dashed towards the coin show entrance to call people to come and see what they were witnessing.

  The elevator door opened and six more people entered the hall. Busy chatting with one another, and oblivious to the tumult that filled the hall seconds earlier, the people didn’t see the silver coins hovering behind and above them.

  “Come on, come on!” Chief Iron Tail said from beneath the carpet’s edge. Move it slowpokes!”

  As soon as the people moved down the hall a few feet, Squadron One zipped into the elevator. The two Walking Liberty half dollars among them, Hazel and Henrietta, used their shields to depress the ‘hold’ button.

  “Let’s go!” Henrietta shouted.

  The chief, Two Loons, and the ten Jefferson nickels squirmed out from under the carpet and bounded into the empty elevator.

  “Going up?” Henrietta asked with a smile.

  The two half dollars released the button and pushed 7.

  Adam and Fiona rushed into the hallway and nearly collided with the group of people who had just emerged from the elevator. They saw a glittering, silver cloud at the end of the hall and ran towards it.

  The cloud dissipated into the elevator, and to their further amazement, so did a platoon
of hopping nickels. The elevator doors smacked shut a moment before they came skidding up to it.

  Fiona yanked on Adam’s sleeve. “For real, Adam?”

  “Welcome to Coinworld,” he answered.

  21

  birdies

  La Jolla, California — Same day

  Huxley Auden and three friends sat sipping mint juleps inside the garden gazebo of his brother Harold’s mansion as they looked out over the sixth hole of the San Diego Open.

  One of the party, a balding and pink-faced fellow wearing a blue blazer, lifted his binoculars and peered at a man getting ready to tee up. “Is that Snead or Player?” he asked the others.

  The men raised their spyglasses and Huxley answered, “Neither, you clod. That’s The Golden Bear.”

  “Who?”

  The other’s laughed at their friend’s ignorance, and the beefy man in a purple golf shirt beside him said, “Jack Nicklaus, goofball.”

  They looked on as the golfer swung and sent the ball arcing down the fairway.

  “What a beauty!” exclaimed the third guest, a man with salt-and-pepper hair and wearing a yellow golf shirt.

  The men put down their binoculars and reached for their beverages.

  The red-faced man leaned back in his chair, took a deep whiff of the cool air mixed with the scent of pine and salt, and closed his eyes. “Now this is the life,” he said.

  “Sure is,” Purple shirt said. “Huxley, make sure to thank your brother for us, would you?”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Huxley answered.

  “How come he’s not here, anyway?” asked the friend in yellow.

  “He’s in Reno.”

  “Gambling trip?”

  “Harold?” Huxley snorted. “The skinflint wouldn’t dream of having that much fun. No, a coin show with my youngest.”

  “Why would a girl like Fiona be interested in a bunch of old coins?” asked purple shirt.

  Harold shrugged. “Beats me, but she likes Harold and I think she feels a little sorry for him.”

  “Sorry for him?” Pink face said, confounded. He swept his mint julep around his head indicating the garden, mansion, and golf course. “The guy’s got everything.”