Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas (14 page)

“Some people are so hard to impress,” Addison muttered. A Máloco spear clattered to the ground by his feet. Addison scurried after Molly.

A few miles later, the team relaxed to a slow march, exhaustion written on their dirt-lined faces. The Incan trail petered out to a pathway, dwindled down to a rut, and finally fizzled out altogether.

Raj beat a path for them through the jungle, pounding the vegetation with a stick. The forest grew lighter up ahead. Suddenly, Raj stopped and uttered a cry. The group caught up to him and peered through the bushes.

“What is it now?” gasped Eddie, wheezing for air.

“The end of the world,” said Addison.

The team gazed beyond the edges of the jungle. Sheer cliffs dropped away a thousand feet below them. The Pacific Ocean spread its arms ten thousand miles wide to embrace the curve of the world. Majestic waves rolled across the panorama to pound the rocky shore.

“Look!” cried Molly, pointing to an outcropping along the coastline below. A stone bridge joined the land with a small island. And on the small island stood an impossibly large stone structure perched impossibly high on an
impossibly thin jetty of land. Waves crashed against its stone foundations, casting rainbows glinting in the midday sun. Like an image from a fairy tale, its rounded turrets and pointed spires proudly presided over the gray-blue sea.

It was a castle.

Edge of Forever

T
HE GROUP PICKED THEIR way down the rocky bluffs to a winding road along the barren beach. Scavenging seagulls hovered on the blustering wind.

Guadalupe pointed to a street sign. “The next town is Casa Azar! This is great news—in the jungle we must have crossed the border into Ecuador!”

“You seem pretty excited about Ecuador,” said Molly.

“Well”—Guadalupe grinned—“I'm not wanted by the
policía
in Ecuador.”

“Give it time,” said Eddie.

Guadalupe shrugged and nodded. “I give it about twenty-four hours.”

Addison thumbed through his copy of
Fiddleton's Atlas
and found the castle listed under “Places of Interest.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Castle on the Edge of Forever.”

“Are we sure it's the castle we're looking for?” asked Molly.

Addison's eyes popped as he read the description in
Fiddleton's Atlas
. “It must be,” he said, tapping the page. “This castle was built by Diego de Almagro II.”

“The conquistador who built the Cathedral of Lost Souls!”

“The very same. And Diego built this castle in the same year, 1541.”

“Wow,” said Eddie, impressed. “What have
I
done this year?”

Addison examined the castle through his field binoculars. Sandstone towers ringed with bastions. Curtain walls pocked with arrow loops. Battlements, saw-toothed with stone merlons, flanking the tower gates. If this was any indication of what Ecuador was going to be like, Addison was ready to give up New York for good.

He zoomed in the binoculars, training his focus on the causeway connecting the highway to the castle. “There's a lot of activity down there.” Limousines and luxury cars rumbled over the stone bridge onto the fortified island.

Eddie borrowed Addison's field binoculars and peered at the castle. “I don't see anything.”

“I put the lens caps back on.” Addison turned to face the group. “The third key is in that castle. We have to find a way to sneak in there and grab the key before Professor Ragar.”

•   •   •

Addison's team crouched in the underbrush watching the castle gatehouse at the foot of the bridge. Security guards inspected a line of black limousines before waving them onto the island. Each limo was filled with dangerous-looking men in tuxedoes, accompanied by dangerous-looking women in colorful dresses.

“Está berraco,”
whispered Guadalupe, ducking low into the bushes. “Do you realize who these people are?”

“It just looks like a wedding,” said Addison. “A very
expensive
wedding, but just a wedding.”

“These are bad people,” Guadalupe said, shaking her head. “Even by my standards.”

A stretch limo pulled up to the gatehouse. Guards circled the limo with bomb-sniffing dogs.

Guadalupe pointed out the new arrivals through the open windows of their black limo.

“That's Héctor Guzmán, head of the Guzmán cartel.”

“Is a cartel like a gang?” whispered Molly.

“A huge gang. They say Guzmán kills his rivals by locking them in a freezer.”

“That'd have to be a pretty big freezer,” said Raj skeptically.

“Maybe he uses a walk-in freezer, like at a restaurant,” Molly reasoned. “How do you recognize all these people, Guadalupe?”

“TV.” Guadalupe studied the gang members arriving in the next limousine. She solemnly crossed herself. “I just figured out whose wedding this is . . . Don Miguel's daughter.”

The name Don Miguel meant exactly nothing to Addison. “I'm very happy for Don Miguel . . . and his daughter. But we still need to get into this castle.”

“Fat chance. That's Don Miguel's castle.”

“He's allowed to own a historical site?”

“In Ecuador, you can buy anything. Don't you realize who Don Miguel is?”

Addison's group blinked at Guadalupe.

“No?” said Eddie.

“Not even a little bit,” Addison admitted.

Guadalupe stared at them in amazement. “Don Hernando Miguel?”

“Still not ringing any bells.”

“We're from America,” said Eddie. “All our famous criminals are TV stars or professional athletes.”

“Don Miguel is the boss of all the bosses,” Guadalupe whispered in something approaching superstitious awe.
“He's marrying his daughter off to his biggest rival, Héctor Guzmán. I saw it in the news. Their two gangs have feuded for years, but this wedding could bring them together. Then they can stop shooting each other and get back to shooting other people. It's beautiful really.”

“I love a good wedding,” Addison agreed.

“The point is,” said Guadalupe, “you're looking at the two most violent gangs in South America. Everyone at this wedding is armed and dangerous.”

Addison looked across the bridge. A massive tent filled the courtyard. Guests arrived in tuxedos and evening gowns. A twelve-piece band played a sizzling samba.

“I hear what you're saying, Guadalupe,” said Addison. “I really do. But just think of the hors d'oeuvres . . .”

“What kind of hors d'oeuvres?” asked Eddie.

“Oh no,” said Molly. “I know that look on Addison's face. He's forming a plan.”

“Hush, young Cooke. The wheels are turning.”

“Addison, you expect us to just mambo into a castle filled with rival gangsters, find the third key, and cha-cha right out?”

Addison studied the guards spread out across the grounds. He considered the odds. He gave it six to four against. “I give it six to four in favor,” he said confidently.

“These are dangerous criminals,” said Guadalupe. “You'll find more killers at that wedding than at a state
penitentiary. You couldn't throw a brick in that wedding without braining a criminal.”

“I'm not suggesting we throw bricks at criminals in weddings,” said Addison. “Besides, you don't have to come along. You helped us across the jungle—if ‘help' is the word I'm looking for—and that was our deal.”

Guadalupe stiffened. “I'm not chicken. Besides, I bet they have a lot of excellent merchandise in that house.” She squinted at Addison. “How do you plan on getting inside?”

“Through the front door.” Addison turned to inspect his comrades, brushing the dirt from their school uniforms. “Eddie, be a gentleman and straighten your shirt cuffs.” Addison tightened his half-Windsor knot, sculpting the perfect tie dimple. “In my nearly thirteen years on this earth, there are two things I've learned beyond a shadow of a doubt. The first is that you can get in anywhere if you dress sharply enough.”

“And the second?” asked Eddie.

“There is no sweeter food than free food.” Addison buttoned his blazer. “Besides,” he added, “I love a good wedding.”

•   •   •

Addison confidently led his team up the driveway to the gatehouse. Raj tried frantically to spit-shine the mud
stains from his shirtfront. Eddie picked brambles and thorns from his socks, hopping from one foot to the other, trying to keep up. Together, they approached the head security guard.

“I don't know about this one,” muttered Molly.

“Mo, try and keep an open mind.”

“Addison, you're so open-minded your brain's fallen out.”

“Molly, I am going to make that guard beg to let us into the wedding.” Addison strolled up and offered a cheerful grin. “Fine weather.”

The guard barked a sentence in Spanish.

“He wants to know if we are guests of the wedding,” Eddie translated.

“Of course we are,” said Addison immediately.

The gate guard eyed them suspiciously and spoke to Eddie.

“He needs to see our invitations,” Eddie said nervously.

Addison made a show of patting down his blazer pockets. “Eddie, do you have the invitations?”

“Nope.” Eddie shook his head.

“Are you kidding me? What did you do with them?”

“I never had them!” Eddie insisted.

“I cannot let you into the wedding without invitations,” said the guard in thickly accented English.

“That's excellent,” said Addison with sincerity. “I was hoping you'd say that.”

“Why?” asked the guard, squinting at Addison.

“We don't want to go to this boring wedding. We're just stuck here because of my uncle. Can you tell us the best way to get to Casa Azar? We want to sneak out and do something fun.”

The guard sized up Addison uncertainly. “Why are a bunch of American kids coming to this wedding, anyway? You don't even speak Spanish.”

“My uncle Héctor flew us in from America for the wedding. It's all a big waste of time, but at least we got out of boarding school for a week.” Addison smiled ingratiatingly. “Can you order us a cab to Casa Azar, so we can ditch out of here?”

The guard frowned.

Inwardly, Addison held his breath.

Finally, the guard took the bait. “What did you say your uncle's name was?”

Addison stifled a yawn, as if bored. He casually played his ace. “Héctor Guzmán.”

The guard's face turned instantly white, like he'd been slapped with a cream pie. His lower lip trembled in fear. Sweat sprouted from his forehead like morning dew.

“Anyway,” Addison continued, “we can always just hitchhike to Casa Azar.” He turned to leave, waving his friends to follow.

“Wait!” called the guard. “You must go to the wedding!”

“No thank you,” said Addison firmly. “We're going to go have some fun.”

“Please, you must!”

“Absolutely not. Out of the question.”

“If Don Guzmán discovers I let you sneak out of the wedding,” the guard pleaded, “I won't just lose my job . . . I will lose my life!”

Addison sighed and crossed his arms. He pretended to weigh the issue over in his mind.

“I am begging you,” said the guard. “What if something happened to you in Casa Azar? My life is in your hands. Please, you must go to this wedding! I don't want to end up in a restaurant freezer!”

Addison spread his arms and let them collapse at his sides. “Well, it was worth a shot. But you owe us one.”

“Thank you,” said the guard, clasping Addison's hand and shaking it gratefully.

Addison smiled warmly and returned the shake. He nodded to his team, and together they strode past the guardhouse and over the stone bridge to the castle.

Guadalupe cast a sidelong glance at Addison, a look of wonder in her eyes.
“Bacán.”

Addison smiled.

“Please!” the guard called after them. “Put in a good word for me with Don Guzmán!”

•   •   •

Addison, Molly, Guadalupe, Eddie, and Raj strode toward
the castle's entrance. A security guard waved them past a velvet rope.

“Not too shabby,” said Eddie.

“We're not through the woods yet,” Addison whispered.

Security guards waved them through a metal detector. Addison and Molly made it past without issue, but Raj lit up the metal detector like a Christmas tree. Perplexed guards began frisking Raj's pockets, removing fishhooks, sewing needles, iron pills, snare wire, bear spray . . .

One sharp-eyed bodyguard put a hand on Addison's shoulder.
“¡Deténgase! ¿Quién es usted?”

Addison unleashed his warmest smile on the guard. “Addison Cooke.
¿Cómo está?
” He held out his hand for a shake. The guard only stared at the hand, and then went back to staring at Addison.

“I have never seen you before,” said the guard, peering closely at Addison's group. “You are not with Don Guzmán's party and I have never seen you with Don Miguel.”

“We're the band,” said Addison.

The guard cocked an ear to listen to the Latin big-band music blaring from inside the wedding tent. “The band is already inside,” growled the guard. “Plus, you don't have no instruments.”