Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas (17 page)

“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's team ducked under the tables and scrambled on all fours. They burst free of the tent and into the bright afternoon light.

Addison turned to watch the tent sagging like an
accordion's bellows, muffling the screams from inside. Gunshots—popping like fireworks on the Fourth of July—erupted from the tent, followed by more shouting. “I love a good wedding,” Addison said one more time. And he really meant it.

Molly tugged on his sleeve and together they ran.

R
AJ EXPLODED FROM THE flaps of the tent, covered head to toe in cake frosting. Every inch of him was plastered in whipped cream except for his eyes . . . He looked every bit like a vanilla-flavored ghost.

“Good work, Raj,” said Addison. He moved to shake Raj's hand but thought better of it.

“What kind of cake is it?” asked Eddie, sniffing him.

“Coconut with vanilla frosting.”

“Can I try some?”

Raj shrugged.

Eddie scooped a handful of frosting off Raj's neck and tasted it. He nodded his head profoundly. “It's excellent.” Eddie went for a second scoop.

“We've got to keep moving,” said Addison. “We can't
have our cake and eat it, too.” He dashed for the parking lot, the team in tow, Raj leaving a trail of footprints with sprinkles.

Fresh gunfire crackled from the wedding. Limo drivers drew guns from their holsters, cast odd glances at Raj, and raced to duck inside the collapsed tent.

“We need wheels if we're going to make it past the bridge guards,” called Addison. He sprinted among the parked cars until he saw something spectacular. He froze in his tracks. This caused Molly to smack into his back, followed by Raj, who managed to shellac Molly in cake frosting. Molly did not appreciate this.

Addison was staring at a black limousine. A very special limousine. One with bulletproof glass and armor plating. Professor Ragar's limousine, to be specific.

He checked the limousine door. It was unlocked. Addison opened it and called inside. “Aunt Delia? Uncle Nigel?”

But the limousine was empty.

“Where are they?” asked Molly.

“Elsewhere,” Addison grumbled. “We have more immediate problems.” He looked anxiously at the deflated tent and spotted the first of Ragar's men popping out, covered in buffet food and looking more red and steamed than the lobsters.

Addison slid into the driver's seat of the limo. “Guadalupe, can you hot-wire a car?”

“Can a fish swim?” Guadalupe poked her head inside
the car. She reached out one hand and flipped down the sun visor.

The car keys fell directly into Addison's lap. He broke out in a wide grin. “Ragar took our keys, so we're taking his.” He turned the ignition, and the stretch limousine roared to life.

“Addison,” asked Eddie nervously, “what exactly are you doing?”

“Slowing Ragar down.”

“Really?” asked Eddie. “Because it kind of looks like you're stealing his car.”

Addison chose his words carefully. “I'm not
not
stealing it.”

Molly spoke Addison's language and clarified for Eddie: “He's borrowing it on a permanent basis.”

Ragar's men gathered outside the collapsed tent and spotted Addison's group. With a shout, they sprinted toward Addison, reloading their guns on the run.

“Get in, chop-chop,” Addison called to his team.

Molly, Raj, and Guadalupe piled into the enormous backseat of the stretch limousine.

“Eddie, hurry up!” urged Addison.

But Eddie refused to get in. “I'm not going to get into a top-tier college by becoming a car thief.” He turned and trotted for the bridge.

Addison sighed and released the parking brake. He shifted into reverse, backing out of the parking spot.
Grinding the transmission, he managed to slip the car into first gear. He lowered his window, leaned an elbow out, and coasted alongside Eddie.

“How's it going, Chang?” he asked casually.

Eddie looked over his shoulder to see Ragar's men pointing at him and shouting. They sprinted down the driveway, catching up quickly.

“I've been better.”

“Eddie,” said Addison, “I have one more car than you do. Get in.”

“You're stealing a limousine. “That's like stealing
two
cars.”

“I'm not stealing, I'm borrowing. I have no intention of keeping this car, Eddie. Where would I park a limo in New York City?”

Professor Ragar's men bounded toward the moving car. They opened up deafening gunfire. Bullets whizzed past Eddie's head, their low-pressure wakes ruffling his hair.

Eddie's eyes bulged in terror. He saw no alternative. “Open the door!”

Addison sprung open his door and slid over to make room.

Eddie dove in headfirst.

•   •   •

For a few seconds, the limousine drifted, driverless. Addison had crawled over to the passenger side. Eddie,
to his immense horror, found himself behind the wheel of a moving vehicle.

“Addison, what are you doing!” screamed Eddie.

“Navigating,” said Addison calmly. “You're driving.”

“Me?” shouted Eddie, his pupils dilating in animal panic. He made a desperate bid to crawl into Addison's passenger seat, but Addison had already buckled himself in.

“Eddie, you have to drive. Your legs are the longest.”

“But I don't even have a driver's license!”

“We're stealing a limousine in Ecuador!” said Addison, at the edge of his patience. “We don't
need
a driver's license!”

“I
knew
we were stealing!” said Eddie.

Addison found the chauffeur's hat under his seat and clapped it on Eddie's head.
“¡Vámonos!”

Eddie slammed his door shut, clicked on his turn signal, and checked his mirrors. The rearview mirror revealed armed gang members racing up to the car.

Addison pressed the door lock just in time.

Professor Ragar's men pounded on the bulletproof windows with their fists. Two gunmen climbed on top of the moving car and opened fire, bullets slamming the reinforced windows. Cracks spiderwebbed the windshield. The gunmen kicked at the weakening glass with their boots and riddled the car with bullets.

“Anytime, Eddie!” Molly shouted from the backseat.

Eddie saw the wisdom in her words. His feet reached for the pedals. He stomped on the gas as if to stamp out a fire.

The limousine rocketed forward like it was shot from a cannon. Men flew from the roof with startled cries.

“Steer!” Addison cried, reaching across to grab the wheel.

“Oh yeah!” Eddie clutched the wheel in both hands.

The limousine careened back and forth across both lanes of the stone bridge. Molly, Guadalupe, and Raj screamed from the backseat. The crashing waves of the ocean were drawing all too near.

The gate guards at the end of the bridge waved their hands for the car to halt. Addison leaned over and blared the horn. The gate guards got the message, diving for cover. For a split second, Addison swore he could hear one of the guards shout, “Put in a good word for me with Héctor Guzmán!” The limousine flew past the gatehouse and spun onto the main road in a wild cornering skid.

Eddie gunned the accelerator so that the limousine engine sat up and barked. The massive car bolted down the highway like a racing greyhound at the starter pistol.

•   •   •

Eddie drove at breakneck speed, struggling to see over the dashboard. The limo wound its way along the cliff-side highway. Only a flimsy wooden guardrail stood between the speeding car and a rather unhealthy-looking hundred-foot drop.

Molly clutched her overhead handgrip as Eddie took each curve in the road at a tire-squealing pace. “We would have been better off with Ragar's men. Eddie's going to kill us for sure!”

Addison did not disagree.

Guadalupe explored the back of the limousine. She picked the lock on the minibar and filched some candy bars, a soda, and a sterling silver bottle opener.

Raj sat in a melting puddle of his own frosting, smiling peacefully. “I've always wanted to ride in a limousine.”

Addison rolled down his window and checked behind them. “Here comes Ragar!”

Six black Jeeps roared up the highway, closing fast.

“What if he shoots at us?” asked Eddie.

“Let him. We're driving
his
car.”

The lead Jeep gunned its engine and rammed the back of the limousine. Molly screamed. Eddie lost control of the limo, the steering wheel spinning in his hands, the tires smoking across the highway. The limousine scraped against the cliff-side guardrails, sparks shooting off the armored body. Somehow—white-knuckling the steering wheel—Eddie managed to swerve the car back onto the road.

Without seat belts in the back of the limo, Raj slid around everywhere, getting cake frosting all over Molly and Guadalupe.

“You're lucky you're so delicious!” shouted Molly.

Underneath his white cake frosting, Raj blushed.

The lead Jeep pulled alongside the rushing limo and tactical-rammed the bumper. Once again, the limousine skidded across the highway. Eddie countersteered so hard the limo rose up on two wheels. Two hubcaps burst from the tires, spinning over the edge of the cliff. For a few breathless seconds, Addison feared the limo would follow, toppling over the guardrail and into the ocean.

“I'm too young to die!” Eddie shouted.

The heavy limousine righted itself, landing back on four wheels. Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head, his entire body wet with sweat. He weaved the car back and forth, trying to occupy both lanes.

“Honestly, Eddie. Who taught you to drive?” shouted Molly from the backseat.

“Nobody!”

“Well, it shows!”

Black Jeeps sped forward, surrounding the limousine. Gunmen peppered it with bullets. Lead struck the vehicle with deafening thuds.

“We're surrounded!” shouted Molly.

“Do something!” hollered Guadalupe.

Eddie swerved the limousine, lightly tapping one of the speeding Jeeps. The maneuver accomplished exactly nothing.

“Don't be precious with the limo, Eddie,” cried Addison. “Drive it like it's stolen!”

“It
is
stolen!”

“Borrowed!”

Eddie gritted his teeth. He'd had enough of this whole business, and it was time to take charge. He ripped the wheel hard to the right, smashing a black Jeep into the guardrail. He ripped the wheel hard to the left, sideswiping the second Jeep into the third Jeep.

Molly cheered.

“Bacán,”
said Guadalupe, impressed.

The Jeeps were no match for the heavy stretch limo. Eddie punched the gas, and they shot forward.

Addison checked the rearview mirror. Three police cars raced up behind, joining the pursuit, their sirens blazing. “We've got more problems.”

Professor Ragar's Jeeps regrouped and bore down on the limousine.

“Great!” said Eddie, his voice rising in panic. “What else can happen?”

“The highway can end!” cried Molly, pointing straight ahead.

Eddie looked up to see emergency roadblocks where a landslide blocked the highway. But it was too late.

Addison reached across to yank the steering wheel. The tires screamed, burning their rubber, as Addison willed the limousine directly for the landslide.

Eddie shut his eyes and screamed.

The limousine raced up the mound of dirt like a ramp
and went airborne. For a few seconds, Addison's heart did not beat. The limousine sailed through the air and crashed down onto the far side of the dirt embankment, its bumper shooting sparks across the asphalt. The limo continued blasting down the highway.

Eddie stared straight forward, his eyes blank with shock.
“Harika,”
he whispered.

Addison checked over his shoulder. Ragar's four-wheel-drive Jeeps slowed to maneuver around the embankment and then kept right on coming.

“Those guys are better drivers than we are,” said Addison. “We'll have to lose them in town. Eddie, we're taking the next exit.”

Addison yanked Eddie's steering wheel one more time. Fleeing faster than a cat flung into a dog park, the limousine roared into the zigzagging maze of downtown Casa Azar.

•   •   •

The quiet seaside village of Casa Azar had never encountered anything quite like Eddie Chang. For hundreds of years, the village had patiently endured monsoons, hurricanes, forest fires, and the occasional mudslide. But this was Casa Azar's first encounter with Eddie, and the town was wholly unprepared for the devastation that can be wrought by a panicking seventh grader at the wheel of a three-ton vehicle, on the run for his life.