Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas (21 page)

•   •   •

Addison clung to his fragile stone with the last of his strength. “How are you doing, Molly?”

“My arms are cramping.”

Addison felt his own grip weakening. “Raj, how about you? Can you hold on a little longer?”

“This is fantastic.” Raj smiled, hugging his rock like a koala bear hugs a tree. “I never did anything like this in Manhattan.”

Addison heard Eddie's shoes skittering along the far chamber. “Eddie, hurry!” he shouted, his tired fingers trembling. “Molly can't hold on any longer!”

Eddie's face appeared over the lip of the giant rock.

“What took you so long?” Addison gasped.

“I'm happy to see you, too.” Eddie anchored his vine rope around the stalagmite and tossed Addison the free end. “And for your information, I was very, very busy trying to not die.”

Addison reached into the void and grabbed the vine rope.

“Can you make it, Addison?” Molly called.

“I think I can.” For a terrifying moment, he let go of his stone, the vine taking all his weight as he dangled in space. Somehow, the fear of heights no longer seemed to control him. He climbed his way on top of his rock, panting with the effort.

“Faster, please,” said Molly.

Eddie wrapped a length of vine around his waist. He belly-crawled along Addison's stepping-stone. Together, they wriggled onto Molly's boulder and dropped her a vine.

“It's about time,” she gasped, grabbing the rope.

“You're welcome,” said Eddie, quoting Guadalupe. He hauled Molly up. Eddie was still ghostly white, but he was no longer trembling.

When they all reached Raj, he handed up his torch.
“Wait,” Raj said, staring into the inky void below him, “I just want to enjoy this a moment longer.”

“C'mon, we're on a tight schedule.” Addison dropped Raj a vine.

Together, they crossed the last stepping-stone and reached the far side of the chasm. Eddie bent double and took deep gasps of air.

“Were you scared?” asked Molly.

“Nope,” said Eddie. “I was terrified.”

“Well,” Addison said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder, “you saved our lives.”

Eddie straightened his back and stood a little bit taller.
“Harika,”
he said. And he meant it.

The team ducked into the next tunnel and followed its snaking twists and turns deeper into the mountain. In the darkness, Addison lost all sense of time. Maybe a half hour passed, maybe an hour. There was nothing for it but to keep walking.

“I hear voices,” said Molly at last, halting in her tracks.

Addison listened and heard them, too.

Raj doused the torch. The team crept forward through the darkness, shrouded in the gloom. Flickering lights loomed up ahead.

The group carefully peered around a bend in the path. Before them, the tunnel opened into an enormous cavern. And there below, in the main chamber, stood Professor Ragar.

•   •   •

Addison and his team crawled to a safe vantage point, a ledge overlooking the sprawling chamber carved into the rock. The massive cavern was supported by pillars etched with hieroglyphics. Flaming torches lined the walls. The entire structure spanned a chasm where a river ran directly through the mountain, bubbling and gurgling in the darkness hundreds of feet below.

Professor Ragar, miraculously clean and resplendent in his white suit, gazed down the long stone corridor that led to the treasure vault. He was flanked by his men, who carried mining helmets and climbing gear. At their feet, bound in ropes, sat Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel.

When Molly spotted them, she nearly called their names out loud, but Addison silenced her with a finger pressed to his lips. Together, the team wriggled closer on their bellies to spy on Ragar.

“Next,” Professor Ragar barked to his men.

A short, pudgy bodyguard stepped up to Ragar nervously. The professor held out the three Incan keys: one of stone, one of silver, and one of solid gold. The man hesitated before finally choosing the stone key.

“Good luck,” said Ragar.

The guard nodded. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and inched timidly toward the treasure vault. He ducked through the gaping jaws of a massive stone skull, stepping
carefully over its stone teeth. He crept down the limestone hallway, his furtive eyes darting left and right like a high-stakes gambler who's just placed an astronomical bet at a Ping-Pong match.

A stone step sunk beneath the man's foot, triggering a booby trap. Iron spikes jutted from the wall. The fleet-footed bodyguard leapt and managed to dodge them. He was apparently faster than Ragar's last bodyguard, who still hung impaled on the spikes like a shish kabob. The iron points retreated into the wall, dragging the corpse back into the shadows.

Panting with adrenaline, the trembling bodyguard reached the end of the hallway and stared at the locked door of the enormous treasure vault. The great door was heavy limestone, two stories high, and covered with ropes of gnarled vines crosshatched with a fretwork of cobwebs.

There was a single keyhole in the door. The man shut his eyes and muttered a fervent prayer under his breath. Finally, his hand shaking, the man inserted the stone key. It fit. He cautiously turned the key until he heard the tumblers click. The man grinned, and for a brief moment, he was truly hopeful.

Then a trapdoor snapped open beneath him, and he plummeted into the river a hundred feet below with a terrific splash. The water churned as caimans rolled and twisted and snapped their jaws. The man's screams echoed until the trapdoor slid shut.

From their hiding place, Molly recoiled in horror. “Were those crocodiles?” she whispered.

“Caimans,” Raj corrected.

“I can't believe he's using his men like guinea pigs,” Eddie exclaimed.

“You mean
cuy
,” Raj corrected again.

“How do caimans even live down there?” Molly asked.

“The river must run right through the mountain. You see, caimans eat a variety of fish, including perch, piranha, and paiche, all of which—”

“Shhh,” said Addison. “Here comes the next contestant.”

A tall, gangly bodyguard now stood before the treasure vault door. Soaked in sweat, he gingerly removed the stone key from the keyhole. He paused; so far, so good. The bodyguard rested the stone key on a convenient ledge. He now inserted the silver key.

It fit, clicking neatly into place. Taking a deep breath, the guard turned the key in its lock. “I think I got it!”

“Very good,” said Professor Ragar. “Is the door opening?”

“I think so!”

The bodyguard was technically right. A door was opening, just not the door he would have preferred. The trapdoor once again sprung open, swallowing the man. He plummeted a hundred feet to begin a new chapter in his life as alligator food. Thankfully, a rather short chapter.

From their hiding spot, Molly cringed again. “Did they
really need alligators down there? Wouldn't it have been enough just to fall a hundred feet?”

“You try having your land stolen by the Spanish,” said Addison. “See how friendly it makes you.”

“Also,” said Raj, “caiman.”

“Got it.”

Addison corralled the team into a whisper conference. “We need a plan. I'll be the diversion.”

“What do we do?” asked Raj.

“First, you guys hide. Then I'll run in and grab their attention. Ragar's men will chase me back down this hallway. When the coast is clear, you guys rush in and open the treasure vault.”

“And also rescue Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel,” said Molly.

“Naturally.”

“Why do you always get to be the diversion?” asked Raj.

“Yeah!” said Eddie. “I don't want to be the one to open the treasure vault. Everyone who tries to open it ends up in a caiman pit. I've made myself very clear on my preference for not being eaten by caimans.”

“Eddie,” said Addison, “I live my life by only one rule: don't end up in a caiman pit. And I wouldn't wish a caiman pit on anyone. But we have to get rid of Ragar's men if we want any chance of rescuing Aunt D and Uncle N.”

“I don't vote for any plan that ends with me being eaten.”

“You guys are being too loud,” whispered Molly.

“Molly, this is important,” said Addison. “We need to figure this out.”

“What's important is that we not get caught.”

“Here's an idea, Mo. We put
you
in the caiman pit to satisfy their hunger. Then the rest of us are safe.”

“Here's an idea,” said Molly. “Shut your trap!”

And it would have been sound advice. For at that moment, Zubov stepped up behind them, drawing a brand-new knife. He grinned, showing his sharpened teeth. His blade flashed in the torchlight. “Hello, kids.”

Raj yelped in surprise.

Eddie looked for an escape route.

Molly wasted no time. She wound up and kicked Zubov hard in the shins. A jolt of pain shot up her leg. Molly howled in surprise and toppled over, clutching her foot.

Zubov smiled at Molly. He slowly lifted his pant leg, revealing burnished leather Stetsons, tough as aged cedar wood. “New boots.”

He whistled loudly, signaling Ragar's men down in the cavern below. Zubov closed in on Addison's team, tossing his bowie knife from his left hand to his right. “New knife.”

“How long have you been following us?” asked Addison, playing for time.

“All night,” said Zubov. He grinned and tapped his pointed teeth together, making a hideous clicking sound.
“I would have killed you sooner, but I needed you to lead me back to the professor.”

“Yes, about this whole killing business,” Addison began. But he didn't have time to finish his thought.

Zubov drew back his arm and hurled his knife at Molly. She dove to the ground, scraping her shins on the rock. The knife flipped through the air, clattered over the precipice, and tumbled into the ravine. “Ha!” Molly shouted triumphantly.

Zubov only smiled and clicked his teeth again. He spread open his leather jacket, revealing a knife belt taped around his chest. Two dozen fresh blades gleamed in the flickering firelight. He drew two knives, spun them in his hands, and tapped them together like drum sticks. “I've got all day.”

Molly swallowed hard. “Why don't you put those knives down and fight us fair?”

Zubov shook his head. Ragar's men climbed the ledge and emerged behind him. They outnumbered Addison's group. Zubov smiled. “I don't fight fair. That's why I win.”

Addison's team shrank backward. There was no escape.

Zubov lunged for Molly, grabbing her by the arm. She twisted and squirmed, but Zubov was clamped to her like a conjoined twin. He bent forward to bite her, his sharpened teeth snapping the air an inch from her ear.

Molly discovered that she hated to lose. She wound up and kicked Zubov as hard as she could. This time, she aimed a few feet higher than his shin.

She caught him completely by surprise.

Zubov turned purple and crumpled to his knees, wincing.

“I don't fight fair, either,” Molly said.

Professor Ragar's crew swarmed in and tackled Addison's team. They struggled, but were no match for the grown men. Addison felt himself thrown to the ground. A boot slammed down, pressing his face into the cold rock.

Z
UBOV AND HIS MEN herded Addison's team into the main chamber. The high-arched ceiling gave the cavern the feeling of a cathedral. The marbling of the ancient rock, millions of years old, created dazzling patterns that reflected in the torchlight.

Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel looked up at Addison's group in amazement.

“Addison Herbert Cooke,” Aunt Delia exclaimed, “what are you doing here!?”

“
Herbert?
” said Eddie, stifling a laugh.

Zubov gripped Addison by the scruff of his neck.

“It's okay, Aunt Delia,” said Addison. “We've come to rescue you!”

Zubov hurled Addison to the rocky floor. He landed next to Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel. Zubov's men tossed Molly, Eddie, and Raj on the ground beside them.

“Guy Fawkes!” said Molly angrily.

“Language, Molly!” said Aunt Delia.

“But Addison says it!”

“Raj and Eddie,” Aunt Delia continued, shaking her head in bewilderment, “do your parents realize you're here?”

“Kind of,” said Eddie. “We left a note.”

“Yes, Mrs. Cooke.” Raj nodded his head emphatically. “We told them we're with you.”

“You're all supposed to be in school right now,” Aunt Delia said. “It's a Tuesday!”

“This is a dangerous situation,” Uncle Nigel put in. “How did you even get here?”

“Yes, about all that . . . ” Addison began. “If we ever get home, you may want to call your credit card company.”

Professor Ragar interrupted the family reunion, clapping his gloved hands together for attention. “Wonderful! All the Cookes in one place.” He ran a gloved finger over his thin mustache, an idea solidifying behind his icy eyes. “Dr. Cooke!”

Mr. and Mrs. Cooke both answered, “Yes?”

“I am running low on volunteers.” Ragar gestured toward the treasure vault. “Perhaps the Cooke family can be of assistance?”

“Jump in a lake and eat
cuy
,” said Molly flatly.

Professor Ragar snapped his fingers. His men hauled all the New Yorkers to their feet and shoved everyone toward the treasure vault door.

“Open the vault,” said the professor, handing Uncle Nigel the gold key, “or I feed you to the crocodiles.”

Raj was about to correct Professor Ragar about the caimans, but a quick glance at Ragar's scowling face made him think better of it.

•   •   •

The Cooke family, plus Raj and Eddie, ducked through the open jaws of the stone skull.

“I swear,” said Eddie, “if I have to walk through one more skull on this trip . . .”

“Relax,” said Molly. “It's probably your last.”

That clammed Eddie up.

Together, the group crept down the long narrow hallway.

“I should be the one to open the vault,” said Aunt Delia. “I wrote my graduate thesis on Incan technology.”

“Forget it, Delia,” said Uncle Nigel. “It's far too dangerous. Let me.”

“What about us? We came all this way. If we're going to die, I should at least get to see some gold first,” said Eddie.

“I can help open the door,” said Raj. “I used to own a lock-picking set.”

Addison spoke up. “Maybe it's not the gold key, you guys. I mean, it seems too easy, doesn't it? If this is the final door to the treasure, it must contain the hardest puzzle of all.”

“Well, if it's not the gold key, what other key could it be?” asked Molly.

“I have no idea. But the solution to the puzzle might be in one of the Incan books I read.”

“Books are your answer for everything,” cried Molly.

“Books
are
the answer to everything.”

“Who told you that?”

“I read it.
In a book.
”

By the time they reached the treasure vault door, everyone was arguing.

Aunt Delia held the gold key aloft in her hand. “It must be this one—gold represents treasure.”

“No, Addison's right—gold is too obvious.” Uncle Nigel took the stone key from the ledge and shook it at her. “The stone key makes the most sense. Whoever opens the vault should not be seeking silver or gold, they should seek only illumination.”

“Who opens a treasure vault to seek illumination?”

“We do!” snapped Uncle Nigel in his crisp British accent. “We're not fortune hunters; we're archaeologists!”

“But Ragar's men already tried the stone key!”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes! You don't have your glasses on, and I do.”

“Well, maybe he turned it the wrong direction. Let's see if the key fits.” Uncle Nigel tried to fit his stone key into the door while Aunt Delia tugged at his arm.

Molly and Raj wrestled over the silver key. Eddie clung to the wall, convinced the caiman pit would swing open at any moment.

Addison concentrated on the puzzle, trying to block out the sound of everyone arguing. He remembered that a samurai makes every decision in the space of seven breaths. He realized he didn't have that much time. Three breaths, at best. He closed his eyes, tuned out the shouting voices, and was pleased to find a solution in only two. “I've got it.”

But nobody heard him.

Just as Uncle Nigel managed to get his stone key into the keyhole, Addison raised his voice and shouted, “I've got it! Everybody
listen
!”

Everyone paused their fighting to look at Addison.

“The Incans believed the treasure vault would only open for someone who learned from King Atahualpa's mistakes,” said Addison quietly.

“Sure,” said Uncle Nigel, not at all sure where Addison was going with this.

“So what was Atahualpa's mistake?”

“Instead of fighting the Conquistadors he fought his own family,” said Molly.

“That's right,” said Addison. “Atahualpa fought his brothers. And he fought his parents. So his family's armies abandoned him. By himself, Atahualpa was easily beaten. That was Atahualpa's curse.”

Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel looked at Addison, brows furrowed.

“Don't you see?” asked Addison. “Ragar can never open the treasure vault because it won't open for just one person. It will only open for a family.”

Addison walked to the vault door and wiped away centuries of dirt, cobwebs, and vines. And to everyone's amazement, there was not just one keyhole in the door, there were three.

Addison took the three keys in his hands and stretched his arms wide. But the keyholes were spaced far apart so no one person could turn them all at once. Addison turned to his family. “I can't do it alone.”

He handed the stone key to Raj and Eddie, the silver key to Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel, and the gold key he shared with Molly. Together, they all inserted their keys into the locks. “Now,” he said. They turned their keys in unison.

And for the first time in five hundred years, the treasure vault opened.

•   •   •

The immense stone door swung inward, revealing a sprawling chamber as large as a gymnasium. Uncle Nigel took a torch from the wall and stepped inside. Addison's team followed.

Before them lay treasure beyond their wildest reckoning. Gold vases filled to the brim with sparkling emeralds. Bright silver statuettes of birds and flowers inlaid with blue sapphires and crimson rubies. Crowns and tiaras studded with topaz, crystals, pearls, and diamonds. And everywhere, mountains upon mountains of glittering gold and silver coins.

Molly took off running, sliding belly-first down hills of gold. Raj tossed priceless gemstones over his head like confetti. Eddie whooped for joy, diving headfirst into a heap of gold coins.

It hurt more than he was expecting.

Addison stood with his uncle, marveling at the sight. “The legend was true,” Uncle Nigel said, shaking his head in wonder. He put an arm around Addison. “How did you solve the clues? I didn't even know you spoke Spanish.”

“I had help. A lot of help.”

Aunt Delia picked up one artifact after another,
stunned by the craftsmanship. “Most of these are pre-Columbian, I'm sure of it,” she said breathlessly. “Look at this bounty. It will take years to classify.”

Uncle Nigel lifted his voice to Molly, Raj, and Eddie, who were having a snowball fight with gold doubloons. “Remember, don't remove any treasure from the vault. This belongs to Atahualpa and his people.”

“Not anymore,” said Ragar, stepping into the vault, followed by his men. “It's mine now.” His bodyguards wheeled wooden carts into the treasure vault and began shoveling them full of gold coins.

Uncle Nigel pointed at the stone pillars by the door. “If you knew anything about Incan hieroglyphs, Vladimir, you would be able to read that warning.”

“Oh really, what does it say?”

“This treasure belongs to the Incas. It does not leave.”

Professor Ragar sighed. “It belonged to them five hundred years ago. It's mine now. And unfortunately, Dr. Cooke, I no longer have need of your expertise.” He stooped to pick up a handful of priceless coins and let them cascade through his fingers. “I knew the Cooke family would serve a valuable purpose. But now that I have the treasure . . . you're cooked.”

The professor gestured to Zubov, who stepped forward with a long coil of rope. “Zubov has been looking forward to this part even more than the treasure.”

•   •   •

Addison and his team were hauled back into the main chamber. Ragar's men tied them all to stakes. Addison's hands were jerked behind his back and bound with rope, his spine pressed against the wood.

Zubov yanked Molly's ropes extra tight. “Nice knowing you.”

“Wish I could say the same,” said Molly.

Zubov looked at her evenly and nodded. “You've got heart.”

The bodyguards collected ancient timbers from the walkways and heaped them at the Cooke family's feet. Zubov split kindling with his new blades, spreading the shavings across the timbers.

“Why kill us this way?” asked Eddie.

“Ragar wants to burn us alive, just like Atahualpa,” said Addison grimly.

“At least it's not the caimans,” said Molly.

Eddie nodded. “Still, this is not how I would prefer to go. Don't we at least get a final meal?” He watched the kindling piling up at his feet and then anxiously eyed the burning torches of the gallery. The walls were lined with stone-carved skulls, their jaws yawning open in silent screams.

“Addison,” Molly said quietly.

“Yes, Mo?”

“This is a sticky wicket.”

Addison nodded his agreement.

Professor Ragar stepped forward, a burning torch in his gloved hand. He leaned close to Addison and Molly, flames dancing in his eyes. “Ah yes, the final two.”

“The final two what?” Addison struggled against his bonds, but this only made the knots grow tighter.

“Cookes,” breathed Professor Ragar.

“Vladimir, leave them out of this!” snapped Uncle Nigel. “They're just kids. Do what you want with Delia and me, but let the kids go.”

Ragar leaned close to Molly, his vampire skin smelling of musty attics and sour wine. “So many Cookes . . .” He patted her cheek and she flinched. “All must be killed, to fulfill the prophecy.”

“You don't really believe in that nonsense, Ragar,” said Uncle Nigel.

“Of course not.” The torch hissed and spat in the professor's hand. “But Malazar believes it.”

Molly swiveled to look at Addison. She mouthed the words,
Who is Malazar?

Addison did his best to shrug—no easy feat when tied to a stake.

“Why be loyal to him?” asked Uncle Nigel. “He's a murderer.”

“Ten years I rotted in that prison. Malazar saved me from the gates of hell.” Ragar pressed his angry, mottled burn scars close to Uncle Nigel's face. “This is—how do you say?—the least I can do.”

Ragar set his torch to the kindling. The timbers smoked, sparked, and ignited.