Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas (6 page)

Olvidados

A
DDISON PACED IN FRONT of the Bogotá bus terminal, consulting his pocket copy of
Fiddleton's Atlas
. The clouded sky was a gray porridge, the air as warm and wet as a dog's tongue. Addison loosened his tie against the stifling Colombian heat and addressed his team. “Olvidados is just a hop, skip, and a jump away. We'll be there before Molly can say something snippy.”

“That's exactly what you said when we left New York,” said Molly snippily. "Six hours ago.”

“Well,” observed Addison, “Rome wasn't built in six hours.”

“Maybe. But I bet you can at least
get
to Rome in six hours.”

Addison decided to let Molly have this round. International travel was probably enough to make even the Dalai Lama get a bit snappish with his monks. Addison sat down on a bench next to a weather-beaten man sipping a bottle of foul-smelling liquid from a brown paper bag. The leather-skinned man smiled a toothless grin and offered Addison the bottle.

“Thanks,” said Addison, waving a hand, “but Arnold Palmers are as strong as I go.”

Eddie returned from the ticket counter, beaming with pleasure. “Four bus tickets to Olvidados.” He fanned them in his hand and doled them out like a card dealer.

“What took so long?” asked Molly.

“Olvidados means ‘forgotten,'” Eddie said.

“So?”

“So,” Eddie explained, “I kept asking the cashier for a ticket. She'd say, ‘Where to?' And I'd say, ‘Forgotten.' And she'd say, ‘Where to?' And I'd say, ‘Forgotten.' It went on like that.”

“Well,” said Addison, “how long until our bus gets here?”

“I forget.”

Addison clasped his hands behind his back and resumed his pacing.

“Another thing,” Eddie continued, interrupting Addison in midpace. “I changed your uncle's cash into Colombian
money.” He handed Addison his uncle's wallet. “Instead of two hundred dollars, you now have
four hundred thousand
pesos.”

Raj tried to let out a low whistle before remembering that he couldn't whistle.

“Well,” said Addison, admiring the cash, “Colombia is starting to grow on me. You see, Molly, everything is falling neatly into place.”

Thunder exploded, and the clouds emptied their pockets. Torrents of rain hammered the street. The team anxiously eyed the flashing lightning.

“Chin up, everyone!” Addison shouted over the deafening deluge. “I'm sure when we get to Olvidados, it will be a glittering tropical paradise. The perfect vacation after a long week of school.”

•   •   •

Four hours later, Addison stepped off the bus in Olvidados and directly into a puddle of mud. Squabbling chickens and bleating goats exited the bus after him, followed by a very morose-looking Molly, Eddie, and Raj. Addison brushed a few chicken feathers off his blazer and offered his brightest smile. “Well, at least the rain has cleared.”

Molly, Eddie, and Raj had the look of people who've been holding their breath for four hours.

“We've been holding our breath for four hours,” said Molly.

“It reeked in there,” Eddie agreed.

“I found the ride rather pleasant.” Addison stretched his aching neck.

“I heard Colombia is dangerous,” said Molly warily.

Addison scanned his surroundings. The alleyway seethed with beggars, pickpockets, soothsayers, and knife fighters. Gypsies in brightly colored turbans sold fortunes for copper coins. Fire-eaters belched orange tongues of flame into the air. “It looks like the Bronx.” Addison shrugged.

“But what if we get kidnapped?”

“We can't get kidnapped,” Addison said confidently.

“Why not?”

“Stick to me like a tick, Mo. What do kidnappers want?”

“Ransom.”

“And where do they get it?”

“From parents,” said Molly.

“But we don't have parents,” said Addison. “And our aunt and uncle are
already
kidnapped, so we're covered.”

Molly nodded her head, seeing his logic.

Addison pulled out his compass, gathering his bearings. “The clue said,
‘By the Río Olvidado, lie the bones of the underworld that guard the key to silver and gold.'
So our first order of business is finding this Olvidado River.”

Addison led the group through the maze of Olvidados, following the local map from
Fiddleton's Atlas
. They
wandered past a blind man with a snake coiled around his neck who sang tunes in a tribal tongue and shook his tin cup for change. They edged past local women with gold hoops in their noses who drank corn wine from gourds and gossiped in the ancient Quechuan languages of the Incan Empire.

Like streams feeding a river, the alleys opened to streets that led to the bustling market square. There, dark-skinned women sold tapioca cakes and voodoo dolls. Road peddlers sold strings of glass beads and hawked water snake skins with medicinal qualities. But then Addison saw something truly remarkable: a girl with long black hair and bracelets all the way up her wrists. She was older than Addison, maybe fifteen. In her hand, she held a switchblade, and in her eyes, she held mischief.

Addison found his feet leading him directly to her. “Addison Cooke,” he said, extending a hand. “You probably can't understand English. But I had to introduce myself. I'm new to town and could use someone to show me the sights.”

The girl ignored Addison's offered hand. With her switchblade, she snapped the bottle cap off a soda and smacked it down on a cardboard box. She produced three conch shells and began shuffling them around on the cardboard.

“My name's Guadalupe,” she said in perfect English. “Follow the bottle cap. It's under one of the shells.”

Addison watched Guadalupe slide the shells back and forth with dizzying speed.

“If you think you know where the shell is,
amigo
, put your money on the table.”

Addison could not resist games of chance. His uncle Jasper loved everything from horse racing to roulette, and Addison had inherited the vice. He placed a few pesos on the cardboard box. “The bottle cap is hidden in your right hand. The one you're holding behind your back.”

Uncle Jasper had also taught Addison about confidence games.

Guadalupe frowned. “I see you've played this game before.”

“We're from New York,” Molly explained, taking her place next to Addison, who gathered up his money.

Guadalupe nodded. “We don't get many tourists. The only famous things to see in Olvidados are the cathedral, the llama farm, and the giant pile of rubber tires.”

“Your English is really good,” said Molly.

“It should be,” said Guadalupe. “I'm from Cleveland.”

Molly processed this. She glanced around at the derelict shop fronts and seething, trash-strewn alleys. “How did you end up
here
?”

“It's complicated.”

Addison nodded appreciatively at Guadalupe, liking her more and more. Here was a person with a few decent stories to tell.

“We're interested in looking for the bones of the underworld,” Eddie said. “Can you help us?”

“Bones of the underworld?” asked Guadalupe. “What kind of tourists are you?”

“It's complicated,” returned Molly.

“Bones of the underworld aren't my specialty,
chica
, but I can show you the sights,” said Guadalupe. “For a price.”

“Why should we hire you?” asked Eddie. “You just tried to cheat us.”

“You said you're looking for the underworld. I know every basement, alley, and gutter in this town.”

Addison admired street smarts and pluck. He beamed at Guadalupe. “I am an astute judge of character, and I think you will make an excellent guide.”

“I'm an astute judge of money. Show me yours, so I know I'm not wasting my time.”

Addison pulled out his uncle's wallet and opened it wide.

Guadalupe eyed the contents and made a quick mental calculation. “My price is four hundred thousand pesos.”

Addison considered himself a shrewd negotiator. Four hundred thousand pesos seemed just a bit steep. “Can I get a student discount?”

“Sure,” said Guadalupe. “Even better, how about a five-finger discount?”

“What's a five-finger discount?”

“This is!” And with her five fingers, Guadalupe snatched the wallet from his hand.

Before Addison could blink in surprise, Guadalupe was already hightailing it across the crowded market.

“John Wilkes Booth!” cried Addison.

“Who?” asked Eddie.

“That's what Addison says instead of swearwords,” Molly explained. “So he doesn't get in trouble.”

Addison darted after Guadalupe. Within seconds, she vanished among the throng of con artists, vagabonds, and thieves.

•   •   •

Fuming, Addison led his crew along narrow alleys, waded through a flock of passing sheep, and crossed a junkyard where a forlorn mule chomped at crabgrass.

“It's getting dark,” said Molly, blowing the stray wisp of hair from her eyes. “We have no money and nowhere to stay.”

“Molly,” Addison said, impatiently raising one hand in the air, “you're very quick to take a glass-half-empty view of things. I prefer to say we have nothing tying us down.” He consulted his map. “We'll find the location to the next key. It's near the river. We've come this far. It must be close.”

“We don't even have money now. How are we supposed to get out of here?” Eddie was a champion worrier, and once his thoughts began spiraling, they often flew
into a tailspin. “We could be stuck in Colombia for years. And we're supposed to be back in school on Monday! I need to get good grades so I can get into a decent college.”

“Take a good look around, Eddie.” Raj gestured to the festering warren of alleyways, teeming with cutpurses and desperados. He breathed deeply. “You're in life's classroom.”

Following his compass, Addison led the band through the shantytown in the gathering darkness. Sinewy women with cracked mahogany skin ground cassava in mortar bowls and boiled malanga leaves. The evening air smelled sweet with the fragrance of gardenias.

“Here we are,” Addison announced at last, looking up from his map. He reached the end of a trash-cluttered lane, turned the corner, and spread his arms dramatically. “The Forgotten River!”

To his amazement, the river was just a trickle of muddy ooze.

“No wonder they forgot about it,” Molly said.

Addison struggled to hide his disappointment. “To be fair, the clue was written five hundred years ago. I'm sure back in the day it was a fantastic river. The Frank's Pizza of rivers.”

Bells tolled from the cathedral. The team trudged up to the front steps of the church and flopped down in a tired heap.

“We found the Forgotten River,” said Eddie. “Now what?”

“I'm not sure,” Addison admitted, rubbing his tired legs. “The Cooke brain runs more smoothly after a moment's rest.”

“I'm hungry,” said Eddie. “I miss Restaurant Anatolia. Best Turkish restaurant in the city.”

“Eddie, when we find that treasure, you can afford all the Turkish food you want. You can buy Restaurant Anatolia and sleep on a bed of kebabs.”

“I could settle for that.”

“We shouldn't be thinking about ourselves,” said Molly. “Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel have been kidnapped for nearly twenty-four hours.”

“Molly, I haven't even begun to think about
not
thinking about thinking about our aunt and uncle.” Addison took off his wingtips and felt the cool cobblestones through his dress socks.

Eddie plopped down beside him. “I don't mean to sound defeatist, Addison, but this is completely impossible. If this Incan treasure's been around for centuries, how come no one's found it yet?”

“Because no one had my uncle's key. Any treasure hunters who came before us were just fumbling around in the dark. They didn't know where to begin.”