Candy Shop War (35 page)

“That’s all I know,” Eric said.

“I hope so.” John shook the straitjacket. “We can do this either of two ways: You can cooperate, or I can force you. The jacket really isn’t as bad as I was saying. I don’t plan to keep you here long.”

“I’ll cooperate.”

John helped Eric into the straitjacket and duct-taped his mouth. “Have a seat in the bathroom for now,” John said. “Unless you want to have a staring contest with the Fuse.”

Eric went compliantly into the bathroom.

John, Nate, Summer, and Pigeon huddled together. “Are there any Haags affiliated with your school?” John asked.

“Gary Haag is the custodian,” Pigeon said. “And there’s a third-grade teacher named Mr. Haag.”

“Are they related?” John asked.

“I don’t think so,” Pigeon said. “At least not closely.”

“Do either of them have older relatives who once worked at the school?”

None of the kids had an answer. John started thumbing through a worn phone book.

“Nate, lend me your cell phone,” John said. Nate handed over the phone, and John punched in a number. “Hi, yes, my son is in Mr. Haag’s third-grade class. I have an emergency situation on my hands. Is there any way I could speak with Mr. Haag? He isn’t? No, that’s all right. Remind me, what is Mr. Haag’s first name? That’s right. Thanks a lot.” John returned the phone to Nate. “Mr. Haag is out today. Considering all that has been happening, his absence could mean a lot. Summer, call the school from the motel phone. Ask if Mr. Haag the custodian is in. You’re his niece.”

Summer crossed to the phone and picked it up. John told her the number and she dialed it. “Yes, is Mr. Haag the custodian there today? This is his niece. You did? No, no message, thanks.” Summer hung up. “She saw him there like half an hour ago.”

John started flipping through the phone book again. Finding the desired page, he ran a finger down a column of names. “Lester Haag,” he said, tapping the entry. “Gotcha. Any of you three familiar with the custodian?”

“I know him pretty well,” Pigeon said. “He’s a nice guy. He was extra friendly back when nobody talked to me.”

“We’ll drop you at the school, Pigeon,” John said. “Find out if the custodian had ancestors working there before him. If the moment feels right, ask about the key. If all else fails, find out if he is aware of any old passageways under the schools. The rest of us will pay Lester Haag a visit. My gut tells me Lester is our man.”

“How’d you catch the Fuse?” Nate asked.

“Snuck up behind him when he was out alone one night,” John said. “Not very gentlemanly, but so it goes. He can’t access his power if I keep him gagged.”

“What should we do about Eric?” Summer asked, inclining her head toward the bathroom.

“Give me one minute to make him more secure,” John said. He opened the closet, removed a length of rope, and disappeared into the bathroom. When John returned he reached under the mattress and pulled out a dart gun. He took a large crossbow from under the bed and a pair of throwing stars from a drawer. Grabbing the phone book, he strode swiftly to the door. “Away we go.”

Nate, Summer, and Pigeon collected their backpacks and followed him out. John locked the door.

“Where’d you get all the weapons?” Nate asked.

“I know a guy,” John said.

“If you can’t kill people, why the huge arsenal?” Nate pursued.

“Weapons are what I know. Apart from my curse, there’s nothing magical about me. I can use them for intimidation. I can use them to wound an enemy. I use tranquilizer darts and non-lethal bullets. My curse only applies to humans. If a magician conjures up creatures, or has familiar animals, I’m free to dispatch them. And, if the situation warrants, I can slay a single enemy. The price is just really steep.”

They drove in silence and soon reached the school. Class would not let out for another hour.

“Pigeon,” John said, “you know how to call Nate’s cell phone?”

“Yeah.”

“Here’s some change.” John opened an ashtray and handed Pigeon several quarters. “Call when you know something, or if you need anything.”

“You got it,” Pigeon said. “Good luck with Lester.”

The Buick drove away.

Pigeon walked hesitantly into the school. He had never roamed Mt. Diablo Elementary during school hours without a hall pass. He hurried along the covered walkways, keeping an eye out for a custodial cart outside the rest rooms.

Aware that the custodian’s office was by the cafeteria, Pigeon headed that way first. He entered the empty cafeteria and saw that the door to the custodian’s office was closed. He ran over and gave a quick knock.

“Come in,” said a voice.

Placing a Sweet Tooth in his mouth, Pigeon opened the door and stepped inside. Gary Haag sat with his feet on his desk, balancing a clipboard on his lap.

“Hey, Gary,” Pigeon said.

“Pigeon, how are you?” He dropped his feet and stood up. “Can I help you with something?”

“I have kind of a weird question,” Pigeon said.

“Shoot,” Gary said.

“Do you have any relatives who worked here before you?”

“Yeah, my uncle used to be the custodian. He scored me my first job here. Why?”

“Just curious. Did he have any family who worked here before him?”

Gary gave Pigeon an unusual stare. Almost always a laid-back guy, he suddenly seemed suspicious. “He did. Why are you curious about that, Pigeon?”

“Do you know anything about a key?”

Gary got up, went to the door, peered out, and then shut it. “I have lots of keys. Why are you asking about a key, Pigeon?”

“A special key. A key your family protects.”

Gary paled. His lips twitched. “You shouldn’t talk about keys.”

“I know about the treasure under the school,” Pigeon said.

Gary closed his eyes and rubbed them. He leaned against the door. “I know what you’re talking about, Pigeon, but I’m not sure you do.”

“I do,” Pigeon said. “A lot of people here in town are after that key. You wouldn’t believe what kind of people. I’m not one of the bad guys, I’m here to help.”

Gary sighed. “Pigeon, when my great-uncle gave me the key, he warned me that one day somebody might come asking about it. He told me I had to kill that person.”

It took Pigeon a moment to muster a response. “Gary, no, I’m not trying to steal the treasure.”

“I hear you, Pigeon, but this is serious business. I may not come across as the sharpest knife in the drawer, but when it comes to the key, I don’t mess around. The lives of my whole family are tied to that key.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’d never believe me.”

“I’ve seen some crazy stuff lately,” Pigeon insisted. “Real magicians, candy that gives you powers, talking animals. I’ll believe you.”

Gary crossed his arms. “My family has protected the key for well over a hundred years. My great-great-great-grandfather Ebner Haag originally took on the responsibility. All of his direct descendents are held accountable. Only a few of us know about it. My great-uncle guarded the key for about forty years, then passed it to me. Pigeon, if you put the key in an oven, my family gets feverish. If you put the key in the cold, we start freezing. If you put the key under water, nobody in my family can breathe. I’ve seen it or I wouldn’t believe it. My uncle tossed the key in a sink, and I started drowning. If the key fell into the wrong hands, somebody could kill us all, or at least blackmail us. Pigeon, unless I protect the key, we’ll all suffer. And if anyone in my family uses the key to unlock the door . . . we all die.”

“Be glad I found you first,” Pigeon said. “There are powerful magicians who have almost figured out you have the key. I’m working with a guy named John Dart to keep them from stealing the treasure.”

Gary rubbed a finger back and forth against his nostrils. Tears glistened in his eyes. “I can’t do what my uncle said. I don’t want to kill anybody, Pigeon. I really don’t.”

“Then don’t,” Pigeon said. “You can trust this John Dart guy. He won’t let anybody harm your family.”

“No, Pigeon, I can’t trust anybody with this,” Gary said. “I have to leave town. Look, I believe that you stumbled into this unluckily. I don’t know what to do. I can’t let you share what you know.”

“Gary, lots of people know I’m here! They know all about you! You lose nothing by letting me go.”

“I could lose time,” Gary murmured. “Look, I won’t hurt you, I believe you mean no harm, but I need to tie you up while I get away. Go sit in that chair.”

Pigeon obeyed. “You should consider letting John Dart help you. I don’t think you can hide from these magicians.”

“I have a place in mind, and people who can help me,” Gary said. He started using an extension cord to bind Pigeon to the chair.

“Please don’t make it too tight,” Pigeon said. “I have sensitive skin.”

“Somebody will find you,” Gary said, winding the cord snugly around Pigeon’s chest and arms. “If you know what’s best, you’ll keep your mouth shut. If others are looking for me, let them do it on their own. If they hear about me from you, I promise, I’ll make you pay.”

He snagged another extension cord and started working on Pigeon’s legs. Pigeon begged, “Gary, don’t leave me here like this.”

“Be glad you’re alive,” Gary said. “Don’t try to get out. Let somebody find you.”

Gary finished binding his legs and used a rag to gag him. “Sit tight, Pigeon. I’m sorry about this.” He hurried out of the room, shutting the door.

As soon as the door closed, Pigeon started struggling. It soon became apparent that squirming free was going to take a lot of work. Despite his plea, the cords were quite tight. The gag trapped the Sweet Tooth in his mouth, and Pigeon began to feel like he was going to choke, so he chewed it as best he could and swallowed. The action seemed to cause no harm.

Jerking with his whole body, Pigeon began hopping the chair closer to the desk. The telephone was not far from the front edge. The chair was low enough, and he was short enough, that his head was not much higher than the phone. The cords were not wound high enough to prevent Pigeon from craning his neck.

By doggedly inching forward, he managed to position the chair close to the desk at an angle that allowed him to touch the phone with his face by tilting his head forward and sideways. He nudged the handset off the cradle, then began pecking numbers with his nose, proud that he remembered to dial 9 first for an outside line.

After pecking the final number, Pigeon leaned his ear as close to the handset as he could. He heard it ringing.

“Hello?” Nate answered.

“Ate!” Pigeon grunted, trying his best to enunciate in spite of the gag.

“Pigeon?”

“Ary as a ee!”

“What?”

“Ary as a ee!”

“Gary has the key?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where are you? Why do you sound like that?”

“Urry oo is ouse,” Pigeon grunted.

“Hurry to his house?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where are—”

The line went dead. Had the cell phone dropped the call? Straining forward, Pigeon pressed his nose to the cradle and hung up the phone. There was no dial tone. He pecked 9. Still no dial tone.

He caught a flicker of motion on the floor. Turning his head, he saw the little plastic surgeon doll running toward the door. Pigeon yelled at it, his cry muffled by the gag.

The doll paused near the door and faced him. Pigeon struggled against the extension cords to no avail. The doll pointed at Pigeon’s backpack, saluted, fell flat, and wormed under the door.

Pigeon lurched wildly against the extension cords. He had to get free! They had been spying on him! They knew everything he knew! The chair tipped over sideways. The painful shock of the fall left him momentarily dazed. The extension cords remained snug. From his uncomfortable position, Pigeon stared at the unplugged phone cord.

*****

“Pigeon? You there? Pigeon? I lost him!” Nate hung up the phone and thumbed over to the received calls menu.

“Gary has the key?” Summer asked.

“That’s what he told me,” Nate said, calling Pigeon back. There was no answer. “He could hardly speak.”

“Is he in trouble?”

“Sounded like it.”

Nate and Summer were seated in the Buick a block away from Lester Haag’s house. John had gone ahead alone to scout it out. Nate tried calling Pigeon again.

“We better get John,” Summer said.

“Pigeon said we should hurry to Gary’s house,” Nate said. He put away the cell phone. “Whatever line he called on is suddenly out of commission.”

“I’ll grab John,” Summer said.

“I’m coming,” Nate said.

They got out of the Buick and hurried along Ingrim Place until they reached 2225, a modest home with a basketball hoop out front.

“Think he’s inside?” Summer asked.

“John?” Nate called in a loud whisper. “John?” There was no answer. “Let’s try the door.”