The Candy Shop War
Page 66

Nate, Summer, and Pigeon collected their backpacks and followed John to the front of the school. He was driving an old Buick. The exterior was clean although the paint was chipped and scratched.
“Shotgun,” Nate said, climbing into the front seat and sitting on the dry, cracked upholstery.
“Nine-millimeter handgun, actually, modified to shoot darts,” John said, sliding in and starting the car. “Buckle up.”
“Mine doesn’t work,” Pigeon said.
“Sit in the middle,” John said.
Pigeon scooted over and buckled the lap belt.
“Where are we going?” Nate asked.
“The Paradise Inn,” John said.
“Isn’t that kind of a dump?” Pigeon asked.
“My third dive since hitting town,” John said, turning onto Oak Grove Avenue. “We may have to make an extra stop before then. You kids have a traveling eye monitoring you.”
“Traveling eye?” Pigeon asked.
“Some magicians can send a traveling eye to help them spy on distant events. This one looks like a bubble.”
“I’ve seen it before!” Pigeon said.
“It showed up in my room before the Indian took the Stargazer,” Nate said.
“Then the eye belongs to Belinda,” John said. “Reach under your seat.”
Nate reached under his seat and pulled out a crossbow. Instead of an arrow, the string held a small cup covered by a leather cap. It looked ready to fire.
“The weapon shoots forty silver pellets,” John said. “I typically use it for other purposes, but it should get this job done. Have any of you kids ever fired a crossbow?”
The kids were silent.
“How about a rifle?”
Nate and Pigeon shook their heads.
“I have,” Summer said. “My grandpa took me.”
“I can’t afford to shoot the eye myself,” John said. He pulled into a large parking lot adjacent to a supermarket and several smaller stores, including a tanning salon, a Chinese buffet, and a copy shop. He parked in a vacant area near the back of the lot. “Nate, give Summer the crossbow. Summer, the eye is above and behind us to the right. It may be hard to identify against the blue sky. Aim by putting the bead at the front of the crossbow into the notch at the rear and lining it up with the target. You’ll get only one shot.”
“Then I’d better use some of this,” Summer said, inserting a stick of Peak Performance gum into her mouth.
John reached back and released a mechanism on the crossbow. “The safety is off,” he said. “Ready? On three. One . . . two . . . three!”
Summer pushed open her door, stepped out, and aimed the heavy crossbow. The baseball-sized bubble hovered right where John had described, about thirty feet off the ground, barely visible. Holding her breath, she pulled the trigger. The cup lurched forward, the leather cap slid off, and a cloud of pellets were catapulted into the air.
The bubble burst, and a red smear appeared on the parking lot beneath it. John got out and took a look at the smear. “Great job,” he said, patting Summer on the back. “You shot her eye out. She’ll think twice before sending the other one after us.”
“You mean she actually lost an eye?” Summer asked.
“That’s the risk she took,” John said, taking the crossbow from her. “Hurry, hop in the car.” He climbed behind the wheel and passed the unusual crossbow to Nate, who stowed it under the seat.
John revved the engine. Peeling out, they swerved back onto the street and drove away at well beyond the speed limit.
Chapter Seventeen
House of Haag
The Paradise Inn consisted of a two-story horseshoe of rooms wrapped around a weedy parking lot. Opposite the office was a small gated swimming pool, deserted except for a few dirty deck chairs. A sun-bleached Temporarily Out of Service sign hung on the battered ice machine. The marquee bragged about the swimming pool and the cable TV.
John pulled the Buick into a spot and killed the engine. There were only three other cars in the lot. He got out, looked around, opened the trunk, and hauled Eric over to room 6. Stabbing a key into the lock, John thrust the door open.
The air-conditioning unit below the window was working hard to keep the room cool. John sat Eric on the edge of the bed. Eric looked sweaty and scared.
“I’m going to make this simple, Eric,” John said. “You’ve become involved with a wanted criminal. If you don’t tell me all you can about everything she is doing, you will never see anyone you love again.”
“Who are you?” Eric asked, not very defiantly.
“You don’t want to know,” John said.
John stalked over to the closet and opened it. The man with the lurid birthmark sat inside wearing a straitjacket, duct tape over his mouth. John pulled a straitjacket off of a shelf and closed the door. Eric watched gravely.
“Ever try one of these on?” John asked, unfolding the straitjacket.
Eric shook his head.
“Funny thing,” John said. “Take a sane person, put on a straitjacket, and it isn’t long before he starts acting absolutely nuts. Let’s see how it fits.”
“I’ll tell you stuff,” Eric said.
“Start with the map,” John recommended.
“I haven’t seen it,” Eric said. “She told us about it this morning. She said it was written on a piece of vellum she found in the ship’s cabin.”
“Vellum?” Pigeon asked.
Eric shrugged.
“Specially treated calfskin,” John clarified. “Lasts for centuries. Go on.”
“Mrs. White said she had to read it under a microscope. She said the treasure is somewhere beneath the school.”
“Your school?” John asked. “Mt. Diablo?”
Eric nodded. “She wanted us to start checking out the school for underground tunnels. We haven’t found anything yet. That’s all I know.”
“Why wasn’t your friend Kyle at school?” John asked.
“I don’t know,” Eric said. “Maybe he was tired. He wasn’t with us this morning.”
“You guys got out of the barn okay?” Summer asked.
“No thanks to you losers,” Eric said. “Denny almost bought it. He couldn’t move, and we couldn’t budge him. The roof was starting to come down when the candy finally wore off.”
“What else can you tell me?” John probed. “Think hard. You’re not just helping yourself, you’re helping Denny and Kyle. You boys don’t want to be mixed up with Belinda White, especially if she gains the power this treasure would grant her.”