Clue by Clue

by Catherine Hapka

  “I will ask the questions, s’il vous plaît,” he retorted. “I must demand that you cease your plans to set up a crime headquarters on this island.”

  Carmen blinked, still trying to figure out how in the world Devineaux had tracked her down on this desolate mountaintop. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been flailing in the Thames—with no way of knowing where she was heading next.

  “A crime headquarters?” she said. “What are you talking about?”

  “It is no use lying to me, Carmen Sandiego. Interpol has eyes and ears everywhere—including airports all over the world. And of course, I am still a top Interpol agent—at least as far as most of those eyes and ears know at this moment.” He smirked.

  Carmen had no idea what he was talking about. But it didn’t matter. She had to lose him, fast. There was no time to waste if she wanted to beat the VILE operatives to the treasure. “Whatever,” she said. “If your eyes and ears think I’m setting up a crime HQ here”—her gaze swept over the steep jungle landscape—“they’re sadly mistaken.”

  Devineaux shrugged and pulled out a handkerchief to mop his brow. “Fine—you will have plenty of time to confess once I take you into custody.”

  “I don’t have time for this.” Carmen pocketed the decoder and her phone, then grabbed her bag. “I have to go.”

  “No—stop right there!” Devineaux cried, lunging toward her.

  Carmen dodged him easily, running down the trail and skidding around the corner by the sheer drop-off. For a second she thought about digging her glider out of her bag and taking a shortcut down. But she could already hear Devineaux crashing through the brush only steps behind her—there was no time.

  Guess that’ll teach me to keep my tools ready, even when it’s hot, she thought ruefully.

  She leaped over the fallen tree near where she’d left the motorbike. Right beside the bike, nibbling on the jungle foliage, stood a stout spotted donkey.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “You must be Wesley.”

  The donkey looked up at its name, blinking at her. “Red?” Player said. “What’s going on? Was that really the Interpol guy you were just talking to?”

  “Crazy, right?” Carmen gave Wesley a quick pat. “Luckily even my half-broken-down motorbike should be faster than his mode of transportation. No offense, Wesley.”

  “Wesley? Who’s that?” Player sounded confused.

  “I’ll explain later. Tell Zack and Ivy to stand by—we’re going to the beach.” Carmen leaped onto the motorbike and turned the key. The motor choked and sputtered, then finally roared to life.

  She started down the trail at top speed, then glanced back over her shoulder. Devineaux was clambering awkwardly onto Wesley’s back. The donkey’s ears went flat with annoyance as Devineaux kicked him stoutly with both heels, shouting commands in French and bouncing around like a sack of potatoes when Wesley lumbered into a trot.

  “That was close,” Carmen told Player. “But I should be able to outrun—hey!”

  Suddenly the motorbike started wobbling wildly, veering back and forth across the path despite her best efforts to steer. Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen saw something pop out from one of the tires, then another.

  “Red? You okay?”

  “Not exactly.” Carmen fought to keep the bike upright as she throttled down. “Devineaux must’ve loosened my lug nuts! The rat!”

  She wrestled the bike to a stop just as one of the tires popped off completely and rolled away down the hill. A second later came the sound of thudding hooves. Wesley trotted into view with Devineaux clinging to him, bouncing higher with each stride.

  “Aha!” Devineaux called in triumph as Wesley drifted to a halt and stretched his head down to nibble at some grass. “Now I have you right where I want you, Carmen Sandiego. Will you come peacefully, or must I resort to using force?”

  “Hmm, let me think about that . . .” Carmen tapped her chin, pretending to ponder the question. Meanwhile she was reaching for the old rubber bulb of the bicycle horn on the motorbike, hoping it still worked . . .

  SQUAAAAAAWWWKKK!

  The blare of the horn was so loud that Carmen jumped, even though she was expecting it.

  Wesley, on the other hand, clearly hadn’t expected it. He leaped up with all four hooves off the ground, braying in surprise.

  “Stop that, you wretched beast!” Devineaux cried as the donkey spun around. The inspector grabbed for the creature’s reins, but it was no use—Devineaux tipped off and landed on the rocky ground with a grunt and a splat.

  The donkey leaped forward a few steps, then stopped again. He flattened his ears when Carmen vaulted onto his back. But he moved off obediently when she squeezed with her legs.

  “Giddyup, Wesley,” she said. “I bet you can run faster than some French guy, right?”

  He could. When Carmen gave him another squeeze, Wesley stepped into a surprisingly smooth canter. “Noooo!” Devineaux cried, lurching to his unsteady feet. “That is my donkey!”

  “Sorry, Inspector.” Carmen waved cheerfully as the Interpol agent staggered after her, waving his fists. “I guess you can add donkey hijacking to my long list of crimes.”

  She was still laughing at her own joke when Devineaux’s shouts of fury faded behind her.

  Chapter 18

  Just off the Coast of Tortuga

  “Are we there yet?” Zack moaned, clinging to the side of Sasha’s sailboat.

  “Almost,” Player said on the comm-link. “You’ll be coming up on the westernmost point in a few minutes. Might want to bring the boat in now, though—the surf is higher up ahead, and I’m not sure Zack’s stomach will hold out.”

  “Thanks, Player,” Carmen said. She glanced at Sasha. “You can bring her in right here if that’s okay. We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  “Sure.” Sasha adjusted the rudder. “Who’s Player? And how are you talking to him?”

  “Uh, long story.” Carmen traded a look with Ivy and Zack. “We’ll tell you later.”

  Or maybe not, she thought, feeling a twinge of guilt. Without Sasha and her grandfather—and her cousin Joseph, for that matter—it might have taken much longer to track down that last clue. Carmen didn’t want Sasha to feel used and kept in the dark, but there were some things she just didn’t need to know.

  Carmen pulled out her cellphone and handed it to Sasha. “We’ll call you on this when we need you to come pick us up,” she said. “We . . . uh . . . might need help loading something heavy.”

  Sasha looked confused. “Okay . . .”

  Soon Carmen, Ivy, and Zack were on a wide strip of white sand separating the crystal blue water from the lush green jungle. The warm late-afternoon sunlight cast long shadows across the beach from several large, craggy outcroppings, ranging in size from a few meters tall to one the approximate size and shape of an eighteen-wheeler truck. Just beyond the rocks, a stream wound its way down the sand to meet the sea, with a line of swaying palm trees and other greenery lining both sides.

  “Cool rocks,” Ivy commented, squinting at them.

  “Yeah, this whole place is nice!” Zack exclaimed, hoisting the shovel he was holding onto his shoulder. Ivy was carrying a spade as well, though she was using it as a walking stick.

  Carmen barely spared a glance for the scenery. She was striding north along the beach, scanning the trees beyond the sand. “Look! Over there—that must be Heart Rock.”

  She pointed to a medium-size heart-shaped outcropping at the edge of the jungle. “Yeah.” Zack gulped loudly. “And look over there!”

  Several people were gathered in the middle of the beach up ahead, just a few meters beyond the largest rocky outcropping. “Tigress and her crew,” Carmen said. “Looks like El Topo is already making progress on digging.”

  “Oh no!” Ivy looked worried. “What do we do now?”

  “Yeah—they’re winning!” Zack sounded just as upset as his sister.

  “Don’t worry, guys, we’re still in this game.”
Carmen smiled at them. “Because I’ve been thinking about that last clue, and I realized something important. So here’s what we’re going to do . . .”

  Chapter 19

  Ten Minutes Later . . .

  Carmen crept across the sand toward Heart Rock. She was almost there when Tigress spotted her.

  “Well, if it isn’t the Red Rogue!” she cried. “Late to the party as usual!”

  “Let me guess.” Carmen crossed her arms over her chest. “Le Chèvre scaled that cliff to beat me to the clue.”

  She’d figured it all out during the long ride down the mountain on Wesley. Le Chèvre could climb just about anything—even if Tigress’s crew had arrived on Tortuga an hour or two after Carmen, he easily could have beat her up that mountain.

  “Uh-huh. And it turns out Mime Bomb actually is pretty good at cracking those codes. He figured it out right away.” Tigress smirked, unsheathing her claws. “I told the faculty they didn’t have to worry about you beating us to the treasure. But they always overestimated you—especially Shadowsan.”

  Carmen let out a snort. “Yeah, right!” She circled Tigress warily, staying just out of range. “That’s why I failed his final exam and he wouldn’t let me retake it, huh? Because I was teacher’s pet?”

  “Whatever.” Tigress sounded bored. “The point is, I win. El Topo should have that pirate booty dug up any second now.”

  “Not if I find it first!” Carmen exclaimed. She leaped forward, darting around Tigress and circling the massive truck-size rock standing between her and where El Topo was digging steadily into the sand. Zack and Ivy had just darted out of the jungle and disappeared behind that same huge rock, though Carmen was pretty sure the VILE operatives hadn’t noticed.

  “Hey!” Tigress chased her. “Le Chèvre—a little help here?” she cried.

  Le Chèvre rushed over, blocking Carmen’s way before she could get halfway to El Topo’s hole. “Stop right there!” he exclaimed.

  Carmen rolled into a somersault, knocking his legs out from under him. Tigress growled and leaped forward, tackling Carmen in turn. Her claws slashed, barely missing their mark as Carmen rolled out from under her.

  “Two against one?” Carmen taunted as Le Chèvre jumped to his feet and Tigress circled for another attack. “I always knew you guys were bullies.”

  “You’re the bully, Carmen,” Tigress sneered. “You’re jealous because you couldn’t hack it as a VILE operative. So you’re trying to get revenge.”

  “You’re half-right.” Out of the corner of her eye, Carmen spotted Le Chèvre rapidly scaling the front of the truck-shaped rock. She jumped aside just as he leaped down toward her.

  “Oof!” He landed in the sand. Carmen jumped over him and took off toward El Topo again. Mime Bomb was standing by the edge of El Topo’s rapidly growing hole, watching the fight and shadowboxing along.

  “Stop that!” Tigress yelled at him. “If you’re not going to help us, at least help him!” She frowned as she glanced toward El Topo, who had all but disappeared into his hole. “How deep is this treasure buried, anyway?”

  Mime Bomb shrugged dramatically. Then he pretended to pick up a shovel and mimed scooping sand out of El Topo’s hole.

  Carmen barely spared the diggers a glance. Tigress and Le Chèvre were already coming at her again . . .

  For the next few minutes, the two operatives did their best to stop her from reaching El Topo’s digging site. Carmen battled her way closer and closer but was still several yards away when El Topo suddenly popped up out of the hole.

  “The treasure is not here. It can’t be!” he exclaimed. “I have already dug down thirty feet!”

  Carmen snuck a look toward the little stream nearby. Was that a flash of movement behind the palm trees? She hoped so—she wouldn’t be able to distract Tigress and the others much longer.

  Le Chèvre scratched his head, looking confused. “We are digging in the right spot—I know it!”

  “Oh, really?” Carmen smiled, pausing for a long moment to give Zack and Ivy a little more time. “I know something that VILE doesn’t know,” she singsonged playfully at last. “You measured out eighty paces from the heart-shaped rock, right?”

  “Of course.” Le Chèvre drew himself up to his full height. “I paced it out myself.”

  Carmen nodded. Zack and Ivy had reached the water’s edge, the waves splashing against their legs and the pirate chest. El Topo had gone back into his hole, and sand was flying up from it again. Mime Bomb was peering down at his fellow operative.

  “Yes, it makes sense that they’d have you pace it out, because your paces are probably close to those of a typical pirate,” Carmen told Le Chèvre. “A typical adult male pirate, that is. But what you didn’t know is that Cal Cutlass was not a typical adult male pirate.”

  Tigress frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “Cal was a teenage girl, not an adult man,” Carmen said. “It’s all in her diary—which I read, and you didn’t.” She smirked. “So her paces? They were probably a good five or six inches shorter than a man’s.”

  Tigress’s eyes widened as she caught on. “We were digging in the wrong spot!” she cried.

  Mime Bomb suddenly raced over and tapped Tigress on the shoulder.

  “What is it?” Tigress growled, pausing midcharge. “Get out of the way! I almost clawed your painted face off!”

  Mime Bomb waved his arms and pointed frantically. Carmen backed away from Tigress, keeping a wary eye on Le Chèvre. But he was watching Mime Bomb now too.

  “What are you saying?” Tigress exclaimed, sounding frustrated. “Three words—first word . . . uh . . . eyes?”

  Mime Bomb had formed spectacles with his hands, peering through them in the direction of the huge truck-size outcropping. “Glasses?” Tigress guessed. “Goggles? Sightseeing? Oh, look, if you’re going to . . .”

  She trailed off. At her last few words, Mime Bomb had suddenly started dancing around and touching his nose.

  “What’d I say?” Tigress asked Mime Bomb. “‘Look’? Is that what you’re trying to say? Look at what?”

  This time Mime Bomb raised his arms and waved them around, keeping his legs close together. Tigress stared at him blankly.

  “What?!” she exclaimed. “Why can’t you just talk already?”

  “I know!” Le Chèvre grinned. “He is pretending to be a tree!”

  “A tree?” Tigress frowned. “What’s that supposed to—oh! Is that what you’re saying? ‘Look at the tree’? Which tree?”

  Le Chèvre glanced around. When he looked toward the palm trees, his eyes widened. “Those trees!” he cried.

  “Heads up, guys!” Carmen shouted. “Incoming!”

  She sprinted toward the palms by the stream. Just beyond the tree line, Ivy and Zack were dragging a battered wooden chest into the surf.

  “Got it, Carm!” Ivy cried in triumph.

  “Oh, man, this thing is heavy!” Zack groaned.

  Tigress and Le Chèvre raced after Carmen. Le Chèvre skidded to a stop, and his jaw dropped. “Is that . . .” he began, staring at the wooden chest as Zack and Ivy pulled it farther into the water.

  “Stop them!” Tigress yelled.

  Carmen acted fast, flicking her wrist to shoot out her grappling hook. It zipped across the sand at waist height, catching on a crag on one of the smaller outcroppings between the operatives and the sea.

  “Oof!” Tigress grunted as she hit the rope, flipping head over heels onto the sand. “Ow!” she cried as Mime Bomb landed on top of her. “Get off me!”

  Le Chèvre managed to skid to a stop just in time. He leaped over the rope, calling for help from El Topo, who was still deep in his hole, oblivious to everything else.

  But by then Carmen was running through the surf to help Ivy and Zack. “Did you call Sasha?” she cried as she helped hoist the chest above the waves, which were splashing around their waists by then.

  “Uh-huh.” Zack nodded toward the deeper water. A sailboat was bob
bing just beyond the breakers.

  By the time the VILE operatives splashed into the surf, Carmen and her friends were almost to the sailboat. “Don’t bother chasing us, Tigress,” Carmen called as Sasha reached down to help haul the chest onto the boat. “I know cats don’t like getting wet—especially twice in one day.”

  Tigress let out a yowl of frustration, but it was too late. Seconds later the sailboat was tacking back out to sea.

  * * *

  On the boat, Zack was already looking a little seasick. But he patted the top of the chest. “Come on, let’s see what’s inside!” he urged.

  “What is that thing?” Sasha asked, glancing over as she went about her business sailing the boat.

  “Oh, just your basic long-lost pirate booty,” Ivy said casually. “It’s all in a day’s work for our girl Carmen.”

  Sasha looked confused, but Carmen nodded. “Let’s see if all this was worth it.”

  She kneeled before the chest and pulled out an eyeliner pencil. Sasha looked confused.

  “You’re putting on makeup—now?” she said. “Are we going to a party?”

  Carmen chuckled and flicked off the top of the pencil, revealing her lock-picking tool. The pirate chest’s lock was rusty and stiff with age, but within seconds she had it open.

  “Voilà,” she said, flipping open the lid.

  “Whoa!” Ivy whispered in awe.

  For a long moment, nobody else said a word. They just stared at the treasure glinting in the light of the setting sun. Red rubies. Glittering green emeralds. Jewels of every shape and color, many set into intricate gold filigree rings, elaborate tiaras, or other jewelry. And then there were the doubloons—lots and lots of gold doubloons. Sitting on top of it all was a moldy old hat and a black eye patch.

  Carmen smiled. “She did it,” she said. “She even snagged Captain Goldtooth’s favorite hat—just like she vowed.” She reached out to touch the eye patch. “And this must have been hers . . . She wouldn’t have needed that kind of disguise anymore, I guess.”

  Suddenly Zack found his voice. “Shiver me timbers!” he shouted. “Now, this is what I call pirate’s booty!”