The Amazing Adventures of 4¢ Ned (Coinworld: Book Two)

by Benjamin Laskin

The Raiders stashed themselves under a tangled clump of prickly pear cactus in a lot across the street from the numismatist’s home.

  After checking in with headquarters via a puddle made by a neighbor’s dripping yard faucet, Ned returned to the cactus where the cache of coins awaited instructions.

  “How long?” Harper asked.

  “Death Valley is the closest bullion base,” Ned answered. “I gave Deirdre our coordinates. She’s contacting the camp to send a squadron of eagles. They won’t arrive until tomorrow morning at the earliest.”

  “This is the part I hate the most,” Cody griped.

  Harper nodded his agreement. “I heard that last week we lost a team of Lincoln commandos waiting for a pick up in Oklahoma City. A group of kids turned the pennies into medallions on a railroad track.”

  Hannah gasped. “How horrible!”

  “Whose brilliant idea was it to hold up in a playground anyway?”

  “Not Deirdre’s,” Ned said, coming to her defense. “The team’s leader was a quarter trained at the Everglades base. He got sloppy.”

  Hannah said, “There’s been a lot of sloppiness lately. Don’t forget the teams we lost in Baltimore, Detroit, and Tulsa.”

  “Everyone is doing their best,” Ned said.

  “I’m not blaming anyone,” Hannah said. “We’re expanding too quickly. We’re getting further and further from the source. Those who aren’t instructed by the chief, Two Loons, you, or Pete Penny aren’t getting the proper training they need.”

  “We have no choice,” Cody said. “Logistics. If we don’t want to be waiting around for days or weeks after each mission then we need more bullion bases, at least one in every state. We only have, what, six now?”

  “Seven,” Harper said. “We just established the Big Bend Bullion Base in Texas.”

  “Texas is huge,” Cody said. “We should have five training camps there alone.”

  Ned, who had turned pensive at the mention of Pete’s name, said nothing.

  Hannah frowned. “Still no word from Pete?” she asked him.

  Ned shook his head, no.

  Harper said, “I’m sure he’s okay. Pete’s a clever copper, and few coins have the kind of moves that wobbly penny’s got.”

  “Well, we could sure use him,” Cody Quarter said. “No one can get a coin up and bucking faster than Pete. But of one thing we can be certain, he wasn’t snatched by a numismatist.” He chuckled. “No one would want to collect that beat penny.”

  “There are worse fates than falling into the hands of a collector and getting pressed into a Whitman folder,” Harper said. “Those luckless Lincolns in Oklahoma City suffered one example. “With a collector your circulating days might be over, but you won’t be smooshed into a stamp on a railroad track.”

  Hannah said, “Maybe the chief could get some word on him from one of his visions. The Coinim would know, wouldn’t they?”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” Ned answered. “Their contact is one way, and when the Coinim bother to communicate at all, it’s only about the future.”

  “A big help they are,” Harper groused.

  “We learn what we’re ready to learn; see what we’re ready to see,” Ned said. “I have a hunch that the Coinim are limited by their own set of rules.”

  “Excuse me,” squawked the safe’s 1838 Seated Liberty dime. “Don’t you think it’s about time you tell us what’s going on?”

  “No,” Cody said flatly. “You’ll know soon enough. We have procedures.”

  “If you want to know where they took that Peace Dollar, then I suggest you break your procedures, or I’m never telling you anything.”

  “Are dimes always so demanding?” Cody snapped.

  “Yes, we are,” the dime replied. “Don’t you know anything?”

  “Listen up, dime—”

  “Daphne,” she interrupted tartly. “Daphne Dime.”

  “Listen up, Daffy,” Cody continued, “you do as you’re told, or we leave you behind. You may be mint condition now, but you won’t stay that way here.”

  “Your threats don’t scare me.”

  He smirked. “You know, there are snakes in this lot.”

  Daphne blanched, and then stared at the quarter, unsure if he was teasing her. “You’re a bully,” she said decidedly. She turned her narrowed eye on the others. “What gave you louts the right to kidnap us anyway? We were just fine where we were.”

  “You insisted on it, remember?” Harper said.

  “Yes, well, you never said anything about a valley of death, bouillabaisse, or squashed pennies either.”

  Ned said, “You don’t have to come, Daphne. Tell me what you know about Franny and I’ll see to it you’re on the first tip taxi out of town.”

  “How do I know you brutes won’t leave me here with the snakes?”

  “The Four always keeps his word,” Cody said.

  “The what?”

  Cody uprighted, rolled over to Ned and pointed to him with an indicating half-twirl. “Him. The Four.”

  “A coin without basic math skills?” Daphne said, appalled. “Why on earth would you call a nickel four? My has education in this country deteriorated since I’ve been away.”

  Ned flashed Daphne his backside.

  “Sir, have you no mann—?” She gawped. “A four-cent nickel? Why, that’s…that’s grotesque!”

  “It’s a lot of things, ma’am,” Ned said, turning to face her. “It’s also part of the reason we’re all here, and why we had to raid that safe you were in.”

  “That’s hardly an explanation for anything,” Daphne retorted.

  “If you want the full explanation, then you’ll have to go to buck camp in Death Valley to receive it. We can’t tell you; we can only show you.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere but back into the marketplace.”

  Hannah said, “On my way over I saw some panhandlers about five blocks from here. Around the corner from them was a liquor store. You’d be circulating again in no time.”

  “Okay,” Daphne said. “I don’t trust these gangsters, but you’re a Liberty coin like me.”

  “You can trust her,” Ned assured the dime. “Now, please, what can you tell me about Franny?”

  “What is she to you anyway?”

  “She’s my girl, and I made her a promise.”

  Daphne snorted with incredulity. “What would a beautiful and rare silver Peace Dollar see in a four-cent nickel? 1938? Why, you don’t even have a drop of silver in you.”

  “Be that as it may, I still need to find her. Are you going to tell me or aren’t you?”

  “Fine, it’s your life,” Daphne said. “If you’d rather chase after a crazy fantasy than do what we were meant to do, that’s your business. Her collector lives in Providence, Rhode Island. He—”

  “Providence?” Cody said. “That’s right next to—”

  Harper cut him off with a “Psst,” and a stern shake of his head. Only top operatives were allowed to know the location of Coin Island.

  Daphne squinted at the coins with suspicion. “What’s so special about Providence?”

  “Nothing,” Harper said. “Keep talking, dime.”

  “Where in Providence?” Ned asked. “Do you have an address?”

  “Why would I know his address? Even if he’d had mentioned it, do you think I’d bother remembering such a triviality? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “How about the man’s name then?”

  “Charles.”

  “Charles what?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t hear him say.”

  “Charles from Providence,” Cody repeated with a dismissive snort. “A lot of good that does us.”

  “Well, sir,” Daphne huffed, “I’m sorry if I didn’t think I was an ear to some burgeoning conspiracy at the time. Do you think I ever expected to be whisked away to some ghastly lot where I’d be held hostage by a group of renegade, felonious coins? Not on your life!”

  “It’s okay, Daphne,”
Ned said. “Can you remember anything else about the gentleman?”

  “He was big, about sixty years old, and wore spectacles.”

  “All people are big to a coin,” Cody said. “Especially to a puny dime.”

  “Bigger than average, and heavyset, wisenheimer. I’d say over two hundred pounds. The show went for three days and he always wore a white shirt with bow tie. An amiable fellow with a big laugh, I recall.”

  “Do you know how long he has been in possession of the coin?” Ned asked.

  “Not long, a year or so. He said US silver dollars aren’t really his interest, and that he’s looking to trade up for a gold coin he’s been hunting for. He goes to a lot of shows hoping to spot that rare coin other numismatists overlook.”

  “Did he happen to name a particular show or convention that he was looking forward to attending?”

  “Now that you mention it, I heard him talking to the fellow at the next table that he might see him again this fall in Memphis. November, I think. He seemed fairly excited about that.”

  The coins exchanged mischievous glances, which did not go unnoticed by Daphne.

  “You aren’t seriously thinking that you could…? You are!” Daphne burst into tinkling laughter. “You coins are battier than a belfry!”

  “Thank you, Daphne,” Ned said. “Hannah will fly you to freedom now. May prosperity follow your every exchange.”

  Ned nodded to Hannah who took off in a sprint. After covering a foot of turf, Emma Eagle lifted her from the ground. The half dollar circled back and zoomed under the spiked, flat stem of the cactus and expertly snatched up the tiny dime. Daphne screamed.

  “I won’t be missing that troublesome ten-center,” Cody grunted.

  “Aw, she’s okay,” Ned said. “I can’t blame her for being a little paranoid and all. She’s probably spent the last twenty years locked up in one safe or drawer or another. Besides, buck ‘n’ rolling isn’t for every coin.”

  Harper said, “Four, we’ve got action across the street.”

  Ned turned to Cody Quarter. “Wanna have a look-see?”

  Cody rolled off and Ellsworth spread his big eagle wings, and launched into flight.

  “Man,” Harper said, “I wish I could do that. I’m a half dollar, after all. But I’m stuck with this big, dumb Liberty Bell and an itty-bitty eagle that couldn’t lift a pebble.”

  Ned said, “We’re learning new uses for our embossments all the time, Harper. I’m sure the Great Minter gave you that bell for a reason. One day it’ll come in handy.”

  Cody returned and hovered just beyond the cactus. “Police,” he reported. “They’re upstairs examining the crime scene.”

  “Take me over there,” Ned said. “I want to hear what they say. Harper, you guard the cache until Hannah returns. If there’s trouble, dong that big bell of yours.”

  “Yeah,” Harper griped, “me and my dumb bell, that’s about all we’re good for.”

  Ned chuckled and Cody zipped over and snatched him up.

  “Darnedest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” said the first policeman, Officer Harris.

  “Any idea how the cat got in there?” his partner, Maloney, asked. “The poor pussy looks like she’s seen a ghost.”

  Mr. Price, the homeowner and coin collector, picked up the shaken cat and stroked her quivering body as he scanned the room.

  “Nothing else was touched up here,” he said. “I keep a gun in the bottom drawer of the dresser. The thief didn’t touch it. And why didn’t he just swipe the whole collection? He left the most valuable coins behind.”

  “How much are we talking?” Officer Harris asked.

  “Of those he stole? At their current value, about five hundred dollars. I have some coins worth thousands in there.”

  “The downstairs is a mess,” Maloney said. “Did you notice anything missing?”

  “No, I haven’t much of value down there. No money, except for a penny and a dime I found under the ripped-up cushion of my reading chair. Do you think my insurance will cover reupholstering?”

  “I’ll make sure it goes in our report,” the officer said. “Have you spoken with your neighbors to see if any of them saw anyone snooping about?”

  “Yes, but no one saw anything unusual.”

  “Hmm, well, it appears that the only witness we have is your cat. Too bad she can’t talk.” The officer reached to tickle the pussy under the chin. Gigi screeched and bit his finger. “Ouch!”

  Mr. Price grimaced. “Sorry about that, Officer. Gigi’s a little upset.”

  The policeman grumbled and shook and sucked at his bleeding finger.

  Ned and Cody Quarter, who were observing the men from the windowsill, chuckled.

  “Well,” said Officer Harris, “a forensics crew will be here shortly and they’ll grab up any fingerprints there might be, though the thief probably used gloves. You say the doors were locked when you came home?”

  “Yes, sir. Good locks too. The thief must have come in through the window there.” He pointed.

  Officer Maloney walked over to the window.

  Cody snatched Ned in his talons and dropped from the ledge. As he fell he went into super-twirl, which worked as well as a runway, obtained flight, and flew around the side of the house. The coins hovered and peeked around the corner. They saw the policeman stick his head out the window and look about.

  “No ledge,” Maloney called back. “Just a sheer wall. Do you have a ladder on the premises, Mr. Price?”

  “Usually, but I lent it to a neighbor three weeks ago and he’s yet to return it.”

  “Don’t you hate that?” Officer Harris said. “My neighbor’s had my wheelbarrow for a month. Another borrowed my hand drill and then lent it to someone else! Can you believe it? I ask you, what’s the difference between them and a thief?” He shook his head in disgust. “People, I tell ya…”

  His head still out the window, Officer Maloney said, “Unless the guy could fly, I don’t see how he could have gotten up here. And by the way, your lawn needs cutting. Did you lend someone your mower too?”

  Cody laughed and said, “Another unsolved mystery. Wanna go back?”

  “Hold on. Someone else just drove up.”

  A black, 1954 Hudson coupe stopped in front of Mr. Price’s house. A tall man in a long coat and gray fedora stepped out of the car. He walked to the door, knocked once, and then strolled inside.

  “Can’t be,” Ned said.

  “Can’t be what?”

  “Fly us back to the window.”

  Cody did as asked, and the two coins alighted on the windowsill just as the stranger entered the bedroom.

  “Who are you?” demanded Maloney.

  “The name is Stryker. Dr. Monroe Stryker.”

  “You with forensics?”

  “No, I’m a PI.” He handed the officer his card. “I knocked but no answer. The door was unlocked so…”

  Maloney turned to Mr. Price, “Did you call a shamus?”

  “A private investigator? No, sir.”

  “What’s a doctor doing in the PI business?” Maloney asked.

  “A doctor of philosophy,” Stryker clarified, “and the two have more in common than you might think. Both conduct investigations. Both examine evidence. And both sleuth for the truth, do they not?”

  “Who sent you?” Officer Harris asked.

  “I’m working a case for another numismatist.”

  “A what? That’s Greek to me, pal.”

  “A French derivation from the Latin, actually,” Mr. Price interjected. “A numismatist is a person who collects coins, currency, or medals.”

  “You don’t say?” Harris said. “My son collects postage stamps. What does that make him?”

  “A philatelist,” Mr. Price answered.

  “That’s Latin to me,” joked Harris, elbowing his partner.

  “Er, that derives from the Greek,” Mr. Price said apologetically.

  “Dagnabbit,” Harris muttered.

  Maloney
said, “How did you hear about this break-in, Stryker?”

  “I scan and monitor police frequencies. Nothing illegal about it, you know. There has been a rash of such burglaries lately. Another very similar one happened last week in San Diego, but they seem to be countrywide. My client lives in San Francisco. I have been trailing the thieves up and down the coast.”

  “First we’ve heard of ‘em,” Harris said.

  Stryker shrugged his thin shoulders. “Not my problem. Let me guess, the coins were worth just a few hundred dollars?”

  “That’s right,” Maloney said.

  “Quarters and half dollars mostly?”

  “Yes,” Mr. Price said. “But they also took a dime.”

  “What kind?”

  “An 1838 Liberty dime.”

  Stryker worked his jaw in thought, as if it wasn’t the answer he expected. “That’s Liberty sitting on a rock, a laurel wreath on the reverse, right?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Interesting.”

  “Out with it, shamus,” Maloney said. “You know something we don’t?”

  Stryker smirked. “Most of the burglaries involved the theft of coins with bald eagles on the reverse side—quarters, half dollars, and silver dollars.”

  Mr. Price scratched his dimpled chin. “That’s odd indeed.”

  “Or even,” Stryker muttered.

  “Come again?” Maloney said.

  “Nothing,” the PI evaded, twisting the tip of his mustache. His eyes darted suspiciously about the room.

  “Four,” Cody said, surprise splashed across his Washington face, “could the man be onto us?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “Do you know him?”

  “We’ve met before.”

  “Is he a collector?”

  “Worse,” Ned answered. “A hunter.”

  “Yikes. Maybe we ought to get going.”

  “Not yet. I want to know what he knows.”

  “Mr. Price,” Maloney asked, “do your missing coins have eagles on them?”

  “It didn’t occur to me until Mr. Stryker here mentioned it, but yes, yes they did. All but the dime.”

  Officer Harris said, “Maybe the thief grabbed the dime by mistake.”

  “Maybe,” Stryker said, dubious.

  “How long have you been working this case of yours, Doctor?” Maloney asked.