Samantha Spinner and the Super-Secret Plans

by Russell Ginns

  Life’s a bumpy ride, McPeppered with potholes that fling us, filled with despair, into the air. It’s so unfair! And there’s no umbrella big enough to shield us from the daily drizzle of our dreary lives.

  We have nothing to do and nowhere to go.”

  Nipper half ignored her. He was looking at an old baseball card Uncle Paul had given him.

  “Honus Wagner,” Nipper said, using the magnifying glass to examine the stats on the back. “A guy who never got to play with the New York Yankees…just like me.”

  “Wait,” said Samantha. “Let me take a closer look at that card.”

  Nipper had already put it away and was examining the pencils, paper clips, and coins on Samantha’s desk.

  “Sam, did you ever see an old penny up close? There’s a man sitting between the pillars of the building.”

  “That’s Abraham Lincoln,” said Samantha. “The building is the Lincoln Memorial.”

  Peering through the glass, he moved toward her.

  “Let me peek inside your nose.”

  “Cut it out,” Samantha said, and pushed him away.

  Nipper tripped and fell. He landed flat on his back, still holding the magnifier in front of his face. He started to study the underside of the desk.

  “Hey. I remember this piece of gum. I stuck it here last year. Do you think it has any flavor left?”

  “You are exceptionally gross,” said Samantha. “And stop touching my things.”

  “Technically, that gum is one of my things,” said Nipper.

  He rolled onto his side and started examining objects on the floor.

  “There’s a neat pattern on the bottom of your sandals.” He lifted a flap on the old umbrella. “This has a cool pattern inside, too.”

  He squinted at the inside of the umbrella for a few seconds. Then he stopped. He sat up quickly.

  “Come here, Sam. I want you to see something.”

  “Nipper. I do not want to see a shoe or a bug or inside your ear.”

  “No, really.” He handed her the magnifying glass. “Use this.”

  He pushed the button on the worn wooden handle and the umbrella popped open.

  “Hey! Close it!” Samantha shouted. “The last thing I need is more bad luck.”

  “Just look.”

  Samantha took the magnifying glass and lay down on her back under the open umbrella with her brother. She squinted to focus on what she was seeing, and, to her surprise, Nipper was right. There was a pattern on the inside of the umbrella. There were lines and shapes everywhere. But it was more than that. She took a closer look at things and saw that there were tiny pictures. Hundreds of them. No, thousands. She could see buildings, streets, tunnels, towers, ladders, stairs, trees, bridges, and fountains.

  The umbrella was a map!

  She recognized some of the drawings. There was the Eiffel Tower. There was the White House. There was a castle, an elephant, an ear of corn. But there were many more things that weren’t familiar at all.

  Samantha was pretty sure that one big shape was China and another was Australia. She could make out the Taj Mahal and the Leaning Tower of Pisa…and everything was connected!

  There were lines and arrows running from one picture to another. It looked like there was a tunnel under the Washington Monument. A zigzaggy line ran from the Statue of Liberty to a big sunken boat in the North Atlantic Ocean.

  The umbrella was more than a map. It was some kind of top-secret blueprint of the whole world.

  “Nipper,” Samantha whispered excitedly, “I think Uncle Paul gave me super-secret plans.”

  Section 03, Detail ASYJAPANRH

  The Hope Diamond

  The Hope Diamond is a 45-carat blue diamond about the size of a walnut.

  A French merchant obtained it from a mine in India and first put it on display in the 1600s. Since then, it has become one of the most treasured and storied gems in the world.

  Blue diamonds are extremely rare. Only about one in one hundred thousand diamonds is brightly colored, and blue is one of the rarest colors. A huge blue diamond is incredibly rare.

  Since 1958, the Hope Diamond has been on display at the Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History in Washington, DC.

  It is said to be insured for a value of $250,000,000.

  * * *

  • • •

  The huge diamond on display at the Smithsonian, surrounded by armed guards and a very elaborate security system, is actually a replica. It is a blue piece of glass that has a street value of seventy-five cents.

  The real gem was stolen from the museum several years ago.

  A tiny radio transmitter is attached to the true Hope Diamond. It emits a continuous signal broadcasting the gem’s whereabouts. Anyone with a receiver tuned to the correct frequency can pinpoint the location of the precious gem once they get within a few miles.

  Normally, Nipper was not the first person Samantha would want anywhere near her while she investigated an amazing discovery. Yet there they were, spending the rest of that day together on their hands and knees, poring over drawings and details on an upside-down umbrella.

  At first, they passed the magnifying glass back and forth, examining the tiny illustrations. They took turns calling out anything they could recognize.

  “Alaska,” announced Samantha. She passed the magnifying glass to her brother.

  “I think I see pyramids,” Nipper countered.

  “The Hollywood sign,” Samantha fired back.

  “Not fair,” said Nipper. “The Hollywood sign has letters. It’s like its own big label.”

  Most of the illustrations, however, did not have any letters or labels. The complete umbrella lining was an octagonal snarl of drawings with lines and arrows that ran in every direction, from one picture to another. There were a few numbers here and there and a few random words.

  It was as if someone had taken an atlas, a dictionary, and a few board games; chopped them up in a blender; and splattered all the tiny bits inside the umbrella.

  What Samantha and Nipper were really looking for was a picture or clue connected to Seattle. If they could find anything in their hometown, then they would be able to go and investigate.

  They’d have proof that the Plans were what they thought they were.

  Then maybe, Samantha thought, this might lead to a clue about what happened to Uncle Paul!

  Unfortunately, after several hours of inspection, they’d found nothing related to their home in the Pacific Northwest.

  By the time they came downstairs for dinner that night, both kids had lost a bit of their enthusiasm.

  “What have you been doing, you two?” asked their dad.

  “Research,” said Nipper.

  “He’s helping me with research for a story I’m writing,” added Samantha quickly.

  She wasn’t ready to tell her parents about the new discovery. If Uncle Paul had kept it secret, maybe it was important for her and Nipper to keep it secret, too.

  “Well, that sounds like a fine project,” said their mother. “And it’s good to hear that you’re writing something other than those gloomy notes in that little black journal.”

  Samantha and Nipper ate slowly and quietly. Staring at fabric for hours at a time would make almost anyone feel drowsy.

  As soon as they finished, Samantha and Nipper decided to make another trip across the driveway and up the stairs to Uncle Paul’s apartment. It gave them a break from staring at the inside of an umbrella. But it didn’t give them any new clues.

  Samantha read the spine of every book on the shelves.

  Nipper studied the note pinned to the wall opposite the windows.

  “I still think there’s some clue here about Uncle Paul and where he went,” he said, and tapped on the word waffles with an index fing
er. Then he took a step back and squinted at the arrangement of words to see if it was shaped like an umbrella. It wasn’t.

  Samantha looked over at the hula hoop trophy on the coffee table and then out the window to their house across the driveway. It was getting dark outside and starting to rain.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go back to the Plans.”

  They stepped quickly through the drizzle, down the wooden stairs and across the driveway, and went through the kitchen and headed up the stairs and into Samantha’s bedroom. Then they got down on their hands and knees and resumed searching, squinting, and passing the magnifying glass back and forth.

  Samantha studied a zigzaggy line that started at one edge of the umbrella. She traced it with her finger across the fabric. It ran through a blob shaped like a mitten.

  “Michigan,” she said, and continued tracing the line. It ran through a jagged shape that looked like the letter Y.

  “Mozambique, maybe,” she continued, sounding uncertain. “And…and…,” she continued as the line neared the center of the umbrella.

  “And what?” asked Nipper.

  “And…nothing. I got nothing,” she answered.

  Nipper let out a big sigh. “I’m more than tired of this,” he said, and grabbed the magnifying glass.

  He flipped the umbrella over and started to inspect the outside.

  “There’s nothing to see,” said Samantha. “Just red fabric.”

  Nipper continued to look though the magnifying glass, then stopped at a spot near the center of the umbrella. He looked up at Samantha.

  “Red fabric…and a flying saucer!” he said loudly.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “See for yourself,” he said, handing the magnifying glass back to her.

  Samantha stared through the lens and examined the umbrella. She noticed the tiny hole that she had peeked through a dozen times from the inside. Beside it, on the outside, she saw what Nipper saw.

  There really was a little drawing of a flying saucer. It was just above the hole, and it looked very familiar.

  “I was right, wasn’t I?” Nipper asked.

  “Hang on,” said Samantha.

  She took a closer look. The flying saucer, drawn on a tiny bit of fabric, was poking out next to the hole.

  Samantha folded the little bit of cloth back with a finger. She rubbed it a few times so it would stay in place. Then she carefully turned the umbrella over and started searching to find the same spot on the inside.

  Nipper leaned in and looked over her shoulder through the magnifying glass.

  There was a slender three-legged tower with the tiny flying saucer at the top.

  “The Space Needle,” they both said at the same time.

  Anyone who has been to Seattle knows the Space Needle. It’s a giant tower with a flying saucer–shaped top, and it stands in the north end of the city. On foggy days, all you can see is the top and its blinking red light, so it looks like space aliens are flying over the city.

  Uncle Paul had poked a hole in the umbrella right at that spot. Right where they lived!

  Samantha shifted the lens around, inspecting the drawings nearby. To the left of the Space Needle she saw a drawing of a mailbox. It had the number 3 written on it. To the right of the mailbox, there was a round building with arched windows.

  She and Nipper looked at each other, then back at the drawing. It was the brick water tower at the south end of Volunteer Park—just three houses down from where the Spinners lived.

  “That’s it, Sam!” Nipper shouted. “That’s our corner!”

  “And I bet that’s our mailbox,” Samantha added, pointing at the little drawing.

  “We’ve got to check this out now,” said Nipper, scrambling to his feet. “I’m heading out there.”

  Samantha rose quickly, reached for the back of his shirt, and grabbed him before he could get away. It was nearly midnight, raining, and pitch-black outside.

  “First thing in the morning,” she insisted.

  Then she let go of her brother’s shirt and picked up the umbrella. She folded it with a little more care than before.

  That night, she slept with the umbrella propped against the wall, right beside her bed.

  Early Saturday morning, Samantha’s parents were getting ready for the EPE—the Exotic Pet Expo—in Tacoma. It was an all-day event, so they didn’t expect to be home until evening. Mrs. Spinner was going to deliver her popular lecture “Nutrition for Extremely Large Lizards.” Mr. Spinner was going along to check out the very latest in light-up dog toys.

  They were bringing Dennis with them. Pets were always welcome on the EPE exhibit floor. Just not in the food court.

  “Be good, you two,” their father told Samantha and Nipper as he carried lunches and a spare umbrella to the car. “Don’t break anything while we’re gone.”

  Both kids knew he meant lamps and lightbulbs when he said that.

  “And, Nipper,” their mother added, “you really should stay away from that Snoddgrass girl. She’s not very nice to you.”

  Neither parent said anything about not going out and investigating a secret map to landmarks all over the world—which is exactly what Samantha and Nipper were planning to do.

  As the car pulled away down the drive, Samantha noticed Dennis through the rear window. His bejeweled collar sparkled in the sun. He had a weird expression on his face, as if he was hearing a strange noise. Or maybe he was just thinking about squirrels or waffles.

  The car turned and disappeared down the street. Samantha and Nipper sprang into action. They had at least eight hours until their parents would return, and this was their chance to see if the Plans were real. Within minutes, they were out the door.

  They hurried past the Snoddgrass lair, then past two more houses, and reached the end of the block.

  A blue mailbox stood at the corner of Prospect Street and Thirteenth Avenue.

  Samantha and Nipper had walked past it hundreds of times. And just like this time, there didn’t seem to be anything special about it.

  They both stared at the metal box with the round top. A label on the front said “US Mail.” There was a faded chalk drawing on the sidewalk of a kid with a sword through his head. Nipper had been there when Missy Snoddgrass drew that a few days ago. She’d ordered him to act it out, but he ran away.

  “What exactly are we looking for?” Nipper asked.

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” Samantha said, and shrugged.

  She walked slowly around the mailbox, looking for anything unusual. When she’d completed her circle, she opened the umbrella and gestured to her brother.

  “Help me look,” she said.

  Nipper took out the magnifying glass and raised it to the umbrella. Together, they examined the little drawing of the mailbox with the number 3 written on it.

  Samantha closed the umbrella, and they began to search the mailbox for buttons or a lever or anything unusual. Then they looked for anything that said “3.” They found nothing.

  Samantha reached out and pulled down on the handle of the mailbox flap. The opening was at her eye level, so she peeked inside.

  “Nothing,” she said, squinting into the dark. “It’s just a regular old mailbox.”

  “Let me have a look,” said Nipper, pushing her out of the way and standing on tiptoe.

  Momentarily the same height as his big sister, he peered into the mailbox slot as well and saw…nothing.

  “I told you there wasn’t anything to see,” said Samantha, holding the flap open and gesturing at it with her other hand.

  She let the mailbox close and something deep inside made a loud metal click. Samantha and Nipper looked at each other. A whirring noise kicked in.

  Sister and brother jumped back, sure that something was a
bout to happen. They stood on the sidewalk and watched the mailbox carefully.

  “Did you break it?” asked Nipper.

  “No,” said Samantha. “But I think I know what the number three means.”

  She stepped forward and grabbed the handle again, pulling the flap down and holding it open for at least ten seconds before letting go. She did this twice, and, each time, a click and a whirr followed. Then she hopped backward to stand beside her brother on the sidewalk.

  There was a rumbling, clanking noise, as if something very heavy was being unlocked. Then they heard a loud hiss and felt a gust of air rushing past them. With a low mechanical murmur, the ground beneath the mailbox moved. A section of pavement with the mailbox on top rose out of the ground, revealing a large rectangular shape underneath.

  “It’s a super-secret porta-potty!” said Nipper.

  Samantha chose to ignore him. She leaned forward carefully.

  There was an opening on the face of the steel chamber, with a long stairway leading down below the street.

  Both kids peered down along the stairway to where it disappeared. Then Nipper tapped Samantha on the shoulder and pointed up to some bright yellow letters stenciled above the opening:

  MAGTRAIN

  “Magtrain? What could that possibly mean?” Samantha asked.

  Nipper held out his hands, palms up. “I haven’t the foggiest idea,” he said, and shrugged.

  Samantha folded the umbrella and slung it over her shoulder.

  “You look like a soldier,” said Nipper.

  Samantha smiled.

  “Nope,” she said, moving toward the opening. “I’m an explorer, like Uncle Paul. Now let’s go find him.”

  Nipper followed her through the opening. They disappeared beneath the raised mailbox as they marched one after the other down the stairs.