by Mike Rich
He pushed himself up onto the very tips of his toes, looking at the top with a quizzical expression.
No crown on her forehead. What’s the deal with that?
Whoosh.
Eiffel pulled the tarp from the second item and revealed half of the statue’s crown. The openings below the crest were smaller than Henry would have guessed. Gustave then yanked the final tarp away, revealing the crown’s other half.
“You’ve heard of her, oui?”
“Oui,” was all Henry could manage to utter.
“The rest of her is being shipped a few months from now, but this part? This part I did not want making the trip alone.”
Henry stammered, “Mr. Eiffel, I . . . I . . .”
“Breathtaking, is she not? I have a friend in the newspaper business—your country, not mine—who has been raising money for the pedestal that will be her new home. It is incredible, Henry. Young children have been reaching into their own pockets to give ten cents, twenty-five cents, whatever they can afford . . . all because of one man’s vision.”
Henry felt Eiffel’s hand on his shoulder. “Full and impressive as any continent or sea.” The visionary smiled proudly as he gazed up at her. “She is that, isn’t she?”
The young, once former, hunter standing next to Eiffel felt a tingle at the base of his own neck. A flutter of sudden revelation. Two words that made him realize he was hunting once again.
Continent. Sea.
Sea. Continent.
Henry whipped his head around and looked at the long metal pyramids scattered around on the floor.
“Mr. Eiffel, what are these exactly? The big ten-foot-long spiky things?”
“Those?” The great designer nodded toward the nearest one. “Well those are the rays to—”
“Her crown,” Henry finished the sentence without even realizing he had, already knowing the answer—already suspecting he might have just figured out the answer to everything.
The young current hunter dashed straight over to the closest of the pyramids, pointing a counting finger at it and then doing the same with all the others.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, and . . . seven.”
The visionary, still puzzled, moved next to Henry’s side. “Oui, seven,” he confirmed. “Sept rayons de sa couronne.”
“No.” Henry shook his head with a growing smile. “Not just seven rays of her crown. Seven . . .”
“Continents!” Eiffel suddenly realized what Henry had just pieced together. “Seven seas! Oui, bien sûr! That’s why Frédéric chose the number, I know this! He even did so because he has seven children!”
Henry took in a deep breath.
“Mr. Eiffel . . . sir. Would it be all right if I took a minute to look at the seven rays of Lady Liberty’s crown?”
With a gleam of childlike excitement in his eyes, the visionary replied, “Young man, I want to find out if you’re correct as much as you do. So please, be my guest.”
The closest was right in front of Henry, who rushed over to its tip, slowly peering at every inch along its dull gray metal, running his hand over the sandpaper-textured surface as he searched for hidden words.
Until he reached the opening to the three-foot-wide base at the opposite end.
The ray was hollow.
All seven of them were.
Henry looked at Eiffel with a knowing grin. The great designer’s lips pursed into an adventurous smile.
“As I said . . . be my guest,” Gustave said to the young hunter.
Henry couldn’t get to his hands and knees quickly enough. The hollow base of the ray was actually wide enough that he was able to crawl inside about four feet before it became too narrow. He took a look around—the dim light from behind now barely bright enough for him to see beyond another foot or two. Henry reached as far as he could . . . his fingers finding . . .
Nothing.
He pushed himself back out.
Okay, it’s just one. I’ve still got—
“Six more, Henry! Go!” Eiffel encouraged him as the young man emerged. “It could be any one of them!”
But Henry was already scrambling into the second ray. The ray that represented a great sea, a great continent, a visionary’s child. Looking, reaching, finding . . . nothing.
“Five more, Henry! Keep looking!”
Monsieur Eiffel could barely contain his own delight, straining to look over Henry’s shoulder at each stop. And at each of these stops, Lady Liberty’s crowning rays proved empty. A hollow third; a fourth spike that merely echoed; a fifth and sixth that teased him with a stray set of bolts, but turned out to be as vacant as the rest.
Dang. Only one left. Dang, dang, dang.
Henry approached the seventh ray, and then stopped. Unable to hide a growing look of disappointment, he turned his head toward Eiffel.
“Listen to me, Henry,” the great designer said, moving closer. “There is a measure of providence in every discovery. It led me to my vision for the tower. It led you to me. To Madame Liberty. Why should you be surprised that it will be the seventh sea? The seventh continent?”
Henry nodded.
Gustave, his sleepy eyes vibrantly awake now, squeezed the young adventurer’s shoulder and wished him luck, “Bonne chance, jeune homme!”
The words, and the manner in which he’d said them, put Henry back at Mark Twain’s desk for a quick moment. He remembered Mattie standing next to him, feeling her excitement as he sensed he was on the brink of getting the best of Skavenger.
“Go ahead, Henry! Go on!”
Henry Babbitt crawled in and reached deep inside the seventh sea, the seventh continent, as far as he possibly could. Slowly his hand circled the cold interior of the final ray. Looking. Reaching. Finding . . .
SOMETHING!
SOMETHING’S IN THERE!
The tip of his finger brushed over the edge of whatever-it-was-he-couldn’t-tell-yet and a rush of air burst through his tightened lips.
“I found something!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the final ray of La Liberté éclairant le monde’s crown.
“What is it?!” Eiffel excitedly called back.
“I’m not sure yet!”
A year or two more of growth and Henry would have been able to reach it with ease, but not yet. Instead, he had to wriggle his way in a bit more so that his outstretched hand could finally grasp:
AN ENVELOPE.
He grabbed it and twisted his way back out, where Eiffel was waiting with keen anticipation. Feeling better than he had in a week, Henry held up the envelope for the visionary to see. It was the same brilliant yellow as the one given to him by Mark Twain, though this one featured an even deeper hue of sparkling gold.
“Open it!” Eiffel urged him.
Henry’s finger was already under the envelope’s flap, neatly ripping it open on the first try.
I found it, Chief! I found it, Dad! Skavenger’s next clue. Right inside the Statue of Liberty’s crown!
Henry’s hands shook as he pulled out a small, elegant card within. He held it up to his astonished eyes.
There it is. The next riddle. The next clue.
“‘Congratulations, worthy adventurer,’” Henry read the words out loud, until Gustave interrupted him.
“No, Henry,” he said kindly. “This is your clue, not mine.” Henry nodded and gulped, and then silently read the entire clue to himself.
Okay, here we go . . .
Your prize awaits you in Old New Amsterdam.
His eyes took in the words.
Mulberry, Little Water, Anthony, Cross, Orange. Enter the door that bears my name, but know that it will take ALL your courage, ALL your bravery, for ONLY YOU will have the chance to declare yourself winner of my incalculable treasure.
He looked up at Eiffel, having decided to read the next four words, the last four words, out loud for him to hear . . .
“‘Good luck, lone adventurer.’”
The visionary shook his head in wonder and breathlessly ask
ed, “Do you know where it is?!”
Henry looked at the words again. “I’m not sure yet,” he replied, turning the card over and finding it blank. “I think it’s in New York somewhere.”
Just then, the first trickle of fear crept into the pit of his stomach. Fear at the meaning of the words he’d just read.
He had the only clue.
The one clue that others had already shown they were willing to kill for. Doubt. Grace. Who might not be in Paris for too much longer.
What do I do now? I can’t just . . .
Suddenly overwhelmed by his discovery, he slowly looked up at one of Riggin’s Three E’s. His eyes begged the great designer for any words that might help him.
“I have faith in you, young man.” Eiffel smiled reassuringly. “You are the lone adventurer. You stand on the threshold of doing what no one has done. You, and you alone.”
Monsieur Gustave Eiffel patted Henry on the shoulder as he reaffirmed what they both now realized.
“Henry. You are the only one who can find Skavenger’s treasure!”
TWENTY-ONE
Three of a Kind
HENRY TRIED HIS best not to run toward the front of the boat, even though not running after this little discovery was like asking the wind not to blow.
Countless thoughts and questions hammered through his mind as he walked . . . quickly: The hunt’s back on! If there’s only one clue, no one else can find it. Okay, what do you do, what do you do? Figure it out, there’s a start.
Doubt. Dark Men. They were on the train. They could be here. No, no, no, don’t go there. Keep your eye on the ball. Figure out the clue.
Mulberry. Little Water. Anthony. Cross. Orange.
Mulberry. Little Water . . .
What the heck does any of that mean? All right, just think it through. One at a time.
Anthony’s a name, that feels like a safe bet. Cross? Could be a code maybe. Maybe, maybe not. Could be . . . well . . . okay, you can come back to Cross. What about Orange? Orange could be anything.
He walked faster, looking over his shoulder—double-checking his pocket to make sure the envelope was still in there.
It was.
What if you’re able to solve it? This, the last clue? I mean, yeah, you don’t have the ledger sheet anymore, but if you figure this one out and show up where you’re s’posed to show up? You’ll finally get to see Skavenger! He’s gotta be able to help you get back somehow!
The port side of Le Chasseur—the hunter—was where he was headed. There was a little area wedged between the lifeboats where Jack and Ernie usually played cards with the Bulgarians. Henry had found them there days earlier while taking a rare walk, after hearing Jack crow that he’d drawn a spades flush.
This time it was Ernie he could hear as he drew closer.
“Full house, Nikolai! Nines and fours!”
The proud declaration was followed by the sound of the loser’s cards being slapped to the wooden deck in disgust. Henry glanced in every direction before crouching low to find himself a foot away from Jack.
“Hey,” he said to him with his widest smile of the last week.
“Whoa, Babbitt,” Jack said as he gathered up the cards. “Decided to get out for a walk, huh? Good for you.”
“You got room for another player?” Henry grinned as he pulled the envelope from his coat pocket. “I might be able to throw this into the pot.”
Ernie’s eyes grew wider than the pair of life rings hanging above his head.
“That’s a different one, that’s a different color, that one’s new, isn’t it?” He rattled off the words in half a second as he dropped the worn, yet winning, playing cards in front of him.
“It’s not just a different one, and it’s not just a new one,” Henry answered. “It’s the only one.”
Jack threw down his cards and hopped into the air like a rocket. “We’re out, boys, sorry,” he informed the suddenly confused Bulgarians.
“What do you mean, to be out?” Nikolai protested. His fellow Bulgarian, Toma, merely held up his hands in dismay.
Jack and Ernie, though, were already smack-dab in front of Henry, their sudden, sharp attention focused on the envelope he held like treasure in his two hands.
“You found it?!” Ern asked him in amazement. “Where? When?”
“Here! Just now! All right, here’s the deal,” Henry started to babble. “Eiffel’s on the ship. This ship. I found him. Down below. Storage. Eiffel!”
“Wait, wait, wait . . . slow down, Babbitt,” Jack said, his hands urging Henry to keep his voice low. “What do you mean Eiffel’s here? The Eiffel? The one you messed up on?”
Henry’s head nodded like a steam piston hard at work. “That Eiffel. The Eiffel I messed up on. It wasn’t the Tower we should have been looking for! The Tower’s not there yet.”
“Yeah, yeah, we kinda know that already,” Ernie replied. “So what should we have been lookin’ for?”
“The Statue!”
“Statue? What statue?” Jack whispered.
“The Statue of Lib—” Henry stopped, realizing it might not have been given that name quite yet. “It’s the statue the French built; the one they’re sending as a gift.”
“I’VE HEARD OF THIS STATUE!” Ernie shouted. Jack’s glare advised him to pipe down too.
“It’s on this boat, Ern!” Henry had picked up on the whispering. “That’s where I found it. Eiffel’s making sure it gets to New York okay.”
“And you think the clue you’re holdin’ right now, in your two hands, you think that’s the only one?” Jack already looked convinced enough to start watching for anyone trying to overhear.
Henry looked around as well before opening the envelope. After his runaway breathing settled down, he gently pulled the card up just enough to reveal Skavenger’s puzzle.
In a quiet and discreet voice, he read every word of it to them, then handed the envelope to Jack so he could take a look for himself. The twelve-year-old hunter swallowed as Jack repeated the last few words that Henry already knew by heart . . .
“‘Good luck, lone adventurer.’”
Jack studied the handwritten words a second time before handing the clue back to Henry, shaking his head and saying, “You did it, Babbitt. You really did it! We’re back in this thing!”
He gave Henry a proud pop in the shoulder—much different from the pop he’d given him on the Paris train platform a week earlier.
“We all did it,” Henry said with a smile. “All of us. Mattie especially.”
As he said those last few words, he noticed a look of dread beginning to overtake Ernie.
“Ern? Ernie?!” Henry asked with a quickly worried look. “What’s wrong?”
Jack turned to look as well. Ernie’s eyes had an almost-glazed look to them.
“I . . . I don’t know if I can do this,” he said to the two of them, a wavering tone in his voice.
“What do you mean, you can’t do it?” Henry asked, growing more and more worried by the second. “We’ve got the very last—”
“I mean, I don’t think I can walk through that door, that’s what,” Ernie interrupted. “I don’t even wanna get close to that door.”
Henry had seen Ernie afraid more than once, but this was beyond that. This time he wasn’t just afraid. He was frozen with terror.
Even Jack looked more concerned than Henry’d ever seen him. “Ern, hey, what’s the matter here, pal?” he asked.
Out of the blue, Ernie erupted. “What’s the matter?!” he shouted loudly. “You really have no idea what’s the matter here, Jack?!”
A thinly built ship purser with a hastily trimmed graying beard approached, drawn by Ernie’s bubbling meltdown. “Est-ce que messieurs, là m’excusent sont un problème?” he inquired.
“No. No, sir,” Henry quickly reassured him as he tucked the envelope back into his pocket. “Aucun problème.”
Appearing to be unconvinced, the purser turned his attention back to Ernie, apparently wan
ting to hear it straight out of him. “Problème?” he asked again.
C’mon, Ern, calm down now. Calm down. Envelope’s in the pocket. Just get him to walk away. Lower your voice. We’re all good.
Ernie shook his head. “No,” he answered the purser, less than convincingly in Henry’s mind at least. “No problem. No problem at all.”
The purser said nothing for a long moment or two before giving Ernie and the boys nothing more than a curt nod and a simple “bon” as he turned and walked away.
The very second he was out of sight, Jack whipped around to confront Ernie. “No problème? No problem?” He somehow managed to keep his voice under control. “I’d say we’ve got a big problem, Ernie pal! Now tell me what’s got you so spooked.”
“THINK ABOUT THE—” Ernie started to reply, before realizing he was still too loud. “Think about the clue, Jack,” he whispered. “You’re so excited Henry found it, you didn’t even listen to it!”
Henry took in a quick breath.
Ernie’s already solved it. That’s why he’s scared. He’s got it!
“Lemme see it again.” Jack curled his finger toward Henry, who pulled out the envelope again and handed it over.
“You figured it out, didn’t you?” Henry asked Ernie as he took a step closer to him.
Ernie nodded, but said nothing. The fear that had overtaken him a few minutes earlier seemed to be getting a second wind.
“It’s gotta be in New York, right?” Henry asked. “Right?”
“Oh, it’s in New York all right.” Ernie sat against the edge of a nearby lifeboat and put his head in his hands. “It’s in New York. At Mulberry . . . and Little Water . . . and Anthony . . . and Cross . . . and Orange.”
Jack’s chin dropped with what looked to be a rush of sickening understanding. Slowly, he placed the card containing the clue back into the envelope.
Henry was confused. “Okay . . .” he calmly said to both of them. “So the way you just said that makes it sound like you’re talking about streets.”
“He is talking about streets.” Jack handed the envelope back to him. “Skavenger’s right. This is gonna take all the courage and all the bravery we’ve got, if we can even find this door that’s got his name on it.”