The Curse of the Ancient Emerald

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “This is where he’ll try to get in,” Joe said.

  I nodded. “We could use some of these crates to hide out in.”

  Joe peered into one and made a face. “I suppose. What’s wrong with watching from the comfort of the car?”

  “We’re closer here.”

  Just then there was a noise behind us. We whirled around, but it was only Amber and Chet.

  “We saw you guys come in,” said Chet

  Amber looked around. “You thinking of hiding out in these crates?”

  I nodded. “But Joe wants to watch from the car.”

  “Shouldn’t we do both?” asked Chet. “What if he tries to get in another way?”

  “Good point,” I said.

  We decided that Chet and I would wait in the crates, while Joe and Amber would watch from each of the two cars.

  Joe and Amber left to take their positions, and Chet and I shifted two of the crates so that we could see the entire back of the museum as well as the driveway that led to the front. The crates had slats wide enough for us to see out of without being spotted.

  “Right,” I said. “Now we wait.”

  If I ever write a memoir about being a detective, I’m going to be sure to mention the waiting. Sometimes I think 50 percent of the detective business is spent waiting: waiting for people to show up, waiting for clues to make sense, waiting outside buildings for people to leave. It never ends.

  The hours passed and darkness fell. Streetlights flickered to life. Crickets chirped in the warmth. And we watched.

  Seven o’clock rolled by. Then eight. Then nine.

  The crate I was sitting in was huge, easily big enough for me to stretch out my legs, but I was still getting cramps. I was just about to risk a quick jog around the back lot when I heard something that made me freeze.

  I couldn’t see anything. But I had definitely heard a scuffling sound. Like a shoe on concrete.

  I waited, holding my breath.

  And finally saw him. He was standing in the shadows against the wall, merging seamlessly with the darkness. I carefully lifted my camera and pushed record. Using night-vision mode, I could clearly see a black-clad figure that must have been the Phantom. Chet had brought his own camera, as had Amber. Hopefully we’d get the whole night on record.

  The Phantom, wearing a ski mask, stood there for about five minutes, then moved to the back entrance and crouched down. He attached a black box with wires trailing from it to the key-card reader. He fiddled with something out of sight, and a couple of minutes later stood up and opened the door.

  No alarm.

  I took out my phone and texted the others. HE’S INSIDE.

  I climbed out of the box and hurried over to Chet. He was already getting out, having seen the Phantom as well. We moved across the lot pressed up against the wall, just in case the Phantom saw us.

  Joe and Amber arrived a minute later, and all of us moved to the door. I checked the keypad on the wall. The Phantom’s gizmo was still attached to it.

  We entered the museum. A few of the display cases were lit with soft glows, but that didn’t really help us see; it just made everything look creepy. We moved along the corridors, passing the Ice Age exhibit, then through the Life in Victorian Times exhibit, and past the Wild West room, until we finally approached the room where the Emerald of Astara was kept.

  I held my hand out to the others, signaling for them to wait while I slowly peered around the side of the door. I could see the jewel in the center of the room, lit from above by a spotlight. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was still there.

  But where was the Phantom? I checked the shadows, even went up to the roof.

  But he didn’t seem to be here.

  “What about the security room?” whispered Joe after I had reported back. “Maybe he’s trying to disable the alarms for the jewel. Remember when the guide said they were separate?”

  I nodded. “Anyone know where the security system is?”

  “Maybe down that corridor?” Amber suggested. “The one that led to the restoration room?”

  We retraced our steps, heading to the front of the building. But as we were about to pass the Ancient Egypt room, we froze.

  There was banging coming from within.

  Inside I could see glass cases filled with hieroglyph-covered sandstone. Sarcophagi lined the walls.

  It was here that we saw the Phantom. He was tugging one of the sarcophagi open, checking inside before moving on to the next.

  “What’s he doing?” Chet whispered.

  I shrugged and held up the camera as we all entered the room. We stood before the door so he couldn’t escape.

  “Turn around,” I said.

  The Phantom whirled around to reveal—

  Jack Kruger.

  He had his ski mask rolled up onto his head. His eyes were wide with shock.

  “What are you doing here?” he said in amazement.

  “We could ask the same thing,” growled Joe. “But we know what you’re doing.”

  “Then help me!” he hissed.

  I lowered the camera, keeping Kruger in frame. “What?”

  “Help me find him!” Kruger said.

  He turned away and pulled open the next sarcophagus with a crowbar.

  “Hey!” exclaimed Joe. “You’re damaging them!”

  “I don’t care. I need to find my son!” Kruger cried.

  His son? I glanced at Joe, but he looked as confused as I felt.

  “You’ve lost us,” I said. “What about your son?”

  He whirled around. “You said you knew!”

  “We knew you were going to break in here to steal the Emerald of Astara!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I got a text message. Someone calling me by my old name. It said Lance was sealed inside one of these sarcophagi. That I only had an hour to save him! Look!”

  He fumbled for his phone and showed us the screen. Sure enough, there was a picture of the guy we’d seen at the window of Kruger’s house shoved into a sarcophagus. His eyes were closed. I shook my head in confusion. This made no sense at all.

  Kruger glared at me, his face twisted in anger. “Other than Trethaway, you’re the only two who knew who I was. You did this. Why?” He took a threatening step forward.

  “Hey, we have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Joe. “You’re the one who threatened our family. You’ve been sending us riddles, trying to steal treasures. Just give it up. We’ve caught you!”

  Kruger stared at us. Then he turned to the next sarcophagus and fiddled with the lid. It was empty, just like the others.

  “Lance!” he shouted. He put his ear to the next one. “Lance!”

  I looked around nervously. He was shouting, his voice filled with panic. It looked as if he was telling the truth.

  I put away the camera and went to one of the last three sarcophagi. “Help me,” I said to Chet.

  Chet was about to argue, but he saw the look on my face and decided against it. He helped me pry open the lid while Joe and Kruger did the same with the last two.

  All were empty.

  “Where is he?” hissed Kruger. He turned to us. “What did you do?”

  I was about to answer when an earsplitting howl echoed through the museum. The alarm!

  We looked at one another in horror. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if we were caught in here. “All of us need to get out!” I shouted. “Now!”

  Kruger looked around in frustration.

  “Your son isn’t here!” I cried. “This is the only Egyptian exhibit in the museum.”

  Kruger kicked one of the sarcophagi, and we sprinted from the room. The front door was closest. Kruger broke the lock with his crowbar and shoved the door open. We ran out onto the museum steps—

  And what felt like one hundred spotlights erupted to life, shining directly into our faces, blinding us to anything that lay beyond.

  “This is the Bayport Police Department,” the fa
miliar voice of Chief Olaf echoed. “You’re all under arrest. Put your hands up and get down on your knees.”

  THE TRUTH

  14

  JOE

  I DROPPED TO MY KNEES as a figure walked out in front of the lights, blocking some of the glare. As he approached, I saw it was Chief Olaf. He looked angrier than I’d ever seen him.

  He stared down at us as if trying to understand what he was seeing. “Explain this to me. We get a tip that someone is stealing a prized French Renaissance painting, and we turn up here to find you four.”

  French Renaissance painting? The Renaissance exhibit was at the other end of the museum. Then the rest of his words registered. Four of us? I looked around and realized that Amber had managed to escape. That was something, at least.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” said Frank.

  Chief Olaf turned to him. “Really? Then the story you tell me at the station is going to have to be pretty amazing, Frank.” He shook his head. “What are your parents going to say?”

  I gulped. He was right. This looked incredibly bad for us. No matter how we tried to explain it, we had been caught red-handed breaking into the museum.

  The alarm was still going off. Chief Olaf frowned and turned to his crew. “Can someone stop that alarm and kill the lights?”

  After the searchlights had winked out, I blinked furiously and looked around, wishing suddenly that the harsh glare was still hiding everything from sight.

  Olaf signaled for officers to come forward. “Cuff them,” he ordered.

  As soon as he said these words, Frank shot to his feet and grabbed hold of Chief Olaf’s arm.

  “Chief, please don’t arrest us. There’s a perfectly good explanation for this, I promise.”

  Olaf tried to pull away, but Frank held on tight. In fact, he moved in closer, grabbing a surprised Chief Olaf by the shoulders.

  What was Frank doing? This wasn’t like him.

  “We’ll do anything,” he pleaded. “Just don’t put us in jail!”

  Chief Olaf managed to pry Frank’s hands off his uniform. “Come on, Frank. You know how this has to go.”

  Frank hung his head. Olaf cuffed his hands in front of him and led Frank to a police van parked just beyond the squad cars. I was next. I climbed into the back of the van and sat next to Frank. Then came Chet and Kruger.

  The doors slammed shut, and a small light flickered to life above us.

  “Well,” I said. “That could have gone better.”

  “I still don’t get it,” Frank said to Kruger, all worry and fear suddenly gone from his face. “How were you going to get the jewel? How did you disable the alarms?”

  “I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Then you’re saying you really haven’t been sending us riddles over the past few days?” Frank pressed.

  “No! How many times can I tell you the same thing?”

  “You didn’t try to steal ancient samurai swords?” I asked.

  “The Civil War artifacts?” added Chet.

  “No!”

  We fell into a confused silence. Kruger seemed like he was telling the truth. And that photograph was the real thing. But how? Was it Trethaway after all? But then where was he?

  “I’ll tell you one thing,” said Kruger. “You asked about disabling the alarms? If I was going to steal the jewel, I wouldn’t need to.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because they’re already going off. If I was going to steal anything, I’d have set a few people up as a distraction, sent the police off to a different section of the museum, and I’d be in there right now, calmly plucking the jewel while everyone thinks the crime has been stopped.”

  My eyes went wide with amazement. I looked at Frank and saw him working furiously at his cuffs.

  “What are you doing?”

  Frank smiled and held up his cuffs, now unlocked. Then he held up the keys that Olaf always kept hooked to his belt. “All that stuff with Chief Olaf just now? ‘Please don’t arrest us. Don’t put us in jail’? I grabbed his keys at the same time.”

  Frank unlocked my cuffs, and I passed the keys to Chet. Frank opened the back door of the van and peered out.

  “Where are you going?” said Chet. “You’re going to get into more trouble.”

  Frank didn’t answer, slipping out of the van instead. I followed him. The police were chatting in a cluster around the front of the museum.

  We ran down the street, staying in the shadows, then crossed and doubled back, slipping down the side driveway that led to the back of the building. I thought I heard Chet huffing and puffing behind us, but I couldn’t see in the darkness.

  Frank and I rounded the corner. If what Kruger had said was true, then the culprit—and it looked like it was Trethaway at this point—would use the back entrance to escape.

  We made our way past the crates to the still-open door. As we arrived, a figure was hurrying toward us. Ready to tackle, I pulled up short when I saw it was Amber.

  She stopped suddenly when she saw us, her eyes wide. Then she ran forward and hugged me. “Thank goodness you’re safe!”

  She released me, then ran past us, heading for the driveway that led to the front of the museum.

  “Wait!” I called. “You can’t go out there. The police!”

  “Did you see anyone else inside?” asked Frank.

  “No,” she said. “Just me. When the alarm went off, I hid. By the time I caught up to you guys, you’d already gone outside. The police were there, and I—”

  “It’s fine,” I cut her off. “But you need to find another way out.”

  “Hey, Amber,” said a voice from behind. “Wait up! This thing’s heavy.”

  A second figure ran out of the museum, stumbling to a halt when he saw us.

  It was Lance, Kruger’s son. And he was holding the Emerald of Astara!

  The four of us froze. I looked at Lance, then at Frank, then at Amber, realization slowly dawning.

  “You . . . ,” I whispered.

  It had never been Kruger or Trethaway. The Phantom was Amber. Well, Amber and Kruger’s own son!

  “You guys are pretty good,” said Lance. “I didn’t think you’d get any of the riddles, but Amber said you would. Hey, can you settle something for us? She swore she didn’t help you crack them. Is that right?”

  “It . . . that’s right,” I said distantly. I couldn’t believe this. We had been played right from the beginning!

  “But why?” demanded Frank. “Why us? Why go to all this trouble?”

  “And how do you two even know each other?” I asked.

  Amber sighed and exchanged glances with Lance. “I guess after all this, you guys deserve to hear the real story.” She flashed an evil grin. “After all, it won’t really matter when you’re behind bars for stealing the emerald.”

  Frank and I stood, stone-faced. We’ve been in this business long enough to know when someone’s just trying to intimidate us.

  “We’re brother and sister,” Amber continued. “Except Kruger doesn’t know about me. Mom got pregnant with me just before he was caught. She never told him. She wanted a clean break. A new life. Lance was two at the time. They were divorced a year later. She tried to keep the truth hidden from me—from us—but I found out.”

  “How?” I asked.

  “She kept mementos. Letters. Newspaper clippings. I guess deep down she still cared about him. Or she wanted to remember what he was like. I don’t know. When I found out who our dad really was, I told Lance.”

  “I got in touch with Dad when he got out of prison,” continued Lance. “Of course, Mom didn’t know. I told him I wanted to connect with him. That I just wanted to hear stories. To find out how he did it all. I could tell he didn’t want to tell me. But I told him the only time I felt close to him was when he was explaining the past.” Lance shook his head. “He’s such a loser.”

  He frowned and took a step forward. “And why go through all this trouble?�
� He shook his head, his eyes angry. “To make you pay. Your dad tore our family apart. Do you know what it did to my mother? It ruined her! We wanted to make your family feel the same kind of pain. The two of you and Dad are going to take the fall for this.” He held up the jewel. “Of course, this won’t ever be found. And the police will be pretty irritated that you won’t tell them where you stashed it. But, you know, that’s life.”

  “You set your own father up?” I asked in disbelief.

  “So? What’s he ever done for me?” Lance snarled. “For us?”

  “He learned his lesson,” said Frank. “He wanted to start fresh.”

  “Tough.” Lance tried to push past me, but I stood my ground. He was big, though—a lot bigger than me.

  “Get out of my way!”

  “No.” I stood firm.

  “Joe,” said Amber quietly. “Do as he says.”

  “No. You’re both coming with us to Chief Olaf. We’re going to tell him the truth.”

  Lance burst out laughing. “Oh, is that what we’re going to do? And you think he’ll believe you?”

  “Maybe not,” said a voice behind us.

  I turned to see Chet appear around the corner. He was sweating, his face red. He bent down to pick something up.

  “But he’ll believe this,” he continued, holding up his camera.

  “Everyone up against the wall,” shouted Chief Olaf, appearing around the corner. He was followed by the other officers. Lance tried to make a run for it, but he was tackled to the ground, screaming and shouting at the officer who pinned him.

  In the confusion, Amber tried to slip inside the museum.

  “Uh-uh, Amber,” I said, grabbing her arm.

  “Come on, Joe,” she whispered. “Just let me go. For old times’ sake? You always were my favorite.”

  “Yeah, somehow I don’t believe that. Chief Olaf!” I called. “This girl and her brother are responsible for burning that painting. They also tried to steal the Emerald of Astara.”

  “Actually,” said Frank, picking something up off the ground, “they didn’t try to steal it. They did.”

  He handed the emerald to the chief. Olaf looked at it in amazement, then stared at Frank and me.

  “You’re still coming to the station. Until this is sorted out, everyone’s under arrest. Heck, the way things are standing right now, maybe I should arrest myself and my officers, too.”