by Ron Roy
is for Jackpot…
Dink ran his fingers over the striped wallpaper. Just above his head, he felt a thin crack. He followed the crack with his fingers until he felt another crack, this one running down toward the floor.
Dink jumped back as if his hand had been burned. “Guys!” he shouted.
Josh and Ruth Rose came running into James’s office.
Dink showed them his discovery. “I think it’s a secret door!” he said.
To Alan Mann and Kate Ford, for their support and bed and board.
–R.R.
To New York City, for 17 great years.
–J.S.G.
Dink spread the note on his knees and read it out loud.
Dear Nephew Donny,
I am so happy that you’re coming to visit! You and your friends are going to love New York city. I will meet your train at four o’clock on Friday, at grand central Station.
Love,
uncle Warren
Josh giggled. “He calls you Donny?”
“Yeah,” Dink said, blushing. “But if you ever do, I’ll tell all the kids at school your middle name is Carol.”
“But my middle name isn’t Carol!” Josh said.
Dink flashed an evil grin. “So?”
“Guys, I think we’re there,” Ruth Rose said.
The train slowed. Suddenly, the bright, sunny day vanished. Everything outside the train windows turned black.
“Hey, what happened?” Josh cried.
Dink laughed. “We’re in a tunnel, Josh,” he said. “Don’t worry. Ruth Rose and I will protect you.”
The train slowed even more, then stopped. “New York, Grand Central Station!” the conductor called. “Last stop! All passengers off!”
The kids grabbed their backpacks and followed the other passengers to the door.
“Watch your step,” the conductor said. He helped the kids hop onto the platform.
They found themselves standing in a concrete tunnel. The dust and soot coming up from under the train made Dink sneeze.
“Where do we go?” Josh asked.
“My uncle said he’d meet us,” Dink said. “Maybe we should just wait here.”
All around them, people were hurrying along the platform. Dink stood on tiptoe, but he couldn’t see his uncle anywhere.
“Is that him?” Ruth Rose asked.
She pointed to a short man in a gray suit. He was pushing toward them through the crowd.
Dink jumped up and down and waved. “Uncle Warren, here we are!”
Uncle Warren Duncan had white hair and a big smile. He carried an umbrella and wore a red carnation in his lapel. His eyeglasses twinkled in the underground lights.
“Donny, welcome!” he said, beaming at the kids. “How was your train ride? Are you hungry?”
“We’re fine,” Dink said. “The train was great, and Mom packed sandwiches for us.”
“Splendid!” Dink’s uncle gave him a big hug.
“And whom have we here?” he asked, peering through his round glasses.
“Josh and Ruth Rose,” Dink said, “my best friends!”
“Marvelous!” Uncle Warren said, shaking their hands. “Now let’s go find a cab. Follow me!”
Uncle Warren marched up a long ramp with the kids right behind him. A moment later, they entered the biggest room Dink had ever seen.
Hundreds of people bustled in every direction. A deep voice announcing train arrivals and departures echoed over a loudspeaker. Piles of luggage were heaped around the gleaming marble floor.
Try as he might, Dink couldn’t take it all in. Uncle Warren said, “This is Grand Central Station’s main terminal. Look up!”
The kids tipped their heads back and looked up…and up! Gold-painted stars and animals danced across an emerald green ceiling.
“This is so awesome!” Josh said. “Look, there’s a bull and a goat!”
“Taurus and Capricorn—the zodiac signs, dear boy,” Uncle Warren explained. “Now onward!”
Uncle Warren marched them toward an exit. The kids followed him out of the building.
The street outside Grand Central Station was a shock to Dink. His ears were blasted by horns honking, brakes squealing, music blaring, and food vendors shouting.
“Welcome to the Big Apple!” Uncle Warren said.
He waved his umbrella and whistled. A yellow cab zoomed up and screeched to a halt inches from Uncle Warren’s shiny black shoes.
Uncle Warren yanked open the rear door. “In, youngsters, in!” he cried.
They had barely sat down and shut the door when the cab lurched back into traffic.
“Where to?” the driver asked over her shoulder.
“Number three forty, West One Hundred and Tenth Street,” Uncle Warren said.
He turned to the kids. “We’ll stop at the museum first,” he said. “I’m expecting a shipment from South America.”
Dink sat up as the driver zigzagged her way up a wide avenue. With his nose to the glass, Dink watched thousands of cars, taxis, buses, bikes, and people dodge one another. Even through the closed taxi window, he could feel the throbbing pulse of the huge city.
Twenty minutes later, the cab hurtled to a stop in front of a building made of white marble. “Here we are,” the driver said.
Uncle Warren handed her a few bills. “Keep the change, please.”
“Thanks, mister!” the driver said, smiling into her rearview mirror.
Uncle Warren and the kids piled out of the taxi.
“This is where I work,” Uncle Warren said. He pointed to a small brass sign next to a green door. The sign read THE PORTER MUSEUM.
Dink noticed that it was a lot quieter here. Trees stood in front of the buildings, and a few kids were drawing chalk pictures on the sidewalk. From a window across the street came the sound of someone playing a piano.
Suddenly, he heard a voice call out, “Warren! Hello!”
Dink saw a smiling man and woman standing in front of a small restaurant next to the museum.
Behind them, a sign above a wide window read LE PETIT BISTRO.
“Come meet my friends,” Uncle Warren said, heading toward the couple.
He introduced the kids. “And this is Jean-Paul and his wife, Yvonne,” Uncle Warren said.
Uncle Warren pointed to the sign. “These lovely people own the best French restaurant in New York!”
“Hello,” the man and woman said, smiling.
“Nice to meet you,” the kids said all together.
Yvonne turned to Uncle Warren. “It came!” she said. “A big, heavy box. Four men carried it upstairs to your office.”
Jean-Paul reached into his pocket. “I went up with them, then locked the door when they left,” he said, dropping a key on a brass ring into Uncle Warren’s hand.
“What’s in the box?” Dink asked.
Uncle Warren winked. “Nothing much,” he said. “Only priceless gold!”
The kids followed Uncle Warren through the green door. They climbed carpeted stairs to a door with a frosted-glass window. Uncle Warren unlocked it, and they walked into a spacious, dimly lit office.
A wooden crate nearly as tall as Dink sat on the floor.
Dink looked around the room. A desk and some chairs were arranged on an Oriental rug. A fish tank bubbled quietly near the desk. Against one wall stood a bookcase.
Dink peeked through another door and saw a computer on a desk, a file cabinet, and some bookshelves.
“My assistant works in there,” Uncle Warren said. “He took the afternoon off. It’s his daughter’s birthday, and they’ve gone to the zoo.”
“You have a zoo?” Josh asked.
“Yes, right here in Manhattan we have the Central Park Zoo,” Uncle Warren said. “It’s pretty s
mall, but there’s also the Bronx Zoo, which is enormous!”
Uncle Warren flipped up three switches on the wall. Suddenly, a ceiling fan began whirring around. Music came from hidden speakers. Overhead lights beamed down on them.
“This is a cool office!” Dink said.
“Thank you,” his uncle said. He pointed to the fish tank. “Who’d like to eed my little friends?”
“I would!” Ruth Rose said.
Uncle Warren handed her a container of fish food and showed her how much food to sprinkle on the water.
“Look at this!” Josh said, lifting a shiny silver dagger off the desk. The blade was curved, and the handle was shaped like a soaring hawk.
“Careful,” Uncle Warren said. “It’s sharp! I use it as a letter opener.”
“Is it real silver?” Josh asked.
Uncle Warren nodded. “It was made in Spain more than three hundred years ago.”
“I can see my reflection in it!” Josh said.
Uncle Warren laughed. “That’s because my assistant polishes it every morning.”
Josh wiped the letter opener on his T-shirt and placed it back on the desk.
“Now, let’s see what we have here,” Uncle Warren said. He draped his suit jacket over a chair, then dragged a toolbox from a closet. He selected a small crowbar from among the tools. Fitting the sharp end of the bar under the crate’s lid, he pried the top off.
Inside were mounds of white packing “peanuts.” Uncle Warren reached through the peanuts and pulled out a small package wrapped in brown paper.
He stripped away the paper to reveal a layer of plastic bubble wrap. He carefully removed the plastic and held up a gold cup.
“Cool!” said Josh.
Uncle Warren grinned at the kids. “Lovely, isn’t it?” he said. “This is a drinking cup made by the Incan people in the fifteen hundreds. Imagine, almost five hundred years ago! Have you studied the Incas in school?”
The kids shook their heads.
“Well, the Incas lived in Peru, in South America. The Porter Museum is going to display some of their pottery and gold sculpture.”
Leaning over the side of the crate, Uncle Warren dug deeper into the peanuts. “Aha, I think this is the jaguar!”
Grunting, he lifted out a much bigger package. It was as long as Dink’s arm and nearly as big around as his waist. The heavy package made a solid thud as Uncle Warren set it on his desk.
“Why’s it so heavy?” Josh asked.
“Gold is a heavy metal,” Uncle Warren explained. “The Incas admired jaguars for their strength and cunning. This one is made of solid gold. It holds a fabulous emerald in its front paws.”
“Can we see it?” asked Ruth Rose.
“Yes, but not until tomorrow,” he said. “A Dr. Pitts will be here at nine o’clock. He works for the Society of Incan Treasures. Dr. Pitts will inspect every piece as it comes out of its wrapping.”
“Why?” Josh asked.
“To make sure everything has arrived safely,” Uncle Warren said. “These pieces are priceless treasures!”
Uncle Warren put the jaguar back in the crate. “Sleep well!” he said.
Then he reached into the toolbox and handed Josh a hammer. “Let’s re-wrap the cup and put it back, then nail the crate shut again till tomorrow.”
After they’d finished, Uncle Warren said, “Now let’s lock up and walk to my apartment. We’ll leave your backpacks with Roger, then I’ll treat you to a New York dinner!”
“Who’s Roger?” Ruth Rose asked.
“He’s the doorman at my apartment building,” Uncle Warren said. “He opens the door for tenants and whistles for taxis.”
“Can we eat at your friends’ restaurant?” Josh asked.
“Yes, but not tonight,” Uncle Warren said. “I’m saving that for your last night in the city. What kind of food do you like?”
“Pizza and ice cream!” Josh said.
Dink laughed. “Josh will eat anything,” he said.
“I mean, do you want Japanese, Chinese, Italian, Greek, Indian, or Mexican food?” Dink’s uncle asked.
“Why don’t you pick?” Dink said. “We love surprises!”
Uncle Warren flipped down the wall switches. The lights, music, and ceiling fan all went off. The kids followed him out of the office.
“Then a surprise you shall have!” he said, and pulled the door shut behind them.
Dink’s uncle lived in a squat gray building a few blocks from the museum.
A tall man in a green uniform opened the doors.
“Good evening, Mr. Duncan,” the man said.
“Hello, Roger. Kids, this is Roger Hobart.” Uncle Warren put his hand on Dink’s shoulder. “This is my nephew, Donny, and these are his pals from Connecticut, Josh and Ruth Rose.”
Roger smiled at the kids. “Welcome to New York,” he said.
“Will you watch their backpacks while we’re out?” Uncle Warren asked. “I’m taking the kids for dinner. Any suggestions?”
Roger rubbed his stomach. “How about the Panda Palace, for Chinese?”
“Perfect!” Uncle Warren said. “How about it, kids?”
“I’ve never eaten Chinese food,” Josh said. “What’s it like?”
“Delicious, and there are about a million choices on the menu,” Roger said.
“All right!” Josh said.
“I’m game,” Dink said.
“Me too!” Ruth Rose said. “Can we eat with chopsticks?”
Uncle Warren laughed. “Of course!”
They walked to a street called Broadway. The wide sidewalks were crowded with people. Lights began to come on in store windows. A man leaned against a building, playing softly on a saxophone. The saxophone case lay open at his feet.
“Look!” Josh whispered. “There’s money in that guy’s case!”
“If people like his playing, they give him money,” Uncle Warren explained. He dropped a dollar bill into the case. The kids each dropped some change in, getting a smile from the sax player.
“Here we are,” Uncle Warren said a few minutes later. The Panda Palace had a shiny red door with fake panda bears standing on either side. A smiling host welcomed them to the restaurant.
Two hours later, Josh leaned back from the table. “I’m stuffed!” he said.
Their waitress brought the bill and placed a fortune cookie in front of each of them.
“Inside these cookies you’ll find a slip of paper telling your fortune,” Uncle Warren said. “Some people think that if you eat the cookie, your fortune will come true!”
“Can I save mine till later?” Dink asked. “My stomach is ready to bust!”
“Good idea. We’ll have the cookies at home,” Uncle Warren said. He paid the bill, and they left the Panda Palace.
“By the way, what were those black slimy things on my chicken?” Josh asked as they walked along Broadway.
“Seaweed,” Dink said.
“No way!”
“Donny is right,” Uncle Warren said. “But seaweed is good for you!”
“Good for fish, maybe,” Josh said.
It started to rain, so they walked quickly. At the apartment, Roger handed them their backpacks. “How was dinner?” he asked.
“I ate black seaweed,” Josh muttered.
Roger grinned. “Good stuff, isn’t it?” he asked.
Uncle Warren and the kids rode the elevator to the tenth floor, then walked down the hall to a gray door.
“Welcome to my little apartment,” Uncle Warren said, and led them inside.
Uncle Warren’s living room was filled with old, comfortable-looking furniture. The carpet on the floor was thick and soft. Paintings hung on the white walls between overflowing bookcases.
“Neat place, Uncle Warren,” Dink said.
“Thank you, Donny. Ruth Rose, you get the guest room,” Uncle Warren said. “You two boys can share the fold-out sofa here in the living room.”
When they were all in their pajamas, they ga
thered around the dining room table to open their fortune cookies.
“The oldest gets to read his first,” Uncle Warren said, cracking open his cookie.
He read his fortune silently, then laughed out loud. “Mine already came true. It says that I will meet nice people today, and I have!”
“Me next!” Josh said. He broke open his cookie and pulled out the thin paper. He read out loud: ’“Strange foods will please you.’”
Josh made a face. “I already ate seaweed,” he said. “I can’t wait to see what’s next!”
“My turn,” Ruth Rose said. She ate her cookie and looked at the fortune inside. “Oh, boy. This says I’ll find treasure in unexpected places!”
“Your turn, nephew,” Dink’s uncle said. “Then it’s to bed for all of us. We have a busy day tomorrow.”
Dink cracked open his cookie and read his fortune to himself. “I don’t get it,” he said.
“Out loud, Dink!” Josh said.
Dink read: ’“Your eyes will play tricks on you.’”
His uncle smiled. “Right now, your eyes look pretty sleepy nephew. Off to slumberland!”
After breakfast the next morning, Uncle Warren and the kids walked back to the museum. It was still raining, so they huddled under two umbrellas.
They left the dripping umbrellas on the small landing at the top of the stairs. Another wet umbrella already stood in the umbrella stand. Uncle Warren opened the door, and they walked into his office.
A man greeted them just inside the door.
“Ah, James, you’re here,” Dink’s uncle said. “Kids, this is James Pride, my assistant. James, this is my nephew, Donny Duncan, and his friends, Josh and Ruth Rose.”
James Pride smiled at the kids. “Has Warren taken you sightseeing?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Uncle Warren said. “But I’ve promised them a buggy ride through Central Park when the rain stops!”
James tapped the wooden crate. “I’ll leave this to you, Warren,” he said. “My daughter loved the zoo, but now I’m behind on paperwork.” He walked into his office and closed the door.
Just then, there was a knock on the outer office door. Uncle Warren opened it to a man in a wet raincoat.