The Golden Paw

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The Golden Paw Page 2

by Jason Lethcoe


  “Egad! Gorillas? You don’t say!”

  “I do say,” Andy said with a laugh. “The key fell into the possession of a group of angry gorillas. I nearly died trying to get it away from them. Do you know how fast they are? Not to mention that rhino….”

  Instead of being horrified by Andy’s experience, Ned seemed delighted by the adventure. “Ha! The more dangerous the adventure the better the story, what? That old Lostmore Spirit kept you on your toes. Nothing like a good escape to get one’s blood pumping, eh?”

  “Well, I can think of other safer ways,” Andy admitted, feeling relieved. It seemed that his grandfather wasn’t blaming him for the mission going so wrong.

  “You look pale, my boy,” Ned said, squinting at Andy through the glass. “I suggest you take a tonic made from strawberries, raspberries, snaggleberries, and cherries. Guaranteed to restore a bit of color to your cheeks, what?”

  Andy shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “By Jove, what happened to the rest of the expedition?” Ned asked, seeming to notice for the first time that Andy was alone. “Where’s Jack McGraw?”

  “Um,” Andy said awkwardly, “I…I’m not sure. The last time I saw him, he and the others were trapped in a tree by a rhino.”

  “And you left them behind?” Ned, who had seemed jolly up until that point, leveled a serious gaze at Andy. “Tut-tut! The first rule of the Jungle Explorers’ Society is that no member is ever left behind. Jack McGraw is critical to this particular mission. How could you have done such a thing?”

  Andy blushed and lowered his head. It was what he’d feared would happen. Just getting the key back wasn’t enough. How he’d gotten it seemed to be equally important. The Society expected its members to display courage and integrity. Deep down, Andy had known he should have stayed to help Jack and the others rather than run for the boat.

  Ned looked at his embarrassed grandson and sighed. “Chin up, lad. Everyone makes mistakes. You’ll have other chances to prove yourself.”

  Andy nodded. He was determined to try again at the first opportunity. “What’s this about an old vault?” he asked, changing the subject back to the Key of Fate. “What’s inside of it?”

  Ned lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Only the greatest book ever written. Inside the vault is a tome from the ancient Library of Alexandria, the only book to survive the fire that destroyed the largest collection of historical knowledge in the world. What is written in that single volume would change the way you think about everything, my dear boy. Everything! The fate of the world relies on the vault’s never being opened….”

  Ned’s voice trailed off and Andy saw the faraway look in his grandfather’s eyes. Then Ned shook himself, bobbing on the string that held him suspended inside his glass container. He called up to the mechanical man: “Boltonhouse, take the key from Andy.”

  The robot extended a hand and grabbed the key from Andy’s outstretched palm.

  Andy’s grandfather gave him a wink and said, “Why don’t you join the others by the fire? I’ve some important business to attend to, namely making absolutely certain that this key doesn’t go missing again.”

  Then, with an abrupt turn, Boltonhouse marched toward the largest of the bungalows. Andy stared after his departing grandfather for a moment before turning with a shrug and walking over to where the others were gathered.

  I wonder where he’s planning on taking that key. As the Keymaster, I thought I would be responsible for its safekeeping.

  But Andy had learned not to question his grandfather’s ways. As the leader of the secret society, Ned decided what needed to be done.

  Andy grinned as he greeted his companions, and after a welcoming cup of tea and plate of food were shoved into his hands, they all demanded to hear about his expedition.

  By the flickering light of the fire, Andy chronicled his harrowing encounter. When he got to the part about running to the boat alone, there was an awkward silence. Thankfully, Abigail interrupted the embarrassing moment by telling the stories of how Andy had scared off the hippo from the leaking boat and of her daring rescue at the edge of the falls.

  As the others slapped Abigail on the back, praising her for coming to Andy’s aid, Andy felt a renewed sense of shame.

  Next time, I’ll be the one doing the rescuing, he thought determinedly. I just hope they’ll give me another chance.

  The next morning, Andy awoke feeling completely disoriented. He’d been dreaming that he was back on the Nile Princess, only this time, instead of facing a waterfall, he’d been surrounded by swarms of crocodiles, all chomping at the sides of his boat as he desperately tried to fight them off with nothing but a limp strand of spaghetti.

  It sounded silly now that he was awake, but it had made for a restless night, and Andy couldn’t stop yawning at breakfast. His tousled thatch of blond hair stood up in even more of a haystack than usual, and Abigail giggled the moment he sat down.

  “I don’t know what’s so funny,” Andy said grumpily.

  “You look like you’ve been in a hurricane,” she said. “You want to borrow my comb?”

  “You sound like my mother,” Andy said, running his hand through his hair. “Trust me, it won’t help.”

  Andy had just finished a rather bland bowl of oatmeal when Rusty stood and banged on the side of his tin cup with a spoon, calling the group to attention.

  “All right, let’s get started,” he boomed. “We’ve quite a bit of material to cover and I’d like your full attention.” He narrowed his gaze at Betty and Dotty, who were deep in conversation about various poisonous plants and their antidotes. The two glanced up, obviously irritated at the interruption. The sisters glared at Rusty, then both sighed at the same time. With a flick of her finger, Betty gestured for Rusty to continue.

  “Thank you, ladies. Rest assured, what I have to say won’t keep you from discussing ways to kill your enemies for too long.”

  Andy listened closely as Rusty began to outline the latest quest.

  “As you all know, we’ve been searching for some time now for a cursed artifact called the Golden Paw. Our intelligence tells us that the Collective is searching for this artifact as well, and are on track to find it before we do if we don’t act immediately.”

  “The Collective?” Andy asked. “Who are they?”

  “We don’t know much about their members,” Rusty explained. “Just that they are an assembled group of the worst criminals around. Phink was one of them, but his secrets died with him. They keep their membership secret. The one thing we do know is that their leader, the Potentate, is directing their efforts.”

  “What about the artifact? What does it actually do?” Andy asked.

  “The paw?” Rusty replied. “Legend says that it can confound the bearer’s enemies, allowing the person who possesses it to magically take on any appearance they desire. They can make themselves look like a person’s best friend or family member—even a king or queen.” Rusty sighed and then continued, looking troubled. “The implications of using such an artifact are boundless. The legend also states that the paw was designed for evil purposes, and as such, extracts a heavy price from the person who uses it, shortening their lifespan considerably. Every minute the user spends impersonating another is another minute taken from their own existence. Only someone truly evil would use such a cursed object.”

  Andy’s mind reeled, thinking over the possibilities. A person could do a lot of damage with such a thing. Maybe even take over the world!

  “Until recently, the Golden Paw was thought to be a myth,” Rusty continued. “But if what we have heard is true and they have nearly found its location, then we must take it as fact that it exists. More than that, if the Collective wants it, we must assume that they will waste no time in trying to retrieve it.”

  Andy felt a nervous fluttering in his stomach as Rusty continued.

  “Ned will remain here, gathering whatever intel he can on our enemy’s position. In the meantime, he’s pr
ovided me with the fastest route to the location where the Golden Paw is rumored to be hidden and has asked that I assemble a team to beat the Collective to its whereabouts.”

  As Rusty narrowed his one good eye and gazed around at the group, Andy found himself desperately hoping that he would get to go. He had come a long way from the boy he used to be, a boy who would rather have read about adventure in a book than actually partake in one. But after the way he’d bungled the last mission, he worried that he might be forced to sit this one out.

  Pick me, please, pick me.

  “Betty, Dotty, you’ll both be needed for this,” Rusty said.

  “As if one of us could stay behind,” Dotty murmured to her twin sister with a roll of her eyes.

  Rusty continued, ignoring the sisters. His gaze alighted on Abigail and he grinned. “Feeling up for another one, Abigail?”

  Andy watched as the girl leapt to her feet and saluted. “Ready when you are, Captain Bucketts!”

  Rusty laughed and nodded. “At ease, soldier!”

  The group all gave Abigail congratulatory pats on the back for being included in the expedition. Until recently, Abigail had been a member of the Collective, the very group they were fighting against. But she had turned her back on the organization and done her part to help Andy fulfill his last mission. Now she was trying to prove her worth and commitment to the Jungle Explorers’ Society. The others had understandably been treating her with a bit of guarded suspicion, but Andy had watched as she’d made good on all her promises over the last few months, and the fact that she’d rescued him the day before had evidently put her in good standing.

  He couldn’t help feeling just a little bit jealous that she’d been picked.

  “Ordinarily, Molly and Albert would round out the team, but Molly is on a mission in Paris and Albert is working with Ned to find out more about the Golden Paw. That means, in addition to Abigail, we’ll need one more.” He paused, as if considering whether he’d made the right decision. He was just about to speak up again when a loud voice rang out….

  “Ho there, hope I’m not intruding! Charlie, get a shot of me next to the big guy….”

  A man in a dazzling white safari outfit, complete with matching pith helmet, strode into the assembly. Next to him was a pudgy man with a motion picture camera, cranking a handle and capturing everything on film.

  “Right, J.B. I’m on it….”

  As Charlie swung the camera around and pointed it at Rusty, the man in the white suit strode over to the stunned bush pilot and shook his hand. When he smiled, revealing two rows of perfect white teeth and a strong-jawed profile, Andy gasped.

  It’s John Bartlemore, the actor! I can’t believe it!

  Andy had seen John Bartlemore in countless adventure serials, always playing the part of Dan Daring, an intrepid jungle explorer and treasure hunter. The Dan Daring serials were a favorite of most boys his age, and the show often featured fantastic creatures like Egyptian mummies and fearsome gorillas. Now that Andy had seen such creatures for himself, he realized just how unrealistic the suits the actors wore looked.

  A whispered buzz rippled around the assembly as the others recognized the actor, too. The only one not impressed was Rusty, who seemed quite put out that the unexpected visitor had stumbled upon their secret meeting.

  “And who in the blazes are you?” Rusty asked, dropping the hand that Bartlemore was pumping furiously.

  “What? You don’t know who I am? That’s priceless! Are you getting all this, Charlie?” Bartlemore replied, evidently enjoying himself. “He doesn’t know who I am!”

  “Got it, J.B.,” replied his cameraman.

  “You’re John Bartlemore!” exclaimed Abigail. She blushed furiously as the handsome actor turned to her and grinned.

  “That’s me! We were on a shoot in the area and spotted your little…er…gathering,” he said brightly as he motioned vaguely to the tents. “And who are you, lovely lady, and what are you folks doing here? Is it some kind of campout?”

  Andy couldn’t help noticing that Abigail turned an even deeper shade of crimson when Bartlemore called her “lovely lady.”

  “Abigail Awol,” she replied softly. “I’ve seen all of your movies.” She gazed at the actor with what Andy thought were almost literal stars in her eyes.

  Suddenly, the arrival of one of his silver screen heroes didn’t seem so great. Andy had never seen Abigail, who was usually supremely confident, act like one of those giggling, prissy girls he’d seen at school who spent all day mooning over the celebrity gossip magazines.

  Who does he think he is, barging in on us like this? Andy thought. These Hollywood types think that they own the world!

  From the look on Rusty’s face, it seemed the pilot must be thinking about the same thing. Rusty’s face had turned bright red, and Andy knew that it wasn’t from embarrassment. His red mustache bristled and his one good eye glared at Bartlemore, looking every bit as steely as his fake one.

  “Listen, Mr. Bartlemore. We’re a team of highly trained research scientists on an archaeological expedition. I’m sorry we can’t accommodate visitors right now, but we’re working here,” he said through gritted teeth. “If you don’t mind…”

  “Archaeologists? Well, that’s just splendid!” Bartlemore said, rubbing his hands together. “Searching for lost treasure, eh? That’s just the thing that would get me the front page of the trades. Hey, Charlie, can you believe my luck?”

  “Great luck, J.B. Couldn’t be luckier,” replied the cameraman. Andy noticed that he was still filming.

  Bartlemore snapped his fingers and his Hollywood smile grew even bigger. “I’ve got it! We’ll film all this and put it in a newsreel in front of my next picture.” He gestured to the group. “You’ll all be famous!” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Who wouldn’t like a bit of fame and fortune, eh? Well, maybe not fortune….That part belongs to me. Hah!”

  Andy noticed that instead of exciting them, Bartlemore’s news made everyone nervous. The cover story Rusty had come up with was fine as long as they all remained anonymous. But for most of them, being a part of the Jungle Explorers’ Society was supposed to be a secret. They couldn’t afford to have their faces splashed across every movie screen in America.

  How arrogant can a person be? Andy wondered. He thinks that because he’s famous, we’ll just do what he says?

  “Sorry, no,” said Rusty.

  But Bartlemore didn’t appear to be listening. He was busy telling Charlie to get a shot of him standing next to Betty and Dotty. The sisters glared at the actor, and Andy knew that if he wasn’t careful, it might be Bartlemore who ended up a headline in the papers back home.

  Actor found dead in jungle. Cause of death: mysterious razor-sharp throwing stars.

  Even as he thought it, Andy could see Betty fingering the pouch at her belt.

  Abigail must have seen it, too, and ran over to where Bartlemore was standing with his arm around Dotty’s shoulders.

  “Mr. Bartlemore, I’m truly sorry, but this is not a good time,” Abigail said. “As wonderful as your offer is, I’m afraid we must decline.”

  Abigail flashed him a beautiful smile, but Bartlemore just stared back at her with a confused expression.

  “Decline? Well…that’s…that’s quite unexpected.” He struck a theatrical thinking pose, his finger perched on his dimpled jaw and his other hand on his hip. “Quite unexpected. Did you hear that, Charlie? They are declining our very generous offer.”

  “I heard, J.B. Declined the offer. A stupid move, J.B.,” Charlie said.

  “I agree, Charlie. Quite stupid,” replied Bartlemore. He turned back to Abigail and put his big hand on her shoulder. The expression he wore was one that looked as if he were explaining something profound to a very simpleminded student.

  “Thank you for your opinion, lovely lady. But I’m afraid declining is not an option. I’ve decided. We will be coming with you folks, whether you like it or not.”

  Abigail stared at him in
disbelief. It wasn’t the answer she’d expected.

  It was all too much for Rusty. The man snorted like an enraged bull and marched over to Bartlemore, looking as if he’d like to tear the man limb from limb.

  “Now see here!” he shouted.

  But Bartlemore merely turned to him, a calm expression on his face. “No, you see. There’s no law prohibiting me from following you through this jungle. You can’t stop me. I have attorneys back in Los Angeles who would slap you with a lawsuit so fast it would make your head spin.”

  Bartlemore turned and took a deep breath, smelling the jungle air and looking around as if he owned the entire thing.

  “I’m going to enjoy this. Come on, Charlie, let’s get back to camp. I’ve got some ideas for the script.”

  “Coming, J.B.,” Charlie said, and ignoring the stunned expressions on the faces of Rusty and the rest of the explorers, the cameraman marched dutifully after his boss without ever taking his eye away from the camera lens.

  Andy walked over to Rusty, who was staring furiously at the tree-lined spot where they’d disappeared.

  “What should we do?” Andy asked.

  Rusty paused and then replied with a dangerous-looking smile, “Let him follow. There’s no way a two-bit Hollywood actor could possibly survive the mission we’re about to undertake.”

  Rusty glanced down at Andy and added, in a gruff voice, “You’re going, too. If it were up to me you’d stay behind, but Ned’s orders are Ned’s orders. Pack your kit.”

  As Andy, feeling both exhilarated that he was going and worried that something terrible was going to happen, ran back to his tent to get his things, he couldn’t help thinking Bartlemore is about to find out just how unlike the movies adventures really are!

  The following morning, the group woke extra early. “All the more difficult for Bartlemore” was the phrase Rusty had coined the night before, and Andy had found that since then he had taken to using it often.

  The trouble is, what’s difficult for Bartlemore is also difficult for us! Andy thought as he washed up in a steel bucket. It was so dark he could barely see the towel next to his canteen, and he nearly grabbed a bunch of mosquito netting to dry his face.

 

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