The Golden Paw

by Jason Lethcoe

The plane rolled to a stop and the big door swung open, the collapsible staircase extending to the ground. Bartlemore ushered Andy to the door and, with a conspiratorial wink, followed him down the stairs, waving broadly at the crowd and reverting once more to his alter ego.

  “You’ll want to thank me, of course,” he boomed. “Dan Daring saves the day again! The boy is safe and completely unharmed!”

  Andy was surprised when Abigail and Betty and Dotty rushed forward and embraced him in a group hug. Judging from the relief on their faces, they’d really been worried about him.

  “Where were you?” Abigail exclaimed. “One minute you were there, and the next you were gone! When I first woke up, I thought you might have gone to the bathroom or something. Yaw stayed behind to look for you while Rusty flew us here. We couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Not if we want to beat the Collective to the paw….”

  She looked simultaneously angry and upset, and Andy felt even more terrible about missing the plane. He’d had no idea that his absence would cause such anxiety.

  “I’m sorry. I thought I’d run over to the shop for a second, just to stretch my legs. I guess the time got away from me,” he confessed. “Is Yaw on her way here now?”

  Abigail shrugged. “We haven’t heard from her. For all we know, she’s still looking for you.”

  “Next time you’re planning on running off, wake one of us up first,” Betty said.

  Dotty nodded, her lips pursed in a thin line. “The mission is dangerous enough as it is.”

  “Understood,” Andy said meekly. Then, remembering why he’d left the plane in the first place, he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the candy bar he’d bought for Abigail.

  “I guess it’s pretty stupid now,” he said, offering it to her. “But at the time, I thought you might be hungry.”

  Abigail took it and smiled. Then she hit him lightly on the shoulder. “It was stupid to risk being abandoned in the jungle for chocolate. But since you’re back and you’re okay…”

  She peeled off the wrapper and took a bite of the gooey bar, then rolled her eyes in pleasure.

  “Mmm. Maybe it was worth it after all.”

  Andy chuckled. Behind him, Rusty stepped forward, looking awkward. He cleared his throat and offered his meaty hand to Andy. Andy shook it. Gazing up at the big man’s face, Andy got the impression that Rusty was not only glad to see him, but that he’d been worried about him as well.

  “Don’t ever do that again, understand?”

  Andy nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  Rusty seemed satisfied with his response and grunted his approval.

  Suddenly, Andy felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and nearly jumped at the monstrous face staring back at him. Then Andy realized he wasn’t looking at a face, but at a fearsome tribal mask.

  “Cedric!”

  “Andy! Great to see you, lad! It’s been a while, what?”

  The Cambridge-educated witch doctor wore an incongruous blue suit in addition to the mask, looking to Andy like a wealthy businessman on his way to a Halloween party.

  Cedric noticed Andy looking at his suit and said, “A bit of tricky business at a nearby village. The chief had a terrible case of the Amazonian Squints. He could barely see, and insisted that everyone wear their Sunday best out of respect. Obviously, I was the only one there in a suit. The rest of them had, ah, rather interesting ideas about what Sunday best meant. Anyway, after I gave him the cure, I forgot to change.”

  “But why did he care what everyone looked like if he couldn’t see?” Andy asked. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  Cedric ignored the question, focusing instead on Bartlemore.

  “Are you indeed the actor John Bartlemore?” he exclaimed.

  “I am indeed,” said Bartlemore with a smug grin. “Care for an autograph, my friend?”

  “Would I care for…of course!” Cedric shouted happily. “I’ve seen every one of your films at least ten times! You’re magnificent, Mr. Bartlemore. Simply magnificent! My wife, Margaret, agrees.”

  He’s married? Andy thought. Wow. That’s a surprise!

  Because nobody had ever seen Cedric when he wasn’t wearing a mask, it was hard to imagine him leading a normal life. Andy wondered if his wife wore a mask, too. He snickered at thought of the entire Bunsen family, kids included, all gathered around the dinner table with elaborate tribal masks on.

  Abigail looked at him quizzically, and Andy shook his head. “I’ll tell you later,” he whispered. “Just had a funny thought, that’s all.”

  Abigail nodded and continued nibbling at her candy bar. Andy noticed that Bartlemore and Rusty were avoiding each other as much as possible, but the tension in the air between them was palpable. It was broken by Cedric.

  “By Jove, let’s get cracking. Ned sent me a communiqué, and I have some clues to the temple where the Golden Paw is rumored to be hidden.”

  “Right you are,” Rusty said. He turned to Bartlemore. “We’ll be discussing our plans in private. Should you choose to follow us from this point forward, it will be at your own peril.”

  Bartlemore seemed unfazed by the comment. He just smiled, nodded, and motioned for Charlie to keep “filming.” Now that Andy knew the camera Charlie held was fake, it made him nervous to see it pointed at Rusty.

  Bartlemore never said exactly what kind of weapon it was. I wonder what it does.

  Rusty motioned for the group to join him in the nearby shack. Andy was the last one to go inside, and when he glanced back at Bartlemore, the man gave him a slight nod.

  Andy returned it. He knew what he was supposed to do, but he was having a hard time not feeling torn in two by Bartlemore’s proposal. It made him sick to think that the people he’d trusted with his life might also be traitors.

  I wish my grandfather were here, Andy thought. He’d know what to do.

  A sudden thought made Andy halt in his tracks. The Zoomwriter had the ability to send wireless messages! He could telegraph his grandfather when he put the pen into transmission mode!

  Feeling a surge of relief, Andy reached into his coat pocket for his pen. His eyes widened as he patted desperately at the pocket. It was empty!

  Where is it? He removed his jacket and probed every possible hiding place. After a few moments of searching, he realized with a terrible, sinking feeling what had happened. He’d left his pen on the counter at Trader Sam’s. He’d been in such a hurry to catch the plane, he’d left his most precious possession behind.

  Andy’s face paled. As he took his seat with the others in the abandoned shack, he felt like crying. How could I have been so stupid?

  Rusty began giving details of the mission, but Andy barely heard him. His mind was spinning. All he could think about was the pen—the only gift his grandfather had ever given him—and how priceless it was. Now he might never see it again. This was his big second chance to prove himself, and he was blowing it!

  Andy felt sick to his stomach as Cedric took over the meeting and outlined the dangerous route that they would have to travel to the location of the Golden Paw. His odds of surviving the mission and coming out on top seemed to be at an all-time low.

  The next morning, the group was delighted to find a carrier pigeon from the Jungle Air Mail service waiting with a message from Yaw. Rusty had discovered it when packing their gear for the first leg of the journey to the Temple of the Golden Paw and had happily shared the news with the others.

  Andy Stanley spotted with Bartlemore by local shopkeeper. Flying back to HQ to refuel. Awaiting further instructions.

  Y.R.

  “Good ol’ Yaw!” Rusty exclaimed. “She’s just fine. I’ll let her know we have the boy.”

  Andy bristled at the word boy. He was twelve! He wasn’t a kid who needed to be babysat by the others! Andy glanced at Abigail to see if she’d noticed the slight, but it didn’t appear she had. Even so, Andy made a vow to himself to do what it took to improve his standing with the group. He’d show them that he was one of them, n
ot just some kid tagging along on their mission.

  Suddenly, a thought entered Andy’s mind that he hadn’t considered before. If what Bartlemore said was true and Rusty was a spy, was it possible that he was trying to get under Andy’s skin? What if Rusty was deliberately trying to get Andy to quit the mission? Rusty knew that Andy was Ned Lostmore’s grandson and that he would report everything to him.

  Was it possible? Rusty hadn’t seemed too eager to have him along on the mission. In fact, he had only agreed because Ned had ordered him to. Rusty had looked concerned when Andy showed up with Bartlemore. At the time, Andy had assumed Rusty was just concerned for his safety, but what if the real concern was that Bartlemore and Andy had found them?

  As Andy helped the others load their gear, he resolved to keep a close eye on Rusty. The more he thought about the bush pilot, the more suspicious he grew.

  This “boy” is a lot smarter than they realize, Andy thought, and he was comforted by the idea as he helped Cedric lift a particularly heavy pack onto one of the mules they would be taking into the jungle.

  When everything was loaded up, Rusty called out, “We walk from here.” Then he added a comment directed at Bartlemore, who was also up and ready to follow them. “I’m warning you for your own good, Bartlemore. We’ll be following a treacherous path. For your own safety, you should take that plane of yours and fly back to Hollywood.”

  Bartlemore flashed him a large grin and waved. “We’ve come too far to go back now, but thank you for considering our well-being.”

  Andy noticed that Bartlemore’s grin faded when Rusty turned around. The actor nodded at Andy and gave him a knowing stare, as if to say Remember what we talked about.

  The group set off at a brisk pace, heading from the edge of the Amazon into a thicket of trees and heavy undergrowth. Andy, who had been given the task of leading one of the two mules that had been left for their use at the hut, soon found that his charge was particularly stubborn and not at all interested in the idea of going into such difficult terrain.

  “Come on, girl,” Andy coaxed. “Will…you…just…please…stop fighting?” Andy tugged on the rope, trying to force the mule down the muddy trail, but the mule barely inched forward, evidently more frustrated than soothed by Andy’s efforts. Abigail, who was ahead with the others, noticed that Andy was lagging behind and came back to see what was wrong.

  “She’ll only get more stubborn the harder you pull,” she advised. Andy’s face was beet red from effort, and sweat stood out on his forehead.

  “Fine, you give it a try,” he said, flipping the reins to Abigail. The girl moved close to the mule and began whispering soothingly into its rabbitlike ears. The whites around the mule’s eyes slowly vanished. Petting the mule’s head, Abigail reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of dried fruit. She handed it to the eager animal, which happily began to trot forward.

  “Well, that was pretty impressive,” Andy said.

  “My dad had horses when I was little. I learned that patience is pretty important when trying to get them to do anything.”

  Andy, Abigail, and the mule walked on. They were quite a bit behind the others, but they found that the trail Rusty had blazed was easy to follow.

  Andy swatted a mosquito that had landed on his neck. The deeper they went into the humid jungle, the more the bugs seemed to thrive. As annoying as the insects were, they were nothing compared to the nagging suspicions about Rusty that were growing in Andy’s mind.

  Andy glanced over at Abigail. He wondered if it was okay to share with her what Bartlemore had told him. Abigail seemed to be lost in thoughts of her own. Andy couldn’t help noticing just how pretty she was. The dappled sunlight played on her cheeks, and her hair was up in a loose bun. Abigail never wore jewelry, and she wasn’t a fancy dresser, but there was something about her spirit, her determination and conviction, that Andy admired.

  “What?” Abigail asked suddenly.

  “What, what?” Andy replied.

  “You were staring,” Abigail said.

  “Oh, uh…sorry,” said Andy. “I was just thinking.”

  “Thinking about what?”

  Andy bit his lip. Bartlemore worked for the government, and he had told Andy about Rusty in confidence. Would Andy get in trouble for talking? But the more he wrestled with his secret, the more he couldn’t resist the comfort that would come from sharing it with someone. And, glancing around, he saw that there was no one else in earshot. He decided to try a subtle approach.

  “How long have you known Rusty?” Andy asked.

  Abigail glanced at him. “Rusty and my father met during the war. They served in the same battalion. Rusty actually fought the Red Baron, did you know that? My father was an airline mechanic back then, and he helped keep Rusty’s plane in the air.”

  “Wow,” Andy said. “Has Rusty ever told you about it?”

  “Not really,” Abigail said. “He tends to keep a lot to himself. I guess he lost a lot of friends in the war and doesn’t like to talk about it. My father told me that Rusty was an ace who shot down over thirty planes.”

  Andy’s mind swirled. How could a military veteran with such an impressive record be working as a spy for criminals? It just didn’t make sense.

  “Why do you ask?” Abigail asked. “You’ve been acting strange ever since you came back with Bartlemore. Are you sure everything’s okay?”

  It was an opening Andy couldn’t resist. After breathing a heavy sigh, he said, “When I was with Bartlemore, he told me that he’s a special agent for the government and Rusty is a spy for the Collective.”

  It all came out in a rush. Abigail’s eyes widened at the news, and then, to Andy’s surprise, she burst out laughing.

  “You’re kidding! Rusty a spy? Bartlemore a government agent? And you believed him?”

  Andy felt his cheeks redden. “He was pretty convincing. He showed me his badge and everything.”

  Abigail’s smile faded. “You’re not joking. Okay. Well, first of all, Rusty is the Jungle Explorers’ Society’s most loyal member. What about all the things he did in the last mission? Remember?”

  Andy’s expression was troubled. “Of course I do. But…but what if all of that was an act? What if he’s secretly working with the Collective, and what Bartlemore says is true? My grandfather said that there was a spy leaking information to them. How would Bartlemore know that unless he’d talked to Ned himself?”

  Abigail was quiet for a few moments before replying. The only sound among them was the sucking sound the mule’s hooves made in the wet earth and the distant sound of branches snapping and insects buzzing. Andy was starting to grow worried that he’d offended her somehow when she replied, “If there’s anybody I don’t trust at this point, it’s Bartlemore. How he knows so much about us and found us so conveniently back at our camp is suspicious in and of itself. I’m actually surprised that he doesn’t think I’m the spy. I would be the most likely candidate, considering the fact that I worked with Professor Phink and the Collective before.”

  Andy nodded. He felt a little better now that Abigail had pointed out Rusty’s stellar record of loyalty. “You’re probably right about Rusty. And by the way, Bartlemore isn’t one hundred percent convinced that Rusty is the spy. He seems suspicious of everyone. Maybe we should be more suspicious about him.”

  “That’s what I think,” said Abigail.

  But in spite of her feelings on the matter, Andy couldn’t help thinking about how official Bartlemore’s credentials had looked and how convincing he’d been. He was ashamed of himself for letting Bartlemore sow seeds of doubt about his friends, but he couldn’t shake the thought that there was a possibility the actor turned agent might be right.

  Andy was miserable. His head was full of suspicions that he could not confirm or deny. But he supposed there wasn’t much he could do now either way. So, plodding along beside the mule, he tried to pass the time by making light conversation with Abigail.

  Finally, after what
felt like several hours, they caught up with the others. They had come to a dead stop at a clearing in the brush.

  When Andy saw what lay in front of them, all thoughts about spies and loyalty and betrayal fled his mind, and a sudden rush of terrible, crippling dread washed over him.

  The gigantic skeleton was about thirty feet tall. Its jaws were open and its teeth were bared in a hungry, vicious smile. Fortunately, it was made of stone. But the mere sight of such a forbidding statue made Andy’s knees turn to water.

  This can’t be good.

  “Well, my friends, it looks like we’ve arrived at the location mentioned in the ancient manuscript Cedric discovered. Want to take it from here, Ced?” said Rusty.

  Cedric, now clothed in a safari outfit and wearing his usual tribal mask, nodded. “Righto! The manuscript Ned and I discovered was hidden in a tomb that once held an important artifact—the Spear of Quetzalcoatl. We retrieved the spear long ago, but it wasn’t until recently that we thought to look inside the shaft of the spear itself for clues. It turned out to be hollow, and contained clues to the Golden Paw. According to the legend on the manuscript, the great king Quetzal-Ra was so worried about someone finding the Golden Paw that he created an elaborate security system to protect it. If what I’ve read is true, only he knew how to safely navigate the obstacles that would keep thieves away from the temple in which it’s hidden.

  “The tunnel in front of us is supposed to lead to the temple. Its name can be roughly translated as the ‘Death Maze.’ There are few records of people trying to navigate it, as almost none lived to tell the tale. Very few explorers that have gone inside have ever returned, and some say that the maze itself is haunted with their spirits.”

  He glanced up at the huge skeleton. “The statue placed in front of the cave entrance shows us that we’ve found the right location. It’s meant to serve as a warning not to proceed.”

  Bartlemore, who had been walking behind the group, stepped forward, beaming his usual annoying smile. “Make sure you get all this, Charlie. Keep rolling!” he said over his shoulder. “We’re going to make a million on this, mark my words.”