Priceless: Crime Travelers Spy School Mystery Series Book 3

by Paul Aertker

  No one in the circle moved. Lines of tourists shuffled past the group, insulating them from the rest of the church.

  “He’s lying,” Ms. Günerro said to Bleach. “Take Lucas and his friends on the bus to our hotel basement. Ms. T is starting a hotel-school for kids, and she would love to teach Lucas all about treasures.”

  Ms. Günerro turned to Goper and Ekki. “Plan A is over,” she said. “Let’s start plan B.”

  UP IS THE NEW OUT

  The CEO of the Good Company turned and locked arms with Ekki and Goper. The threesome strolled down the main aisle of the church and disappeared through another entranceway.

  From the corner of his eye, Lucas could see Terry Hines signaling behind an iron gate.

  Bleach and her girls pushed the New Resistance kids toward the front doors.

  Lucas nudged Astrid.

  “Do something,” he whispered.

  As they rounded a collection of kneelers, Astrid stopped the group.

  “Bleach,” she said. “Let’s talk, shall we?”

  All twelve Curukian girls shifted their focus to Astrid.

  “Does anyone have a makeup mirror?” Astrid asked.

  “No,” Bleach said. “Why do you ask?”

  Nalini dug in her beach bag and placed a compact in Astrid’s hand.

  “Okay,” Astrid said. “So I have to tell you I love the outfits. Rompers are my favorites, and that yellow is to die for.”

  “What are you trying to do?” Bleach asked. “Distract us?”

  “No, not at all,” Astrid said. “I just wanted to ask you what kind of makeup you use? I love it.”

  Bleach grinned. “Good makeup, of course.”

  “I just thought I would tell you ...” Astrid leaned in and whispered, “Your mascara is running.”

  Astrid flicked open the makeup case and handed it to Bleach. The other girls huddled around the tiny mirror to check their eyes.

  Astrid took one step back, and the New Resistance kids fell in line, following Lucas between two pews. They cut around a column and beelined it straight for the spiral staircase.

  Terry flung open the gate and said, “Up is the new out.”

  The kids followed Terry into the stairwell. They ran up the spiral staircase two steps at a time. Tourists streamed down the steps, but Lucas and friends charged up, pushing people out of their way.

  A moment later they heard Bleach and her girls calling out from below.

  Midway up Kerala stopped a group of Italian tourists. “Stop the girls in the yellow outfits, please,” she said in Italian.

  Out of breath the New Resistance kids burst through the door and onto the roof. The sky was brilliant blue and sun baked. Construction safety wire surrounded them.

  Nalini panted. “Now what are we going to do?”

  The view from the top of the Sagrada Família was awesome—all of Barcelona at their feet with the Mediterranean Sea in the distance. Lucas looked down at the tiny people on the square.

  “Three hundred and seventy two feet,” Lucas muttered. “One hundred and thirteen meters.”

  Lucas looked up at the construction cranes sailing above their heads.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Astrid said. “We are not using those cranes to get us off this roof.”

  “I’m not,” Lucas said. “When we were coming in, I spotted a construction elevator on the other side. Come on.”

  The New Resistance kids followed Lucas around the roof of the church, through the metal ramps, until they came to a locked door for the construction zone. On the other side men in dirty white T-shirts sawed blocks of stone.

  Alister knelt and sized up the lock and chain. He took the key kit from his briefcase and started picking.

  Rising above their heads were spires topped with ornaments of oranges, grapes, and bananas. More of Gaudí’s incredible style.

  Jackknife stared at the fruit. “This is making me hungry.”

  Nalini shook her head. “You need a doctor.”

  The lock clicked, and Alister stripped the chain through the gate and opened it.

  Bleach and a handful of Curukian girls blasted through a group of tourists and sprinted across the roof.

  “Go, go, go!” Alister called to the others as he slammed the gate closed and threaded the chain back through it. As soon as he clicked the lock, Bleach and two other girls smashed into the fence, knocking Alister back.

  “Got another lock over here,” Jackknife called back to Alister.

  Nalini, Terry, and Astrid were inspecting the elevator when a group of construction workers in hard hats approached them.

  “¿Qué pasa?” they asked. “What’s going on?”

  Lucas spoke to them in Spanish. “Those girls,” he said, pointing toward Bleach, “are stealing artwork from the church.”

  “What are you doing then?” said a man with a beard.

  “We’re going to get the police,” Astrid said. “You guys stop those girls.”

  The men hurried toward the Curukian girls.

  Alister picked the lock on the elevator, and the kids crammed into the tiny cage. They clanked down and in a few minutes stepped onto the sidewalk.

  Jackknife pointed at the scuba van parked across the street, a spare tire on the back wheel. “That’s weird,” he said.

  Lucas didn’t really care how strange it was that Cesar Vantes had somehow followed them to the Sagrada Família. He cut through the traffic and the others followed and they piled into the back of the scuba van.

  “How’d you know we were here?” Kerala asked Cesar.

  “I took a guess that if the Good Company caught up with you,” Cesar said, “Ms. Günerro would have you brought here. Cesar looked through the windshield. “See! There she is right there, walking this way.”

  SAFE AND SOUND

  “Duck,” Astrid commanded.

  The New Resistance kids hit the floor of the van and lay still as Cesar slowly pulled out of his parking spot and motored past the Sagrada Família. They rounded the playground across the street from the church and Lucas stuck his head up front.

  “Stop,” he said.

  Lucas hopped out of the van and ran over to the Good Company bus. He paused behind a palm tree to make sure the coast was clear. Then he ran up to the back of the bus, slid down the side, and flipped open the luggage compartments.

  The ex-Curukian boys rolled out, holding their stomachs.

  Mike stood up and said, “Thanks.”

  “Let’s go,” Lucas said.

  “These guys can’t move right now,” Mike said. “You go on without us.”

  Lucas glanced at the boys. They were in no shape to move fast. Lucas knew that if they were caught with the New Resistance, then Ms. Günerro would know for sure they were traitors.

  “If you really want to join the New Resistance,” Lucas said, “come to the Globe Hotel Barcelona after midnight and check in with Coach Creed or Rufus Chapman.”

  “Perfect,” Mike said. “We’ll hide until midnight.”

  Lucas split and made his way back to the van.

  Cesar drove through the stone streets and past Gaudí’s Park Güell, and in a few minutes everyone was back at the hotel.

  Safe and sound.

  One of the best things about being at this particular hotel-school was the lack of adult supervision.

  For Jackknife, his fixation was of course the one thing Coach Creed had forbidden: the maze of tubes and slides that spanned the giant swimming pool.

  “Thanks for the field trip today, guys,” Jackknife said as he climbed out of the van. “But I have some forbidden fun with my name on it.”

  Jackknife gathered up a few kids who were swimming and ran toward the slide.

  Nalini, Astrid, and Kerala found the best broken lounge chairs they could find and pulled them together.

  Lucas stood behind them hoping no one would notice him. There was no way he was going to get in the pool.

  Jackknife and a group of boys scrambled up a
rickety ladder that led to the main tube.

  This was no typical backyard pool slide. It was a towering network of intertwined tubes, a jungle gym that snaked back and forth in a series of neck-cracking turns.

  “This looks so awesome,” Jackknife said as he stood at the top of the structure.

  Travis grabbed the ladder’s handle, and the corroded bar cracked, snapped off, and clattered to the ground.

  “Whoops,” he said.

  Rust covered every piece of metal on the entire slide. Coach Creed was right. This wasn’t a good idea.

  “Come on!” Jackknife called from the top of the structure.

  Peer pressure was always terrible. Lucas thought about leaving and going back up to his room. But then again, the slide did look kind of fun.

  “Come on, Lucas,” Jackknife said again. “Don’t be chicken.”

  By the time the boys had reached the top of the ladder, a crowd of other students had come out of the hotel and gathered around the deck. Kids were lining up to go down the slide.

  Lucas knew deep down that he shouldn’t go. What he wanted was time by himself to think. That’s what he really needed.

  But maybe ... he thought.

  He figured he would go once, and everyone would leave him alone. While they were swimming, he would slip away unnoticed to his room and go to sleep.

  Jackknife twisted a faucet and the rusted handle cracked and sprang a leak, spewing water over the platform where they stood.

  As the water flowed down into the pool, Jackknife loaded himself luge style into the first tube. He rocked back and forth in the stream of water, then launched himself down the slide. The plastic tubes shook and rattled the whole network.

  While Jackknife’s yelps filled the air, Lucas noticed that several rivets holding the slide sections together were missing. If he were ever going to go, it would be now before the whole thing collapsed.

  Jackknife sliced into the pool, and when he came up, he flung his hair to the side and let out a giant whoop.

  “Watch out for turn three,” he said, rubbing his arm. “There are some sharp edges.”

  “Great,” Travis said as he adjusted the spigot to force more spray into the second tube.

  The entire maze of slides screeched and groaned as more and more kids climbed up and jumped in.

  Sopping wet, Alister and Travis grabbed Lucas and practically pulled him up the slide. The threesome went at the same time in different tubes.

  As he was rocketing through the tube, Lucas spotted beams of light flickering through the cracked plastic. He heard a series of metal groans, and then he felt the tube tilting.

  Alister, Lucas, and Travis shot out of the tubes and into the pool.

  Jackknife climbed on top of the structure and stood like an Olympic diver. He sprang up, touched his toes, and knifed into the water.

  The moment he jumped from the platform, everyone heard the noise.

  From the deep end Lucas treaded water and looked up. The maze of chutes and ladders creaked. The beast twisted and leaned toward the pool. Then, in one explosive crash, the entire slide and its ladder network careened into the pool with a giant splash.

  Lucas, Alister, and Travis ducked underwater.

  The metal and plastic buried the boys.

  Lucas opened his eyes, and bromine rushed in like fire. He started to swim up, but the metal maze had pinned his legs to the bottom of the pool. When he pushed, a ladder jabbed him in the shin.

  While Lucas was contemplating his second near drowning in the same day, Astrid and Nalini dove into the water. Up top Lucas could see Coach Creed yelling down into the pool. The girls stood on both sides of Lucas and lifted the slide just enough for him to squirm out.

  Mr. Benes was waiting poolside with Coach Creed when they got out. The grown-ups had obviously heard the slide crashing.

  We are in so much trouble, Lucas thought.

  But getting in trouble in a group was always better than by yourself.

  Coach Creed breathed deeply and spoke to the kids. His Texas accent was thicker than normal.

  “What baffles me,” he said, “is that kids as smart as you all are can manage to do things far beyond the borders of stupid.”

  He stopped talking and let the word stupid float in the air for a while. Lucas knew they had been irresponsible, and it made him feel awful.

  “We’re not going to punish you,” Mr. Benes said, “because ultimately you have to live with your actions—good or bad. For your whole life. Which is why we want you to make good choices.”

  Everyone stared at the concrete.

  Rufus Chapman clomped across the pool deck, the sound of his shoes breaking the silence. He was dressed in a newly pressed tuxedo, a white napkin draped over his arm. As Lucas got his first glimpse of the man, he thought he looked exactly like a British butler.

  “Excuse me, everyone,” Rufus said. “I’ve been a bit tied up, as they say.” He paused and looked at Coach Creed. “Thank you again for rescuing me from that closet.”

  Coach nodded. “If we hadn’t been looking for you, Rufus, we wouldn’t have found Charles Magnus. And now that he and his team have turned themselves in to the police, we have the upper hand with the Good Company.”

  Jackknife pumped his arm. “Yes!”

  “Indeed.” Rufus said. “All things happen for a reason. It also happens to be suppertime, which is served presently in the main dining room.”

  Coach Creed turned and faced the kids. “After you eat,” he said, “everyone in his or her room. We are on lockdown as of nine o’clock tonight. No exceptions.”

  No one said anything. They shuffled in shamed silence to the dining hall, where they ate mountains of the most delicious paella with chicken, shrimp, and octopus.

  At the table Lucas decided that he had had enough of everything. He was going to take it easy and not get into any intense, dangerous, or life-threatening situations. Never again. He figured if he could just sleep for the rest of his life, everything would be okay.

  That night, Lucas kept to his word.

  After dinner he climbed the stairs to his room and showered and crawled into bed.

  For the next fourteen hours Lucas crashed. He slept straight through the night and well into the next morning. While he dozed, dark clouds surrounded him as a nightmare populated with a new kind of Curukian invaded his mind. Girls with black-and-white hair came rushing at him and strangled him with ropes.

  As he dug out of his nest of cords, he swam up through the dream and saw everyone at the New Resistance pulling him up. Lucas woke. He didn’t know exactly what it was, but in his heart he could feel what his mother meant by more valuable than priceless.

  BASEMENT DISCOVERY

  At the same time Lucas’s sleep was turning fitful and dark, Travis Chase made an amazing discovery that would change everything. He had just seen an advertisement for a television program that he knew would rock the New Resistance.

  First he needed some recording equipment to prove his point.

  With his skateboard under his arm Travis rumbled down the back stairs of the hotel. At the first-floor landing he ran into Rufus Chapman, who seemed to be lost in thought.

  “Hi, Rufus.”

  “Hello, Travis,” Rufus said. “Where are you off to?”

  “I’m going to copy a film that will help us find more kids who want to get away from the Good Company.”

  “Dear me,” Rufus said. “We’ve been inundated with messages from kids all over the world.”

  “Did some Indonesian kids show up last night?”

  “Oh yes,” Rufus said. “At midnight exactly.”

  “Great.”

  Rufus said, “Mr. Benes may be issuing an alarm this morning.”

  “Oh, you mean a Call to Legs,” Travis said. “Where are we going?”

  “Madrid.”

  “Where did we get that from?” Travis asked.

  “From Andrés, a young man I trained over at the Good Hotel Barcelona. Apparently
the guard named Ekki inadvertently leaked some information this morning.”

  Travis said, “This video I am going to record may actually change our destination.”

  “One can always change direction.”

  “True.”

  “Carry on then.”

  Travis descended the stairs and entered a dank and musty basement. He flicked on the overhead lights, and only one fluorescent bank lit up fully. The other fixtures hummed, casting spots of dull brown light.

  Around him the concrete in the old hotel creaked. Travis moved toward a dark corner where the video equipment was located. Then he heard a voice.

  “Travis?”

  “Yeah?” he said into the black space. “Who’s that?”

  “Sora. Sora Kowa.”

  “What are you doing down here?”

  “Meditating,” she said. “What are you doing down here?”

  “I’m looking for a machine,” Travis said. “I’ve got to record a TV show.”

  “What show?”

  “It’s a BBC news program,” he said. “It’ll scare us all to death. It’s coming on at nine.”

  “In just a few minutes,” Sora said, glancing at her watch. “I can help if you’d like.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “Plug that TV in, would you?”

  The television was clunky, and it sat on Cesar Vantes’s paper-covered desk. Sora turned the TV on while Travis looked for something to record the show with. He clicked a lightbulb hanging above the messy workstation. A broken clock on the tool rack said the time was 4:17. There were all sorts of tools tossed around—hammers and wrenches and screwdrivers; dusty and rotted manuals; and cardboard boxes filled with colorful cables, wires, and cords. There was a long wooden rod holding different kinds of tape—masking, duct, electrical. Travis rifled through the junk and trash but found nothing.

  Underneath this worktable Sora found a box with cassette tapes. She held up a rectangular plastic box shaped like a book and looked at it inquisitively.

  “What’s this?” she said.

  “That looks like an old eight-track tape from the 1970s.”

  Travis flipped it over, and it showed a faded image of Andrés Segovia.

  “I’ve actually never seen one of these,” he said. “This one only has eight songs!”