Priceless: Crime Travelers Spy School Mystery Series Book 3

by Paul Aertker

  “What for?” Astrid asked.

  “Just put the originals on one side and block the view of this hole in the wall with the copied paintings. Okay?”

  “We got it,” Alister said.

  “I’ll help,” Nalini said. “We’ll put the copies on the easels.”

  “Also put one in front of the window in the door,” Lucas said. “So Goper, Ekki, and Ms. Günerro can’t see inside.”

  “You keep working the jackhammer,” Rafa said. “And I’ll go and bring my truck.”

  “Great,” Lucas said.

  Rafa took off running through the Alhambra gardens toward his grandmother’s house.

  “Alister?” Lucas asked. “If Ms. Günerro and her people come back early, do you think you could do something to the door to make it so they can’t look in through that keyhole?”

  “Piece of cake,” Alister said, securing the door with the two barrel bolts. “I can pick locks, and I can mess them up too.”

  “Pass me one of those jackhammers,” Jackknife said. “I’ll work from this side.”

  Lucas slipped the other jackhammer and extension cord down through the opening. The two boys set up on opposite sides of the wall and began blasting the grout, chipping away at the opening stone by stone.

  In a short while Rafa came rumbling up in his truck. It was so much more than a farm truck. To Lucas it looked like an army transport truck with a navy blue tarp covering the bed.

  Perfect, he thought. Big enough for the paintings and my friends.

  Lucas and Jackknife stopped jackhammering for a second. The constant shaking was turning Lucas’s arms to noodles. His whole body felt numb.

  With the jackhammers turned off the gardens returned to quiet. Fortunately it was near lunchtime in Spain and no one was around. A warm wind blew through the trees, and flocks of birds flew overhead. From a distant highway the hum of tires buzzed through the air.

  The kids on the inside wedged and scraped a few stones out of the way, which made the hole now big enough for them to get through.

  Astrid and Travis climbed out first.

  Rafa took the jackhammer from Lucas, and Kerala traded spots with Jackknife. From the outside and the inside Rafa and Kerala splintered rocks and concrete until they had created a gap in the wall large enough for the biggest painting.

  “Anyone at the door?” Lucas asked.

  Alister peeked through the window in the door. “No one here.”

  Travis and Astrid positioned themselves at the opening.

  “Let’s do this,” Travis said. “Pass those original paintings up.”

  Kerala, Nalini, Alister, and Jackknife slipped Woman and Bird at Night up through the opening to Travis and Astrid. They handed the painting to Rafa and Lucas, who were in the bed of the truck.

  The Persistence of Memory came next, followed by Procession of Death.

  Alister called out from the cell. “Here comes the big daddy of them all.”

  Alister and a handful of monks carried Guernica on their heads. They positioned the famous painting at the opening. Just as they were about to slide it through, they heard a noise coming from the other side of the dungeon door.

  Boom, boom.

  Someone slapped the handle.

  “Open this door!” Goper yelled. “I’m the head of Good Company Security. There’s a painting blocking my view, and I can see there’s something jammed in this lock. Open up!”

  Someone kicked the door.

  Nalini, Kerala, and Jackknife moved fast. They helped Alister and the monks hoist Guernica through the opening in the wall. Like a giant stretcher the painting slipped through the gap. On the outside Astrid and Travis grabbed it and passed it up to Lucas and Rafa in the truck.

  The New Resistance kids on the inside scurried out of the cell and climbed onto the truck bed.

  Someone continued beating on the outside of the wooden cell door.

  In the back of the truck Lucas looked at the others. “What about the monks?” he asked.

  “We asked them earlier to escape with us,” Travis said.

  Astrid said, “They’re afraid of Ms. Günerro and Ching Ching.”

  “Doesn’t seem right,” Lucas said, “to just leave them behind.”

  Lucas stood up and looked toward Rafa. It was then that he spotted Bleach and two Curukian girls rounding the corner of the hotel.

  “Time to go,” Rafa said as he hopped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

  ROAD TRIP

  Rafa was a surprisingly good driver for a young teenager. With the New Resistance kids and the stolen paintings in the bed of his truck, he sped away from the Alhambra hotel. He cut through town and headed toward the freeway. He looped the army van around a cloverleaf intersection and shifted the engine into high gear as he merged onto the national highway.

  The tarp covering the bed of the truck began to flap in the breeze. The air steamed with heat and humidity, but swirls of wind cooled things off a little. Lucas sweated profusely, in part from the temperature but more from the rush of anxiety blazing through his veins. All the kids seemed to be in shock and didn’t talk for the first few minutes.

  Nalini passed around bottles of water, which they each emptied in a single gulp.

  The converted army van picked up speed and cruised down the roadway to Gibraltar. Rafa seemed confident. The knobby tires on the truck thumped across the ridges in the pavement, faster and faster, until the kids looked like they might fall asleep. They probably could have napped the whole way had it not been for Jackknife.

  The Brazilian kid wasn’t close to being tired. He was the opposite. Fired up. He spread open the slit in the canvas, leaned out over the gate, and screamed as loud as he could. “We did it!” he yelled.

  Jackknife turned around and held on to the bars on the ceiling.

  “That was absolutely the best,” he said. “We just stole stolen paintings. Unbelievable! Who does that?”

  The others kids looked at him. Nalini yawned, and Astrid covered her face.

  “We do,” Jackknife said. “We just did that! From the Good Company!”

  He stepped around the paintings and gave everyone high fives.

  For the most part the kids seemed pretty excited about their work and what they had just accomplished.

  It was fair to say that everyone was happy.

  Except Lucas.

  As the others were talking and laughing about how they had fooled Goper and Ekki and Ms. Günerro, Lucas sat at the far end of the bench and worried. He felt like he had forgotten something—it was the same feeling he had every time he left on a trip. That sense that he had left something behind.

  Lucas zoned out as he stared at the priceless paintings in front of him. The images in the Guernica painting bothered him. They were people, families that had been bombed, killed, just so that Hitler and Franco could test explosives.

  Lucas knew it was more than that.

  Franco had partly chosen the town of Guernica because his enemies had been there, but he also chose the little farming community because no one cared about it. They were people who Franco and Hitler figured just weren’t good enough to worry about.

  As the tarp roof flapped in the wind, Lucas consciously replayed the day’s film in his head. Frame by frame. The truck. The paintings. The jackhammers. He clicked through the pictures in reverse order looking for something. Looking for what he had forgotten.

  Then in his mind he heard Goper banging on the door.

  Lucas looked at his friends sitting around him.

  Priceless, he thought again. A thing can be priceless. If something is more valuable than a thing, then maybe it’s not a thing.

  On the other side, squished between Nalini and Kerala, he noticed something missing.

  “Where’s your bow tie?” Lucas asked Alister.

  “You asked me to block the keyhole,” Alister said. “And I was tired of that tie anyway.”

  The wide tires on the truck hummed, and the sound lulled Luca
s back to the movie in his head. Still there was something. He dug deep into his memory and clawed his way through old scars. There was an answer he was looking for somewhere here in his mind.

  Images bombarded his brain rapid fire. Lucas tried to make sense of it. He saw Gini the baby, Ms. Günerro and her kidnapping company, and her stolen diamonds and artwork. He cringed at the idea of a busload of kids nearly drowning in the River Seine in Paris. The scooter in Rome. Lucas shivered as he remembered being thrown off a ship and into the sea. There was Hervé and his cane. Where was he? Bleach and her clique scuba diving. He saw the shipping container at the bottom of the Mediterranean. The message from his mother spray-painted in his mind.

  There are treasures far more valuable than priceless.

  He looked at his friends and again at the Guernica painting in front of him.

  Priceless painting, he thought. A thing can be priceless. If something is more valuable than a thing, then maybe it’s not a thing.

  Finally Lucas knew the answer. Knew it. In his heart and in his mind. In his DNA. Lucas sprang to his feet. He banged on the window between the back of the truck and the cab up front.

  “Stop!” Lucas yelled.

  He smashed his fist again on the window.

  Holding the steering wheel with one hand, Rafa glanced back.

  “Stop the truck now,” Lucas said.

  “What’s going on?” Astrid asked.

  The engine shook as it slowed. Rafa skidded the truck into a gravel parking lot just to the side of the road.

  Lucas said, “I know what’s more valuable than priceless.”

  SUPER PUMA

  Lucas’s body acted on its own.

  He marched straight past the paintings and his friends and stepped through the slit in the canvas. He hopped down to the gravel parking lot and looked around.

  Cars were speeding by on the highway, and the Spanish sun seemed to be baking everything. It was well over forty degrees Celsius, more than a hundred Fahrenheit.

  “I’m going back,” Lucas said. “You guys keep going to Gibraltar and deliver the paintings, and I’ll meet you there before sunset.”

  “What?” Astrid asked.

  Lucas didn’t answer. When you know what you’re doing is right, you don’t have to explain it to anyone. He turned and started walking down the side of the road, all by himself, knowing in his heart what he was doing was best.

  At the outset he walked quickly but soon slowed as the heat evaporated his energy. After a few moments he began to feel odd. He thought it might be the sun. Then he sensed that someone was watching him. He looked out onto the roadway to see if the Good Company bus was watching and listening.

  He turned around and saw Astrid and Jackknife running to catch up with him.

  “What are you doing?” he said.

  “We’re coming with you,” Astrid said.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “We know we don’t have to,” Astrid said.

  “You’re going to need us, anyway,” Jackknife said.

  “We know exactly why you’re going back,” Astrid said.

  The threesome turned and started walking.

  After a few minutes in silence, Jackknife spoke. “How long is this hike going to take?” he asked.

  “About an hour,” Lucas said.

  “We should get in some shade,” Astrid said. “It’s dangerously hot out here.”

  “Maybe we should run,” Jackknife said. “And get out of the heat faster.”

  They turned onto Andalucía Avenue and took to the sidewalk, where the acacia trees offered a little shade. Jackknife picked up the pace and started jogging at a good clip.

  A while later, they arrived back at the scene of the crime. Across the gardens Lucas spotted groups of tourists climbing a flight of stairs.

  There were boot prints in the dirt around the opening they’d created, and it appeared that someone had tried to enter the dungeon. Lucas figured it was Ekki and Goper. But as far as he could tell, there were no guards or Curukians around at that moment.

  Lucas peered into the room. Inside he could see that a painting still blocked the view, the barrel bolts still secured the door from the inside, and Alister’s bow tie still jammed the keyhole.

  Against the walls the copied paintings sat on the easels where Nalini had placed them.

  “Hey,” Lucas said down into the cell. “Anyone in there?”

  A monk stuck his head out. “Yes?”

  “It’s time to go,” Lucas said.

  “We cannot,” said the boy.

  “I get it,” Lucas said. “The Good Company killed my mother, and I know you’re worried about your families. But no matter what, Ching Ching will think you sabotaged this heist. If you come with us, then the New Resistance can help you and your families.”

  Lucas stood up straight. “I’ll get us a ride,” he said to Jackknife and Astrid. “You guys get the monks out.”

  “They just said no,” Jackknife said. “Again.”

  “What if they keep refusing?” Astrid asked.

  “They’ll have to go,” Lucas said, “I’m about to make that dungeon unfit to live in.”

  While Astrid and Jackknife slipped through the opening and back into the cell they had escaped from, Lucas sprinted across the grounds to Aleta’s house.

  Twelve minutes later Lucas came back to the gap in the wall, and Astrid and Jackknife were helping the last two boys out. The others boys were huddled together under a tree, and Lucas approached them.

  “I know you’re scared,” he said. “We all are. But if we do this right, the Good Company nightmare will be over. For good.”

  “Thanks for coming back,” said the monk in front. “We’ll help.”

  A wind began to blow, and a rumbling sound shook everything around them. The leaves in the trees quivered, and cones of dust swirled upward.

  “Did you get us a ride?” Astrid asked.

  Lucas pointed into the sky.

  A Eurocopter EC225 Super Puma thundered into view.

  “Yes,” Jackknife said. “That’s our ride?”

  A fine-powder cloud erupted as the transport helicopter spun its way down to the hotel courtyard and landed.

  Lucas, Astrid, Jackknife, and the monks turned to shield their eyes from the billowing dust storm.

  Over the near-deafening roar of the spinning blades, Lucas called out to his friends. “Jackknife,” he said. “Get the monks on board. And then run inside and hit the fire alarm.”

  “What?”

  “Just do it,” Lucas said. “Tell Aleta, the pilot, to wait for us. We’ll be right back.”

  Jackknife took off.

  “Astrid,” Lucas said. “Come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Back inside.”

  THE BEST THINGS IN LIFE

  Lucas and Astrid slipped through the jackhammered hole in the wall and into the cell. Outside the main door they could hear voices.

  Lucas took charge and looked at his sister. “Get something and smash all the lightbulbs in this dungeon,” he said.

  Astrid’s eyebrows wrinkled for a second.

  “Don’t ask,” Lucas said. “Do it.”

  Astrid turned and moved quickly. She went into the other cell, where the monk painters had been. There she took one of the easels and swung it into the lightbulbs, smashing them one by one.

  “Hey,” Goper said from the other side of the door. “What’s going on in there?”

  He beat on the door.

  While Astrid killed the lights, Lucas snatched up the bottles of turpentine and linseed oil and then doused the easels holding the fake paintings with the flammable liquids.

  Goper kicked the door. “Open up.”

  “Yeah,” Ekki yelled. “We can’t fit through that kid-sized hole you cut in the wall.”

  From the other room Lucas could hear Astrid smashing more lightbulbs. Soon they were in the dark, and the only remaining light came from the opening in the stone wall.
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br />   Lucas unlocked the two barrel bolts on the wooden door. From the keyhole he gently wiggled out the bow tie and draped it around his neck.

  Then he waited.

  A few seconds later, Jackknife pulled the fire alarm, and the siren screamed throughout the hotel.

  “Goper,” Lucas yelled. “Now try your key.”

  When Goper opened the door, he pushed a copied painting out of his way and stepped into the room.

  “Hey, Goper,” Lucas said. “Congratulations on becoming head of Good Company Security.”

  “Um,” Goper said. “Thanks?”

  Ms. Günerro and Ekki hurried into the room.

  “Turn on the light,” Ms. Günerro said.

  Ekki flicked the switch.

  “It doesn’t work,” he said, flipping it back and forth.

  “Maybe the fire alarm tripped the light switch,” Goper said. “Or maybe Lucas had something to do with that.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Ms. Günerro said, stepping forward. “What matters at this point is why Lucas Benes decided to come into this . . . this artists’ studio.” She glared at Lucas. “Please do tell.”

  Ekki and Goper stood behind their boss, nodding at every word she uttered.

  “I came here,” Lucas said, “mostly because I wanted to see these priceless paintings in person.”

  “Isn’t that lovely?” Ms. Günerro said. “Lucas Benes is now an art historian.”

  “Sure,” Lucas said. “I’m a Renaissance man.”

  “If you knew anything, young man,” Ms. Günerro said, “you’d notice that some of those paintings behind you are originals while others are copies.”

  “It’s so dark in here,” Astrid said. “We can’t really see anything.”

  “Goper,” Ms. Günerro said. “You’re head of security now. Fix the lights and do something about that awful fire alarm while you’re at it. I can’t even think. It’s almost as bad as listening to these children.”

  Goper stepped out of the room.

  “Soon, you’ll see,” Ms. Günerro said, “that the best things in life are free.”

  “These were not free paintings,” Astrid said. “You stole them.”

  The muscles in Lucas’s jaw clenched. He knew what he was about to do was dangerous. Very.