Priceless: Crime Travelers Spy School Mystery Series Book 3

by Paul Aertker

  “You’re right, Ms. Günerro,” Lucas said. “At least partly right. The best things in life might be free, so long as you’re free. But if you’re kidnapping children, taking them away from their families and their homes, then they have no freedom at all. And that’s all anyone wants anyway—to be free.”

  “What?” Ms. Günerro asked. “Are you some sort of philosopher-poet?”

  “Yes, he is a poet,” Astrid said. “And he didn’t even know it.”

  “I agree,” Lucas said, “that some great things in life don’t cost any money. Some are even priceless.”

  “Like my new paintings,” Ms. Günerro said. “They are arguably now the most valuable things on the planet.”

  “That’s where you’re all wrong,” Lucas said. “The only thing more valuable than priceless is ... people. Human beings matter more than things. Period. That’s why I came back. To get the people, not the paintings.”

  “We have an agreement then,” Ms. Günerro said. “I’ll take valuables over people any day.”

  “But you don’t have any money anymore,” Astrid said. “You’re broke. And your so-called Good Company is bankrupt. In fact our dad’s company just bought one of your superyachts.” Astrid didn’t stop. “What’s sad is that you’re a grown-up,” she said. “How could you have done all this? For all the money in the world?”

  “I have trouble connecting with children,” Ms. Günerro said. “I find your voices and your actions ... well ... childlike. I’ll explain it to you this way. It’s simple. I will save my company by selling copies of these priceless paintings.”

  “We still can’t see them,” Astrid said. “You don’t even know how good these copies are.”

  “I’ll show you, young lady,” said Ms. Günerro. Then she yelled out the door. “Goper! Get the lights.” Ms. Günerro turned and stepped out of the room, her hand still holding the door slightly ajar.

  A tiny window of opportunity had just opened.

  “Ekki,” Lucas whispered. “Be the hero! You’ve got a pack of matches on you.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You had them on the train,” Lucas said. “In Hircus’s compartment.”

  “That’s right!” Ekki said. “Good thinking, Lucas! You know, you’re actually really a nice guy.”

  “Thanks,” Lucas said. “Toss me the matches.”

  Ekki jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a little cardboard box. He shook it and flung it up in the air.

  The matchbox twirled as it floated across the room. It seemed to take forever. Lucas reached up and snatched it, and the wooden sticks rattled in the cardboard.

  Lucas struck a match. His face lit up for a second. From his shoulder he slid Alister’s bow tie and put it in the flame. The tie must have been doused in turpentine, for the fire quickly engulfed the material.

  Lucas dropped the tie to the floor, and the flammable liquids lit up like a river ablaze. The flames snaked across the concrete and hit the easels holding the fake paintings.

  Within seconds the whole room lit up.

  Ms. Günerro turned back into the room. Her eyes looked like they might pop out of her head.

  Goper and Ekki ripped off their jackets and raced to the blaze. They slapped at the flames, trying to smother the growing inferno.

  “My paintings!” Ms. Günerro shrieked. “My priceless paintings!”

  Then she turned and headed out the door.

  In the commotion Lucas and Astrid bolted behind the burning easels. They cut through the smoke and quickly clawed their way out of the hole in the wall. Jackknife was there and helped pull them through.

  To the left the helicopter idled, and dust swirled around them. As soon as they stood up, Lucas and Astrid saw Bleach and her clique scattered across the grounds, moaning in pain.

  Lucas and Astrid looked at Jackknife.

  “Hervé told us this,” Jackknife said. “Smoke freezes their minds, but they were in like a half trance, and they still tried to fight.”

  Astrid pointed at the girls on the ground. “You fought a dozen Curukians?” Astrid asked. “By yourself?”

  “All you need to know,” Jackknife said, “is that when they have to, monks know how to box!”

  Astrid, Jackknife, and Lucas climbed aboard with the monks, and the helicopter took off.

  THE ROCK OF GIBRALTAR

  Aleta piloted the helicopter and transported Lucas, Astrid, Jackknife, and the monks out over the gardens of the Alhambra. Along the highway a line of fire trucks and police cars raced toward the fire, the sirens flashing.

  Aleta flew over the land and the sea and toward the Costa del Sol, where the superrich play at some of the glitziest resorts in the world. The helicopter buzzed over the famous cities of Málaga and Marbella. Within about an hour they circled the Rock of Gibraltar.

  Gibraltar is a British Overseas Territory located at the southern tip of Spain. It was named the Rock of Gibraltar for its massive limestone peninsula that juts out from the mainland of Europe and into the Alboran Sea that lies between Iberia and Africa.

  Lucas could see the huge rock dominating the end of the continent. It was over four hundred meters, some thirteen hundred feet, high. The Eurocopter circled the eastern face of the Rock and banked a wide turn into the harbor at Gibraltar.

  Sitting in the middle of all the other boats was the Globe Hotel’s first superyacht. The whole New Resistance team covered the deck of the Thimblerig. The kids were jumping up and down and waving, going crazy. Lucas spotted Hervé waving his cane and Rufus tipping his top hat. Mike and his crew of Indonesians were there too.

  Aleta lowered the helicopter into position. When they were about ten meters, roughly thirty-three feet, from the water, she spoke into her headset. “This is as close as I can safely get.”

  Jackknife flung open the side door. He turned around, balanced his shoes on the edge, and did a backflip straight into the harbor.

  The monks didn’t hesitate either. They sprang from their seats and leaped out the door like kids at a summer-camp lake.

  When the last monk plunged into water, Jackknife was already climbing up the ladder and onto the deck of the superyacht.

  Lucas and Astrid waved good-bye to Aleta.

  They held hands and jumped from the helicopter and splashed into the sea.

  EPILOGUE

  That night the chef on board the superyacht cooked crab legs, and the kids ate until they were stuffed. After dinner, Nalini took Gini to bed, and Lucas, Astrid, and friends gathered together in front of the giant TV.

  Three beeps came across the television and all the kids in the room looked up.

  A man and a woman sat at an anchor desk and began to report the news. Across the bottom of the screen a red line flashed: BREAKING NEWS: STOLEN SPANISH PAINTINGS RETURNED.

  The news anchor spoke. “Picasso’s Guernica, stolen from the Reina Sofía Museum in Madrid two days ago, has mysteriously appeared at police headquarters in the British Overseas Territory of Gibraltar located at the southern tip of the Iberian Peninsula.

  “The artwork has now been transferred to Spanish authorities. The Picasso painting as well as the others stolen during the brazen heist are on their way back to their home.”

  Another red line flashed across the screen: BREAKING NEWS: UNICEF REPORTS RECORD NUMBER OF MISSING CHILDREN FOUND.

  The anchorwoman spun in her chair and faced another camera.

  “The United Nations Children’s Fund, UNICEF, was overwhelmed today as thousands of children who had been reported lost or kidnapped showed up at local UNICEF offices worldwide.

  “UNICEF is headquartered in New York City and provides long-term humanitarian assistance to children and mothers and their families worldwide.

  “From Cincinnati to Jakarta to Helsinki, officials say they were stunned today by a number of missing children turning up. The head of UNICEF said the reason for the surprise influx came from an anonymous tip in the Barcelona office last week, and since then their of
fices have been overrun with children who are now being returned to their families.”

  Lucas looked over at Hervé. He was beaming.

  Another red line flashed across the screen: BREAKING NEWS: GOOD COMPANY BROKE.

  “For today’s business news,” said the anchor, looking straight ahead, “the multinational megacompany known as the Good Company is officially gone.

  “The company filed for bankruptcy, and a spokesperson said today, quote, “we have no money left,” End quote. The Good Company leaves owing billions of dollars to hundreds of countries, companies, and people across the globe.

  “A group called Out of Africa, led by Mr. Lu Bunguu, has bought the Good Company weapons division, aptly named the Good Guns Company.

  “The Good Chemical Division has been sold to Ching Ching Enterprises for an undisclosed amount.

  “It’s also rumored that the Globe Hotel, a worldwide chain of boutique spas and resorts, has made a bid to take over the entire Good Company hotel chain.

  “Company head Ms. Siba Günerro has reportedly resigned; however, her whereabouts are unknown. The CEO was last seen at a hotel that was on fire at the Alhambra in Granada, Spain.

  “There were no injuries, and the building was not damaged. Firefighters said that someone had unmistakably tripped the fire alarm before the blaze actually started. Interestingly, the only thing destroyed in the fire were copies of the paintings stolen from the Reina Sofía Museum.

  “Police now believe that Ms. Günerro is the prime suspect in the art heist and that she had planned to sell the copied paintings on the black market in order to help her company stop losing money.”

  The anchorwoman turned and faced the gentleman sitting next to her. He wore a dark suit and glasses and had gray hair.

  “In today’s opinion segment,” said the woman, “we have Bernie Keyser from ‘Wall Street Minute’ to give us his take on today’s big news.”

  The newsman picked up the next story.

  “I’ll be brief. In my opinion the Good Company is bad, rotten to the core. This group has had allegations of misconduct for years, and police have never been able to make any crimes stick to Ms. Günerro or her thugs, oddly known as Curukians.

  “People who study worldwide crime know full well the tragedies that this one cheating company has inflicted on so many. I for one am happy, thrilled, to hear that the Good Company has finally met its match. Apparently a group of children brought down this awful organization. Maybe grown-ups should listen to children more often and treat them like adults. The world might be a better place if we did. That’s just my opinion.

  “In closing, I’ve got two things to say to this so-called Good Company.

  “Good-bye and good riddance.”

  Mr. Benes turned the television off, and Rufus Chapman began whistling a sleepy song. Soon the kids migrated to their cabins.

  Lucas went to bed that night and crawled into his bunk. For the first time in a long time he slept like a baby, knowing at that very moment everything was right with the world.

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