The Double Helix (Book 3)

by Trudi Trueit

  As they drove through the bustling city, Cruz saw modern shops, hotels, and outdoor cafés nestled between Gothic churches and buildings. None of the explorers knew where they were going. Professor Luben had come with them, as had Monsieur Legrand and Taryn. Cruz suspected another competition was in their future. Monsieur Legrand was here to see that they had a good workout while Taryn had come along to make sure it was fun. How Professor Luben fit into the mix, however, was a mystery. He was sitting a few rows in front of Cruz and Emmett and recounting another one of his adventures for the explorers around him. This one was about cave diving at a Florida sinkhole called Eagle’s Nest. “You dive down through this tube that’s maybe six feet wide, and at a depth of seventy feet, it opens up into a cave that’s so big and so dark you can’t see a thing.” Professor Luben put his hands in front of his face. “It’s blackness, pure blackness. The cave is so big they call it the Ballroom. So many divers have died in Eagle’s Nest, there’s even a warning sign telling inexperienced divers to go back!”

  Cruz had a feeling Professor Luben would love to hear the details of the quest for Cruz’s mom’s formula, but of course, that was impossible. He knew he could share nothing beyond his circle of friends—not even the small victories, like the one last night.

  In the short time they’d had before it was time for bed, Cruz, Emmett, Lani, and Sailor had knuckled down to try to answer the first part of his mom’s clue: Where was the rose city? At Emmett’s suggestion, they had taken out their tablets and started searching.

  “There are a bunch of cities with the name Rose in them,” Lani had pointed out. “Most are in America, but there are a couple in Italy…one in France…a Rose Valley in Pakistan.”

  “Portland, Oregon, is nicknamed the Rose City,” said Sailor.

  “There’s a holo-game called City of the White Rose,” offered Emmett.

  Cruz had stopped typing to stare at his search results. Could it be that simple?

  The lights flickered.

  “Ugh!” said Sailor. “Two minutes to lights-out.”

  “That went too fast,” said Lani.

  “I…uh…think we can stop brainstorming,” said Cruz.

  “Like we have a choice,” sighed Emmett.

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Cruz, and he began to read the article on his tablet. “More than two thousand years ago, a nomadic Arab tribe called the Nabataeans settled in the mountains of southern Jordan. They created a luxurious regional trading center, carving elaborate temples, tombs, churches, and even an amphitheater from the red sandstone cliffs. The Nabataeans called their rose-colored city of stone”—Cruz glanced up—“Petra.”

  Nobody moved. Everyone knew Petra was his mom’s first name.

  “That has to be it, Cruz,” said Lani. “Petra has to be where she hid the third piece of the cipher!”

  They had all agreed.

  Cruz had been too excited to sleep. He’d stayed awake well past midnight, looking at photos of the Rose City on his tablet. Petra was spread out over 100 square miles and at its peak had been home to more than 20,000 people! The cipher could be anywhere—hidden within Al-Khazneh, an intricate 128-foot-tall royal tomb, or tucked between one of the rows of the Nabataean Theater, a massive amphitheater carved into the rock face. Or it could be in any one of Petra’s hundreds of ancient temples, monuments, or tombs. Cruz kept repeating the second part of his mom’s clue until he had it memorized. Only then did he drift off into a fitful sleep.

  Walk on confetti until you find the animal that is at home both in the clouds and under the sea. It may seem like a strange mythical creature, but at the end of the day, if you’re willing to reach out, you’ll have your reward.

  Cruz’s van was pulling into a circular driveway. The two vehicles parked next to a tall, curved, peach-colored sandstone wall. Red ivy curled up from the bottom of the wall, reaching to a row of notches cut into the top, like on every castle in every movie Cruz had ever seen. Stepping out of the van into the sunshine, Cruz caught a glimpse of a round castle tower behind a massive iron gate.

  Taryn motioned for them to gather around her. “Welcome to Desvalls Palace. It dates back to 1791 and was constructed by Joan Antoni Desvalls i d’Ardena, marquis of Llupia and Alfarrás. It is home to the oldest garden in Barcelona. Now it’s a public park. The castle is used as a library and gardening institute, but we won’t be going inside.” She gave them a wicked grin. “Today, we have other plans for you. Come with me.” Taryn led the way around the outside of the wall to a wooded walkway. The wide, tree-lined brick-and-cement path wound behind the palace. They strolled past terraced gardens, manicured hedges, Greek statues, and gates that led to more terraced gardens and manicured hedges and Greek statues. The place was huge!

  “You ready?” Emmett hissed to Cruz as they walked.

  “For what?”

  “We must be doing something for anthro class. Why else would Professor Luben have come with us? And if it is an anthro assignment, they’ll be giving us PANDA units.”

  Cruz saw what his roommate was getting at. He needed a PANDA to make the decoy cipher. It would take only a few minutes to make a quick scan of the two cipher pieces now in the front pocket of his uniform jacket and upload the results to his tablet. They could then make the fakes on the 3D printer in their cabin.

  “I’m ready,” said Cruz. He didn’t want to say anything to Emmett here, but he was still concerned about giving Nebula the decoy. It was an awfully big risk—one that he wasn’t sure he wanted to take. He was considering another idea. What if Cruz made a duplicate of the cipher for himself and gave Nebula the real thing? It would mean that Nebula had an accurate cipher, of course, but his father would be out of danger.

  Taryn was taking them down a long path with cypress trees on one side. The 20-foot-tall evergreen trees were packed tightly together, pruned into one long, neat rectangular hedge. Cruz wondered what was on the other side, but the branches were so dense he couldn’t peek through them. It was probably another garden. They passed a cypress archway but didn’t go under it. It wasn’t until they went up a series of stone steps onto a landing with a pair of stone gazebos and turned to face back where they’d come from did things become clear. The hedge was the outer perimeter of many, many other hedges. This was a giant maze!

  “You’re looking at Parc del Laberint d’Horta, the Labyrinth Park of Horta,” announced Taryn. She moved to the carved sandstone railing. It overlooked the square maze that was a bit smaller than a football field.

  “From up here, it looks easy, doesn’t it?” Taryn grinned. “Don’t be fooled. This maze contains more than two thousand twists and turns. Also, we’re throwing in a few twists of our own, which Monsieur Legrand will explain in a moment. If you do make it to the center of the labyrinth, however, you’ll be greeted by a statue of Eros, the Greek god of love, as well as Professor Luben, who is also lovely but not a god, I’m afraid.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Attention, s’il vous plaît!” bellowed Monsieur Legrand. “Each team will consist of two quiz contestants, two spotters, and two runners. Team Cousteau, because you’re down a member, you’ll have one spotter, which actually might be the better deal when you see what we’ve got planned. Here’s how it will work: Each team gets one try at the maze, while the other teams wait out of sight. Taryn will be our quizmaster. She’ll ask your two contestants a question about Spain, and if you’ve done all of your assigned readings, it should not be difficult. The contestants will have a minute to confer and give an answer. If the answer is correct, the two runners will get thirty seconds to move through the maze, then must stop. They’ll get an additional thirty seconds for every correct answer. The runners will get navigational help from their spotters, who will tell them whether to turn right or left, move forward or back, and so on. The spotters will be up here at the rail with their GPS sunglasses linked to a drone flying overhead. The drone cam will give the spotters a complete view of the labyrinth. The spotters will also be w
earing headsets to help their runners navigate the maze. Runners will be able to hear the contestants and the spotters; however, they will not be able to talk to them. If the contestants don’t answer correctly, fifteen seconds will be added to your overall time and Taryn will move on to the next question.

  The goal, of course, is to get through the maze as quickly as possible. I will be the timekeeper. Once both runners touch the statue in the center of the labyrinth, Professor Luben will tell me to stop the clock. The team with the best time will win a special honor, which Professor Luben will reveal at the end of the game. Everyone clear on the rules?” When they nodded, Monsieur Legrand rolled up the sleeves of his black turtleneck. “Oh, there’s one more thing.”

  “Wuh-oh,” Emmett muttered to Cruz, “here it comes.”

  “The two runners will be tethered together.”

  The explorers groaned.

  “Teams will not be allowed to watch other teams do the maze, even once they have finished,” said Taryn. “Nor will you know the time of your team or any team until the competition is complete. You will go in alphabetical order: Cousteau, Earhart, Galileo, and Magellan. Please get into your teams now. Professor Luben, Monsieur Legrand, and I will come around to designate who will be contestants, spotters, and runners.”

  “You mean we don’t get to choose?” asked Dugan. When Taryn shook her head, he puffed up his cheeks; however, he didn’t complain.

  Cruz knew how Dugan felt. He wished they could have chosen, too. He wanted to be a runner. That sounded fun!

  Professor Luben was coming toward them, carrying a small black velvet bag. “Team Cousteau, in this pouch are five holo-chips with your images on them. I will pick the first quiz contestant.” Wiggling his fingers like a magician about to pull a rabbit out of his hat, he stuck his hand into the bag. He took out a flat, round poker chip, looked at it, then held it up. A 3D image of Sailor’s head stared at them. Professor Luben turned to Sailor. “Your turn. You’ll pick the second contestant.”

  Digging into the bag, Sailor brought out Emmett’s chip.

  Yes! Cruz cheered silently. Emmett and Sailor were going to answer the questions for their team. They would do well.

  “Now, for your two runners. Choose the first one, please.” Professor Luben held the bag out to Emmett. He reached in and wasted no time pulling out a chip. They huddled up to see whose face was on it. “It’s Cruz,” said their teacher.

  Yes, again! Two for two.

  “Select your partner.” Professor Luben held the open bag out to Cruz. “The person on the remaining chip will be your spotter.”

  Cruz felt his stomach tighten. Only Bryndis and Dugan were left. Cruz did not want to be tethered to Dugan Marsh, even for a game that wasn’t graded. He had a fifty-fifty shot. Bryndis was standing behind Dugan’s shoulder, her hands up to her chin and the first two fingers on each hand tightly crossed. She was grinning at Cruz. She wanted to run with him. Taking a deep breath, Cruz plunged a fist into the velvet pouch. The chips all felt the same. Round. Smooth. Flat. He went back and forth between the two disks. Which one should he choose? Cruz closed his hand around a chip, brought it up, and uncurled his fingers to see…

  Dugan.

  Cruz tried to keep his disappointment inside, but he had a feeling his forced grin looked more like the face you make when you smack your funny bone.

  “Dugan and Cruz, you’ll run. Bryndis, you’ll be their spotter,” said Professor Luben. “You’re the first team up, so go get your headsets and prepare. Runners will start at the far south corner of the maze by the arch we passed on the way in. Cruz and Dugan, I’ll get the tether and meet you down there to connect you.”

  Ten minutes later, with the other teams in another part of the park, Team Cousteau was in position. Sailor and Emmett had taken their place in front of Taryn on the stone terrace. Bryndis was a few feet away, facing the maze. She wore a headset and her GPS sunglasses, linked to the drone cam hovering 50 feet above them. Cruz and Dugan had their backs to the entrance, marked by the cypress arch over tall marble carvings of two robed figures—likely a Greek god and goddess, Cruz figured. They had been instructed not to turn around until Monsieur Legrand gave the signal. Cruz watched Professor Luben tie one end of a clear, flexible three-foot band to his left wrist and the other end to Dugan’s right wrist. “By the way, I meant to tell you,” said their anthropology teacher, “remember the looting tile your team flagged with the underground circles?”

  “Yes!” Cruz and Dugan said at the same time. They had been anxiously waiting for news.

  “I consulted a few colleagues, and we agree it’s an unreported archaeological site.”

  “What is it?” pressed Dugan.

  “We don’t know. Yet. Which is why, if I were you, I’d really want to win this contest.”

  Cruz didn’t understand. “What do you—”

  “Take your marks!” Monsieur Legrand’s voice boomed in Cruz’s head. He heard Professor Luben’s footsteps rush down the dirt path into the maze.

  “Here we go!” Taryn came over their headsets. “First question. Emmett and Sailor, the southern and eastern coasts of Spain often experience warm winds that originate in northern Africa. What is the name of these winds?”

  A beat later, Emmett burst, “Sirocco! Sorry, Sailor.”

  “It’s okay,” she chuckled.

  “Correct,” said Taryn.

  Dugan and Cruz looked sideways at each other. Any second now Monsieur Legrand was going to say—

  “Go, Team Cousteau!”

  Cruz whirled right. Dugan went left. The flexible tube between them stretched to its full length, then snapped back, yanking them together. The boys cracked elbows. Dugan stumbled forward. Cruz caught him and set him upright, before spinning them both around to face the entrance. “We’ve got to work together!” shouted Cruz.

  “No kidding,” spit Dugan. “I think you broke my arm.”

  “We’re wasting time. Which way should we go? Left or right?”

  Dugan pointed to the left. “I want to go that way.”

  In his head, Cruz heard a calm voice say, “Start to the right.”

  Bryndis!

  There wasn’t enough room in the passage between the trees for them to run side by side, so since Cruz was to the right of Dugan, he took the lead. Dugan slipped in behind him without an argument. A miracle.

  “Run to the end of the hedge, take a quick left, then a sharp right and get into the far-right lane,” instructed Bryndis.

  Cruz saw the hedge wall straight ahead, but Dugan was pulling him back. He was slowing down to take their first left, which would take them off course. “Does she mean take the left here…?”

  “No,” called Cruz, yanking his teammate to the end of the row.

  “Hey, we’re supposed to be a team,” barked Dugan.

  “Keep running!” called Cruz, as they took the zigzag, then dashed down the row. “And I’m glad to know you actually care about our team.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  They had come to a three-way intersection.

  “Take the middle one,” said Bryndis.

  They did. The pair charged down a long passage with no turns, which gave Cruz a chance to finish his thought. “You spend a lot of time hanging out with Team Magellan.”

  “Ali’s my roommate,” huffed Dugan.

  “I’m your teammate.”

  “Yeah, but you guys don’t like me.”

  “Stop!” ordered Monsieur Legrand.

  Dugan and Cruz pulled up. They’d come to a halt next to a section of the maze where new trees had been planted, their young branches tied to a wire trellis. The pair could easily see into the next row over. Not that it helped much. They had no idea if their passage led to that row or somewhere else. Cruz put his hands on his hips to catch his breath. He looked at Dugan, who was scowling. “You’ve got it backward, Dugan,” said Cruz. “It’s like you’re competing against us, instead of the other teams.”

  Duga
n kicked at the dirt. “I want to win the North Star.”

  “At the expense of our team? That’s pretty selfish.”

  “Maybe I have to be selfish,” spit Dugan. “I’m the only one looking out for me.”

  Cruz threw up his untethered hand. “I can’t talk to you.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “Don’t worry, from now on, I won’t!”

  “Second question,” said Taryn. “In the early twenty-first century, the population of this wild cat native to southwestern Spain numbered less than one hundred, but it was brought back from the brink of extinction thanks to extraordinary efforts by conservationists. Name this species of cat.”

  Cruz saw a flash of black. Behind Dugan’s shoulder, on the other side of the thinning hedge, somebody was hurrying past. Someone else was in the maze. Probably a tourist.

  “The Iberian lynx,” Cruz heard Sailor say.

  The tourist turned Cruz’s way. A hood fell. Cruz saw a mass of wiry red hair and a red beard. Their eyes met for an instant. Then he was gone.

  Cruz stood dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe it. Was that…?

  No, it couldn’t be. Not here! Not now!

  “Come on!” Dugan was yanking on their tether. “What are you waiting for?”

  Cruz hadn’t heard Taryn confirm that Sailor’s answer was right. He hadn’t heard the “go” signal from Monsieur Legrand. His mind reeling, Cruz stumbled after Dugan.

  Had he imagined it? Or had Cruz actually come within feet of a man who’d tried to kill him, former Academy librarian and Nebula assassin Malcolm Rook?

  “RIGHT… no, vinstri,” cried Bryndis.

  “She means left,” called Cruz. Whenever Bryndis got excited, she reverted to her native Icelandic. She’d done it twice in the seven legs they had run so far. Fortunately, their communications/translator pins had caught it, so after the first time, Cruz knew what to listen for.

  “Oops, I meant left,” said Bryndis.

  Correcting his course, Cruz stepped on Dugan’s foot. “Sorry.”