Amulet Keepers Read online

  Alex was having a hard time understanding.

  “ ’Pologize fer me accent,” said the man. “Must sound a bit like I’ve got marbles in me mouf.”

  Alex searched his brain: What’s a mouf?

  “Fing is, Dr. Aditi couldn’t make it, see? Sent me to pick you up an’ all ’at, right?”

  Alex watched the man closely. He could understand a dozen different ancient Egyptian dialects with the help of his amulet. He hadn’t missed one word of the Stung Man’s Middle Kingdom bluster. But this giant gent had him baffled.

  Ren stepped up: “ ’E says — excuse me, he says that Dr. Aditi can’t make it.”

  The man nodded. “In a meeting, she is.”

  “She’s in a meeting, and she sent him to pick us up.”

  “Bring you to the museum.”

  “And bring us —”

  “I got that part,” said Alex. He sized the man up. Size: XXL. He knew who they were, and he knew Dr. Aditi was supposed to meet them — but who was he?

  “Are you, like, her assistant?” asked Ren skeptically.

  “Aw, nuffin’ like ’at,” said the man, who definitely didn’t seem the scholarly type. “I’m a driver. Fer the museum, like.”

  Alex nodded. That made more sense.

  “Look at you two, with your own driver,” said Luke. “I’m just gonna head to the train.”

  “Who’s this, then?” said the man — Ooze iss den? — looking down at his sheet of paper again.

  “Luke Bauer, big guy, remember the name.” He turned to Alex and added, “Got your digits, cuz. I’ll send you a text — or look you up at the Umwell.”

  He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and headed off toward the airport train station.

  “ ’Is way, den,” said the man. “Got a van out front.”

  “Come on,” Ren said to Alex. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I can ’elp you wiv ’at bag, any’ow,” offered the man, stepping forward and plucking Alex’s heavy suitcase from the ground with one massive bear paw.

  Alex nodded. He wasn’t about to argue with that. He decided he was probably just being paranoid. Ren seemed to trust the guy. She was a few steps ahead, chatting away with him. She understood him just fine. Had she studied that in preparation for the trip, too? He picked up the pace and caught up with them.

  “What’s your name, anyway?” he said to the man.

  “Me name?”

  “Yeah, you name.”

  “It’s Liam, innit?” he said.

  Alex was confused again. Is he asking me?

  Ren read his expression. “It’s Liam, Alex.”

  “Okay, cool. Nice to meet you.”

  The man reached up and touched the tip of his undersized cap with his free hand. “Just up a’ead ’ere,” he said, pointing to a pair of large sliding doors.

  Alex nodded. He was beginning to understand the man’s accent. Rule #1: No h’s. The automatic doors shooshed open, and Alex took one last look at the chaotic airport as they left it behind. They’d flown thousands of miles: out of trouble and chaos and danger in one city and into a fresh batch of it in another. It would be worth it if his mom was here. She had to be, and once he found her, she’d know what to do. She always had …

  On the other side of the doors was a dim lower level, two narrow lanes of pavement with a curb on one side and a low concrete wall on the other. There was a beat-up cargo van directly in front of them — the kind with a sliding door and no windows in the back — and that was it.

  “Where are all the cars?” said Alex. “The airport’s so busy inside …”

  “Bit of a dustup,” said Liam, pointing vaguely to the top of the ramp. “I was d’last one got frew.”

  Alex looked up to the top of the ramp. There was a car sideways across both lanes. A man standing nearby had both arms in the air and another man was shouting something at him. Alex looked the other way. Another ramp led up and away, merging with the traffic leaving the airport. “Did they crash or —”

  But before he could finish his question, his own heavy suitcase crashed into him. Liam swung the thing like a Ping-Pong paddle, clocking Alex hard on the shoulder and sending him sprawling to the pavement.

  “Kuhhh!” he said as the air escaped his lungs. The pavement dug into his palms as he landed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Liam bring the suitcase down toward Ren, trying to swat her like a fly. She leapt nimbly to the side, but the heavy case just clipped her leg and sent her to the ground, too.

  This guy is a fake! he thought. He began to scramble to his feet, but the suitcase came down on his head, knocking him senseless.

  Through half-closed eyes he saw Ren rushing back toward the airport — and then knocked flat by the swinging suitcase. No!

  Liam dropped the suitcase and crouched down over Alex. He fastened one plastic zip tie around his wrists and another around his hands, tying them together in prayer position. Alex pulled against them helplessly. He rolled onto his back and brought the first plastic band up to his teeth: useless, like trying to bite through a Coke bottle.

  He had one last hope. Alex tried to grasp his amulet, but with his hands bound together he could only press his thumbs to the thing. Not enough: The scarab remained cold and inert. This man knew exactly what to do, thought Alex, and that means one thing: The Order.

  He flopped onto his side and looked across the pavement toward Ren. His friend was splayed out ten feet away. Her hands weren’t tied, but she wasn’t moving. A fresh wave of panic rolled through him, and then he heard the van’s side door slide open.

  Alex tried to stand. Even with his head still ringing from the blow, he knew that if this man got them in that van, they would never be seen again.

  All Alex managed to do was sit up.

  “There y’are, ya little biter,” said Liam, looking down at him. “I ’ope y’understand me now.”

  As he reached down for Alex, a shoulder slammed hard into Liam’s gut and a pair of arms wrapped up the tops of his thick legs. It was a textbook tackle, with the blond head off to one side of Liam’s hip. Luke.

  Flawless technique allowed him to take the much larger man down. Liam’s mouth formed a perfect round O as he fell backward and his head slammed into the side of the van. The two bodies went down in a heap, but Luke was up a half-second later, springing to his feet like a jungle cat.

  “My hands!” Alex called, holding the plastic-tied appendages up for his cousin.

  “Right,” said Luke. He took one more look over at Liam, still motionless on the ground, and then rushed over to try to loosen the ties.

  “You came back,” said Alex, stating the obvious. He knew he still wasn’t thinking as clearly as he needed to.

  Luke gave him a sly smile. “Didn’t trust that guy for a second.”

  The ties wouldn’t budge. Once fastened, they had to be cut free. Both boys looked over at Ren. She’d trusted this big ham hock of a man — and paid the price.

  The good news: She was starting to sit up now.

  The bad news: So was the ham hock!

  “Ren!” yelled Alex.

  She stood up on wobbly Bambi legs.

  Alex looked over his shoulder as he and Luke yanked her forward. The oversized thug had pushed himself up to one knee, and the slap of boots on pavement alerted Alex to three more men racing down the ramp. The grim looks on their faces told him they weren’t coming to help.

  The three kids took off running, but it took Alex and Ren a few steps to get up to speed. Luke could’ve left them in the dust but hung back to help as they headed up the opposite side of the ramp, away from the disabled car and toward the exit. Alex panicked when he saw the upslope. Hills had always been a major challenge for him. Then he remembered: That was before. His legs found their rhythm and began driving him smoothly up the ramp.

  There were four men in pursuit now. The other three looked lean and hungry, like a pack of wolves, and were already overtaking their beefy buddy, who had wobbled to his f
eet.

  Alex pawed uselessly at his amulet with his bound hands.

  “We need to reach the top of the ramp!” called Ren.

  Her short legs pumped hard on the upslope, and her sneakers slapped the pavement, but she wasn’t moving fast enough. Alex held back, unwilling to leave her behind. And with each step, the wolves pulled closer. They were ten yards behind … eight … six …

  MEEEEEEP! MEEEEEEP!

  A tiny car careened into view like a tin-plated, turbo-charged golf cart. It fishtailed around the corner at the top of the ramp before barreling down the slope.

  “Watch out!” called Alex. All three friends dove to the side to avoid the speeding vehicle.

  The little machine whizzed past them in a red-and-white blur, heading straight for the wolf pack. The four men scattered like bowling pins, half diving to the left and half to the right. As they hit the pavement, the undersized engine shifted into reverse. The sound was less mighty roar than feverish whine, but the tiny car zoomed backward up the ramp and slammed to a stop in front of the fallen friends. A tall lady with striking features leaned out the open driver’s-side window. “Get in!” she shouted.

  Painted on the door below her in red letters:

  THE BRITISH MUSEUM

  OFFICE OF THE DIRECTOR

  “Dr. Aditi?” shouted Ren.

  “Sorry I’m late!” the woman called.

  The three friends ran around to the passenger side and piled clown car–style into the little vehicle. With no time to push the seatback forward, Ren vaulted between the seats. Alex attempted to do the same but got caught up. A solid shove from Luke finished the job. The taller cousin plopped down in the front passenger seat and the little car was moving again before he even slammed the door.

  Fists pounded on the hood and side of the car. Alex was afraid the thugs would capsize the so-called automobile with their size and muscle. Liam’s large fleshy face appeared at the window nearest Alex, who was still trying to untangle himself from his friend in the tiny backseat.

  “Where’s your luggage?” Dr. Aditi shouted over the combined racket of men and machine.

  “My what?” said Alex. He’d forgotten all about his suitcase — except for the part where it had come down on his head.

  “At the bottom of the ramp!” shouted Ren.

  “Right, then,” said Aditi. She brought her chin down in a sharp nod and her foot down in a sharp stomp. The car came to an abrupt stop. Four thick thumps rocked it as the pursuers bounced into and off of its angled frame.

  Aditi floored it. A quick bump inside the car coincided with a sharp yelp outside. Was that someone’s foot? wondered Alex. He hoped so.

  And just like that, the little car was racing back the way they’d come. Aditi screeched to another halt near the van. “Would you mind terribly?” she said to Luke.

  He jumped out of the passenger side and tossed Alex’s battered briefcase into the open door. Alex was useless with his hands tied, so Ren wrestled the thing into the backseat. Out the back window, the thugs were gaining again — except for the one with the fresh limp.

  “Hurry!” called Alex. It seemed like a lot of fuss for luggage and he considered saying so, but he knew that no one liked a backseat driver.

  Luke tossed in Ren’s wheelie bag then jumped back in, holding his own duffel. A fist smacked the back window as the car hightailed it the wrong way up the ramp, toward the disabled car. Aditi revved the engine and bumped the little car up on the curb to get around the sideways sedan. She bounced and jostled over another curb to get into the next lane.

  And just like that, they were on their way out of the airport. Aditi downshifted, and everyone — the little car included — seemed to take a long, deep breath.

  Aditi adjusted her mirror and looked around. “So,” she said brightly, “how was the flight?”

  At a small executive airport outside the city, another, smoother flight had just touched down. The pilot of this one had not been at all surprised by the red rain and, with plenty of fuel, had simply circled above the clouds, waiting for it to end. The sleek private jet taxied to a halt, and a lone passenger disembarked. He was tall and gaunt with spiky silver hair, and he carried a long black case in one hand.

  No one asked this man how his flight was as he walked into the small main building. No one said anything to him at all, just tried to avoid his eyes.

  No chance of that. Perched atop a long, sharp nose, his eyes were dark and cold and predatory. They took in the room at a glance and identified the approaching threat immediately. Even at small airports, there are rules. Even at small airports, there are international borders.

  A young, blue-shirted customs official named Lewis broke the silence. “Sorry I’m late, Dave,” he said as he rushed into the room to relieve his coworker. “My car wouldn’t start.”

  Dave wheeled around and stared at him in surprise. Lewis wasn’t late; he was early.

  Dave had debts and needed the money. In a word, he’d been bribed. And part of his job had been to disable Lewis’s car. He simply hadn’t disabled it enough. Now he tried to warn his coworker off with a sharp look and a shake of his head, but Lewis had no idea what any of that meant. He ignored it and got to work.

  “Right,” he said, turning to the silver-haired man who had approached the desk. “Let’s see your passport.”

  The room fell completely silent. Everyone there — Dave, the pilot, a safety inspector, even a few members of the ground crew — they all knew the deal. Everyone except Lewis.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have one,” said the man slowly.

  “You … I’m sorry … What?” said Lewis. “Listen, mate, this is a small airport, things are a little looser maybe, but you still need the basics.”

  He turned toward Dave with a Can you believe this guy? smile. But Dave was not smiling. In fact, he was trembling slightly.

  He mouthed three words, slowly and distinctly, and underlined their importance with his eyes: “Let. It. Go.”

  Lewis looked at him closely. He was just now hearing the silence, sensing the fear, and beginning to put things together. He didn’t know what was going on, but he knew it wasn’t legal. “Aw, Dave,” he said, the disappointment clear in his voice. “You know I can’t do that.”

  He turned back to face the man, but the man’s face was no longer there. In its place was a long iron mask in the shape of a crocodile head. The black bag lay empty on the floor.

  Lewis flinched, more from surprise than fear, at first. From flat scales to blunt teeth, the detail in the dull gray iron was impressive. The man stared out coldly through eyeholes above the snout. And then he raised his hand, and an ancient power flowed forth. That’s when the fear started. The fear, and the pain.

  Alex squirmed in the microscopic backseat of Aditi’s car. There was no place to put the heavy suitcase, so he hugged it under his bound hands and watched as Dr. Aditi darted through traffic.

  “Uh, lady? You’re on the wrong side of the road!” yelped Luke.

  Aditi looked over at him, smiled, downshifted, and stomped on the gas. “Not over here, luv,” she said.

  Ren ducked her head between the seats. “They drive on the left in England,” she shouted over the sound of the overworked engine.

  Aditi executed a daring double pass, darting between two larger cars, both of which honked angrily.

  Alex followed her eyes. She was spending at least as much time looking in the rearview mirror as she was watching where she was going. He wouldn’t have minded if they weren’t going quite so fast, or if their vehicle offered more than a soup-can level of protection. He hugged his suitcase tighter.

  “I can keep an eye out for the van if you want to watch the road!” he called.

  “You think they’ll follow us?” said Ren, wheeling around to look out the back window.

  “Not necessarily …” Aditi began.

  Alex saw Ren’s shoulders relax a little.

  “They might be waiting for us when we get there,�
�� Aditi added.

  Ren’s shoulders bunched up again. Alex remembered the museum’s name, painted in red on the car door. What was Aditi thinking? She’d given away their destination!

  “I think you’re right,” said Luke during a brief lull in the traffic noise.

  “About what?” said Aditi, scanning a side mirror.

  “Everyone else is driving on the left, too,” he said. “Just, you know, slower.”

  Now Aditi looked over at him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Luke,” he said.

  Aditi looked at him blankly.

  “I’m his cousin,” he said, hooking a thumb back toward Alex.

  “But Todtman didn’t mention …” Aditi continued. Her eyes found Alex’s in the mirror again, and she gave him a What’s the deal? look.

  “He’s not, like, with us,” said Alex. “He’s here for sports camp.”

  He leaned forward as far as his bulky suitcase would allow. “Luke, man, you can’t say anything about this to your mom and dad, all right?”

  “What, why not?” he protested. “It’s a good story!”

  “Come on, man!” pleaded Alex. His aunt and uncle were his legal guardians with his mom missing, and he was afraid they’d have him on the next plane home.

  “I’m just kidding, man,” said Luke. “This camp is gonna rock, but if the ’rents found out they’re snatching up American kids over here, they’d have me home before my first high jump.”

  Alex leaned back and exhaled, glad they were more or less on the same page.

  “But they’ll probably hear about the algae thing on the news,” added Luke.

  London’s towering center loomed up in front of them as they quickly left the city’s outskirts behind. They melted the zip ties off with the car’s lighter as they bumblebeed down the highway. At every point along the way, at least one of them was looking back, either in the mirrors or out the rear window.

  Finally, they reached their exit. Alex scanned the signs as they made the turn: BLOOMSBURY, FITZROVIA, BRITISH MUSEUM …