Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas by Jonathan W. Stokes Read Free Book Online Page B

and dog tags. He wore a bandana wrapped around his forehead, and another one tied around his bicep.
    Raj always kept his bug-out bag waiting by his bedroom door in case of emergency. It was crammed with survival gear: nutrition bars, a Swiss Army knife, a snakebite kit, fishhooks, camouflage makeup, malaria pills, iodine pills, a bear whistle, a passport, waterproof matchsticks, binoculars, ten feet of snare wire, and a pack of Jolly Ranchers.
    Raj shouldered his pack and kissed his dog tags. He vaulted out of his window and onto the fire escape. Scaling the wrought-iron railing, he crept around the perimeter of the building. He slipped through the neighbor’s fire-escape landing and reached Addison’s open window. Raj rolled inside, landing on Addison’s bed. Then he bolted across the floor and somersaulted into Addison’s living room.
    Addison sat comfortably on the sofa, his legs crossed. He checked his wristwatch and cocked an eyebrow. “Thirty-nine seconds. You’re getting rusty, Raj.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    There was a hesitant knock at the door, and Molly let Eddie inside. He still looked bleary-eyed from sleep, his black hair sticking up in back, but he was snappily dressed in his public school uniform. The tallest of the group, Eddie’s pant legs showed a few inches of ankle. He scanned the overturned coffee table and books scattered across the room. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
    â€œWe were ransacked,” explained Molly.
    â€œAwesome,” said Raj, his eyes glittering with excitement.
    Addison debriefed the team, bringing them up to speed on the kidnapping, the chase, Professor Ragar, Atahualpa’s key, and the Incan treasure. Most people would be astonished by this rapid turn of events, but Eddie and Raj were familiar with Addison’s stunning capacity for getting himself into trouble.
    â€œSo where do we come in?”
    â€œRaj, you’re here because you graduated from survival camp twice, you’re a brown belt in karate, you can hold your breath for two minutes underwater, and you’re the most highly decorated Boy Scout in PS 141,” said Addison.
    â€œWhy am I here?” asked Eddie.
    â€œYou speak Spanish.”
    â€œHe does?” Molly asked, incredulous.
    â€œSí.”
Eddie shrugged. “Because of my nanny.” He had wandered into the kitchen to rummage around in the Cookes’ refrigerator. He returned with a tin of olives, some uncooked hot dogs, and a jar of spaghetti sauce.
    Addison pulled out his notebook and showed Eddie his copy of Atahualpa’s key. “It’s a riddle that leads us to the next key. Can you translate it?”
    â€œIt’s impressive writing,” said Eddie, peering at the intricate Spanish cursive inlaid on the key. “It’s like cake frosting.”
    â€œWhat does it say?”
    Eddie dipped a raw hot dog into the spaghetti sauce, garnished it with a row of olives, and took a bite.
    Molly grimaced.
    Eddie smiled contentedly. He cleared his throat dramatically and read . . .
    â€œIn the seat of the Andes Mountains,
By the
Río Olvidado
,
    Lie the bones of the underworld
    That guard the key to silver and cheese.”
    â€œCheese?” asked Molly.
    Eddie tilted the page to the light and studied the ancient calligraphy more closely. “Gold,” he corrected himself. “The key to silver and
gold
.”
    â€œHm,” said Addison.
    â€œThe whole thing rhymes a lot better in Spanish.”
    â€œThank you, Eddie.” Addison paced a fresh lap around the overturned coffee table. “The good news,” he announced, “is that I checked out every book in the library on Incan history.” Addison frowned, deep in thought. “The bad news is, all the books are in my backpack. And my backpack is in my uncle Nigel’s office at the museum.”
    â€œWhy’d you leave it there?”