CHAPTER 5

Time to Worry

After they hung up with the police, Wilson called Moman back. She was very worried to hear the police were involved and told him to stay put — she was on her way to the museum and would be there soon.

Now there was nothing to do but wait. Wilson sat with Clementine in the museum president’s office — her couch was much nicer than the ones in Dr. Kipper’s office and the paleontology lab. Raining and Amal decided to stroll through the museum together.

“We have to help,” Amal said. She turned to Raining and fixed her eyes on him. “You know that, right?”

“Of course we do,” Raining said, but he couldn’t look back at her. He was too upset, too angry, and too worried about Wilson and Dr. Kipper. “This is our most important mystery ever.”

“So what do we do first?” Amal asked as they came to a stop in the middle of the Prehistoric Humans exhibit. Nearby, statues of men squatted by an electric campfire in an imitation cave. The wall behind them featured a colorful sunset painted with shades of pink, orange, yellow, and blue.

Raining had passed by the exhibit dozens of times, but he’d never really paid it much attention. Usually he and his friends wandered the dinosaur sections of the museum, or the ancient insects, or even the giant mammals. This part was pretty boring.

“Let’s think. What do we know so far?” Raining asked.

“We know Dr. Kipper is missing,” Amal said. “And so are the other paleontologists who were working on that China shipment. There were four of them, besides her, I think.”

“And the shipment is missing too,” Raining pointed out.

“So who would take five people,” Amal said, “and a bunch of crates of dinosaur bones and stuff?” She thought about it for a moment. “Maybe another museum? Maybe they needed some brilliant scientists and some decent exhibits, so they decided to take them!”

“If Wilson were here, he could add that to the idea list in his tablet,” Raining said.

Amal nodded and frowned. Then she pulled a folded-up piece of paper from her back pocket and a pencil nub from her front pocket. “We’ll have to make do with this,” she said, scribbling Another Museum? at the top of the paper.

“Any other ideas?” Raining said. “I think it was terrorists. Russians or something.”

“Terrorists?” Amal said. “Why would terrorists do this? You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“Because terror — duh,” Raining said. “They make terror. Isn’t this terror?”

“I guess,” Amal admitted. “But I don’t think it was Russians. I think China is our biggest competition now.”

Raining shook his head. “It wouldn’t be China,” Raining said. “The shipment came from China.”

“Oh, yeah,” Amal said but then added, “I still say Chinese terrorists. Or another museum. Maybe a museum in China!”

Raining sighed. “Maybe we should head back,” he said. “We could use some fresh ideas.”

Amal shrugged. “You’re probably right,” she said. “Not to mention Wilson’s brain.”

“I just hope it’s working,” Raining said.

“You hope what’s working?” Amal asked.

Raining took Amal’s hand and pulled her away from the exhibit. “Wilson’s brain.”