“Honey, you need to take it easy today,” Aunt Mary said to Ben. She put the back of her hand to his forehead. “You look like you may be coming down with something. You stay in bed today.”
“I’m fine,” Ben said. The dark lines under his eyes said differently.
“Well, I’m in faculty meetings all day. I’ll be home to make supper,” Aunt Mary said.
“And I’m stuck at a seminar downtown,” Uncle Craig added. “I guess you two are on your own again.”
“No problem,” I said as I munched toast. “I’ll stay and watch Ben. He must be walking in his sleep to look so exhausted.” I emphasized the word “walking” and gave Ben a knowing grin. I was a light sleeper. My mom used to say she had to tie me to the bed at night or I’d float away. About 2:00 a.m. I had heard Ben go downstairs to the basement. By the time I got my robe on and followed, he was gone. He was gone half the night and didn’t return until five.
Ben narrowed his eyes and twisted his mouth up to one side. “There’s no need,” he said. It must have hit him I knew he had been out last night because he widened his eyes and didn’t look so sleepy anymore.
I simply smiled and nodded to confirm his suspicion. His jaw tightened but he said nothing.
“Wendy, you are a dear,” Aunt Mary said. “Ben, you stay home today and rest. There’s soup in the fridge.” Aunt Mary glanced at the kitchen clock on the stove. “Time to go.”
Uncle Craig folded his paper. “You two be good.”
“Oh, we’ll be good as can be,” Ben said.
“Why do I get a sinking feeling when you say things like that?” Aunt Mary said.
“I’ll make sure he behaves,” I said and smiled. Ben gave me a quick, twisted imitation smile in return.
“I’m so glad you are here, Wendy,” Aunt Mary said and beamed.
She really meant it, and it gave me a strange, good feeling.
They grabbed backpacks and bike helmets. Off they went.
Ben waited for the door to shut, then faced me over his cereal. “You can charm them, but you’re not bossing me. Understand?”
In some ways Tyrone and Ben are a lot alike. Luckily, or unluckily, I had experience in handling thickheaded boys. “Here’s the news, cuz. There’s a load you’re holding back—not telling me. I’m betting your folks would shriek at your nocturnal trips.” I added the “s” to trip, making it plural, like I knew there had been more than one. I could bet there had been, but I was fishing.
Ben took a deep breath and concurred with a nod. “Blackmail, huh? I should’ve expected it.”
I was right about the trips. “No blackmail. Just answer my questions and we’re cool.”
He gave it some thought while he studied me. He looked like he was weighing everything I had said or done since I arrived. “Okay. But there’s one condition.”
“What?”
“You must swear to keep what I say confidential. You know what that means?”
“Duh!”
His expression didn’t change and his eyes drilled into me.
“Okay, okay. I can keep a secret.” I spat in my hand and held it out. “I swear.”
He looked disgusted but shook.
* * *
In the basement, Ben pulled out a ratty old bandana and said, “You have to be blindfolded.”
“Ben, I’ve scoped out the trunk.”
This took him a moment to think through. “You’ve been spying on me?”
“No, Ben, I’m psychic. I saw it in the stars. Yes! Of course I’ve been spying.”
“And I used to wonder what it would be like to have a sister.” He put the bandana away. “I didn’t know how lucky I was.”
I smiled at his annoyance and stepped over to the trunk. “Open tunnel five,” I commanded.
Nothing happened. Ben crossed his arms and smirked. I repeated the command and when nothing happened again, I lifted the lid and saw the pile of musty old clothes. “Okay, what’s the trick?”
“For you, I’d say the trick is not sneaking around and poking your nose into things that you shouldn’t.”
“You are so full of it.”
“Without defining ‘it,’ that could very well be a compliment. I could be full of intelligence, wisdom, and good—”
“Zip it!” I snapped. “You made your point. But I know this thing is not a trunk . . . or it is a trunk, but it’s like a secret passage, and I’m willing to bet Uncle Craig and Aunt Mary don’t know about it.”
He was not as good at hiding his fear as he thought. I used to play poker with my brother, Tyrone, and could read him like a book. I smiled smugly.
“Very well,” he said and closed the lid. “It has personal voice recognition. Open tunnel five.”
There was a clunk and an electric whir. The lid opened onto a dark hole with a ladder. I looked down into a rocky tunnel. “Awesome,” I said, and I meant it. “Very awesome.”
The tunnel was cold and clammy. It smelled moldy and seemed to be a natural cave, though parts of the walls looked chiseled. There were lights on the ceiling every twenty paces. They automatically switched on at our approach. By my sense of direction, it headed east toward the river. Now I had more questions than ever, but Ben pushed past me and didn’t look in the mood for explanations. He was probably pissed, though it was hard to tell with him. I didn’t imagine he liked being outsmarted. He strode further into the tunnel. I used my asking-for-a-favor voice. It always worked on Dad. “Cathal isn’t really a kelpie, a water horse thing, is he?”
“You saw him.” Ben pointed to a low-hanging rock. “Duck.”
I ducked. “Okay, suppose I buy that for the moment. And I’m not saying I do. What does he have to do with the clams?”
“I’m not sure he has anything to do with them. That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
The floor slanted down. Our path turned gradually to the left, then to the right. It went on and on. I guessed we’d walked a block. The walls finally spread out and a crevice in the ceiling went up into the shadows. “What was Werling doing dressed like a bush?” I asked.
“When strange things happen in the park, we sometimes keep watch.” He stopped to tap a light that was not working. “Werling, however, tries to be invisible. It’s in his personality.” The light flashed on.
“This is all part of a club or something?”
“Or something.” He turned and continued down the tunnel. Ahead I saw a door. It was massive and made of rough stone. Ben’s hand quickly passed over a section of the cavern wall and a door opened toward us. Inside was a lit room about the size of the Prestons’ dining room. Lining one wall was electronic equipment. On another was what looked like a biology lab. Some of the room was a workshop, with a drill press and tools and large closets. Werling and another pudgy boy hunched over a Bunsen burner heating a clear glass beaker filled with red liquid. They were so absorbed that they didn’t even look up at our entrance.
Ben smiled at my open-mouthed reaction and said, “Welcome to River Rangers Headquarters.”