CHAPTER 28

“We’re still talking North Pole!” insisted Storm.

“No way,” I said.

“Way,” said Storm. She seemed much happier since Mom fired Larissa. “The Arctic Circle is home to what has been billed as ‘the coolest marathon in the world’—the North Pole Marathon.”

“Seriously?” said Beck. “Who’d want to run twenty-six point two miles in the freezing cold?”

“Marathoners who can reach their personal best only when being chased by hungry polar bears,” said Tommy.

“Last year,” said Storm, “forty-five runners from twenty-two different countries participated. They helicoptered up to an international North Pole camp, dashed across the floating Arctic ice shelf, and enjoyed subzero temperatures averaging minus twenty-two degrees Fahrenheit. The entry fee for the event is approximately fifteen thousand dollars. However, you do get a free T-shirt.”

“What’s the winner get?” asked Beck. “A frozen icicle wreath to wear on her head?”

“Chya,” said Tommy, who sounded like he was seriously considering signing up. “Plus bragging rights for a whole year.”

“You guys?” I said. “You are seriously jumping to conclusions. There are all sorts of weird races in the world.”

“Maybe,” said Storm. “But we have to put this third clue together with the first two.”

“The North Pole fits all three,” added Beck.

“So might someplace else,” I muttered, because nobody was really listening to me.

“We need to go shopping,” said Mom.

“Running clothes?” asked Tommy. “For the marathon?”

“No. Thermal underwear. Parkas. Ski pants and goggles. Pack those furry Russian hats. I also want each and every one of us to be carrying a compact, high-definition video camera of some sort. We need to record everything we see on our journey north.”

“So we can show everybody exactly how we didn’t find the treasure?” I said sarcastically.

“Bick?” said Mom. “I know you have doubts but I need you to put those aside. We are going to the North Pole. We have serious work to do and priceless treasures to save! I suspect we might discover a real disaster when we reach the Arctic…”

Beck gasped. “You mean all the stolen artwork might’ve frozen into sheets of ice that somebody dropped and that Rembrandt shattered into a million tiny pieces?”

Mom didn’t answer but she had that mysterious look on her face again. It’s the one she gets whenever she’s trying to hide a secret.

Yep. That’s life with a CIA mom.

So we all went shopping.

While we hunted for winter clothes (always hard to do in the middle of the summer) and miniature video equipment, Beck and I discussed the situation. We were certain that Mom had some other reason for heading up to the North Pole.

“Maybe,” I said to Beck as we tried on mukluks, “if you want to save the whole world, like Mom and Dad do, the best place to start is at the top.”

“Or maybe,” said Beck, “Mom and Dad just don’t believe in any kind of summer vacation.”

“Right. There’s that.”

Once our furry shopping spree was finished, we booked a flight from Moscow to Helsinki, Finland, with the assistance of Minister Szymanowicz. Once in Helsinki, we flew to Murmansk, a seaport located in the extreme northwest corner of Russia. From there, we set sail for the North Pole via the Barents Sea.

Studying the map, I figured we were in for a very frigid summer. On the bright side, maybe we’d get to meet a few narwhals.