Chapter 12

When Cody was finished, she switched off the PA system and quickly slipped out of the office before the secretary returned and caught her. If the woman heard the tapping, Cody hoped she’d think there was some malfunction with the system and wouldn’t recognize Morse code.

Moments later she met up with Luke, Quinn, and M.E. at the door to the cafeteria.

“Got your message,” Luke said, scanning inside the room. “Where is he?”

Cody pointed out Matt the Brat, who, thankfully, was still working on the case with the sharp end of the protractor. They headed over, trying to keep a low profile so they wouldn’t attract Matt’s attention. As they got closer, Cody noticed Matt wasn’t poking at the case anymore.

He was stabbing it.

Repeatedly.

It was sure to break open at any second.

“What do we do?” Cody whispered.

Luke looked down at a tray of leftover food on one of the nearby tables. He picked up a hard roll and threw it at Matt’s hand. Being the athlete he was, it was a direct hit. The protractor flew out of Matt’s grasp and landed on the pizza at the next table.

“Ow!” Matt screeched, shaking his hand and dropping the metal case. The case fell under the table. Right next to his giant smelly shoe.

Matt spun around and spotted Luke with a second roll in his hand. His face reddened with anger as he muttered, “Stupid code kids… ”

Before Matt could bend down and retrieve the case, the pizza—minus the protractor—came flying at him from behind like a Frisbee. It bounced off the back of his head, leaving bits of salami, cheese, and tomato sauce glistening in his green buzz-cut hair. Matt grimaced as he reached behind him and pulled the pizza toppings off his head.

He stared at the mess in his hand for a second, his eyes wild, his face a blotchy red. Reaching for a chocolate-frosted brownie from a nearby tray, he grabbed it and shot-putted it in the direction of the pizza thrower.

Unfortunately for Matt, the brownie was intercepted by Ms. Stadelhofer, who had just stepped over to stop the budding food fight.

She took the brownie right in the face.

The Code Busters ducked under a table. Before Ms. Stadelhofer could blow her whistle, food started flying everywhere. Pizza, meat loaf, biscuits, brownies, and at least two kinds of vegetables went airborne, landing with splats around the chaotic lunchroom. Stad, wearing the remains of chocolate frosting on her nose, suddenly “got milk” when an open carton of low-fat milk hit her in the chest and drenched the front of her lavender silk blouse. When she managed to blow her whistle, the sound was ear piercing.

The Code Busters certainly know how to create a distraction, Cody thought, watching the food fly from under the table. Searching the area, she spotted the metal case about three feet away, under the next table. Crawling over, her knees collected bits of lime-green Jell-O with pineapple bits. She reached for the case.

A big shoe intercepted and kicked the case out of range.

Cody took a moment to wipe the green slime on someone’s pant leg, then again crawled toward the case. This time when she reached it, she pounced on top of it. With it safely beneath her, she slithered backward under another table and then sat up. Before anything else could happen to the case, she stuffed it into her pants pocket.

Cody waved at Quinn, still under the first table, to get his attention. He removed his sunglasses, and she gave him a thumbs-up. He passed the signal behind him to M.E. and Luke, then gestured, military style, for the others to follow him, as he zigzagged on hands and knees beneath the connecting cafeteria tables until they all reached the exit.

They were about to spring to their feet when Principal Grunt appeared in the doorway. His face wasn’t wearing its usual “school pride” expression. Instead, he held a megaphone in one hand and a whistle in the other.

Cody winced at the shrill sound as Principal Grunt blew the whistle with a mighty breath.

“Matthew Jeffreys!” Grunt’s voice boomed through the megaphone. Students decorated in a rainbow of cafeteria foods stopped midthrow and turned to the principal. They stood frozen, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

All eyes followed the principal as he marched straight for Matt the Brat, who was holding a handful of soggy french fries in his raised hand.

The Code Busters took advantage of the distraction and ducked quietly out of the cafeteria doors. Standing in the doorway, Cody glanced back at Matt, his face glistening with sweat and some kind of sauce.

Principal Grunt stood facing Matt, arms crossed, his head shaking in disgust at the student he assumed had started the food fight. But Matt wasn’t looking at the principal. He was staring straight at Cody, his sauce-covered face twisted in anger. Even at a distance, she had no trouble reading his lips as he mouthed the words: “You’re so dead.”

Cody didn’t see Matt the Brat the rest of the day, thank goodness. She hoped he was in detention for the rest of the semester. When Ms. Stad appeared in class after lunch in a fresh blouse, her nose was shiny from washing off the brownie and milk. She spent the rest of the class time talking about the dangers of food fights and had the students break into “tribes” to “problem solve” future situations.

Cody could barely keep her mind on the topic, wondering what was inside the metal case that had caused so much trouble. She’d handed it over to Quinn as soon as they were away from the cafeteria, and Quinn had tucked it safely in his zippered jacket pocket. Her only worry now was Matt the Brat’s threat: “You’re so dead.”

Detention wouldn’t last forever.

When the last bell rang, Cody had to fight with her desk to get a book out. When she got out to the hall, M.E. had disappeared. Cody headed for the flagpole, the Code Busters’ usual meeting place, but there was no sign of any of her friends. Uh-oh. It looked like she’d have to walk to the clubhouse by herself.

Alone.

With Matt the Brat’s threat hanging over her.

Not to mention the mountain lion.

Cody kept glancing behind her to check for Matt as she made her way down the street. Once she headed up the hill toward the clubhouse, she kept her eyes peeled for the lion. There was no sign of either one, although she jumped twice— once when a dog barked, and a second time when something behind one of the eucalyptus trees rustled. Running the rest of the way up the hill, she didn’t know which was worse—a hungry mountain lion or an angry bully.

When she finally reached the clubhouse, she gave the secret knock and password. The bolt was removed and the door opened, and Cody sighed with relief at finding Quinn and Luke there. But when she realized M.E. was not among them, she recalled Matt the Brat’s words before he was hauled off to detention. Matt knew that even though Luke had started the food fight—Matt had gotten blamed. Cody’s relief quickly turned to concern for her friend.

“Where’s M.E.?” Cody glanced down the forested hill before closing the door and removing her backpack. She sat cross-legged on her hoodie to protect her legs from the cold sheet metal that made up the floor and hid their secret stash.

Quinn shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since lunch. She usually comes with you.”

Cody frowned. “I hope nothing’s happened to her…. ”

Luke shook his head. “I know she’s not the bravest person on the planet, but M.E. can take care of herself. She’s quick and small, and she can talk her way out of anything. She’s probably just—”

A familiar knock at the door interrupted Luke.

“That’s probably her now,” Luke said, rising to his feet. But before he opened the door, he asked, “What’s the password?”

“Yadsruht,” came a muffled voice.

Luke unbolted the door and opened it. It was M.E., all right.

But she wasn’t alone.

“Dude! Who’s your friend?” Luke gawked at the newcomer.

Cody leaped to her feet. “You found Punkin!” She took the orange cat from M.E.’s arms and stroked him. “Where was he?”

“I found him hiding behind one of those metal sculptures in Skeleton’s yard,” M.E. said. “He was meowing and clawing at the dirt.”

“You went backthere?” Cody asked, surprised at M.E. Normally, she was the first to chicken out when there was any kind of danger involved.

“I knew you missed him, Cody,” M.E. said. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“That’s so sweet! You even cleaned the soot off him,” Cody said, nearly tearing up as she rubbed the cat’s soft fur.

“Hey,” Luke said. “Let’s make him the Code Buster’s mascot. We could name him Decipher.”

“I think we should name him Lucky,” Quinn said. “He’s lucky to be around.”

“How about Bond—Cat Bond?” M.E. added in a funny British accent. “He’d make a great spy cat. Double-o-nine…lives.” She giggled.

Cody shook her head. “Sorry, he already has a name—Punkin.” She reached under the cat’s neck to show them the personalized collar she’d made for him. But when she searched his fur, the tag felt different. She pulled it out and examined it.

“That’s weird. The tag I made for him is covered with a sticker. And there’s a small key attached.”

She showed the tag and key to the others. “It’s handwritten. It says, ‘Francis Scott.’ Is that the cat’s name?”

“Francis Scott?” Luke and Quinn said at the same time.

“What kind of a name is that for a cat?” Quinn grimaced.

“It sounds familiar,” Luke added.

“You’re thinking of Francis Scott Key,” Cody said. “He wrote the ‘Star-Spangled Banner,’ remember?”

“Hey, that’s cool,” Luke said. “There’s a key, and his name is Francis Scott. Get it?”

“That reminds me… ” Quinn pulled the metal case from his zippered jacket. “Look at this.”

Luke squinted at the case. “What?”

“There are letters written on the side,” Quinn answered. “You can see them when they catch the light.”

“What do they say?” Cody asked, surprised that she had missed them when she’d had the case.

“They’re really faint,” Quinn said, “but the soot from the fire makes them easier to read.”

“Let me see.” Cody took the case from Quinn’s hands and looked at it closely. The writing was fancy and old-fashioned, like something she’d seen in books at museums. She could just make out three letters.

“F S K,” Cody said.

“That’s not a word,” M.E. said.

“What’s it supposed to mean?” Luke asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Good question,” Quinn said, taking the case back from Cody.

“Maybe they’re initials,” M.E. suggested.

Quinn shook his head. “But the old man’s name is Skeleton—I mean Skelton. That’s his last name, not his middle name. Maybe the initials stand for something in code, like in that framed CIA certificate we saw. FSK. Federal … Secret … Ka … ” He shrugged and placed the case into Luke’s outstretched hand.

Luke studied it intently, then said, “Dude, I got nothing. If we don’t have the key, we can’t break the code.”

Cody sat up. “That’s it!”

“What’s it?” Luke asked.

“What you said about the key, Luke,” Cody continued. “Mr. Skelton stuck that note on the tag, wrote that name, and attached a key. It must mean his name is—”

They all said it at once: “Francis Scott Key!”

Cody looked at the cat.

“The ‘key’ to the metal case is around the cat’s neck!”