We all stared at him for a moment. Golden treasure? Spanish conquistadores?
“I bankrolled an expedition out to Arizona many years ago, after I first heard the story of Drowned Man’s Canyon. But my men had no luck, no luck at all.” Mr. Mountmorris put his fingertips together again and watched the three of us, as though he was making a decision. “So your father never talked to you about going out to Arizona to look for the treasure?”
“No,” I said. “At least, I don’t remember if he did…”
I had the feeling again that Mr. Mountmorris was trying to keep himself from getting too excited. “Well, think!” he blurted out before regaining control of himself. “I mean, are you sure?”
Zander and I glanced at each other.
I tried to keep my voice neutral. “I’m sure he mentioned Arizona,” I said, “in the course of normal conversation. It is one of the fifty-six states, after all.” I looked at the trapped frogs on his desk to avoid meeting his eyes; I was afraid he’d see how nervous I was all of a sudden. There was something about the way Mr. Mountmorris was acting that made me think we never should have shown him the map. Next to the frogs was a little collection of what looked like religious idols and a stone paperweight engraved with the words For extraordinary services rendered as advisor to ANDLC.
And then I noticed a framed newspaper clipping on the other side of the desk. It was a picture of Mr. Mountmorris and Francis Foley. They were at some sort of celebration, and they were shaking hands as they smiled into the camera.
Suddenly, my whole body went numb.
Zander must have seen something on my face because he glanced at me again before telling Mr. Mountmorris, “There are amazing varieties of hummingbirds in Arizona. He and I talked about birds all the time. If he’d been there, he would have mentioned it.”
“You are sure?” Mr. Mountmorris asked. “Think carefully now. He never told you about a trip he had taken there? He never talked about the treasure?”
“No,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. “I mean, he found that rare emerald in the cave in Acapurna, if you remember, but he never said anything about a golden treasure in Arizona.”
“Hmm. Yes. Well.”
There was another long silence. We waited for Mr. Mountmorris to speak.
Finally he did. “I wonder, what has happened to your dad’s, er… effects. His books and maps and things? Perhaps the other half of the map is among them.”
“BNDL came and took them,” I said. “But there wasn’t another half. I’m sure of that.”
“You seem to know something about maps, young man. Kit, is that right?” Mr. Mountmorris watched me for a second with his pale eyes. I felt the way I imagine a fly feels before being caught by a frog.
“Uh… sort of.”
“Well,” Zander said, “we really should get going. We should get home.”
“Yes,” I said. “Thank you for telling us about Drowned Man’s Canyon.” I realized that the half map was still sitting on Mr. Mountmorris’s desk, and I stepped forward to get it.
He was too quick for me, though, and he picked it up himself, folding it in half before offering it to me. I reached forward to take it and his hand slid back just a bit, just enough to put it out of reach. “You wouldn’t… By any chance… Might you be interested in selling it?” he asked in a quiet, controlled voice. “I would be willing to pay quite a substantial sum. It’s missing the relevant part, of course, the section including Drowned Man’s Canyon. So its value to anyone but me would be… negligible.”
Zander and I exchanged a worried look, and it was M.K. who put a hand on the knife at her waist and said, in a strong voice, “I don’t think we want to sell it.”
“Hmm. Well, if you think of anything, shall we say, or change your mind about selling it, you know where to find me.” I took the map from him and instantly, as though he’d pressed a button, Jec Banton was back in the room, ready to usher us out.
“Goodbye,” Mr. Mountmorris called out. “Goodbye, children.” In a few minutes we were out on the street again. It was going to be a warm, springlike day, and the strong sun felt good on our faces. We stood there for a moment, warming ourselves up after being in that refrigerator of a house. As we crossed the street and entered the park, Pucci caught up to us and alighted on my shoulder. I turned around to look back at the house, and I could swear I saw Jec Banton watching us from one of the first-floor windows.
“I don’t trust him,” M.K. said.
“Neither do I,” Zander said. “He was lying.”
I glanced around to make sure no one else could hear me. “He’s an advisor to ANDLC. Everyone knows that they work with BNDL. And did you see the photograph over his desk? He’s friends with Francis Foley. We never should have shown him the map, Zander.” I remembered Dad talking about how ANDLC might as well have been part of the government because they worked so closely with BNDL.
“Damn!” said M.K. “That lying, damned, no-good…”
I started to feel panic set in again. “If he works for BNDL, he’s going to tell Francis Foley about the map. As far as he knows, those agents are with us right now. And they’ll go to the house and find them. This is bad.”
We were all silent for a minute, watching squirrels racing up and down the oak trees that lined the paths. We’d been alone in the little section of the park when we’d entered, but when I looked up, I saw a man sitting on a bench reading a newspaper. It seemed crazy, but I had the feeling he was watching us.
“Zander,” I whispered, “I think we should get going.”
“Okay,” Zander said, following the direction of my eyes toward the man. He lowered his voice. “But I’ve been thinking and you’re right. We can’t just take off for the Southwest. We need to know whether Dad ever went to Arizona, whether he found this treasure, and whether the map might tell us where it is.”
“How are we going to do that?” M.K. asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Zander said. “I wish we could ask someone. Of course, it would be a risk, but…”
I knew exactly what he was thinking, and I hesitated for a minute, waiting to see if he was going to say it. But something was stopping him.
“What?” M.K. asked us. “Of course what?”
“What he means,” I said after a moment, “is that it might be time for a visit to the Expedition Society.”