: The Handoff

Patrick’s heart sank. Beth had mentioned Mr. Kozlov. He was with the KGB.

The agent said, “We’ve been waiting to talk to your friends, Mr. Lars Spens and John Whittaker.” He smiled a cruel smile. “But you two will do . . . for now.”

Patrick noticed his accent. He rolled the r in for and said the v sound for the w in will.

“You’ll never catch Pastor Lars or Whit,” Patrick said. “They’re far too clever.”

“And God is watching over them,” Beth added.

Amelia appeared from inside the apartment. “Come in,” she said. “So sorry I had to set a trap for you. But it’s your fault for following me.”

“Did the St. Basil’s brochure really say 4 Gorky Street?” Beth asked.

Amelia shook her head. “It said, ‘Don’t come back, please.’” She motioned with her arm. “Don’t be foolish. Come in, now!”

Patrick and Beth came into the apartment. A duffel bag with the space emblem was on the floor next to a small couch. It was the one Amelia had been carrying earlier.

Patrick sat on the couch and held his package of Bibles tightly.

Beth sat next to him.

Mr. Kozlov shut the door gently. He put a chain across the door.

Beth asked Amelia, “Why did you do this?”

“So the KGB will let me be a cosmonaut,” Amelia said. “I had to prove I was a loyal Soviet. And it’s not that we really want to capture you. But it would be nice to have John Whittaker learn to mind his own business. He’s been interfering with the Soviet satellite program.”

Amelia walked into the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water and a snack,” she said. “We might be waiting a while for Whit to rescue you.”

Patrick reached in his pocket for the odd little transmitter pin. He felt the edge with his thumb. The tiny button was waiting for his touch.

He leaned toward Beth and whispered, “Get ready.”

He pushed the button.

Patrick heard the familiar hum. The Imagination Station appeared in front of them. The door was already open.

“No!” shouted Amelia. “Not in front of a KGB agent!” She dropped something and it crashed on the kitchen floor.

But Beth and Patrick were off the couch. They threw their packages inside the machine. Then they quickly sat in the Imagination Station’s seats.

Their seat belts weren’t on. The door wasn’t even closed. But Patrick slammed his fist against the red button anyway.

And then everything went black.

Beth felt herself spin out of control. Her body lurched forward with the movement.

Her elbow rammed into the dashboard.

When the Imagination Station stopped, she got out as quickly as she could.

Patrick stepped out of the machine too. But it didn’t disappear.

They were in a familiar cave. It had bats on the ceiling. Vines covered the cave opening. It was cold and damp. Water oozed from the walls.

“This feels like England again,” Beth said. “That portal cave from one of our first adventures.” She felt her head. “My beret is gone.”

“It was missing when I saw you and Amelia outside. You were with the dogs near that colorful building with all the domes.”

“I must have lost the beret at St. Basil’s,” Beth said. “It got really windy.”

Beth got back inside and sat down in a seat. Their packages of Bibles were still inside. “The Amelia button is flashing green,” she said.

Patrick stuck his head inside. “That means Amelia is still in the adventure,” Patrick said. He pushed the blinking light. More information popped up on a little screen. It showed Amelia’s location. April 2, 1961, Gorky Street, Moscow.

“We have to go back,” Beth said. “We have to warn Pastor Lars and Mr. Whittaker.”

“What if we go back to 4 Gorky Street and look for them?” Patrick said.

“No,” Beth said. “It might put us right back inside the apartment with Mr. Kozlov.” She remembered the picture Mr. Kozlov had shown her. It was of Whit’s back. He had been meeting Amelia in front of Lenin’s tomb. “Let’s go to the middle of Red Square. Whit and Amelia met there once. Maybe he will be there again.”

Patrick shrugged. “Okay,” he said. “We can always walk to Gorky Street again.”

This time the cousins strapped into the machine. Beth pushed some buttons on the dashboard keyboard, trying to figure out how to program the machine’s landing place. She managed to change the location from the portal cave in sixteenth-century England to Moscow, Red Square, April 2, 1961.

Then Patrick pushed the red button.

The cousins stepped out of the Imagination Station into Red Square. The machine vanished immediately.

Amelia’s dogs were chasing birds.

The tower clock began chiming again. Nine clangs.

Patrick clutched his package of Bibles. He said, “You keep a lookout toward St. Basil’s and the department store. I’ll keep a lookout toward the clock tower and the tomb.”

A woman approached Beth from the direction of St. Basil’s museum. She was wearing a beret that looked like the one Beth had lost. “I look for you all morning,” the woman said.

The woman’s English was pretty good. “How did you get my beret?” Beth asked. “Who are you?”

“Names not important,” the woman answered. She moved back a few steps.

Beth had to move closer to her to hear. Patrick moved too.

The woman patted her head. “You left beret at museum,” she said softly. “Cleaning woman was much afraid. She say American girl look for church on Easter. She say you wear blue and pink jacket.”

Beth nodded and said, “I am still looking for Christians.”

“Then come with me,” the woman said. She stepped backward three more steps. “I take you to pastor in town. We meet secretly to worship.”

Patrick didn’t want to follow the woman any farther. She was taking them closer to a group of guards near Lenin’s tomb. He had learned to distrust everyone.

“Can you prove that you’re a Christian,” Patrick said. “We don’t know if you’re working for the KGB.”

“Okay,” the woman said. “I know Bible verse Americans love: ‘God helps those who help themselves.’”

“That’s not a Bible verse,” Beth said. “You’re lying!”

The woman started to cry. “Oh, pity me!” she said. “We have no Bibles for forty years! How can I know Scripture? I have no holy words to read.” She sniffed and pointed at Beth’s package. “Those are Bibles, no? Another American said Bibles coming soon.”

Patrick felt sorry for her. He whispered to Beth, “She must mean Mr. Whittaker.” He touched Beth’s elbow. “Maybe we should give her at least one package.”

Beth looked at Patrick. “Well, just one of them,” she said. “I still want to find the Musical Ghost.”

Just then Patrick thought he heard something odd. It was someone whistling.

He turned to see a man dressed all in dark clothes. His hands were thrust deep inside his pockets. He looked a little scary. But he was whistling a familiar tune.

“That’s ‘The Farmer in the Dell,’” Patrick said.

“He’s got the ‘hi-ho, the derry-o’ part a little off key,” Beth said. “But that’s definitely our song.”

“Let’s follow him,” Patrick said. “He must know the Musical Ghost!”

Patrick felt a hand on his arm. “No go with that man!” the woman in the beret said. She tugged at his arm with great force. “It is trick! Stupid kids! Come with me! I pay you for Bibles. You get rich. Come!”

“Please go away,” he said. “You’re not treating us in the Royal Way.”

The woman scowled and walked away. Patrick wondered if she was going to tell the guards.

The cousins followed the whistling man a short distance across Red Square.

After a while, the man noticed the two young Americans following him. “I know who you are,” he said. “Please give me the Bibles. I will get them to churches. The pastors desperately need God’s Word.”

“How can we tell that you’re not lying?” Patrick said.

“I cannot prove what is inside my heart,” the man said. “But I have risked my life to carry Bibles.” He held out a hand and took off a glove.

Beth gasped in shock.

Three of the man’s fingers were gone.

“I have learned the hard way how to keep a secret,” he said.

Patrick didn’t want to stare at the hand. He looked up and into the man’s eyes. Something told him he could trust this man.

“Here,” Patrick said. “Please be careful.”

Beth also handed the man her package.

“Can you tell us where the Musical Ghost is?” she asked.

The man said, “You may be able to see him before it’s too late.” The man’s voice was sad and flat. It was as if his joy had frozen.

“Where is he?” Patrick asked.

“In jail for bringing in Bibles,” the man said. “He is there along with some American woman.”

“Amelia!” the cousins said aloud at the same time.