The Emerald Quest (10 page)

“Hey, it’s the kid!”

Noah turned and recognized the man with the flat face, who entered from the other side of the room. Noah gave up all pretense of hiding. He ran down another short hallway but there was nowhere to go. He was trapped. Footsteps pounded behind him. At the last second, Noah noticed a door. He flung it open and ran through. He was in a two-car garage. Noah’s eyes darted around. A 2-by-4 board leaned against the wall. He grabbed it and jammed one end under the door handle. The handle wiggled as the man tried to open the door, but the board prevented the handle from turning.

“Open the door!” the man yelled.

Noah hurried to a four-wheel all-terrain vehicle. It was similar to the one that he drove on the beach sometimes.

He pounded the seat. “No keys.”

Noah looked around. On the other side of the garage were three Kawasaki motorcycles. All had the keys in the ignition. Anthony had taught Noah how to drive a motorcycle, but Anthony had always sat behind Noah, coaching him. Noah hesitated. A pop like a firecracker made him jump. The man with the flat face was shooting at the door! Noah went to the bike. He’d have to drive it without any help.

Noah was about to jump on the closest motorcycle when he saw two spear guns hanging on the wall next to some scuba gear. Noah grabbed a gun and spear. He set them on the seat and mounted the motorcycle, sitting on the gun and spear. He turned the key, switched the fuel valve on, hit the starter button, and the Kawasaki roared to life. His legs were too short to kick up the kickstand, so Noah twisted the throttle and the motorcycle shot out of the garage. Noah glanced over his shoulder. The man had blasted through the door and was running to the other motorcycles.

Noah had no idea where he was. He steered down a long cement driveway and then onto a dirt road lined with palm trees. He hit a bump and careened to the right, almost losing control of the motorcycle. The back wheel spun and then the bike righted itself. Noah sped up. He gritted his teeth and worked to keep from crashing. The motorcycle was heavier than the one he’d learned on, and it was difficult to manage. Wind whipped by his face and dust got in his eyes. When he turned to look back, he saw the man with the flat face gaining on him.

A wood fence lay ahead. The road suddenly veered to the left. Noah couldn’t turn the bike in time. He crashed through the fence and into a bunch of mangrove trees. Leaves struck his face. His skin smarted as he kept driving. Then, he broke into the open. Ahead he saw rocks and sand covering the landscape, then the whitecaps of the ocean. Now he knew he was on the north side of the island. He was quickly approaching the cliff face near the cave where he and Anthony had found the box.

The man with the flat face was still close behind, his mouth twisted into a snarl. Noah looked frantically to the left and right. Too many jumbled boulders and trees. He had nowhere to go!

So, Noah made a decision. He gritted his teeth and gunned the throttle. The Kawasaki exploded forward and Noah watched as the azure ocean filled his vision. The motorcycle bounced around on the rough ground, but Noah held on. Then the land disappeared below him. Noah shot out into open space, the Kawasaki’s wheels spinning uselessly. Noah felt weightless for a moment. Then he and the Kawasaki plummeted downward.

CHAPTER TEN

DANGEROUS ROCKS

The Kawasaki slammed into the water with a resounding smack, creating a huge splash. The impact knocked Noah off the bike. He hit the water hard, then sank underwater. His lungs cried for air. He kicked hard, propelling himself upward.

Noah’s head bobbed out of the water. He sucked in a great lungful of air, then coughed violently. As he caught his breath, he checked himself over. No cuts, no broken bones, but his left shoulder hurt some. He’d been extremely lucky. The speed of the motorcycle had launched it out far enough that he’d missed landing on dangerous rocks along the shore. The water was still shallow, about twenty feet deep. Noah started to swim toward the shoreline when he heard a loud popping sound. He looked up. The man with the flat face was aiming a pistol at him. Crack! Noah instinctively ducked and dove down into the water.

The water distorted his vision, but he saw the Kawasaki lying on its side on the sandy sea floor. Noah spied the spear gun and spear nearby. He swam down and retrieved both. His lungs burned for air and his shoulder throbbed. He pushed off against the sea floor and shot to the surface.

The man was scanning the water. He saw Noah and aimed the pistol at him.

Noah submerged again, but this time, he swam to the north, away from the cliff. When he needed oxygen again, he surfaced. The man was focused back to the south. But he turned and saw Noah again. He aimed again. Noah didn’t hear the shot this time, but he heard the whapping sound as the bullet pierced the water nearby.

Noah twisted away from the shore, trying to get out of range of the gun. His progress was slow because he was carrying the spear gun, and his shoulder ached. After a moment, Noah realized he wasn’t hearing gunshots. He turned around and treaded water. The man was talking into a walkie-talkie. Noah waited, catching his breath. Then he heard a sound, a high-pitched hum, interrupted by a whacking sound. It came closer.

Noah turned around. A man on a jet ski was bounding toward him. Noah dove under the water. His body jostled viciously in the surf as the Jet Ski passed over him. Noah kicked, forcing himself downward. He peered up through the rippling water. The Jet Ski was turning around. Noah thought frantically. If he went farther out to sea, he would eventually tire out. Then he would be a sitting duck for the Jet Ski. He made a quick decision, pushing toward the shore.

Noah’s lungs craved oxygen. He floated to the surface, not far from the Jet Ski. The man saw him and turned in a loop, barreling down on him again. Noah gulped some air and dove under again. This time he swam as quickly as he could toward the rocky reef along the shore. He was working against the current and fighting panic. He could not keep avoiding the Jet Ski.

Noah had to surface. His head bobbed up and he sucked in air again. The Jet Ski came at him, engine revving hard. Noah flailed with his legs, twisting downward. The underside of the Jet Ski hit his foot. He screamed in pain, air bubbles rising around him. Just before he floated up, Noah realized he was near an outcropping of rocks that was below the surface. He could hide there.

The Jet Ski zoomed by, nearly hitting him again. Noah thrashed in the waves and swallowed a mouthful of salt water. He spat and coughed. By this time, the Jet Ski was rocketing toward him again. Noah could see the man driving it. He was grimacing evilly at Noah.

Noah took in a lungful of air and dove under. He kicked madly until he reached the rocks. He wrapped his legs around one of them. Gaining his balance, he quickly loaded the spear into the spear gun. He watched above him. The Jet Ski had circled again and was whizzing toward him.

Noah braced himself against another rock. He had one shot so he had to make it count. The Jet Ski bounced over the water, coming closer. Noah aimed the spear gun. As the Jet Ski passed over him, Noah pulled the trigger. The gun jolted in his hand and the spear cut through the water. It struck the underside of the Jet Ski.

The Jet Ski swirled in a loop, then careened toward the shore. Noah surfaced, gasping for air. He turned around just as the Jet Ski collided into the rocks near the shore. The driver flew into the air, landing on a rock. He rolled over and clutched at his back. Then he lay down. Noah dove under again, but this time he looked up to the cliff. The man with the flat face was shading his eyes, looking at the wreckage of the Jet Ski.

Noah dropped the spear gun and swam toward the cliff. When he reached the shore, he ducked in between the rocks, hidden from the man up above. The rocky reef covered a large area off the shore, with outcroppings jutting into the air here and there. Noah moved forward carefully, fighting the current. He edged on and soon he could now touch the sand with his feet. He rested for just a moment with his head above water. He was exhausted and his shoulder hurt. Fish darted around as Noah picked his way through the rocks. When he arrived at the cliff face, he stopped and listened. The man was above him about twenty feet.

The cliff face was rough, with rocky outcroppings and ledges. Noah studied it for a moment. He thought he could climb it. He quickly kicked off the tennis shoes and pulled off his socks. He grasped a rock and hauled himself up. Water dripped from his body and his clothes stuck heavily to his skin. He put a bare foot into a toehold and pushed on. He wasn’t sure what he would do once he got to the top, but he didn’t want to stay in the water. More than halfway up, he heard the man up above start talking. Noah froze, gripping the rocks with his fingers and toes.

“Georgie’s down on a rock. I don’t know if he’s okay.” The man paused, listening. “I don’t know where the kid is. He must’ve drowned.” Another moment of silence. “How am I supposed to check on Georgie?” Another long pause. “Fine. I’ll climb down. I might break my neck, but fine. Just get a boat out here, too. Okay, I’ll meet you down there.”

By now Noah was less than ten feet from the top. He could hear the man pacing above him, muttering.

“He must think I’m crazy. I can’t climb down there.”

Noah scrambled up the last few feet. His head was now just below the top of the cliff. He could see tufts of grass growing at the cliff’s edge. He could almost reach out and grab a small tree branch. The man sidled up to the edge of the cliff. Noah could see the tip of his boot.

“How am I gonna do this?” the man said to himself. He cursed. “It’s either this or face the boss.”

He turned around and got on his knees. He slid his body down and lowered a foot right past Noah’s face. The foot flopped around, trying to find a purchase.

Noah grabbed the man’s pant leg and yanked as hard as he could. He almost lost his balance, but he was more fortunate than the man.

“Yaaaaahhh,” the man screamed as he fell past Noah. He flayed his arms out, snatching at air. He hit the water with a splatter, miraculously missing any rocks. He floated to the surface, flinging hair out of his face. He sputtered for a second.

Noah crawled the last few feet up the cliff. Sand and dirt stuck to his wet clothes. The rough rocks hurt his bare feet, but he ignored the pain. He jumped to his feet and looked over the edge. The man was treading water, spitting and coughing.

“I’ll get you, you little punk!” he yelled at Noah. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, opened it, then realized it was dead. He threw it up at Noah. It bounced harmlessly on the cliff face.

Noah ran to the man’s motorcycle. The key was stuck in the ignition. Noah hopped on and started the bike. He could still hear the man hollering from below as the engine roared to life. Noah cranked the throttle and the bike leaped forward. He drove back over the rocks to the broken fence. Once he was on the dirt road, he sped down the path, back to Isaiah Wright’s house.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE DONZI

As Noah approached the Wright house, he cut the engine on the motorcycle. It coasted for a few feet, then Noah guided it into a clump of oak trees at the edge of the long driveway. He dismounted and leaned the bike against a tree trunk. Low, spreading branches of a tree hid Noah and the motorcycle. He listened for noise, then poked his head around the branches and watched the house. No one seemed to be about. Wright and his men were either in the house, or had gone to find the man with the flat face and his companion.

Noah ducked under the oak branches and raced up the driveway. He rushed into the garage, breathless. He paused by the ATV. No one had seen him. He strode to the door and quietly opened it. He heard nothing so he slipped into the house. He pressed himself against the wall. Cool air enveloped him, chilling his wet clothes, but Noah didn’t notice. He was too focused on finding his parents. He had to get them off Wright’s island.

Faint voices interrupted the silence. Noah crept down the hallway to the living room. He paused just before entering the room.

“His parents will give us the exact location of the emerald, I assure you.”

Isaiah Wright was speaking!

Goose bumps ran up Noah’s arms as he heard Wright talking. Noah peeked around the corner. Wright and another man were sitting in leather wing-back chairs in a large second-floor loft that looked down on the living room. The other man was in jeans and a black tee shirt. Even from a distance, Noah could tell that the man was strong and athletic, with thick biceps and large hands. Chang leaned against a railing, observing them.

Noah hadn’t noticed the loft before because he’d been too busy running from the man with the flat face. Noah studied the layout of the living room. He had no way of crossing it without being seen. He knelt down and listened.

“You didn’t need to resort to kidnapping,” the other man said. “My team would’ve found the emerald on our own.”

Wright chuckled. “Max, your team has done nothing so far, and we didn’t have any more time. I had to take matters into my own hands.”

Wright was talking to Max Scheff! Noah had never actually seen Max before, he’d just heard his parents describe Max’s exploits. As Noah observed Max, he agreed with what his parents had said. He did indeed look like a formidable foe.

“And you’ll take the fall for this,” Max said.

“What does that mean?”

Max stood up. He ran a hand through his curly brown hair. “I had nothing to do with the Winters, or their kid. I just locate valuables.” Max held up his hands. “And then I sell them to the highest bidder.”

Isaiah Wright’s face came into Noah’s view. His eyes narrowed and Noah could feel the hate emanating from them. He approached Max. “I am paying you to find the emerald.”

Max shook his head. “At one point, that was true. But I have a higher bidder.”

“Who?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Max said. “But this person will pay a million more than you.”

Wright stepped closer to Max, backing him up to the railing. Max glanced over his shoulder. Noah pulled his head back, not breathing.

“You can’t intimidate me,” Max continued.

Noah looked slowly around the corner again. Max had moved away from the railing. He stood, legs apart, arms crossed, staring at Wright.

Wright tapped his fingers together thoughtfully. “Okay,” he finally said. “Let’s find the emerald and we will renegotiate a price.”

“A million more,” Max said. “That’s the new price.”

Wright walked over to an enormous mahogany desk. He opened a drawer, pulled out a box, and took something from it.

“Do you see this?” Wright held up a small glass vial.

Max shrugged. “What is it?”

“It’s a new poison.” Wright lifted the vial up to the light. “It’s odorless, tasteless, and untraceable. Just a small injection will kill a person. No autopsy in the world will detect it. I had it specially designed.”

“Sure,” Max said sarcastically. “What are you, some kind of villain out of a spy story? Trying to threaten me with a new poison.”

Wright pursed his lips. “I am no villain. I just get what I want. You should keep that in mind.”

“Oh, I will,” Max said. “I –”

Wright’s cell phone rang. “Yes?” he answered. Wright listened for a moment, then slammed the phone shut.

“That was Karl, my third in command, after Chang here. It seems that young Noah Winter has escaped,” Wright said. “Your men can do nothing right.”

“What happened?” Max asked.

“Noah attacked Dave when he came to get the boy. The kid ran into the garage and took off on a motorcycle. I don’t know how, but two of your men ended up in the ocean. Karl has them now.” Wright waved a hand angrily at Max. “Get out there and take care of this.”

Max hurried down the stairs, grumbling about his incompetent partners. Noah scooted across the floor and hid behind a long couch. Max stomped through the living room and down the hallway where Noah had just been. Noah breathed a sigh of relief. Once Max was gone, he stared back up into the loft.

Wright was twisting the vial in his fingers. “Chang, our Mr. Scheff thinks he can threaten me.”

“Not very smart,” Chang said.

“No, it’s not.”  Wright examined the vial. “Once his team finds the emerald, we’ll test out this new poison. I think Mr. Scheff will be a perfect candidate, don’t you?”

Chang smiled. “Absolutely.”

Wright placed the vial back in the box. He turned to Chang. “We’d better go check on things. Max’s team may be great at underwater exploration, but they have no idea how to subdue a young boy.”

Chang came down the stairs, followed by Wright. They walked across the living room and into the hallway. Wright stopped and opened a door.

“Paul, how are things going?”

Paul’s the man guarding my parents!
Noah thought.

“Everything’s fine,” Paul’s deep voice boomed from inside the room. “The Winters are quite cooperative now.”

“We’re doing what you asked,” another voice said.

That was his dad! Noah shook with anger.
Wright better not have hurt them,
Noah thought.

“Thank you, Mr. Winter,” Wright said. “Once this business is out of the way, we’ll reunite you with your son.”

Noah heard his dad’s muffled voice, but this time he couldn’t understand him.

“Get me the information I need and you’ll see your son.” Wright pulled the door closed. He turned to Chang. “Once they tell us where the emerald is located, the Winters can be the next candidates for the new poison. After Max, of course.”

He and Chang disappeared down the hallway.

Noah bit his lip. He had to rescue his parents, or they would all die. But how? He had to get rid of the guard, Paul.

Noah raised his head and looked around. He was alone. Besides the couch, the living room had floor-to-ceiling bookcases, a square coffee table, end tables, and planters that contained bamboo trees. Could he use one of the planters to knock Paul out?

Noah examined a planter. It was made out of thick pottery. He tried to pull the bamboo tree out of the planter, but he couldn’t. His eyes roved around the room where his gaze fell on a ceramic lamp with a round marble base sitting on one of the end tables. He picked it up, feeling its weight. That marble base was heavy, but he could lift it.

This should do the trick,
he thought.

Noah unplugged the lamp, ripped off the lampshade, and lugged the lamp to the door of the room where his parents were held. He hefted the lamp up, resting it on his shoulder like a baseball bat. He ignored the pain in his shoulder as he knocked on the door.

Paul’s low voice filtered out through the crack under the door. “Don’t move while I answer the door.”

Footsteps clunked on the floor. Noah took a deep breath and braced himself.

“Yeah?” Paul said when he opened the door.

Noah raised the lamp up as high as he could. Paul stuck his head out the door and Noah swung the lamp. The heavy marble end smashed into the side of Paul’s head.

“Argh!” he groaned, slumping to the floor. A trickle of blood oozed out of a cut on his forehead. He kicked a foot out and then lay still.

Noah dropped the lamp. It hit the floor with a thump. Noah jumped over Paul and into the room. His mom was sitting at a table, holding a piece of paper. His dad sat next to her, his jaw open in disbelief.

“Noah!” they both shouted, leaping to their feet.

Noah ran into their arms. “Mom! Dad!” he cried. They huddled together for a moment, too happy to say anything.

“How did you –” his mom began, but lost her voice. She hugged Noah again. “You’re all wet! Look at your cheek.” She brushed a hand over the bruise from Dave’s wrench. “What happened?”

“Mom, I’m fine,” Noah said.

“He is,” Frank agreed as he collected himself. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Where are Wright and the others?” Riley asked Noah.

“They went to the north end of the island,” Noah said. “I don’t know if anyone else is around.”

Frank crossed to the door and peeked out. “The coast is clear.”

“Let’s go,” Noah said.

Frank held up a hand. He bent down and placed a finger on Paul’s neck. “He’s still breathing, just knocked out cold.” He grabbed Paul’s legs and pulled him into the room.

“Come on,” Frank waved for Noah to follow him.

“Wait.” Riley hurried to the table and rifled through maps, books, and papers. “Here we go.” She held up the spyglass with the etched-glass end pieces attached to it. “No sense leaving this with Wright.”

“Good idea,” Frank said. He pushed her and Noah out the door, pulled it shut and made sure it locked.

They ran out through the living room, down a hallway, and into a large foyer.

“Hold on a second.” Frank pointed to a phone on a credenza next to the front door. He picked up the receiver and dialed. “Anthony. Yes, yes, we’re fine. I’ll explain later. Get the
Explorer
and head out to Copper Key. Don’t worry, we’ll find you, just get out here as fast as you can!”

“What are we going to do?” Noah whispered as they crept out the front door.

“Let’s see if there’s a boat we can take,” Frank said. “Hurry up.”

They ran down a stone path, past a gazebo to a dock where two sleek boats were moored. Frank hopped into a two-seater 388 Slingshot powerboat.

“I’ll see if I can disable this so they can’t follow us,” he said. “Riley,” he gestured at the other boat, a dark blue and white Donzi powerboat. “Get that started.”

Riley jumped into the Donzi, tucking the spyglass in her arm. She sat behind the wheel and fired up the engine. Noah followed her, but leaned over the side to watch Frank in the other boat.

Frank opened a hatch, exposing the engine. “I need something to cut the fuel line.”