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Jon McDonald Authro
Category:
Children
Publisher: Jon McDonald
ISBN-10: 1491227923
Type: Fiction
Pages: 241
Copyright: 2013
ISBN-13: 9781491227923
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Three siblings search in a time machine for their lost parents.
Trang, Bindu, and Squeaker expect the return of their parents from a mysterious trip abroad. Trang, the eldest, has been in charge of the family while the parents are away. But when the parents don’t return on the expected date the kids decide to try and find out where they might have gone and begin a search in their inventor father’s secret workshop for clues. The kids find their father’s and mother’s journals and a treasure map. Then they must solve the puzzles in the journals to find the paths that will lead them to the treasure and their parents.
However, an associate of their father’s, Dr. Kropulent, wants to steal the journals and find the treasure for himself. But the kids evade him by escaping in their father’s time machine - setting off on a journey to different countries and through different times - following clues that will lead them to their parents and the treasure.
Excerpt
Introduction
With childhood obesity a major concern in the United States it seems appropriate to introduce fun, healthful, and adventurous cooking and eating to children in a new way. Set within the context of an adventure story, child friendly recipes are introduced throughout the story as part of the plot. It is hoped that children will become excited by the introduction of these new, healthful, and adventurous foods, and that they will be inspired to try these recipes for themselves - both as cooks, and consumers of fine foods. Every effort has been made to make these recipes easy to prepare, healthful, nutritious and flavorful, with the hope that children will want to try cooking some of these recipes for themselves.
Many traditional cultures have delicious cuisines, based on healthful foods from local markets that have sustained families for generations. By exploring these international foods, we hope to inspire children to learn to cook and eat in new and exciting ways. By examining the many joys of world cuisines, minority children can learn to prepare foods from their own cultures - and for all children - to become aware of the wide variety of fun, and exciting foods available from around the world.
Note: For most of the food listed in the narrative, the recipes can be found in Donna Tait’s journal at the end of the book.
Chapter 1
Where are They?
Wendell and Donna Tait always said that they had a crazy quilt family. Donna was African American, her husband Wendell was an Ohio farm boy, and as they were unable to have children themselves, they had adopted a baby boy from Vietnam, named Trang – Bindu, a girl who was part East Indian and part Saudi - and a Hispanic child -Carlos.
Carlos sat up in bed, suddenly wide-awake, on this July morning. Carlos was also known as Squeaker within the family, because he was almost always able to squeak out of tough situations. He squeaked out of chores – he squeaked by the catcher at home plate – he squeaked out of punishment when he broke the dining room window playing Frisbee. But today was the day his parents were coming home at last. And like most nine-year olds, he was full of energy, and bounded over to his sister’s bed in the room they shared, and jumped up on it to rouse her awake.
Bindu was a late sleeper, and did not appreciate the early wake-up call from her younger brother, however auspicious the day was to be with the return of their parents. She tried pulling the covers up over her head, but they were just as quickly yanked down again by Squeaker’s insistence that she get up and get moving. Luckily for her, Squeaker was too full of beans to annoy her for long, and he scooted out of the room to go visit his older brother, Trang. Bindu groaned, rolled to a seated position on the bed, and struggled to force herself awake. Bindu was a slight, young girl of twelve, with the attractive dark complexion, and beautiful, wide, expressive eyes of her Indian and Saudi heritage. Today, she awoke with a head of morning hair, shooting out in a dozen directions, like she was in electric shock therapy.
Squeaker raced into Trang’s room, enjoying the thought of bouncing up on Trang’s bed as well, but was surprised to find that Trang was up, dressed, and already at his laptop on Facebook - and just about to go downstairs to start breakfast. Trang was a lanky fifteen-year old lad who had recently had a growth spurt, and didn’t quite fit his clothes. He wore his dark hair long, and could barely see out of the bangs that flopped over his forehead. He was the brain of the group. He called himself Super-Nerd, as he was a wiz at math, and had a passion for super-computers and gardening. He had built his own greenhouse next to his father’s workshop out back.
Trang was the eldest, and in charge of the brood while the parents were away. Donna and Wen had debated long and hard before deciding to leave the two younger children in the charge of their fifteen-year old boy. Most parents would not have considered that sufficient supervision. However, Trang was mature for his age, and Bindu was very bright, capable, and responsible herself. The Taits had raised their children well, and felt that Trang was mature enough to supervise the family while they were away. After all, it was to be no more than two weeks. They had also enlisted the backup help of Dr. Thaddeus Korpulent. He was a professor at the local college, worked with Wendell occasionally on scientific projects, lived just down the block, and could be called upon for assistance if any emergencies arose - and Wendell and Donna could always be contacted at any time on their mobile phones – if they were not somewhere at the ends of the earth without phone service.
Donna and Wen were not your ordinary suburban parents. They described themselves as Adventurers. Wendell was a scientist, an inventor, and an archeologist. Donna was a writer of cookbooks, and loved to travel, and explore the world for new and exciting international cuisines and recipes. So while they loved - and well cared for their family - they were often out and about, exploring the world for its many experiential riches.
Wendell had a workshop in the converted garage behind the house, where he would work for days and weeks on his inventions. Everything was top secret out there, and the workshop was always tightly secured with multiple locks and an alarm system. The kids were strictly forbidden from ever going into the workshop - though Trang secretly knew where the keys and security codes were hidden, as he had seen his father hiding them one evening when he didn’t know Trang was watching.
The Taits lived in a small college town in southern Ohio. Wendell would occasionally guest lecture at the college in the departments of archeology or applied sciences. The family resided in a wonderful, old, rambling, craftsman-style house on a lazy, elm-shaded street - filled with children, bicycles, lemonade stands, and yards with snowmen during the winter.
Trang was in the kitchen beating the whole-grain pancake batter, while Squeaker set the kitchen table. Turkey bacon was sizzling on the stove. Finally, Bindu made her belated appearance. She was still sleepy, disheveled, and wearing two different colored socks. She plopped herself down at the table, and stared at her phone, as though it was invisible, demanding her magic powers to bring it back into existence - before she could start an endless round of texting.
“Hey Bindy, you could lend a hand, you know,” Trang sounded off.
“Humph,” Bindu responded, going to the refrigerator for the butter plate, and the cupboard for the maple syrup. She stumbled back to the table having done ‘her part’, and began texting her friend Shareena. As a passionate dancer, even as she texted, she began her usual morning stretch routine, using the kitchen table as a barre.
“What time are they coming in?” Squeaker asked Trang, when they were finally seated at the table and eating breakfast.
“Bout ten - should be back here by noon.”
“What do you suppose they’ll bring us from this trip?” Squeaker asked, relishing the surprise presents his parents always brought back from their worldwide adventures.
“Heaven only knows. I don’t even know where they went. They were very secretive about their destination this time. Did they say anything to you about where they were going?” Trang asked Bindu.
Bindu shook her head, as she continued her texting without looking up.
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and find out when they get here.”
Squeaker, always a fast eater, took his plate to the sink, and headed for the door to work on his fort in the back yard.
“Oh no you don’t,” Trang warned. “Not till the dishes are done. It’s your turn this morning.”
“Traaang…” Squeaker complained, but went back to the sink anyway. It was harder to squeak by his brother than his by his parents.
“And you - you’ve got lunch today,” Trang said, turning his attention towards Bindu. “And remember it’s for the whole family. So let’s do something really nice to welcome them home, okay?”
“Oooo-kay, Mr. Bossy,” Bindu moaned.
* * *
It was one-thirty and still no parents. Trang had left half a dozen messages on both their parent’s phones that had not been returned. The quiche was completely dried out - the salad wilted. Trang called the airport, and their flight had come in on time. He called the taxi service - that the parents usually used - and they had not appeared for their scheduled pick-up.
“They probably missed a connection somewhere,” Trang offered.
“Then why didn’t they call us? They always call when they’re delayed,” Bindu added, anxiously, “What should we do?”
“Well, we’re not gonna call Dr. Korpulent?” Trang responded with some certainty.
“Ewww. No. Not him. He’s so oily.” Bindu squinched up her nose at the idea.
“Well, we’ve got to do something. It’s quite clear they’re not here, and, it seems, not on their way,” Trang added.
“Maybe we should call the Lost Parents Police,” Bindu smiled.
They continued to sit in the living room in silence for a moment before Squeaker rose and announced decisively, “Well I’m hungry. I’m not going to wait for lunch a minute longer. His face glowed with determination as he brushed back his unruly, black hair, and marched off smartly towards the kitchen. Trang and Bindu quickly followed.
They ate more or less in silence, each with their own anxious thoughts about the immediate future, when there was a rattling of the back door off the kitchen. They all looked up expectantly, thinking their parents had finally arrived, only to see the door open and Dr. Korpulent appear, filling the doorway like a medium-sized Himalayan mountain. He squeezed his mass through the door, and scowled down at the kids with a wicked smile. His hair was slicked back, and was shiny like an 8 ball. His ears stuck out from the side of his head like Mr. Potato Head’s, and he squinted through a single monocle, that he had tied to a lanyard around his chubby neck. He was dressed in a massive, loose, ill-fitting white suit with a Colonel Sanders string necktie, and a cane which he often used for dramatic effect, brandishing it about to emphasize his points.
“Well, well, well. I see we are all together. Where are your parents? Aren’t they back yet?” he wheezed out with an asthmatic gurgle, leaning forward on his cane.
Trang stood up and addressed the Doctor. “No sir. We were expecting them at noon, but they never showed up.”
“Delayed, no doubt, by ferocious weather in some inhospitable clime with no phone service,” the Doctor sighed, and then turned to go. But he stopped at the door and turned back to the kids. “Where exactly were they headed?”
“Don’t know,” Trang answered. “Never told us.”
“Humph. Tell your father to call me when they get back. It’s very important I speak with him as soon as possible. I need to get into the workshop, and he has the only set of keys,” the Doctor sounded, as he squeezed once more through the door, finally lumbering away, much to the kid’s relief.
By four o’clock that afternoon they were very concerned, as their parents had still not appeared, or sent a message. Trang decided to hold a family council. They gathered in their father’s study, and sat around the circular table that he used for meetings with colleagues. The room was dark, with high bookshelves reaching to the ceiling along all the walls, and heavy draperies obscuring all but the most obstinate light, weakly filtering in through the study windows. There were stacks of papers, journals and folders everywhere. Their father always scattered himself around in piles, wherever he landed for more than five minutes.
“So what are we going to do now?” Bindu asked, clutching her hands tightly together in front of her on the tabletop. “We don’t know where they went. And we don’t have any place to start an investigation.”
“Yeah, been thinking about that,” Trang mused. “I’ve already looked through his desk, and all around the room here to see if I could find any clues as to where they might have gone.” He shook his head. “But nothin’.”
Squeaker spoke up, “What about the workshop? Might be some clues in there.”
“We can’t get in there,” Bindu observed.
A sheepish grin stole over Trang’s face. Bindu looked closely at him.
“What?” she asked, leaning forward towards him.
“Well…” he evaded.
“That place is locked up tighter than a shipment of toxic waste.”
“Maybe…maybe not,” he smiled.
“What? What? You know how to get in there?” Squeaker bounced out of his chair.
Trang got up, walked over to a massive bookcase, and pulled out an obscure tome from one of the shelves. He opened the book, and pulled out of a secret compartment…
“The keys and the alarm code,” he grinned, as he held up a set of keys and a small card.
“Have you been in there before?” Bindu asked, with a certain hushed respect.
Trang shook his head. “Not yet - but there’s always a first time. Who’s game?” he asked, dangling the keys in front of him.
Squeaker was out of the door faster than a sonic boom. Trang and Bindu were close behind. Just as they left the room, a large mountain of a shadow passed across the study windows.
There were several heavy locks on the door to the workshop. Trang struggled with the bunch of keys, trying to find the right ones. He finally managed to get the door unlocked and they went inside. The first task was to find the alarm and punch in the code from the card. As they had not been inside before, they were not quite sure where to look for the keypad. Squeaker was the first to find it by its chirping beep, hidden behind some hanging tools, and Trang entered in the code, shutting off the alarm.
They were greatly relieved to be safely inside, and for the first time had a chance to look around the workshop. Trang was surprised at how small it was. There were several workbenches, large cabinets, and shelving units holding all sorts of parts, tools, and boxes of supplies. There were also shelves with treasures from his archeological digs. There were a number of racks on the walls holding small hand tools, and a large bench in the center of the room where there were several works in progress, along with a sheaf of schematic drawings. In one corner there was a desk, and that caught Bindu’s eye as a place where they might start to look for clues as to where their parents might be traveling.
“Over here,” Bindu suggested, as she led the way to the desk.
Above the desk was a bookshelf. Trang searched through that, as Bindu sat at the desk chair, and opened drawers looking for clues. Squeaker was fascinated with a contraption on the center workbench.
“Find anything?” Trang asked, as he pulled books from the shelf.
“Not yet,” Bindu said, with some frustration.
“Okay-y-y,” Trang called out with some excitement.
“What?” Bindu asked.
“Take a look at this.” Trang opened a hand-written journal, and laid it down on the desk in front of Bindu. Squeaker came over to see what Trang had found. As they were totally absorbed with the journal, none of the kids observed the mountainous shadow moving along the workshop windows.
They examined the first page of the journal. It was transcribed in their father’s handwriting. Bindu began reading aloud: Journal of Wendell Tait - And below that: My record of the search for the Lost Treasure of Lower Kal Ory
Trang and Bindu looked at each other with some astonishment. Bindu flipped through the pages. The journal of many pages was almost completely full. It was organized into chapters, but without chapter headings or dates. Each entry was preceded by a series of three numbers. Near the end of the book something was stuck between the pages that created a bulge. Trang turned to it, and a document fell out. He opened it - revealing a map. Written along the top was an inscription in an archaic script that was hard to decipher, but could be made out to read: Site of Greate & Glorious TreaSur in the Farr Off Vallie of Lower Kal Ory
“Kal Ory? Where’s that?” Bindu questioned.
“Never heard of it. But if there’s a Lower Kal Ory there must also be an Upper Kal Ory. Okay, let’s do a search.”
Bindu opened their father’s laptop and turned it on. Launching the Internet, Bindu did a search on Kal Ory - both Upper and Lower - but came up with nothing.
“Hum. Try the Atlas website,” Trang suggested, leaning over Bindu’s shoulder. She did, but still with no results.
“Are there any other clues on the map?” Trang asked.
They examined the map once again. There were various mountain ranges indicated on either side of a valley, but no names were listed. There was a river called the Sto that ran through the valley.
“Do a search on that.”
Again Bindu tried a search, but came up with nothing. They re-examined the map. The spot where the treasure was indicated was in a mountain range, and the place where the treasure was located looked like a cave. Above the cave was a drawing of a crown, with seven numbers above each point in the crown, but without and any text to indicate what they meant. The drawing of the cave looked like a yawning mouth, but there were no words attached to it either. There were several series of numbers drawn on the map in the upper left hand corner, but they didn’t look like geographic co-ordinates. They were too random and did not fit the configuration of longitude and latitude. Trang suggested that they might have been written after the map was drawn as they were in a different ink and handwriting.
“So, do you think this is where they went?” Bindu asked.
“Don’t know, but it must be related to the journal because it was stuck in there.”
Squeaker, ever practical, spoke up. “Then why don’t you just read the journal? Maybe it will tell you.” Bindu and Trang looked over at Squeaker. This kid had his moments. Bindu turned to the first entry. She read aloud to the others. They were so engrossed in their discovery that they did not remember that they had left the door to the workshop ajar - and further failed to notice that there was a figure hidden behind the door, about to listen to Bindu’s recital.
Salamanca, Spain – Let me start at the beginning of this quest. It all began when I was in Cairo after finishing a dig at the Ramesses II Fortress at Tell Abqa’in. I went into one of my favorite bookstores of ancient manuscripts. I bought a small volume of Jesuit essays, and when I got back to my hotel, proceeded to examine the volume in more detail. Upon closer scrutiny, I came upon a manuscript folded inside. Opening it up, I found it to be a treasure map. Imagine my astonishment, when upon even closer examination and research, I could find no references to the location listed on the map in any atlas or encyclopedia in my searches on the Internet. The only clue I could find was actually in the volume of essays that I had just purchased. There is no doubt that that is why the map had been inserted in that book.
Deep within the book was an essay on Jesuit history, where I came upon a reference to the lost treasure of Kal Ory. It stated that the Jesuit Brotherhood in France had translated an ancient Egyptian text about the vast riches of an unnamed Pharaoh. When his reign was threatened by a family member - who longed to usurp his throne - he moved his vast treasure to a secure and unknown location. Eventually the Pharaoh was overthrown, and the location of the treasure was thought to be lost upon the Pharaoh’s death.
However, during the Crusades, a group of Christian Templar knights were rumored to have discovered the Pharaoh’s treasure in Palestine - removed it - and taken it to another secure location. Though it was no longer lost, the new location was known to only a very few in the secret Templar society. In 1307 King Phillip of France rounded up and massacred the French Templars, and the secret of the treasure’s location was thought to be lost once again.
But it was further revealed in this essay that the secret of the treasure’s location was indeed not lost, and the knowledge of its location survived within various Roman Catholic Brotherhoods over the centuries. Eventually the knowledge was guarded solely within the Jesuit Brotherhood. But because the vastness of the treasure was so great, and the danger of the location being leaked to the outside world all too likely, it was deemed necessary to encode clues to its location in various different cities throughout the world. The idea was that as funds were needed by the brotherhood, any member, from any cell, in any country could access the location of the treasure by following clues embedded in public monuments in major cities. In order for the quest to be difficult, no one clue could lead to the treasure, but only by following a trail of clues - each one leading to the next - could the treasure be found.
“Can you believe this?” Bindu asked, looking up from the journal. “Did you know about any of this?” she asked Trang.
Trang shook his head.
“Hey, get on with it, will ya. This is great stuff,” Squeaker jumped in.
Bindu turned her attention back to the journal. The figure at the door was eagerly drinking in what was being read, while making copious notes.
Of course, the big question now was, how could this trail of clues be accessed, and what was the key to finding the first clue? There was nothing else in the essay or the rest of the book to indicate how this might be done. So I turned to the map itself. Perhaps there would be clues there. I noticed that there were numbers on the manuscript that seemed to have been added after the original creation of the map.
First, I noticed that the map was in English, rather than Latin or French. This would indicate that it might be a copy of the map from one of the brotherhood cells in pre-schism England. It occurred to me that there might be multiple maps for different orders in various countries. If that were the case, then each map would have to have instructions as to how to access the clues and a formula for following the clues to the treasure. That is when I put my attention to the figures that were written on the map at a later date.
Trang picked up the map and looked at it again. “He must be referring to these figures written here.” He indicated the numbers at the upper left-hand side of the map. Bindu went back to reading.
It was clear they were not map co-ordinates, as they did not scan. I pondered the possibility that they might be biblical references, and tried various combinations of chapter and verse, but it all came out gobbledygook. Then I remembered that I had some encryption software on my computer, and I ran the numbers through that, and discovered that the code was based on a musical structure. I am reluctant to disclose too much about it in these pages for security reasons, but I will say it gave me the results I was looking for – I had found the first city and the first clues as to how to use the map.
So here I am in Salamanca, about to go off to the University for the final stage of my research that I hope will reveal to me the path to the treasure, as I am certain it still exists and remains hidden - with most references to it destroyed. It would be a huge archeological triumph of the first order - a boon to any historical museum.
Donna is with me - as always doing research for her cookbooks. She is intrigued with the thought of discovering Jewish and Moorish food references in the Salamanca archives - and perhaps even finding some ancient, undiscovered recipes.
Later the same day.
Yes! Yes! Yes! I have found what I was looking for. I needed just one last piece of information to complete my key to the treasure trail. It has allowed me to identify the symbol on the public monuments. Each symbol contains the clues leading to the next location along the trail. I have made a schematic drawing of the symbol, which is a Jesuit symbol I found in my research at the library.
As this is the first city on the path to the treasure, I tested out my theory and found the first monument as I expected. It has given me the clues I need now to find the second location.
The words on the symbol are mine. Of course, I expect the symbol to have different identifying names at each location along the route. The co-ordinates reflect the adjusted co-ordinates from the treasure map for each city – which are not the true GPS co-ordinates.
Now then, the great puzzle in this diagram is the top of the pyramid - labeled “jewel.” I have puzzled over it, and think I may have come up with the solution. On the map there is the drawing of a crown above the location of the treasure cave. Above each point of the crown there is a number. If I am correct then the jewel to be found on the diagram at each location will represent one of the numbers above the points on the crown – a jewel in the crown. My guess is that the first symbol on the trail represents the number 1, the second - number 2, and so on. The jewel found at the first location, however is not the name of a real jewel, but a name that, at this point, has no meaning for me. That name is Raäbuu. I assume that as I collect these names they will eventually make sense to me. But I am certain that these names are a vital clue to finding the location of the treasure.
I will continue to record my journey along the trail in this journal, but to keep the steps along the trail secret, I will scramble the entries in this journal so that the sequence cannot be discovered without a key. And as a further method of encrypting my journey I have imbedded key clues in Donna’s recipes in her journal. So, one will need my journal, Donna’s journal, and a code or codes that I will invent when we return home to follow the path to the hidden treasure. IQ-3/30-2/24-4/8
That ended the first journal entry. All three of the kids were silent for a moment. They had a lot to process.
Bindu was the first to speak. “So why don’t they have this book with them if they’re looking for the treasure?”
Trang thought for a moment then answered. “Perhaps they’ve already found it.”
“Are we gonna be rich?” Squeaker squealed with excitement.
“Knowing Dad, the answer to that question would probably be no,” Bindu sighed. “He’ll want to donate all of it to some stuffy museum. All he wants is the credit in finding it.”
“Bummer.”
“So if they have found the treasure, and have not returned, then something may be wrong. And since nobody knows where they are, it will be up to us to find them,” Trang speculated.
“And just how are we going to do that?” Bindu wanted to know.
“Well, first of all, we’ve got to find the codes and follow the trail ourselves.”
Bindu suddenly brightened. “We have Dad’s journal. That’s one part. And I know where Mom’s recipe journal is. That’s the second part. Now all we have to do is find the code that links the two, that Dad said he was going to invent. Got any ideas?”
“Go get Mom’s journal, and I’ll look around here.”
Bindu rose from the desk chair, and bounded out the workshop door towards the house. She did not notice the mountainous shadow retreating to a hiding place behind the hydrangeas next to the workshop. She came scurrying back with her mother’s journal in her hand. She raced back to the desk. They scanned the journal, but could not find any obvious clues. There were commentaries about where they were – lots of recipes – but nothing else.
“Okay, whatta we got? Let’s take a look at the big picture here to see what might be missing,” Trang pondered. “First we have Dad’s journal, with the scrambled journal entries, which needs a key to the code to sort them out. Then we have the map with no identifying names, but with some numbers that is a code that Dad deciphered. We also have the crown, which needs jewels that are in the symbols along the way. Then we have Mom’s journal which has clues imbedded in the recipes connecting her journal to Dad’s journal, but which we cannot yet access.”
“What we need is the link between Dad’s journal and Mom’s journal to start with,” Bindu figured.
“And a method to find the monuments with the symbols that leads from one city to the next,” Trang added.
“Yes, the key or keys to the codes that he said he would invent,” Squeaker offered.
Trang stopped and looked around the workshop. “I’ll bet they’re in here somewhere.”
Bindu got up from the desk and began searching. “What are we looking for, any idea?”
“I don’t know - a book, a cipher card of some sort, an unlikely object…could be anything. You look on the tool shelves - I’ll go through the bookshelves. Anything at all that might seem likely, call it out.”
“What about me?” Squeaker asked - indigent at being ignored.
“Yeah, you can look too,” Trang said, somewhat dismissively.
The three of them began the search in earnest. Trang was taking each book out of the bookshelf, and leafing through it, and shaking the book to see if anything would fall out. Bindu was carefully examining each shelf, looking for anything that might contain a code or clue. Squeaker examined the center table where there were works in progress.
Half an hour passed, and they were becoming frustrated with no results.
“I don’t know - I can’t find anything. Do you think there might be something in Dad’s study?” Bindu asked.
“Hmmm. Good thought,” Trang figured.
Squeaker had become bored long ago, and had picked up a rubber ball that Dad kept on his desk. When Dad was thinking, or working on a math problem, he would often bounce the ball against the wall and retrieve it over and over again, as a way of focusing his mental activities. That tended to drive the family crazy, as he did it all over the house. Ka-rump-a, ka-rump-a, ka-rump-a – all day long. You always knew where Dad was. Now Squeaker was doing the same thing. Ka-rump-a, ka-rump-a, ka-rump-a. It was already driving Trang crazy, and he caught the ball before it bounced back to Squeaker. He was just about to throw it into a desk drawer and slam it shut when he stopped cold. He held up the ball and examined it carefully.
“What the….” he smiled and held out the ball. “Take a look at this.”
Bindu and Squeaker came over and examined the ball in Trang’s hand. The ball was about the size of a tennis ball and made of flexible rubber. But instead of being just a plain ball it was covered with a map of the world. It was in fact a small globe. Trang quickly scanned the room. He was looking for something that might connect the ball to the treasure map. He remembered seeing a strange looking object on the desk.
“Here, take a look at this.” He rummaged on the desk, and found what he was looking for. He had seen it while going through the bookshelves above the desk. It was a small cradle - a stand that the ball might fit into. He placed the ball into it, and it fit perfectly. He examined the stand closely, and saw that there were numbers etched into the arms of the cradle. “I’ll bet these numbers are longitude and latitude, and if the ball is inserted in the cradle it will give the correct coordinates.”
“Wait a minute. I just remembered something.” Bindu picked up the map and looked at it again. Here, take a look at this. You know how maps are oriented to the north - with north always at the top of the page?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, see this arrow at the top right-hand corner?”
“Yeah.”
“Well my guess is that that arrow is really north, and it was put that way to throw off anyone who might see the map that didn’t know about the reorientation.”
“Yes, and here on the ball Dad has indicated where this adjusted north would be –see?” Trang placed the ball in the cradle. He reoriented the globe so that the adjusted north on the ball would act as the north needed to determine the true co-ordinates.
“Now, let’s see if we can read the latitude and longitude on the cradle.” Bindu suggested.
“Yeah…” Trang examined the arms of the cradle closely. He pointed to several components of the cradle. “I think this must be longitude and this must be latitude,” he concluded. Now if any of the clues in the journals are longitude and latitude then we can orient the ball so that we can see exactly where the location is, by positioning the ball here.” He pointed to an intersection of two movable arms that could be moved to cross at any location. “And we can read the true co-ordinates of the location by looking here.”
“But to be accurate we would always have to orient the ball so that the ball’s north matched the maps north. Is that how you see it?” Bindu asked.
“Yes. And my guess is that the clues in Dad’s and Mom’s journal will give us the adjusted latitude and longitude of each city where they went. They identified the cities that way, instead of naming them in the journal.”
“So how do we begin? And how do we get there once we find the location? We don’t exactly have our own private jet, or gobs of money to take commercial flights.”
Trang was frustrated and confused after such an afternoon of investigation and discovery. He was tired and hungry, and noticed that it was almost dark. “Maybe we should give it a rest for now. How about we sleep on it? I’m sure we can make more sense of it tomorrow morning. Wha’d ya say? You guys hungry?”
Bindu dropped her head and closed her eyes for a moment. “Yes, I’m for that. How about you kiddo?” she asked Squeaker.
They looked around, but couldn’t find him.
“Where’d he go?” Bindu asked.
They scanned the workshop and finally found him curled up asleep in a corner on a pile of Styrofoam that Dad used to carve out models for projects.
“Okay.” Trang went over to the sleeping Squeaker, picked him up and carried him towards the door. “Bring the journals, the map, and the ball will you please? And can you set the alarm and lock up?” Trang asked, addressing Bindu.
“Sure.”
Just before Trang reached the door the figure disappeared into the gathering darkness.
* * *
Later that night, after dinner and before bedtime, Trang was at the desk in his father’s study looking around once more to see if he could find anything of importance that he might have missed during his first search.
Bindu and Squeaker came in and kneeled down on either side of Trang’s chair. They put their arms around Trang, and laid their heads on his shoulders. Trang bent his head to Bindu’s head.
“I miss them,” Squeaker said. “Do you think they’re alright?”
Trang patted their heads. “I sure hope so.” He thought for a moment. “Yeah, sure – they’re fine. They’re very experienced travelers, and I’m certain they can take good care of themselves,” he tried to reassure them. “We may not know where they are, and they may not be able to contact us, but I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
The three were silent - each contemplating what would come next in their parent’s adventure - that would soon become their adventure as well.
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