Panama Pursuit Read online

  Bruno nodded. “Very interesting artifacts—yes.”

  “So the work was immediately stopped,” my dad continued, “and leading archaeologists from all over the world have been invited to come and investigate the area.”

  Anna’s dad nodded again. “My brother Rudi was actually one of the first people contacted. He is already there... there at the site.”

  “And you’re a professor of archaeology in England—at Cambridge? That’s why you were asked to go?”

  Another nod. “Yes, Rudi and I are both archaeologists.”

  “And you and your daughter are heading to Panama tomorrow, to work on the site?”

  “Yes,” Bruno said, “and I’d like to invite Cody, Eric, and Rachel to join us.”

  I held my breath.

  My dad scratched his head. “You see,” he said, “that’s the part that has me confused. Why do you want to take our kids?”

  “This should be interesting,” Eric whispered in my ear.

  Bruno cleared his throat and swiped at his damp forehead with the handkerchief. “Last month, when Anna was lost in the forest near here, it was your children who immediately went into the woods, heroically saving her.”

  “He’s not kidding about that!” Eric said, obviously referring to our trip to the past and the ancient Cree village where we had stayed.

  My dad heard Eric mumbling and frowned in our direction.

  “Shhh,” Rachel said.

  Bruno continued: “I would like to show my appreciation for that kindness by inviting them on this trip.”

  “And you’re actually willing to pay for the kids?” Dad asked. I guess he figured Bruno thanked us enough when we returned from the forest with Anna.

  Bruno laughed lightly. “Well, to be honest,” he said, “I won’t be paying personally. But I am a founding member of the World Junior Archaeologists—the WJA—which is starting a program to get youth involved in archaeological field work. Anna tells me that Cody, Eric, and Rachel have an interest in history, and I will see that they are sponsored by Kids Dig It. That is the name of the program—Kids Dig It.”

  “And they’re the ones paying for the trip?” That was Mrs. Summers. “The whole thing?”

  “Yes,” Bruno said, “and the timing couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “Why’s that?” Dad asked.

  “Kids Dig It has been anxiously waiting for an international archaeological project that can be used to test the program. And Panama is it! Each country invited to participate in the canal discovery will also be sending four or five junior Kids Dig It members. I will be representing England, and I would love for your children to be my Kids Dig It delegates.”

  “But our kids are Canadian,” Mrs. Summers said. “Will they allow three Canadian children on an English team?”

  “For this project, yes,” Bruno said. “Our Canadian contacts told us they don’t have the time to assemble a proper delegation from Canada, so they encouraged me to include your children on my team.”

  “Wow!” my dad said. “Things have sure changed since I was young. When we went on field trips, we hopped on a school bus and drove to the museum. And that was it. No plane rides, no fancy hotels—”

  “There will be no fancy hotels,” Bruno said, cutting my dad off, “or any hotels, for that matter.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Huh?” croaked Eric.

  “To truly experience life as an archaeologist, the children will be working and living in the field. Of course there will be many other young people on the site, and the accommodations will meet recreational camp standards for health and safety, but there will be nothing fancy about their quarters.”

  Eric groaned and Rachel jabbed him in the ribs. But that only made him groan louder.

  Dad grinned at us fiendishly. “Now that sounds more like it.”

  “Upon completion of their reports and presentations,” Bruno added, “they can even apply for credit hours from the WJA.”

  “Reports!?” I asked.

  “Presentations!?” Eric cried.

  Our parents suddenly looked a whole lot happier, which I didn’t like one bit. The trip was starting to sound more like an outdoor classroom than a fun holiday. I was about to say “forget it” when I suddenly realized Bruno might be making the camp sound more educational than it really was so that our parents would approve.

  Anna’s dad turned and looked at us. “You will be expected to treat the experience like a mini-course at school. You will take notes, document your findings, and then submit a field report of your experience to Kids Dig It.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Eric whined.

  “Don’t be rude, Eric,” Mrs. Summers said sternly.

  “And when you return to school,” Bruno said, “you will make a presentation to your classmates and teachers. I’m sure they will enjoy hearing what you have to say. And then, each time you volunteer at a dig site, visit a museum, or explore a historical landmark, you may apply for additional credit hours from the World Junior Archaeologists. When you have a certain number of hours, you will be awarded prizes for your commitment to the field. That is basically how the Kids Dig It program works—in an eggshell.”

  I think he meant nutshell, but no one corrected him.

  “It all sounds very interesting,” my dad concluded, “and we appreciate you coming here to speak to us in person.”

  Bruno smiled.

  Dad looked at me. “Cody, please take Dr. Wassler outside for some fresh air, so we can talk for a minute.”

  Bruno bounced up from his seat and shooed us outside. I think he really did need some fresh air, the way he was pushing and shoving us. We went to the picnic table again and sat down.

  Bruno’s cell phone suddenly came alive with the ring tone from some weird German folk song. At first he looked like he was going to ignore it, but then he changed his mind and began groping around in his pockets for the device. He eventually found it, excused himself, and walked over to the shade of a big willow with the phone pressed to his ear.

  I turned back to my friends. “Pu–leeease tell me your dad was kidding in the house,” I begged Anna.

  “About what?” she asked, looking bewildered.

  “All of it,” Eric said, “nothing he said in there sounds like fun.”

  Anna looked devastated. “I’m sorry, Eric, but that was all true.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the kitchen window. “Well, except the part about how we met, of course.”

  “What’s the problem?” Rachel asked, looking between me and her brother.

  “Are you kidding?” Eric said, throwing up his arms. “I thought we were going on a fun trip, not to a summer bootcamp to do homework and reports and presentations. Yuck!”

  “Does that mean you boys don’t want to go to Panama?” Anna asked. She looked pretty disappointed too.

  “No, I’m not saying that,” I said. “It’s just...”

  “It’s just that we do school stuff all year long,” Eric said, “and we don’t want to do assignments during our summer holidays. There! I said it!”

  “Come on, you guys,” Rachel pleaded. “Don’t be such party poopers.”

  “Please come,” Anna said. “I will help you with any assignments we are given. We can do everything as a team. It will be fun. Just like when we were in old Sultana.”

  “I suppose that would make it more fun,” I admitted.

  “And the next time,” Anna said, “we can fly wherever you want.”

  “What do you mean?” Rachel asked.

  “Papa said that when you have logged enough hours with Kids Dig It, you can apply to participate in an archaeological project of your choice. He also said that if we complete the assignments for the Panama dig, we should have quite a few credits. And those cre
dits might be enough to get us a trip to see whatever interests us.”

  “We could all go to Peru to see the Nazca Lines,” Rachel suggested.

  “Or the Acropolis in Athens,” Anna said dreamily.

  “Or Stonehenge in England,” I said.

  “You know what would be neat?” Eric said, starting to cheer up. “If we could fly down and surprise Jerome in the desert. I’d love to search for dinosaur fossils with him some day.”

  Anna didn’t know that Jerome was the old trapper who we had recently saved at Impact Lake, but Rachel and I nodded.

  “So if your parents grant you permission to come along,” Anna said, “you boys will join us?”

  “Yes,” I said, and then remembered my manners. “And thanks for offering to take us along.”

  “Yeah,” Eric said. “Sorry I freaked out. I’m just not a big fan of extra-curricular homework.”

  “Huh?” Anna said. “What does that mean, Eric?”

  “It means he’s lazy,” Rachel said. “Really, really lazy.”

  “There is a problem,” Bruno said, returning to the table and sliding in next to Rachel. He looked even more agitated than he did in the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong, Papa?” Anna asked.

  Bruno lowered his voice and whispered, “That was your Uncle Rudi on the phone.”

  Eric looked at me and then at Bruno. “So how is that a problem?”

  “Rudi was on a satellite phone from the camp, and the connection was not very good, but he said that he has been arrested for stealing artifacts from the site.”

  “Oh, no!” Anna cried.

  “Shhh,” Bruno cautioned, glancing back at the house. “I do not want to alarm anyone.”

  We all knew he meant our parents, so we kept our voices low.

  “I guess we won’t be going to Panama now,” Rachel said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I suppose they’ll shut down the whole dig until this is cleared up.”

  “No, no, no,” Bruno said. “Rudi absolutely needs your help to clear his name. You must come to Panama—especially now.”

  “How the heck can we help?” Eric said.

  “Yeah, maybe you should hire a private detective,” I said. “We’re just kids.”

  “But that’s exactly your advantage! You can blend in with all the other children at the camp. You can listen to the rumours. You can observe and watch for anything suspicious. It is much easier for you four young people to gather information than it is for any adult. You are Rudi’s best chance to have his name cleared.”

  “That sort of makes sense,” I said. “But I still think he’d be better off with a lawyer.”

  “He has contacted a lawyer,” Bruno said.

  “Good,” Rachel said.

  Bruno shook his head. “Not really. In Panama the theft of antiquities is a serious offence, so he is being kept under house arrest—or tent arrest, I suppose—until the artifacts have been returned.”

  “And if they’re not returned?” Eric asked. “What happens then?”

  “Rudi will spend a long time in a jail.”

  “What did he steal, anyway?” Eric asked. “Sorry, what are they claiming he stole?”

  “There was a disturbance in the line,” Bruno said. “But I believe he said a skull—some sort of crystal skull.”

  “Cool,” Eric said.

  Rachel glared at her brother. “There’s nothing cool about any of this.”

  Eric looked apologetically at Bruno and Anna, then said, “I mean, at least he’s accused of stealing something interesting, not just a broken pot.”

  Rachel shook her head at Eric. “Don’t worry,” she said, patting Bruno’s hand, “we’ll help in any way we can.”

  “I know you will. But before you kids make a final decision about coming with us,” Bruno lowered his voice even more, “I need to caution you about three more things.”

  “Don’t tell me they only eat turnips in Panama,” Eric said, trying to lighten the mood. “Because then I’m definitely not going.”

  “Hush,” Rachel said. “This is serious.”

  Bruno looked at the house and then started again. “First, I have seen digital photos of some of the pottery pieces that were uncovered by the contractors. And one of the larger fragments was decorated with three pillars. In fact, they look identical to the stones here in Sultana, in your cemetery.”

  “So you’re saying there might be similar astronomical markers in the area where the dig is?” I asked.

  “Exactly,” Bruno said. “I cannot think of any other explanation. These stone formations are located around the world, but I doubt other archaeologists appreciate the significance of the stones as a time travel portal. But given what happened here last month, I felt I should tell you children.”

  That wasn’t going to stop us from wanting to help Rudi, and we told him so.

  Bruno nodded his thanks. “Now, my second caution may sound like crazy talk, but ever since publishing papers on these petroforms, I have had the feeling that I am being watched. And now I am worried this whole incident with Rudi could get even more... even more dicey.”

  Eric’s eyes widened. “So you think someone is spying on you?”

  “Who?” I said, equally intrigued.

  “It could only be one person,” Bruno said. “His name is Mr. Anton Zola, and he’s obsessed with ancient artifacts and time travel. Mr. Zola is one of the few people who has always believed my theory about the astronomical markers. He is so desperate to get his hands on my research, I think he even broke into my office. I don’t have any proof, of course, but I am almost certain it was him.”

  “Can’t you tell him to buzz off?” I said.

  “It is not that simple,” Bruno said. “He is a billionaire and he has a lot of resources at his disposal. He has people everywhere reporting back to him.” He stopped talking and seemed to be deep in thought. “Actually, that would explain how—”

  “I don’t think any of that matters to me,” Eric said, getting excited and cutting him off. “I’m going to be too busy playing Sherlock Holmes, trying to figure out who’s stealing artifacts. And if I do happen to find those crazy stones, I’ll just stay away from them—far away.”

  “Yeah,” I said, “I still want to go. I want to help Rudi.”

  “Me too,” Rachel said enthusiastically. “I want to keep Rudi out of jail. And I want to see the most famous short-cut in the world.”

  “What?” Eric said.

  “The Panama Canal, dummy.”

  Before Bruno could tell us what the third thing was that he wanted to warn us about, the house door suddenly opened. Our parents came outside and walked over to the picnic table.

  Dad stood beside the table smirking. “Okay, you can go,” he said. “You’ve all demonstrated last week that you can be responsible, so for that reason we’ll let you go to Panama with Dr. Wassler and Anna.”

  Bruno clapped his hands together. “That is tremendous,” he beamed, slapping Eric on the back. “Now, is there perhaps a medical clinic near here? We must quickly make arrangements for your malaria shots.”

  “Our WHAT?!” Eric cried.

  Chapter 2

  PANAMA CITY, PANAMA

  “RACHEL, CAN YOU carry my bag for me?” Eric said. “My arm’s still really sore from all those needles.”

  “You only got one shot,” Rachel reminded him, taking her bag from the airport shuttle van. “In fact, we all only got one shot.” She headed toward the Panama City Marina and our waiting boat.

  “Yeah,” Eric shouted at her back, “but it felt like ten!” He looked at Anna and rubbed his shoulder where he got his malaria shot the day before. But she gave him no sympathy either.

  “You should not have flexed your arm muscles when you received
the needle,” Anna said, repeating the nurse’s instructions. “Then you would not be in pain now.” Anna fished her bag out and followed Rachel to the boats.

  “I wasn’t flexing,” Eric complained, “my arm is naturally muscular.”

  “That was pretty good acting,” I said, when the girls were gone, “but it looks like you’re going to have to carry your own bag.”

  Eric laughed. “Yeah, I didn’t think they’d fall for it, but it was worth a try.” He hoisted his backpack from the vehicle and slung it over his shoulder. “For a second there, I thought I had Rachel fooled. That would have been sweet.”

  Bruno paid the driver of our van and joined us. “Welcome to Panama, boys.” He took off his suit jacket, rolled it into a ball, and shoved it inside his giant backpack. It was hot and super humid, and I didn’t think we’d be seeing that jacket again.

  After landing at the Panama City airport two hours earlier, we all piled into a van and headed straight for the waterfront. Bruno explained that the only way to get to the dig site was to hop on a boat and use the Panama Canal. That’s why we were waiting around a marina with a hundred other tourists.

  On the long flight, Bruno made at least a dozen phone calls, trying to get as much information as he could on the situation with Rudi. Whatever he found out seemed to help him relax, because he looked a lot less stressed out than when we left Sultana and a lot more optimistic that we could somehow help sort everything out. I wasn’t nearly as hopeful as he was, but I sure wasn’t going to tell him that. Even though we didn’t discuss it, we were all trying extra hard to stay upbeat and positive for Bruno.

  “Which boat is ours?” Anna asked her father when the three of us caught up to her and Rachel.

  Bruno examined the seven water taxis tied to the docks. “Look for a vessel called the Balboa.”

  “That’s cool,” Eric said. “They named a boat after a boxer—Rocky Balboa.”

  “I doubt they were thinking of a Hollywood movie when they named it,” Rachel said. “More likely, they named the boat after Vasco Nuñez de Balboa—one of Panama’s first explorers.”

  We all looked at Rachel with open mouths. How the heck did she know that?