Cloral for safekeeping was Wu Yenza. She was the chief aquaneer and Spader’s boss. He couldn’t have picked a better person.
I took a last look around my apartment. Then we went down to the docks, loaded our air globes and water sleds onto a skimmer boat, and left Grallion for the flume. Spader was the expert, so he drove. As we shot across the water I looked back at the giant, floating farm habitat of Grallion, wondering if I’d ever see it again. I liked Cloral. There were times when I actually had fun on that territory. It gave me hope that being a Traveler didn’t mean I always had to live in a state of fear and confusion.
Now the question was, what lay ahead of us? Pretty much a state of fear and confusion. Great. Here we go again.
The trip to the flume was cake. We anchored the skimmer near the reef, popped on the air globes that allowed us to breathe underwater, triggered the water sleds, and quickly sank below the surface. We didn’t run into any shark quigs either. I think that once Saint Dane is finished with a territory, the quigs no longer patrol the gates. Still, I wasn’t taking any chances. As we sped through the water being pulled by the sleds, I kept glancing back to make sure nothing nasty was sneaking up on us to try and get a nibble.
I didn’t relax until we shot under the shelf of rock that led to the gate. Following the glow from my ring, we quickly found the wide circle of light that led up and into the cavern that held the flume. Moments later we were standing together in the cavern, staring up at the dark flume tunnel that was cut into the rock wall high over our heads.
This was it. The last few seconds of calm.
Spader looked at me and smiled. “My heart’s thumpin’.”
So was mine. We were standing at the starting line and the gun was about to go off. Spader loved adventure. Me? I’d just as soon be home watching toons. Knowing Spader was nervous made me feel like I wasn’t such a weenie after all.
He added, “We’re in for another natty-do, aren’t we, mate?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Pretty much.”
“No use in wasting time here then,” he said, sounding a lot braver than I felt.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’re on the wrong territory.” I stood straight, looked up to the dark hole of the flume, and shouted,”Veelox!”
The tunnel sprang to life. Shafts of bright light shot from deep inside. The familiar jumble of musical notes could be heard faintly at first, but quickly grew louder. They were coming to get us.
Spader turned to me and smiled. “Hobey-ho, Pendragon.” “Hobey-ho, Spader,” I answered. “Let’s go get him.” A second later we were swept up by the light and sound and pulled into the flume. Next stop… Veelox. Mark Dimond and Courtney Chetwynde huddled together in the vault of the National Bank ofStony Brook, reading Bobby’s journal from First Earth. It was a journal unlike any of the others Bobby had sent.
First off, the pages weren’t loose. They were bound nicely into a book with a deep red cover. And the pages weren’t handwritten. They were typed… on an old-fashioned typewriter. They knew it was a typewriter because the letters weren’t all perfectly lined up and there were a ton of mistakes. Besides, they didn’t have computers or printers back in 1937. This new journal was definitely a far cry from the pieces of rolled up parchment paper Bobby had written his first journals on.
The other difference was that Bobby usually sent only one journal at a time. When he finished writing one he’d send it, through his Traveler ring, to Mark’s ring. But this time, sitting in front of Mark and Courtney were four journals. After reading what happened with the gangsters on First Earth, Mark and Courtney knew why.
Bobby’s ring had been stolen. The mysterious manner in which the journals arrived was further proof of that. Earlier that day, Mark had gotten a strange phone call from a lady at the National Bank of Stony Brook. She asked for Mark and Courtney to meet her at the bank to discuss something about a Mr. Robert Pendragon. That was all Mark needed to hear. He and Courtney were at that bank in half an hour.
When they arrived, they discovered that Bobby had rented a safe-deposit box at the bank in 1937. Bobby had left explicit instructions that the bank should contact Mark Dimond on this very date — August 21, Mark’s fifteenth birthday.
When Mark and Courtney opened up the safe-deposit box, they found the four journals. They had been lying in that box for over sixty years.
This whole episode was another bizarre twist in an already incredible situation. Bobby Pendragon had mysteriously left their hometown of Stony Brook, Connecticut, with his Uncle Press almost nine months before. Since then his family had disappeared, and the journals began showing up. The only people who knew the truth were his best friends, Mark and Courtney. Bobby trusted them to take care of his journals in case he might need them again someday.
But more important, it seemed to both Mark and Courtney that writing these journals helped keep Bobby sane. He was now smack in the middle of an incredible adventure that had nothing less than the future of everything at stake. Writing the journals seemed like a perfect way for Bobby to help keep his head on straight, while everything around him was so twisted. Both knew that one day Bobby’s adventure would take him home. But until then, the only thing they could do to help him on his quest was to read his journals, try to understand what he was going through, and keep them safe. ”We’re closing,” snapped Ms. Jane Jansen, the bank manager, making Mark and Courtney jump.
Ms. Jane Jansen had only just met the two, but she didn’t seem to like them. She didn’t seem to like much of anything. Her face was in a permanent state of pucker, like she had a lemon in her pocket that she was constantly sucking on.
“Oh, sorry,” said Mark, as if he had been caught doing something wrong. “We were reading. Can we come back tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday,” snapped Ms. Jane Jansen. “And this isn’t a library. You children have spent far too much time here already.”
Courtney didn’t like Ms. Jane Jansen’s attitude. And she definitely didn’t like being called a child, especially by such a prune.
“So if we can’t read here, what are we supposed to do?” asked Courtney politely, trying not to let her distaste for the woman show through.
“The content of that box belongs to you,” Ms. Jane Jansen said. “Do whatever you want with it.”
“You mean, we can take it all home?” asked Mark.
“I said, whatever you want,” said Ms. Jane Jansen impatiently.
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” asked Courtney. “Or do you always provide such lousy service?”
Mark winced. He hated it when Courtney clicked into wise-ass mode.
Ms. Jane Jansen’s eyes popped open wide. “Miss Chetwynde, I have been an employee of the National Bank of Stony Brook for over twenty years and I have always provided thorough and professional service.”
“I’ll be sure to include that in our report to your president,” Courtney said. “That’s what this is all about, you know. To test how bank employees deal with unusual situations. So far, you haven’t exactly rolled with the punches, now have you, Ms. Jane Jansen?” Ms. Jane Jansen’s eyes grew wide. She suddenly turned all friendly and polite. “Well, uh, if you have any complaints I’d be more than happy to personally ensure your complete satisfaction.”
“Thereissomething,” Courtney said. “If you’d be so kind, would you return the empty drawer to our safe- deposit box? We’ll be taking the contents with us.”
Ms. Jane Jansen clenched her teeth. It wasn’t her job to clean up after people. But she sucked it up.
“Of course,” she said with a big, phony smile. “I’d be happy to.”
Mark quickly scooped up the four journals and stashed them in his backpack. He wanted to get out of there before Courtney got them into trouble.
“Th-Thanks,” he said with sincere courtesy. “We’ll get out of your hair now.” He went for the door, pulling Courtney along with him.
“Thanks for all your help, ma’am,” said Courtney sweetly. “You really put theassin ass-istance.”
Mark yanked Courtney out of the vault, leaving Ms. Jane Jansen with a twisted smile that actually looked painful. A minute later they rushed out of the gray bank building onto Stony Brook Avenue. Courtney was all smiles. Mark was angry.
“Are you crazy?” he yelled. “What if she threw us out of there? We could have lost the journals!”
