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  The three of us pushed against the glass door and bounced back. “It’s locked,” Colin said. The horror in his voice was palpable. Lisa rushed back to the atrium, grabbed a small wooden chair from a display near the doors, and held it over her head.

  “We’re already in trouble if we get caught,” she said. “Another piece of glass isn’t going to matter much more at this point.” Colin and I backed up, and she heaved it at the glass. The chair hit its mark but bounced back and broke when it hit the floor. The glass didn’t even crack.

  Angry shouts echoed from the smoky haze and shadowy figures moved, some crouched, others upright, in all directions. It was only a matter of time before we would be caught. Colin dug into his bag, pulled out the firecrackers, lit them with the BBQ lighter, and threw them as hard as he could. The angry shouts became panicked when they went off, and I’m sure everyone in there thought they were being fired upon by a machine gun.

  “We could hide in the loading dock,” Lisa said, blinking at the wooden pieces at her feet.

  “They’ll find us,” I said.

  Colin heaved his backpack off the floor. “Stand back,” he said. He swung the bag in three arcs and then released it at the window. The entire pane disintegrated, and the bag sailed through the door.

  I gasped. “What’s in there?”

  “The head, of course,” Colin said.

  “You got it?” Lisa sounded awestruck.

  Colin looked confused. “What? You think I was going to leave it behind after all that?”

  Chapter 37

  We sprinted across the street, through the gate of the playground, and dove to the grass. We quickly slipped off our dark clothes and shoved them back into our bags just as a police cruiser rounded the corner and pulled up in front of the building.

  Lisa whispered, “Let’s get out of here. Stay low.”

  “Wait. Look,” Colin whispered, pointing to the roof. “Up there.”

  At first I thought it was just a shadow. But then a figure emerged. Two figures, both dressed in black. One of them was partially supporting the other as they moved to the edge of the roof. Then something slid across the gap to the roof of the bakery—a large plank by the looks of it—and the two thieves used it as a bridge to dart across, retracting their bridge on the other side.

  “They made it out,” Lisa said, with a smile. Then her face became serious again. “We can’t wait around. No one’s going to die, so let’s get out of here. We have to get to the theater.” She prodded me forward and then grabbed Colin’s arm and pulled him too.

  It was a bit early to say no one was going to die. Or that no one was dead. There had been a shot as we ran from the building, I remembered, and I knew for sure that one guard had been shot in the leg. Also, it wasn’t yet 10:47, and for all I knew, Sok was still going to die along with the guard who got shot. Or maybe when the dinosaur collapsed, it had crushed someone. There were way too many possibilities and no time to think through them all.

  We clamored over the fence and moved as quickly as we could through side streets and alleys, traveling the two and a half blocks to the theater. About halfway there, we heard more police cars, their sirens blaring as they raced toward the museum. There was a steady stream of people leaving the theater when we got there, and we shoved our way past and darted into one of the private bathrooms to clean up.

  It was 10:47 when I checked my watch. It was over, though I didn’t have any idea if we’d saved anyone. For all I knew, we’d made it worse.

  “You really got it?” I asked Colin as we washed the dirt and smoky smell from our skin.

  He smiled and unzipped his bag and spoke with an English accent. “The name’s Blane. Colin Blane. World famous cat burglar and super spy.”

  “Don’t forget master wielder of Roman candles,” I said.

  He nodded. “That too.” Then he said, “Don’t worry, I know a good place to hide it.”

  “Are you sure?” Lisa asked.

  “Trust me.”

  The relic seemed to smile as Colin pulled back the fabric, as if it had known everything was going to work out and it didn’t have a worry in the world.

  I didn’t feel the same way.

  Chapter 38

  For the next few days, my body felt like…well, I guess it felt like it had been hit by a dinosaur. The Gazette didn’t have an article on what had happened until Monday, but TV news stations from all over the country had picked up the story on Sunday and were interviewing all the guards who had been on the scene. The reports indicated there’d been a group of at least six thieves but none had been identified.

  The spiky-haired rookie had been the one who got shot, but a full recovery was expected and he was being hailed as a hero. A couple others had minor injuries from bits of dinosaur shrapnel. Mr. Overton gave the museum’s official statement, which was that there had been a break-in, and extensive, even catastrophic damage done to several of their artifacts. He listed several pieces, the T. rex skeleton, the Rube Goldberg machine, a few pieces of art, and of course, the Buddhist relic.

  At first it sounded like he thought the relic had been destroyed, but then he added that the police were still investigating and that he couldn’t comment further while the investigation was underway. I figured either they knew the relic had been stolen, or there’d been so much debris that they might have actually thought the relic had been obliterated by falling dino bones.

  At the end of his statement, Mr. Overton took the opportunity to plug some of the new exhibits the museum would be displaying, and thanked the public for some of the very large donations that had come in to help cover repairs.

  My mom said that she’d spoken to Mr. Overton, and despite everything, the museum had been given more attention this summer than ever before, and the public awareness it generated would be enough to keep crowds coming all year long. My mom said he couldn’t have been happier.

  Archer finally got back to us the Thursday after the incident. He asked us where we could meet and Colin insisted on the park near my house, which Archer agreed to. I thought he’d be furious with us for how things had played out, but he wasn’t mad at all—quite the opposite, actually.

  “Great job, guys,” he said after we explained what had happened. “You not only saved lives, you made it so a life wouldn’t be risked for the same purpose again. Well done.”

  “Then you’re not disappointed that we basically robbed a museum?” Lisa asked.

  “Greater good, Lisa,” Archer added. “Property is meaningless compared to life. Frankly, I’m impressed. I know veteran members who wouldn’t have had the guts you guys displayed.” He patted her shoulder. “You saved lives, Lisa. Don’t forget that. That’s what matters.” He rubbed his hands together and looked at us expectantly. “Did you bring it?”

  “It’s close,” Colin said.

  Archer nodded. “Good. I spoke to Sok and asked him to meet me here.”

  “You did?” Lisa asked. “Does he know we have the head?”

  Archer shook his head. “I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m turning him in.”

  “Why would he think that?” I asked. “He could take us down with him pretty easily.”

  “Well, when I talked to him, I didn’t mention you three. Thought it would be an interesting surprise.” He smiled. “But listen, you guys did amazing. Feel good about it.”

  For the next few minutes that’s exactly what we did. The three of us beamed. Colin’s smile was wider than usual and I knew he was reliving the night in his mind and enjoying every second of it. Lisa, too, had a grin and seemed to relax. She leaned against a tree and nodded to herself.

  About thirty minutes later, Sok showed up wearing regular street clothes, along with an elderly bald man who wasn’t his grandfather but whom I recognized as one of the other monks, also in inconspicuous clothes.

  Sok looked bruised and utterly defeated. He sighed when he got to us and said, “Okay. We’re here. Let’s get this over with.” He looked around the area focusing
on a few of the people wandering nearby. “Where are they?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “What do you mean, who?” he asked. “The police, obviously.”

  “He really does think we’re turning him in,” Colin said. Then he laughed. “You think we’d get the police involved after what we did?”

  “Then…what?” Sok asked. His eyes widened. “The head was destroyed…wasn’t it? Didn’t Overton say that? My grandfather is still at the museum hoping they’ll at least get the fragments.”

  I felt a smile spread across my face and glanced at Lisa and Colin, both of whom had grins at least as wide as I imagined mine was.

  Sok blinked and the old man beside him asked a question in a language that must’ve been Khmer because it sounded nothing like French.

  “I’d like to show you something cool,” Colin said. He led the way to the edge of a small creek that cut through the park, to a section near a huge oak tree. Then he nodded into the water, at a pile of large stones.

  “I hope this wasn’t disrespectful, but I was sure the cops were going to search our place. I had to stash it somewhere.”

  Sok stepped up and glanced into the water. I stepped up beside him and looked as well. At first I didn’t see it. Then a fish swam by and paused right beside the submerged Buddha head, as if it were pointing it out.

  Sok gasped. The old monk stepped up beside him and Sok said something in Khmer. The monk closed his eyes and said something and a tear rolled down his cheek.

  He turned to Colin and said in English, “Thank you.”

  “I can’t believe you guys did that,” Sok said. “I mean, I just can’t believe it.”

  Archer put his hand on the monk’s shoulder and said, “I have some connections. It’s going to take a few days, but I can get the relic back to Cambodia. It’ll be safer if I do it. The police are going to be watching you guys.”

  Sok translated and the monk nodded and then said, “Thank you,” again.

  “I just can’t believe you guys helped me with this,” Sok said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to thank you for this.”

  “All in a day’s work,” Colin said, smirking.

  Sok smiled. “If you’re ever in London,” he said, handing me a card with his email address, “I’d be happy to show you around.”

  When Sok and the older monk left, Archer turned to the three of us. “Very impressed, guys. Very impressed. I can’t wait for you all to meet the members of our district.”

  Colin held out his fist and Archer smiled and bumped it with his.

  “You did good, Colin,” he said. “Very nice touch putting it in the creek. Very fitting.”

  “I’m nothing if not a showman,” Colin said. He turned and glanced at me and Lisa. “Tell me this hasn’t been the best summer we’ve ever had.”

  “In hindsight,” Lisa said, “it’s been pretty amazing.”

  “I’d agree with that,” I said.

  Archer gave us another nod and then unzipped his backpack, stepped into the creek and plucked the relic out and placed it into his bag. He zipped it closed and swung it onto his shoulder in a single movement. Then he turned and walked away casually, as if had a sandwich in his bag and not a priceless—stolen—artifact.

  “That guy is so cool,” Colin said as he watched him leave.

  ***

  On Friday morning, I told my dad I wanted to go to therapy again. His eyes widened and he smiled. “I’m proud of you, son. I think you’ve come a really long way these last few weeks.” We picked up Colin on the way. I had already explained Lisa’s situation to him, so we stopped at her house, and the two of us knocked on the door.

  “Hurry up, Lisa,” Colin said, when she answered the door. “We have crazy-time with Dr. Mickelsen. Chop chop.”

  “You guys are going too?” Lisa asked.

  “Of course we are,” I said. “We gave it a lot of thought, actually, and if you need a bit more therapy, you can be sure that we need more too.”

  She hugged us both at the same time and looked like she was about to cry before she called back into her house that she had a ride.

  My dad nattered on and on while we drove about how good it is for kids to get their feelings out, but then he slammed on his brakes when a man wearing torn clothes and sporting shaggy hair rode out into the street. I recognized him right away as the homeless man from the park. I gaped as he shook his fist at my dad and shouted incoherent curses at him for his careless driving. When he moved along, my dad blinked.

  “Dean,” he said carefully, “was that man riding your bike?”

  The End

  About the Author

  Steven Whibley has lived in British Columbia, Alberta, and Japan; volunteered in Thailand, Myanmar, and Columbia; explored the ruins of Tikal, Angkor Wat, and Cappadocia; and swum with sharks in Belize. The only thing he loves more than traveling the globe and exploring new cultures is writing books (and spending time with his wife and two year old son, Isaiah, of course). Whibley is the seventh of nine children, and uncle to 30 nieces and nephews (and counting).

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