Capture the Flag (16 page)

“Henry?” Anna poked at his shoulder between the seats. He was sitting right in front of her, in the first row so his flight attendant could finally say she was doing her job and keeping an eye on him.

He didn't answer.

She peeked between the seats. He was jabbing his thumbs at his SuperGamePrism.

“Henry!”

The video game beeped. “Aw, man! You made me die.” Henry whirled around. “Can't a guy relax a little?”

“Sorry. It's just … I never got to talk to you again about your aunt with the bracelet and everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, now that we know a little more about the society, don't you want to ask her about it? You must want to know who you're related to, right?”

“I guess.” He shrugged and turned back to his game.

Anna frowned. Now that the excitement was over, he was acting like the old Henry, the one who was all grumpy about his electrical outlet. She poked him again. “What's wrong? Aren't you happy to be going home?”

Henry turned. “Home is going to be a little different when I get there, and in a few months, I'm moving anyway.”

“Oh.” She had forgotten about his dad's wedding and his move to Boston. Coming back to a house with a new stepmom was probably enough family drama without worrying about which ancestor left you in charge of his or her artifacts.

Before this week, Anna had imagined her mother's Silver Jaguar Society trips more as secret meetings in ballrooms than anything truly dangerous. Now, she knew better — but she still wanted to know more.

“Dad?” Anna leaned across the aisle and rustled his newspaper.

“Hmm?”

She decided to go for it. “Seeing as how I'm pretty much a member of the Silver Jaguar Society now, I was wondering —”

“What?”
He put down his paper and stared at her.

“Well, you know, since it was Henry and José and I who took care of things for the society in DC. Their families are involved, too. There were no other members, except Snake-Arm the baggage guy, so …”

Her father tipped his head. “Snake-Arm the baggage guy?”

“Well, he's not just a baggage guy. He runs Pickersgill Diner, too. But he has the jaguar on his ring. You know … Mom's jaguar. And he told us he was working for the flag. He's part of the society. And I figure now that Henry and José and I, you know, solved the whole thing … well …”

Her father looked up at the little airplane reading lights over their seats and shook his head.

“I figured now we can … officially be in the society, too?” Anna finished in a quiet voice.

“That,” her father said, “is not happening.” He shook his head. “If you have questions, talk to your mother. This is her territory.” He went back to his newspaper.

Anna sighed, leaned against the window, and watched the bumpy clouds fly past below until the plane finally sank into them and came out the bottom, and she could see the Green Mountains, and the lake, and home.

 

“Mom!” Mrs. Revere-Hobbs was waiting along with her news crew, though the story they ended up with was a whole lot different from the one Senator Snickerbottom had promised.

“Give me a minute.” Mrs. Revere-Hobbs waved her news cameras off to the side and gave Anna a huge hug. “I am so glad you're home.” She kissed Anna on the head and leaned over to hug her husband. “I missed you guys.”

“Missed you, too, Molly.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and then whispered into her ear — loud enough for Anna to hear but out of the range of the cameras — “She met one of your Silver Jaguar friends. Guy from the diner?”

Mrs. Revere-Hobbs pulled back and looked at Anna with wide eyes. “You met Claude?”

“I guess,” Anna said. “We called him Snake-Arm. He was nice once we figured out he was on our side.” Anna took a deep breath. “Mom, listen. I know you said I wouldn't be involved in the society until I was older, but it's kind of too late for that now.”

Her mother crossed her arms. “Really.”

“Because we totally caught the bad guys. So I was thinking …” Anna looked up at the ceiling. “You do such important work with the news and the Silver Jaguar Society and —”

“And you have your homework and your school newspaper, Anna. You're twelve.
Twelve
. Don't be in a hurry to grow up.”

“I
am
in a hurry!” Anna didn't mean to raise her voice, but it all came glugging out like that shampoo back in the baggage room. “I can't help it. I want to
do
something … something more important than a school newspaper. And I did, Mom.
We
did. Henry and José and me!”

“These are the kids you told me about on the phone? Whose families are also in the society?” Her mother blinked, then looked at her dad. “Can you explain some of this? Where were you all this time?”

“Oh, he was right there watching me,” Anna assured her mother. “Except for when we went to get lunch and sneak down to the baggage rooms.”

“Thanks,” her father said to Anna. “Thanks a lot.” He turned to her mom. “Molly … it's been a busy couple of days.” They stepped off to the side, whispering, and left Anna to watch the crowds pass. Her dad pointed toward José and his father, over by the baggage carousel, then to Henry and his dad, hugging next to the car rental place.

“All right,” her mother said when she came back. “That's some story.” She took a deep breath. “I'm … not sure what else there is to say. You already know our family is part of the Silver Jaguar Society, Anna, that we're bound by our lineage to protect the world's artifacts, and —”

“
You're
part of the society. You said I couldn't be in it yet.”

“Not until you're eighteen. That's how it works.”

“Yeah, but —”

“Anna, let me finish. I understand that you and your friends were incredibly brave. But you were also incredibly foolish. The kinds of people we deal with play for keeps.” She swallowed hard. “They're dangerous.”

“Like the Serpentine Princes?” Anna asked.

Her mother nodded. “Even though it turns out they weren't involved this time. They're always out there. And others like them.”

Anna pictured her mother in her news-anchor suit and silver necklace, facing down the man with the snake-neck tattoo from the mug shot. All those times, all those trips she'd taken over the years, she was dealing with guys like that? It sounded too much like one of Henry's video games.

Where
were
Henry and José? She wanted to say good-bye.

“Anna?” Her mother brought her attention back with a hand on her shoulder.

“This whole thing is like that
National Treasure
movie or something.”

Her mother sighed. “It feels that way sometimes. Only it's real. And you're right. You do need to know more.
They
know about
us
— the world's art thieves and illicit treasure hunters know our group exists, and —”

“I
know
, Mom. Because Vincent Goosen used to be part of the society. José's dad told us, but he said I had to ask you if I wanted to know more. So what happened? Why did he leave” — she wanted to say “and join the dark side,” but then it would really sound too much like a movie — “and start stealing art instead of protecting it? Didn't he care?”

Mrs. Revere-Hobbs stared at Anna as if she weren't quite sure who she was looking at anymore. Finally, she said, “He did care — and still cares — about art very much. He loves it, perhaps more than anyone I've ever known. And ten years ago, Vince was one of our bravest, most dedicated members.”

“What happened?”

Mrs. Revere-Hobbs shook her head. “He volunteered almost every hour of his life, went on more and more dangerous missions, until it consumed him. And then somehow, protecting the artifacts … saving them … wasn't enough. He wanted to possess them.”

“So he started … stealing art instead of protecting it?”

“He did. And he's very good at it. And very dangerous. As I said, he knows who we are.” Anna's mom put both hands on her shoulders and held her gaze. “And since you were involved in the recovery of the flag, he'll know about you now, too. They all will.”

They?
Anna thought about Vincent Goosen. About Snickerbottom being led off in handcuffs, and she imagined a whole bunch more of them. She took a shuddery breath. “So Paul Revere got us into all this, huh?”

“Good old Paul. Never could mind his own business.” Her mother nodded, and the light caught her necklace.

“How come it's a jaguar?” Anna asked suddenly.

“The society started hundreds of years ago in Central America, by those who wanted to protect treasures from the conquistadors. It was originally named for Ixchel, the Mayan goddess of creativity, among other things. Her symbol is a jaguar. Over the years, people forgot about the goddess and just remembered the jaguar part.” Anna's mother lifted the pendant from her neck, and Anna stared at its smooth lines. It was just like the jaguar on Snake-Arm's ring.

That reminded her. “So Claude Pickersgill … is related to … who?”

“Did you get to walk through the flag exhibit at the museum?”

Anna nodded.

“Remember the portrait of the lady next to the punch bowl?”

Anna nodded again. “She was all strict looking.”

“That's Mary Pickersgill,” her mother said. “The Baltimore seamstress who sewed the flag. Claude is her great-great-great-grandson. He is
extremely
committed to the flag. To the whole society, but to the flag in particular.”

Anna's head was spinning. Her father was lugging his suitcase off the baggage carousel. The crowd was starting to thin. She spotted José with his dad and Henry in a corner, huddled in serious conversation with a stocky man who looked like an older, taller Henry. A tall woman stood off to the side with their bags.

“So … wait —” Anna thought about Henry's aunt and her necklace. “Do you know all the other members?”

“Not all, but some. We're just … called when we're needed. Sometimes, we meet while we're traveling.”

Anna thought back to the electrical outlet at Gate B-16. They'd met while traveling, all right. “Mom, José's family is related to the artist Frida Kahlo and to some of the founders from Central America, he said. Henry's aunt is in the society, too. Do you know her? Do you know who they're related to?”

Her mother looked up and smiled a little. “You should probably ask Henry that question.”

Henry was headed their way, along with his dad, the woman who must be his stepmom, José and his father, and Anna's dad. They were pulling suitcases, and the baggage carousel spun around behind them, empty except for that one smelly green duffel bag.

José and Henry walked up to Anna, leaving the parents to talk on their own. Anna was so full of wondering she didn't know what to ask first.

Henry broke the silence. “Dude, this has been one weird day.” And that made all of them laugh.

Anna looked over toward the luggage carousel, where the moms and dads were shaking hands, introducing themselves as if they were getting kids together for a playdate or something.

“That's lame,” Henry said.

“What's lame?” Anna frowned.

“They need a secret handshake or something. The society should have … I don't know … some cooler way for members to meet.”

“You should work on that,” José said.

Henry nodded.

Anna hesitated but figured it would be her last chance to ask. “Did you find out who you're related to, Henry?”

“Yeah. Grace Wisher. She sewed the flag, I guess.”

“Wasn't that Mary Pickersgill?” Anna said. “She's Snake-Arm's ancestor.”

José snapped his fingers. “Yeah, but the guide at the museum said there was an indentured servant who worked with her. Grace Wisher!”

Henry nodded. “From what my dad was telling me, Grace Wisher sounds pretty cool. She and her mom were freed slaves.” He smiled a little. “You know, she ought to have her portrait in the museum, too, instead of Mary getting all the credit.”

“You should write a letter to the Smithsonian,” Anna said. “I'll help if you want.”

“Thanks.” Henry nodded. “I might do that. It … uh … turns out my mom was in this society with Aunt Lucinda, too. Dad says Mom felt a real connection to this Wisher lady. She was all … proud of her.” He bit his lip a little. “So I figure if they ever need me for the Silver Jaguar Society, I'm in.”

Anna nodded. “Me, too. And you know what I think?” But before she could say what she thought, two giant paws thumped up on her back and almost knocked her to her knees. “Hammurabi!” she squealed. He licked her cheek as if it were covered in pizza sauce.

“Sorry!” Sinan said, tugging on Hammurabi's collar. “He was caged up so long that he is happy to be … ah … tasting his freedom, I think you say?” He flipped open his sketch pad.