Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8) (15 page)

             
“
But it
’
s a clue,
”
Henrik insisted.
“
If we find out what he
’
s saying, we can find out where he
’
s from, and maybe what he
’
s up to.
”

             
Grandfather nodded.
“
What he
’
s up to is knocking people down.
”

             
“
I think it was the same guy who hit you, too,
”
Peter said, crossing his arms. He leaned against the chicken wire that separated Grandfather
’
s shop area from the pigeon coop.
“
Difference is, he was definitely aiming for Henrik.
”

             
Henrik frowned.
“
He was aiming for me, all right. And he was laughing.
”

             
“
I don
’
t think this is funny for a minute,
”
replied Grandfather, looking more closely at the frame.
“
Seeing this bike, I
’
m just glad you weren
’
t hurt worse than you are. I don
’
t know if we can fix it.
”

             
A fluttering of wings inside the pigeon coop caught their attention, and Peter looked to see a homing pigeon poke its head through their one
-
way door up near the roof. The bird looked through the set of bars, like a miniature jailhouse window, hesitated, then pushed through and started strutting around the other birds.

             
“
Looks like your bird is finally back,
”
observed Grandfather.
“
Which one is he?
”

             
Henrik stepped into the pigeon cage and cornered the returned bird. There was a short flapping of wings, then Henrik came out of the coop, holding a wiggling handful of feathers.

             
“
Here you are,
”
Henrik cooed to his bird.
“
We thought you were never getting home.
”
He looked up to answer Grandfather
’
s question.
“
It
’
s my bird
—
Number One, the best flyer.
”

             
“
I don
’
t know. Number Two would have made it home faster.
”
Peter took up the challenge, the same way they had ever since Grandfather Andersen had given them their homing pigeons years ago. But this time, Henrik wasn
’
t smiling as he solemnly handed his bird over to Peter.

             
“
Here,
”
Henrik told him.
“
I want you to have Number One.
”

             
“
Uh, thanks.
”
Peter took the bird and held him while Henrik unsnapped the little message capsule that had been strapped to the bird
’
s leg.
“
How far do you think he flew?
”

             
“
No, you don
’
t understand,
”
insisted Henrik.
“
I want you to have him for good. This was the last time I
’
ll ever fly my bird.
”

             
When he loosened his grip for a second, Peter could feel the powerful bird struggling to get free. Then he understood what Henrik was trying to tell him.

             
“
No, Henrik. Maybe I could just take care of him for you while you
’
re gone.
”
He opened the pigeon coop door with his foot and released Number One to join the others. Peter and Elise each had their own bird, and Grandfather Andersen had four of his own.

             
“
He
’
s yours now,
”
Henrik raised his voice.
“
Unless we do something about it, my mother is going to marry Matthias, and I
’
m moving to Palestine and probably never coming back. And on top of that, my bike
’
s destroyed, so now I can
’
t even go on the trip with you!
”

             
Henrik ran from the boathouse, slamming the door behind him. Peter just stared, his eyes
wide.

             
“
Go ahead,
”
his grandfather told him quietly.
“
I
’
ll just work on this bicycle some more.
”

             
Peter looked carefully out the door before he left the boathouse, almost afraid to follow his friend. The June night was still light. He spied Henrik standing on a pier by the water
’
s edge, studying something he held in his hands.

             
“
Your mom hasn
’
t said yes yet,
”
began Peter. It was the only thing he could think of to say.

             
“
Yeah, but she
’
s going to. It
’
s pretty obvious.
”

             
“
I don
’
t know....
”

             
“
I do. And then he
’
s going to want me to call him
‘
Father,
’
as if my real dad was never alive. It
’
s going to be horrible.
”

             
“
You think so?
”

             
“
I know so. He
’
s just pushing it too fast.
”
Henrik scowled and crumpled a little piece of paper.

             
“
I
’
m sorry, Henrik.
”
Peter wished he could say something to cheer up his friend, but his mind went blank.
“
Is that the message from Matthias?
”

             
Henrik threw the wad of paper as far out into the harbor as he could.
“
Says he
’
s fine. Says he
’
ll see us on the coast when he brings that rusty, old ship around to pick us up. Stupid old ship.
”

             
“
What about the man who was spying on him?
”
Peter wanted to make sure.
“
Did he say anything about that?
”

             
Henrik shook his head.
“
It
’
s just a scrap of paper, Peter. He didn
’
t write a book. Besides, you said you saw him here. The one that
—”

             
“
Yeah, I know. I just
...
I was just wondering. Kind of hoping that somehow I was wrong.
”

             
Henrik stared out at the harbor as a ferry from Sweden came in, followed by a flock of sea gulls.

             
Peter cleared his throat.
“
You know that man
—
whoever he is
—
he knows what we look like now.
”

             
“
I know. I
’
m just not sure what he wants. Except to spy on Matthias and make my life miserable.
”

             
“
Maybe you
’
re right. Maybe if we knew what
‘
yehoodee
’
meant,
”
suggested Peter,
“
we could figure out what he
’
s up to.
”

             
“
Yehoodee wisik.
”
Henrik frowned as they watched the little wad of paper disappear under a dock. The stars began to appear in the darkening sky above them.
“
We have got to find out what that means.
”

8

T
he Gift

             
The next morning, Friday, it was the city librarian
’
s turn to giggle at the strange word puzzle.

             
“
I
’
m sorry.
”
She covered her grin, just as Peter had the day before.
“
Perhaps we can look up your word in a lexicon of some sort. That
’
s a book that lists all the words in a language alphabetically.
”

             
Peter had been to the city library dozens of times before, but he had never been able to make the librarian smile. Peter and Henrik followed her to a corner of the room.

             
“
Here, why don
’
t you look through this one,
”
she suggested, pulling a thick volume off the top shelf. Peter nodded and opened a Greek
-
Danish dictionary, but he stopped when he saw the strange lettering.

             
“
This isn
’
t going to help,
”
he whispered to Henrik.
“
I can read the Danish part, but the Greek letters are all different.
”

             
The librarian kept handing them books to try, though, and soon Peter couldn
’
t see Henrik behind the stack on the little table.

             
“
Yehoodee,
”
repeated the librarian, pulling out another large volume.
“
And where did you hear this word?
”

             
Henrik looked up from a French
-
Danish dictionary.
“
Uh, I just ran into someone on the street. I was curious.
”

             
The Russian
-
Danish lexicon wasn
’
t any help, either, so the librarian pulled out an Italian
-
Danish dictionary. But half an hour later they were still looking.

             
“
I
’
m afraid this may take a while,
”
admitted the librarian. She looked over her half
-
shell glasses past Peter, and he turned around to see his sister standing behind him.

             
“
What are you guys doing? Mom said you went to the library.
”

             
“
Just a little research to find out what
‘
yehoodee wisik
’
means,
”
answered Peter.
“
Want to help?
”

             
Elise shook her head.
“
I came to tell you that Grandfather wants to see you both at the boathouse when you get a chance. He has something to show you.
”

             
Henrik glanced up from the Hungarian dictionary.
“
Did he say what?
”

             
“
Only that it was a surprise.
”
Elise gave them a smug look, then eyed the pile of books on the table.
“
You
’
re never going to find the word like this.
”

             
“
You could help us,
”
said Peter, turning another page.
“
Then maybe we would.
”

             
By that time, the librarian had returned to checking out books, and Elise picked out an Italian
-
Danish phrase book from the stack.

             
“
Okay, so it
’
s not Hungarian,
”
Henrik decided after a few more minutes of searching.
“
And it
’
s not French.
”

             
“
And it
’
s not Russian,
”
chimed in Peter.
“
This is impossible.
”

             
The librarian returned with a smile.
“
I think I have an answer for you kids,
”
she told them.
“
A gentleman over there told me he was certain the words were Arabic.
”

             
“
How does he know?
”
asked Henrik, looking to see the man the librarian was talking about. Peter couldn
’
t see anyone, either.

             
The librarian found a small Arabic phrase book and pulled it off the shelf.
“
Well, he didn
’
t speak any Danish, but he asked me in English what you children were looking for. When I told him, he smiled and said to look in the Arabic lexicon.
”

             
“
Where is he?
”
Henrik asked.

             
The librarian looked over at the other end of the room, then frowned.
“
Strange. He was there only a moment ago.
”

             
“
Did he look like he was from the Middle East?
”
Peter wanted to know.

             
The librarian nodded.
“
Well, yes, he was dark haired, with a mustache, and
...”
She touched her nose.

             
Peter looked at Henrik, and his eyes were wide.
“
He was right here, watching us.
”

             
“
Wait, here
’
s something,
”
said the librarian, handing over the small book.
“
Here
’
s that word you
’
re looking for. Part of the word for
‘
synagogue.
’
It says,
‘
el mabad el yehudi
.
’ ”

             
Elise leaned over to see, then pointed to the next page.
“
The word for
‘
temple
’
is
‘
mabad.
’ ”

             
“
I see what you
’
re saying.
”
Peter scratched his head.
“
If
‘
mabad
’
means temple, and
‘
el mabad el yehudi
’
means
‘
synagogue
...’ ”

             
“
Or maybe
‘
Jewish temple,
’ ”
put in Henrik.

             
Elise snapped her finger.
“
Then take away the
‘
mabad
’
part, and
‘
yehudi
’
means
‘
Jewish.
’
Or maybe just
‘
Jew.
’ ”

             
The librarian nodded her head.
“
I think you kids are right. And here
’
s the other word you were looking for.
‘
Wisik,
’
you said?
”

             
Peter nodded and looked at the list of phrases the older woman was pointing to, and suddenly he felt cold. Especially as he remembered the man had been right there in the library, watching them.

             
“
What does it say?
”
asked Henrik.

             
“
Uh, Henrik
...”
Peter began. He took the phrase book and replaced it on the shelf while the librarian returned to her counter.

             
“
Thank you for helping us,
”
Elise told her.

             
The librarian returned a nervous smile.
“
Glad to help.
”

             
“
Peter!
”
Henrik reached for the book.
“
Come on, what does it mean?
”

             
“
Dirty,
”
Peter finally blurted out as he headed for the door.
“
‘
Wisik
’
means
‘
dirty
’
in Arabic, okay? You can put the two words together as well as I can.
”

             
Henrik
’
s face fell, but he followed Peter and Elise out the door.
“
I guess I should have known by the way he said it that it didn
’
t just mean,
‘
Excuse me, I
’
m so sorry for running you down.
’ ”

             
“
But what if he
’
s out here?
”
wondered Elise, looking down the street.

             
“
I don
’
t see him,
”
noted Henrik, looking over his shoulder.

             
Peter crossed his arms as he walked toward the harbor.
“
Well, at least we know one thing now that we didn
’
t know before. This man is definitely Arabic.
”

             
“
Arabic.
”
Elise frowned.
“
That
’
s just the language. He
’
s either Egyptian or Palestinian or something like that.
”

             
“
Whatever,
”
answered Henrik.
“
But we know he
’
s after Matthias, who
’
s trying to get a boatload of Jews to Palestine.
”

             
“
Maybe he
’
s going to try to sink the ship,
”
Peter suggested.

             
Henrik looked over his shoulder once more.
“
Maybe. In the meantime, I hope he doesn
’
t have any ideas about running me over again.
”

             
Peter put up his fists.
“
Don
’
t worry, Henrik. We
’
ll protect you.
”

             
Henrik smiled and slapped Peter on the shoulder.
“
That either makes me feel better or worse. I
’
m not sure which.
”

             
“
Well, look, there
’
s nothing we can do about it now.
”
Elise skipped ahead.
“
Let
’
s go see Grandfather
’
s surprise for you at the boathouse.
”

             
Grandfather Andersen must have seen them coming because when they neared the harbor, he came rushing out of the boathouse, waving his arms and grinning.

             
“
Hold it, you kids!
”
he called to them. His grin gave him away.

             
“
Hi, Grandfather,
”
Peter called back.
“
Elise said
—”