Edison's Gold (26 page)

I
think this is …”

Tom's voice died in the air as he stared into the trunk. His father had materialized at his side and placed an encouraging hand on his shoulder.

“Go on,” he said. “I think you might be right.”

The book inside was beautiful, leather-bound and heavy, with a velvet padding along the inside cover. Its parchment pages were thick and yellowed with age.

Tom turned to the first page, a scripted introduction written with a quill pen.

“ ‘Herein lies what we believe to be the most incredible scientific discovery ever made by man,' ” Tom read aloud.

By now, Noodle and Colby had taken a break from their treasure games to squeeze in behind him.

“ ‘By reading on, you accept the responsibility to guard this book's most precious secrets with integrity and the utmost humility,' ” he continued. “ ‘And though there will undoubtedly arise the urge to use the formula for one's own greed and wealth, you must never succumb to its intoxicating powers, for knowledge is the most priceless treasure of all.' ”

And then, in faded blue ink, was the signature:

With shaking hands, Tom turned the page to reveal a complicated-looking formula, one of many, written below several lines of text.

Within the earth's most stable elements, there exists the potential for purification, both physical and spiritual
, it began.

“It reads like a symphony on paper,” his father said softly as he digested the book's complex equations and diagrams.

For several minutes, none of them spoke as Tom flipped through the book. Every so often, his father would gasp at
some particular piece of scientific brilliance or shake his head in awe.

The reverent moment was finally broken by a loud tramping of footsteps that shook the ceiling.

“Someone's back,” said Mr. Edison with a nervous glance toward the room's entrance. “We need to get the book out of here.”

“Wait! We gotta grab some loot first!” Broken from her trance, Colby unzipped her backpack and was about to start filling it with gold.

“Colby, no!” Mr. Edison snapped. “No one can know about this place.”

“Just a couple pieces, Mr. E!” begged Noodle. “Cash flow's a little tight in the Zuckerberg household these days.”

But there was simply no arguing with Mr. Edison.

“The book comes with us and nothing else,” he said, shaking his head as he watched the kids with intense hawk eyes. “We're the new Sub Rosa now, and it's up to us to protect the secret.”

As hard as it was to admit, Tom couldn't have agreed with his father any more.

“Come on.” Tucking the book under his arm, he ran
toward the room's entrance. “We really can't afford to get caught right now.”

Together they ascended the stairs all the way back to the parlor, where they were met by Hannah's voice, wafting in from down the hall.

“Now, up ahead, we have Mr. Irving's parlor. Which, if you'll look toward your left, still contains all of the house's original furniture.”

“Tom, the key!” hissed his panicked father, snapping his fingers. He knew that once Hannah saw those fireplace stairs, her next phone call would be to the police.

Tom fumbled the key out of his pocket, dropping it from his sweaty hands. It clinked against the cement floor, bouncing toward the exposed steps.

With the grace of six years of gymnastics, Colby dove and caught it, her arm extended over the floor's edge, inches above the staircase.

“Nice grab!” said Tom, then snatched the key from her and quickly jammed it into the fireplace lock. He turned it to the left, and the dull rumbling in the walls began again.

From way down below, they could hear the section of floor begin to rise. Not quickly enough, however, as the
tour group was now just a few feet from turning the corner and catching them.

“Mr. E, what do we do?” asked Colby.

“Let's get out of here,” said Tom, nodding to a door across the room.

Thinking fast, Noodle ducked his entire head into his sweatshirt and raced out into the hallway, waving his hands in the air like an escaped mental patient.

“Beware the ghost of the Headless Horseman!” he groaned at the top of his lungs, frightening the entire tour group. Several old ladies screeched in terror.

“That is not funny, young man,” said an irate Hannah. “Not funny at all.”

“Where is Ichabod Crane?” Noodle groaned in response.

In the parlor, the spiral staircase had now disappeared—and, along with it, the secrets of the Sub Rosa.

Trying not to laugh, Tom, Colby, and Tom's dad casually walked unseen through the side door and headed back to the car to wait for Noodle, who was busy being chastised by the extremely upset tour guide.

Still, it could have been worse. A lot worse.

J
ournalists and cameramen chatted on cells, texted, Twittered, sipped coffee, and gossiped while they waited for the press conference to begin. Tom, his mother, and Rose, plus Colby and Noodle, stood near the back of the old warehouse and watched as Tom's dad, in his best and only suit and tie, stood at the front of the room fidgeting nervously. It was clear that he wasn't used to so much special attention.

It had been six months since they'd found the Sub Rosa's secret alchemy formula, and in the time since, a reinvigorated Mr. Edison had been quite busy, having secured a bank loan that not only helped keep the family afloat but also provided the seed money he'd needed to launch his new company.

Since then, Tom and his father had spent every waking moment working to perfect their bleach-battery hybrid motor—the one that his dad had always said would revolutionize the automotive industry. From the looks of today's massive press conference, it seemed his prediction was correct.

Mr. Edison was about to announce to the world the official opening of the Edison Motor Company, which would be the exclusive manufacturer of engines using his new fuel-efficient technology.

It would be a risky venture. A lot riskier than using the alchemy formula to manufacture their own private stash of gold, but Tom's father was adamant that their job was to protect the secret, not exploit it.

“We will never use this for our own gain,” he'd told them after they returned from Irving's estate that day.

For now, the book was safely hidden in the floor beneath the fireplace in Colby's basement, safe from Keller's listening devices or the long reach of Faber. Neither Keller nor Faber had been heard from over the past few months, but as Tom's father had warned, “We can never be too careful.”

Soon, a new treasure map would have to be devised,
one sophisticated enough to uphold the ideals of the Sub Rosa and ensure that its secrets would be passed on to someone worthy of protecting them.

“We'll need to come up with even better clues,” Noodle had mentioned the other night. “And our secret society needs an even gnarlier insignia. Something that will reflect our suave, brainy, and daredevil skills for future generations.”

But that adventure would have to wait. First, the new auto plant needed to get up and running.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for making it out to our unveiling,” said Tom's father, wiping a drop of sweat off his forehead. “I am so pleased to present to all of you the new Edison Alchemy.”

And with that, he whisked a white sheet off the shiny metal engine.

“The first of its kind. A bleach-battery hybrid motor,” his dad continued. “Which runs a full ninety percent on electricity and gets one hundred eight miles to the gallon, by our most recent calculations.”

The crowd of journalists clapped and whistled, while camera flashes blinked and danced off the engine's chrome body.

A flurry of hands quickly shot up, and Tom's father called on the reporters in order, answering their questions with clarity and a smile for each.

They were interested. They were enthusiastic. They were impressed.

Tom, watching from the back of the room, cheered with delight. He had never felt more proud to be his father's son.

He turned to stare out on the impressive crowd when a tuft of silver hair caught his attention.

From across the room, Curt Keller's stony eyes locked on Tom's, and the old man's blank expression morphed into a devilish, knowing grin.

A shiver came over Tom's entire body as he averted his eyes to the floor, too scared to look back.

Finally, he built up the nerve, but when he raised his head, Keller was gone. It was as if he'd evaporated.

Tom needed to talk to Noodle and Colby in private.

They would have to get to work on finding a new hiding spot at once …

1. My editor, Greg Ferguson, for guiding me through my first novel and providing such invaluable attention to detail. I trust him completely and am so grateful for his hard work, expertise, and intelligence.

2. My sister Adele, who has taught me more about storytelling than any person on this planet. Whether it's time, money, or love, she is simply the most generous person I know.

3. My sagelike agents, Charlotte Sheedy and Meredith Kaffel, who remind me that the words
tough
and
love
are not mutually exclusive. I am truly blessed to have such warm, smart people in my corner.

4. My amazing and devoted family, Mom, Jody, Rob,
Christine, Erich, Squash, Jamie, and Cat. I don't know where I'd be without them. Probably in a mental institute.

5. Lawson, Tim, Gannon, Tyler, Evan, Ashika, Joey, Evelyn, and Sameera. From heartbreaks to health care, you all help me make sense of the world.