CHAPTER FOUR
Attacked by Aztecs!
It was night. Upon returning to the house, Mama had shown the contents of the strange leather pouch to Dada, who treated them with as much disinterest as she did. But they had not shown them to Elise. The letter had instructed that she not be told anything about the items, for some reason.
Now it was dark. Dada and Mama were snoring contentedly in their room, Elise was sleeping in the guest room, and Mo and Flo had escaped from their cribs and were in Dada's office, searching through his notes and looking on his computer (Flo could type 150 words a minute, and Mo could do 140).
"So, what do we have so far?" asked Flo, while Mo fought to resist the baby urge to slobber all over Dada's computer screen (he had to fight the same urge every night).
"A girl is obviously being hidden by her grandmother, or at least a woman claiming to be her grandmother," said Mo. "Now the grandmother has disappeared and the girl has come to us because that is what the grandmother told her to do. Also, we've obtained a pouch full of extremely valuable Aztec artifacts from the grandmother's house--items that belong to a royal Aztec family."
"I suppose the contents of the pouch could be the motive for it all," said Flo. "After all, they are extremely valuable. The kidnappers may simply be after those things in order to sell them and get rich, in the typical greedy fashion of all crooks. When the grandmother wouldn't tell them where the pouch was, they kidnapped her."
"Could be," agreed Mo. "And that would explain why the letter said Elise was in danger. The kidnappers wouldn't know she was clueless about the pouch, but would naturally assume she knew all about it and knew where it was hidden. It also explains why the letter said not to show the pouch to her, so that she can continue to honestly claim she knows nothing about it."
"But there's still something not quite right about the whole picture," said Flo. "The girl's Grandmother is obviously rich, since she owns the mansion. The contents of the pouch would make her richer, but she doesn't strike me as the kind who just wants more and more money. So, why was she hiding the pouch? Why not just give it to a museum and let them worry about guarding it? Then its whereabouts would be public knowledge, and she and Elise would not be in danger."
"Agreed," said Mo. "There appears to be more to this story than meets the eye." He picked up one of Dada's pens and stuck it in his toothless mouth, thinking hard while slobbering all over it mercilessly. "What could it all mean?"
Flo scrambled down from Dada's desk and went over to the window. "I don't know," she said slowly. "If only we could locate the Grandmother, I'm sure she could tell us a lot more of the details."
"Do you think we could find her?" asked Mo. "If we did, that would break the case wide open."
Flo did not reply. Looking over at her, Mo was surprised to see she was staring wide-eyed out the window.
"Mo," she said in a small voice. "Either I'm seeing things, or I think we might be in trouble."
Mo slid quickly off Dada's desk and came over to the window. Looking out, he sucked in his breath as if he had suddenly spit out a wad of rotten cookie dough.
Six men were moving slowly down the street. But they were not dressed like ordinary men. Each one was wearing what looked like the ancient costume of the Aztecs--very similar to the carved statues they had seen in the mansion's entrance hall yesterday!
"Who are those guys?" exclaimed Mo. "And why are they moving so slow?"
Flo didn't answer at once. "They're looking at the ground," she said slowly. She turned to look at Mo. "They're tracking! They're following a trail of some kind!"
Instantly they both knew what trail it was--and they both knew they were in terrible danger.
"The red, loamy mud from the entrance to the tool shed!" cried Mo. "It got on the wheels of our stroller, and left a trail here to the house. They'll be here in another minute!"
They both turned and raced for the door (anyone who has had a baby knows that they can truly RACE when they crawl!). "I'll call 911!" cried Flo.
"I'll keep them busy in the front room until the police arrive," said Mo.
They diverged at the hall, each going a different direction. Flo raced for the phone on the kitchen counter. Mo darted into the front room and behind the old piano that his mother liked to try and play occasionally, but which was so out of tune it drove everyone else crazy when she did.
Glancing out the front room window, Mo saw that the Indians were almost in front of the house, still looking at the ground. In another instant they would realize what house they were looking for, and their slow tracking efforts would end. And from the looks of their athletic builds, they'd have no trouble entering the house.
In the kitchen, Flo looked up at the phone, far out of her reach. But she wasn't troubled by the distance. She simply grabbed the electric power cord that stretched up to the phone and gave it a pull. The phone came crashing down. She quickly dialed 911. And then she did what no normal fourteen-month-old baby could ever do.
It should come as no surprise that, with their genius minds, Flo and Mo had found ways to accomplish many things. And even though their baby bodies were still developing and were subject to strange urges (like toe-sucking) and couldn't be very well controlled as yet (like needing diaper changes), they had managed to master the basic elements of the vocal cords. Put simply, both Flo and Mo had learned to TALK--when they wanted to. They rarely did however, since they didn't generally like to scare people out of their wits.
"Police!" cried Flo into the telephone, in a squeaky, high-pitched voice. "A bunch of robbers are attacking my house! I live at 13 South Itch Street. Hurry!!"
The Indians were at the front door. The fact the door was locked was not a problem for them. They didn't break the door, but somehow picked the lock in a matter of seconds. Then all six of the huge men were in the front hall!
For a split second, Mo hesitated. Those men looked so BIG! How could he, a mere uncoordinated infant stop such big bruisers as them?
But the moment of hesitation disappeared as quickly as it came. Mo knew that all six of them were no match for his superior brain.
Mo reached up and moved one of Mama's pictures sitting on a lamp table. The noise was so slight it could hardly be heard--yet instantly, all six Indians crouched down in alarm. Mo's guess had been right. Indians who could track like them could also move noiselessly and would hear the slightest sound. To keep them occupied until the police came, Mo would not need to make a lot of crashing. A few simple movements of small objects would do.
Taking advantage of his tiny size, and knowing the Indians wouldn't think anyone could hide behind the dinky magazine rack along the wall, Mo darted from the piano over to the lamp table. He once more reached up and moved a picture on the table. The Indians, who had been starting to rise and move again, instantly all crouched down again. Now they had heard noises from two different directions! How many enemies were there, lurking just out of their sight?
Mo nearly choked, trying not to laugh as he glimpsed the worried looks on the faces of the Indians. This was fun! None of them would ever believe they were being kept at bay by a helpless baby!
And then, as so often happens, fate stepped in to change everything. There was a sudden stumbling at the top of the stairs. Dada was coming down! He was probably headed for the refrigerator, to calm down the fire in his stomach from the hot chili pepper enchiladas Mama had fixed for dinner.
Instantly the Indians were out the door. But not before Dada had seen them. "Hey, you!" cried Dada, blundering down the stairs so fast he lost his balance and bounced down the last steps on his rear end. "What are you doing in my house?"
There was obviously no reply. The only answer was the wind whistling in the open door. But an instant later a siren could be heard. And a few seconds after that, a police car pulled up in front, it's lights flashing.
"Honey, what's going on?" asked Mama sleepily from the top of the stairs.
"That's what I'd like to know," said Dada, flipping on the lights. Before he could say another word, a policeman appeared at the door.
"Where are the robbers?" he asked.
"They just left," said Dada. "There were a bunch of them. And they seemed to be dressed in some kind of costumes. It looked sort of like Indian costumes."
"Indian costumes?" said the officer in surprise. He sniffed at Dada's breath. "Have you been drinking?"
Dada's face clouded over. "Sir, I NEVER drink!" he bellowed.
"Well, did they take anything?" asked the officer hastily.
"Gee, I don't know!" said Dada, this idea occurring to him for the first time. "Let's search the house and see." For the next several minutes every inch of the house was searched by Mama, Dada and the two policemen. Elise emerged from her room, rubbing her eyes and wondering what was going on.
But they found nothing missing. Even the mysterious pouch from the tool shed was still safe, on the lamp table of Mama and Dada's room upstairs.
"Well, it looks like they got away," said the policeman. "Guess we didn't get here quite fast enough after you called."
"Called?" repeated Dada curiously. "I didn't call. And that reminds me--how did you know there were robbers here tonight?"
Once more the officer sniffed Dada's breath. "Are you sure you haven't been drinking? Because YOU called! Although your voice sounded a little different."
"I NEVER DRINK!" thundered Dada in a rare display of senseless rudeness.
The officer shrugged. "Suit yourself, then. Good night. Let us know if they show up again, although I doubt they will." Then they left.
By this time of course, Flo and Mo were back in their cribs. In fact, they had slipped noiselessly up to their cribs while the house was being searched, and no one knew they had been out at all. But even after Dada had relocked all the doors and everyone had gone back to bed, neither one of them could sleep.
"Those guys were BIG," said Mo, staring up at the ceiling.
"That was a close one," agreed Flo, looking at the shadow of her crib bars on the wall, which looked like prison bars. "They were obviously after the pouch and Elise. It's a good thing we saw them in time!"
"Do you think we're in over our heads this time?" asked Mo.
"Maybe," said Flo. There was silence for a moment. "But one thing's for sure," she said at last. "If anybody saves Elise and our family, it's going to have to be US. Dada and Mama are no match for those guys."
Mo mumbled in agreement, but said nothing more.
Sleep came slowly to the babies that night. And when it did, it was filled with dreams of Indians with raised tomahawks, ready to strike them down ...