The Secret Cipher by Whitaker Ringwald Page B

it rang again. Incoming Call from Ricardo . Jax grabbed it and pressed Accept . Then she pressed Speaker . “Leave us alone. We don’t have the urn!”
    â€œHello, Jacqueline. There is no reason to be afraid of me. I am here to help you.” His voice was exactly as I remembered from when we hid in the Camels’ hotel bathroom. It gave me the chills then, and still did. He sounded like he could turn things to ice. “You are in great danger. You must give me the urn.”
    â€œWhy are we in danger?”
    â€œThe urn will hurt you, as it hurt your cousin. Give it to me and I will destroy it.”
    He wanted to destroy it? I looked at Jax. Maybe he wasn’t a bad guy after all. Maybe he was on our side. But Jax narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “We don’t have it.”
    â€œThat is a lie,” he hissed. “You will not leave the Seaport World Trade Center until you give me the urn.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jax was trying to sound calm but her voice was trembling. “We’re not at the Seaport whatever-you-just-called-it.”
    â€œDo not play games with me, Jacqueline Malone. I followed you here. I know you have the urn because I can sense its presence. It is close. Very close. You willsurrender or face the consequences.”
    â€œWe’re not afraid of you!” Jax said, then she hung up.
    â€œJax?” My voice cracked. The tingling was peaking, and the nosebleed would start any second now. I grabbed her arm and pointed.
    A man was walking toward us, a phone held in one hand. He was tall and skinny, wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a black fedora. His stride was fast and determined. He pushed a little girl out of his way.
    â€œRun!” Jax said.
    We turned on our heels and headed in the opposite direction. Once again, there was no plan. How could we have a plan? None of this made sense. If the girl was delivering the urn to Ricardo, then he’d know she had it. But he thought we had it. He’d followed us. He knew we were visiting Juniper. He—
    Something crashed behind us. I looked over my shoulder. The tower of energy drinks tumbled to the floor, the bottles rolling in all directions. Neither Jax nor I had bumped into it, so why had it fallen over? Ricardo stumbled.
    â€œKeep running!” a voice ordered. A shape darted in front of me. Red braids swung back and forth as the girl grabbed a stack of folding chairs and threwthem to the ground behind us. Like a bulldozer, she pushed though the crowd. She knocked into a kid carrying an armful of books. When she grabbed a stand of toy swords and tossed it behind us, I realized she was creating the obstacle course on purpose. I might have pointed out that she was engaging in vandalism, but this was one occasion when breaking the law was okay by me. She raced in front of Jax and motioned for us to follow. Was she leading us away from Ricardo?
    What was going on? Who was the good guy and who was the bad guy?
    Our capes flying, Jax and I tore after her. I glanced back again. We’d gained some ground. Ricardo was caught in the sword chaos, as people rushed to the scene trying to help clean the mess. It suddenly looked like we might outrun him. But another problem reared its head—we’d attracted the attention of three security guards. As we dashed out of the exhibition hall and past the registration tables, the guards joined the chase. “Stop!” one of them called. The entrance wasn’t far. Only a few more yards to run and a group of Klingons to get past.
    I squeezed between plastic armored chests and fake battle weapons. Jax stopped and said something to the biggest one, a guy who must have been threehundred pounds. He growled and said something in the language of his people. The next thing I knew, they were stomping away, like an army on the warpath. The entrance was free and clear. I turned again, catching sight of the