Nabbed!: The 1925 Journal of G. Codd Fitzmorgan (9 page)

I turned the last dial to read 20—

Hot socks!

A narrow rectangle in the wall to the right of the radio popped open. It had been perfectly disguised, by the carved design
of the wall. Without thinking about it, I turned my body to the side, so I could fit, and stepped through the doorway.

It was dark in there after the parlor, and I stretched out my hands in front of me. They found nothing. Only the empty air
of a secret passage that stretched ahead of me. But to either side, my fingers touched cold, slightly damp brick.

Glancing back into the parlor I could see the last grains of sand running down the timer. I took another step into the passage.
My right thumb ran along a brick that gave slightly. I put more pressure on the brick. With a small of whoosh of air and a
click—

The door swung shut behind me.

Suddenly the thing I had been trying so hard to imagine in the parlor was real. Far too real. I was now trapped in a dark,
narrow, frightening place.

My heart gave a few lurches like a bootlegger's getaway car kicking into overdrive. I felt like someone had tied thick ropes
around my chest and was slowly tightening them. The panic was familiar—this was the start of a claustrophobia attack, like
the ones I had suffered as a kid.

I called on all my years of training with my mom to stop the attack before it started. Her words played in my head, a soothing
song to calm my heart.

You are a detective. And a detective solves problems. Problems that other people think are impossible. You can find your way
out of anything!

Within moments, I regained control. My heart stopped battering my ribs. Ah…that's better, I thought. I took a look at my surroundings.

At least I tried to. With the light from the parlor gone, it was too dark in the small area to find the inside latch of the
hidden door. I could only see a dim glow from up ahead. About 30 feet in front of me, a stone spiral staircase slithered its
way up an interior tower.

I could wait for Judge to open the door to the parlor and pound on the secret door until she discovered me.

Or I could investigate. John could be tied up somewhere in here. He might need my help this second. Proving that I had really
beaten my fears, I walked slowly away from the hidden door and toward the stairs.

I started up the steps, moving very slowly. Any one of them might be a trap, giving way when my foot stepped on it, and I
would fall and fall…

Then I reached the top of a tower. Now I could see where the gloomy light was coming from. Two large windows had been built
into opposite sides of the tower. The tower, hidden among the chimneys and turrets on the roof, must have been used by the
rumrunner to hide—or as a lookout for approaching authorities.

But the windows had now been covered with thick black curtains. One of these had shifted and let in some of the gray afternoon
light. I pulled a curtain back to peer outside. The stormy winds continued, but the rain had stopped.

I stepped further into the room, and a string brushed against my face. I gave it a pull. It was connected to an electric bulb,
and the room filled with light.

My eyes took a moment to adjust to the brightness. Cables and lighting devices snaked here and there along the heavy stone
walls of the tiny room. Surprised by the modern equipment, I turned and found myself staring directly at something even stranger.

A flat piece of wood about five feet by five feet lay on top of two sawhorses. The surface of the wood was covered with miniature
trees, fake grass, a tiny airstrip…

And a little toy plane attached to thin wires.

It looked like this:

It was a model of the property right outside the Great Hall.

I took a step closer and touched the puppet of a pilot. About the size of a frankfurter, this mini flyboy was dressed just
like John.

‘Ded ye enjoy the poppet shew?’ The Scotsman's words rang out in my head. Had he meant “puppet” when he said “puppet”?

This must be some kind of puppet stage. But who would be able to see it at the top of this secluded, secret tower?

Nothing makes sense, I thought. I looked around the room for answers. Almost immediately, I noticed the huge camera pointed
at the stage.

Dad would be drooling right now, I thought. He was really into modern machinery. In fact, I'd read about equipment like this
in one of his books. Dad would see this as a window of opportunity to examine technology—

Wait a second!

The words “window of opportunity” rolled around in my head.

Then I got it!

Someone had used the “window” in the Great Hall as a window of opportunity. This person must have put some kind of receiver
in the window frame. When we had watched the plane landing through the small window in the Great Hall, we hadn't actually
seen outside. We had been looking into something called a “television screen.”

I thought back to JENNY, John's plane out on the airstrip. That airplane was real. I had reached out and touched it. The plane
existed. That was a fact.

But the landing of that real plane had been faked!

I was convinced that someone had used this puppet stage and the camera to make us think we had seen John's plane land.

Why? I had no idea. But I couldn't wait to share this discovery with Judge.

I headed toward the stairs. Not wanting to alert anyone that I'd been in the tower, I pulled on the string. Without the electric
light, the room was thrown back into darkness. The only illumination came from the small crack in the curtains.

Sliding my hand firmly along the wall to steady myself, I began my descent down the spiral staircase. Now that I knew where
I was going, my feet moved more confidently. I reached the bottom quickly.

I took a few steps toward the secret door—

Screep!

It was the sound of the hard sole of a shoe scraping on the rough floor.

Someone else was in the passage with me.

“Judge…?” I whispered. But the darkness seemed to absorb my voice like a sponge.

For what seemed like forever, I stood still and listened. Nothing.

It must have been my imagination—

Slap! Slap! Slap!

Suddenly footsteps were rushing toward me down the dark passageway from the direction of the secret door.

The mystery person was heading straight for me!

Panic exploded in my brain.

I looked back toward the dim gray light that filtered down the stairs, and stepped away from the brick wall. Just then the
curtain in the tower shifted—either on its own or by someone's hand—and completely blocked the window. All the light in the
passageway disappeared.

I was instantly disoriented, unsure which direction I faced.

Footsteps echoed all around me. Someone was coming straight at me, and I wasn't even sure from which way!

In the pitch dark, I reached out for the wall. I made contact and pressed my body flat against the hard brick. I hoped my
pursuer would pass by without noticing me.

To my complete surprise, the wall didn't resist.

Instead, it gave way, and then I was falling through it.

Had I just broken through the wall?

A gentle click let me know this was not the case.

Leading from the passageway to the outside, a door-shaped section of the brick had swung gently open.

Luckily, I had discovered another secret door, this one completely by accident.

Another secret door!

The wet ground sucked hungrily at my shoes as the brick door behind me swung closed again. The shape of the door disappeared
into the wall, making it nearly impossible to discover.

A scratching sound brought my attention back to the wall. I listened closely.

Someone was clawing at the secret door, trying to get it to open.

What should I do?

I decided I was better off standing my ground. Turning to the door, I adopted a defensive stance my father had taught me.

Click! I heard the secret door's lock unlatch—

The door was swinging open—I held my breath and braced myself for the worst—

“G. Codd!”

Out of the darkness, a face framed by blond hair came into view. It was Judge! The door closed behind her. She rushed to me
and took my hand. “you scared me to death. What would I tell your parents if you'd gone missing, too?”

I couldn't stop grinning in relief. “Judge, you're the cat's pajamas! I was sure I was being followed by the villain.”

Judge leaned in close, her voice turning deadly serious as she said, “You were, G. Codd. And so was I.”

“What?” I managed to ask.

“I heard footsteps chasing me through the passage,” she whispered. “There is a third person in there, right on my heels.”

We both turned to the secret door and waited for Judge's mysterious pursuer to join us.