Fool's Gold (2 page)

“I've been thinking about Superman!” I shouted across the street.

“What?”

“Superman. I was thinking about how it would be if he fought for the Allies. He could end the war in two minutes flat.”

Jack stopped and glared at me. “What are you talking about?”

“What don't you understand? You know Superman, right?”

“Of course I know Superman.”

“If he fought against the Nazis he could end the war really fast.”

“You're wrong,” Jack said.

“I don't know how you can even argue! If Superman fought against the Nazis we'd win in a minute!”

“Nope, you're wrong.”

“How can I be wrong? He has X-ray vision, superhuman strength, and he can fly! He'd just fly in, grab Hitler and rip that little moustache right off his face and—”

“Kryptonite bullets.”

“What?” I questioned.

“Bullets made of kryptonite,” he said. “They'd make them and then shoot them when Superman showed his face and … this is stupid! We're arguing about a stupid comic book character! Kryptonite isn't real, Superman isn't real! I don't know why I'm
wasting my time even talking about this, and if you bring it up again you're going to need Superman to protect you!”

I shut up. My plan to slow Jack down had worked. I struggled to suppress a smile. I had to fight the urge to start talking now about what it would be like if
Batman
were fighting for the Allies.

“I'm thirsty,” Jack said.

“Me too.” I was hot and sweaty and hungry, as well. “ I hope supper's on the table when we get home.”

“Going to find out pretty soon.”

We bounded up the walk, up the steps, onto the porch and through the front door.

“Something's wrong,” Jack said.

“What?”

“Smell,” he said.

“Smell what? I don't smell any …” I didn't smell pot roast. I didn't smell anything.

“Maybe Mom got supper started late,” I suggested.

“Mom!” Jack yelled. There was no answer. I followed Jack as he walked toward the kitchen, pushed through the door and—Mom was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table. Beside her stood three men, guns in hand. One gun was pointed at our mother's head, and the other two guns were aimed directly at me and Jack!

CHAPTER TWO

I BUMPED INTO JACK
as he skidded to a stop. My
heart
skidded to a stop. We stood there, frozen in place, unable to react to what I couldn't believe I was seeing, too stunned to even feel afraid. I looked at Mom. I could tell she was trying to look brave and calm, but I could see she was biting the inside of her lip—a nervous habit that we shared.

“Welcome,” one of the men said. “Sit.” He motioned with his gun to the two empty chairs beside our mother.

Neither of us moved. For a split second I thought about running, breaking for the door and—

“Now!” he ordered, and Jack and I stumbled forward. We slumped into the chairs.

“That's better.” He took his gun and put it into a holster under his suit jacket. The other two did the same. They were all dressed in fancy dark suits and ties. They wore felt fedora hats and shiny leather dress shoes. They looked like they were dressed to go to a wedding … or a funeral. I swallowed hard.

“You must be wondering who we are,” the same man said.

“We know who you are,” Jack snarled.

“Do you?” he asked.

“You're a bunch of stinking Nazi agents!”

Two of the men burst into laughter until the third—I guessed he was the leader—held up his hand.

“We're not Nazis … although I can understand why you'd think that.”

Now that he'd told us who they
weren't
I was waiting for him to tell us who they
were
.

“Please leave us alone. I've told you that you have the wrong people!” our mother exclaimed.

She sounded desperate, and I noticed that there were streaks on her cheeks—dried-up tracks of tears. If they'd hurt her in any way I'd—

“And I told
you
that we had the
right
people. Jack and George Braun. That is who the two of you are, isn't it?”

I wanted to tell them that we weren't but I knew that wouldn't work.

“Yes, they're my sons, Jack and George. But they're just two boys … they can't possibly have anything that you want!” she pleaded.

“That's where you're wrong. They have something that I definitely need.” He paused. “They have information … about Camp X.”

“No, no, there's definitely been a mistake! I've never even heard of a Camp X. I work at Camp
30,
and they used to deliver mail there during the
summer, but honestly they know practically nothing about it!”

The man smiled. “I know where you work. I also know that the boys are very,
very
familiar with Camp X.”

Who were these men, and how did they know about us and Camp X? Maybe they didn't. Maybe they were trying to trick us into believing they knew more than they actually did. I tried to keep my face completely blank, to not reveal anything. I even stopped myself from chewing on the inside of my cheek—I didn't want them to know I was nervous. But then again, why shouldn't I be nervous? No, not nervous,
terrified
. The initial shock, the numbness, had worn off now and in its place I felt a gut-wrenching fear.

“Do one of you boys want to tell your mother about your involvement with Camp X?” the man asked.

“We have nothing to tell,” Jack said. His fists were balled up and he was staring at the man with angry, intense eyes. He looked so brave, so strong. “We don't know what you're talking about.”

“Please, there's no need to lie,” the man said. His words were suddenly gentle, his tone friendly. There was a smile on his face. If it wasn't for the fancy suit—and the
gun
tucked
inside
that fancy suit—he could have been a teacher, or even a minister.

“Your sons are very brave,” he said to our mother. “And loyal. They don't want to say they know
anything about Camp X because that would violate the oaths they signed under the Official Secrets Act.”

“They're just boys … they didn't sign anything, they don't even know about things like that,” our mother said.

“It isn't nice for boys to keep secrets from their mother, but they signed those oaths before you moved to Bowmanville.” He paused. “Did you ever wonder how you got your new job at Camp 30?”

“Who are you?” I blurted out. I didn't want anybody to talk about that. She couldn't find out.

“Good to see you haven't swallowed your tongue. You must be wondering how we know so much. As I said, we are not Nazi agents. We have no time or tolerance for the Nazis.”

If they weren't Nazis, who could they be? I was struck by the strangest thought. Maybe these guys were working for Bill, and this was a test to see if we'd break our oath, and … No, it couldn't be that. He wouldn't spill the beans to our mother, or scare her like this.

“We are businessmen,” he said.

“You mean mobsters?” Jack asked.

“Mobsters?” he asked. “Do we look like mobsters?”

I studied the three men. They were all dressed the same—and they
did
look like they'd just walked out of a mobster movie. The one doing all the talking was older, maybe in his forties, and I was sure he was the boss. One of the other two had a baby face on top of a
gigantic body. He towered over everybody else, and his arms and chest were massive. He didn't look like he needed a gun to threaten somebody. The third was short—a couple of inches shorter than Jack—but he was stocky and powerful through the arms and shoulders. He looked as though he could take care of himself as well.

“If you're not Nazis and you're not mobsters, then who are you?” Jack asked.

“As I said, we are independent businessmen,” he answered.

“And what do you want with us?” Jack demanded.

“There is something at Camp X, something very valuable, that we'd like to get our hands on. We need some information and some help from you boys. Now, who's going to telling us what we need to know?” he asked.

“Don't expect us to cooperate with anything,” Jack said.

The leader nodded his head and turned to the little guy. “I told you they wouldn't scare easily.”

“Just give me a minute with them and I guarantee they'll be scared,” he said.

Now I was really frightened. There was something about the slight smile on his face. I just knew he wouldn't hesitate to hurt us, and that maybe he'd even enjoy it. I also knew that no matter what he did, he wasn't getting me to say anything.

“No,” the leader said. “Not yet.” He turned back to face us. “We believe in loyalty too. We would never squeal or betray a member of our organization. But sometimes your choices become limited. Tell you what, I'll save you boys the trouble of breaking your oath. I'll do the talking.”

“Don't believe anything he says!” I exclaimed to our mother. “None of it is true.”

“I certainly hope it
is
true,” he said. “Because if it isn't we will have no choice but to kill the three of you.”

His words sent a chill up my spine and I felt myself start to shake. It wasn't just the words, it was the way he'd said them. His voice was quiet, gentle, friendly and so matter-of-fact, like he was talking about inviting us out for dinner.

“Your boys were involved at Camp X,” he began.

“I don't even know what this Camp X
is
,” our mother said.

“It is a training camp for Allied spies, the biggest spy base in all of North America. It's located in Whitby, close to where you once lived.”

“I don't know anything about it, but even if it was there, what could my boys have to do with it?” she asked.

“A lot. At first they just stumbled into the camp, breaching security accidentally. Then they were enlisted by one of the men in charge—his name is
Bill—to try to break into the camp, as well as break into the DIL plant.” He paused. “Did you know the boys once came out to visit you at work, pretending that you had forgotten your lunch, but they were actually smuggling in a fake bomb to test the security of the munitions factory?”

My mother looked stunned. I felt stunned. How did this man know these things?

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You never knew anything about that. Just like you don't know how your boys were really injured when they landed in the hospital, or how Mr. Krum, the newspaper editor, was really killed. You know nothing.” He shook his head slowly and then turned to face Jack and me. “You must be surprised that I know all of these things, aren't you?”

Neither of us answered, but he was right.

“Is there anything you boys would like to say?” he asked.

There were a lot of things I wanted to say. Instead I kept my mouth shut, my face blank, and I stopped myself, again, from chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“Now I'm going to tell you something that none of you know. I'm going to tell you what we want from Camp X and, more importantly, how you two boys are going to help us get it. It is very simple. We want gold.”

“Gold?” I said. “They don't have any gold.”

The man laughed, and instantly I realized what I'd done. I'd let on that I
did
know something about Camp X.

“And how would you know that?” my mother asked.

“He knows a lot, but he doesn't know about the gold,” the man said, before I could think of what to say, or
not
say, in answer to her question.

“The gold is being stored in the catacombs, a series of caves,” he went on.

I knew about the caves. I'd seen them before, close to the cliffs above Lake Ontario. But why would he think that there was any gold there?

“This gold is the property of the Bank of England … in fact, it's the entire reserves of the Bank of England.”

“But … but why would that be here in Canada instead of in England?” our mother asked.

“Precaution. It was all moved here when there were fears that England would be invaded. It was brought here to keep it out of Hitler's filthy hands.”

“But what has any of that got to do with us?” Jack asked.

“You're going to get us into the camp.”

“Us?”

“We know that you've snuck in there a couple of times, and now you're going to get
us
in,” he said.

“But even if we could—and I'm not saying we know anything about it—how do you think you could get away with all of that gold?”

“We don't want all of the gold. Just some of it. As much as two men,” he said, gesturing to his partners, “and two boys can carry.”

“Look,” Jack said, “even if we did get in once, what makes you think that we can do it again?”

“We can all only hope that you can. If not, then the results could be fatal.”

He put a hand on our mother's shoulder, and Jack jumped to his feet. “You leave her alone or I'll—”

The big guy reached out, grabbed Jack and slammed him back into his seat.

“Don't try to be no hero,” the man said. “We don't want to hurt nobody. All we want is the gold. So are you gonna cooperate?”

I looked at Jack. He didn't even look in my direction.

“I'm not afraid to die,” Jack said.

A small gasp escaped from our mother.

“Really? Me, I'd rather live,” the man replied. He walked over and stood right above me. “And you, George, would you choose death over dishonour?”

“I'm not helping you.”

“Very noble. Maybe we're just wasting our time. We'll leave now.”

“What?” I asked, not believing my ears.

“Leave. If you refuse to cooperate, we'll just leave. Of course, we'll have to kill all three of you first.”