Wade and the Scorpion's Claw (12 page)

“So he doesn't know where they are,” said Lily under her breath. “Good.”

“They will retrieve them before their next flight,” said a tinny voice.

Ebner von Braun, Galina's creepy little troll assistant, now appeared on-screen. The forehead wound Uncle Henry had given him before he was murdered was finally starting to fade. “We will monitor storage facilities in the area,” he said, “and alert you as to their vulnerability.”

Feng Yi paused the video and turned to Dad. “Perhaps you will want to share this information with me. I can easily have armed guards assembled to keep your things safe. Should you need them.”

I glanced at my dad. He was frowning. “I don't think we will. But thank you.” When the video resumed, Galina was back on-screen, her lips redder than before, as if she'd just snacked on something living. “Are the legends true? You are close to the true Chinese relic?”

“One of the scorpions traveled here to California some years ago,” Wolff said. “Our friends in Hong Kong think it is genuine, too.”

“And the target?” she asked.

The word was terrifying. More so because she said it so casually.

“Targets,” he said, emphasizing the plural. “One has already met his ancestors.” He obviously meant Mr. Chen.

“Have you the resources you need?” Galina asked.

“You know I do. And after this?”

“Wait for my orders. Do not leave empty-handed.”

“Have I ever?” The image of Galina Krause vanished, and the screen went black. That was it.

“So you see,” Mr. Feng said, returning the tablet to the black bag, “you are up against the full resources of the Teutonic Order. You have unwittingly entered a war beyond your comprehension. The Star Warriors are but one faction in this war. What you know can help us.”

The way he expressed himself was measured and correct, perfectly fluent in English words and phrases, though it was also clear from his accent that English was not his first language. I found myself wanting to steer the conversation away from secrets, but I couldn't find a way to do it that didn't seem obvious. So I turned to my dad, as if I'd just remembered something personal.

“Oh, Dad, I have to ask you something. . . .”

I stood up, and we crossed the room together. Out of the corner of my eye I watched Feng Yi's expression, to see if our move was suspicious to him, but he wasn't looking at us. All his attention seemed to be on Liang, who'd just come in, rolling a cart of fragrant dumplings, salads, soups, and bowls of things that smelled awesome.

“Dad,” I whispered, “is he okay? I mean, legit? It's like he popped up out of nowhere, right where we happen to be, and suddenly he's rescuing us. I mean . . .”

Being almost as sneaky as I was, Dad smiled calmly in case Feng Yi was looking. “I know what you mean. He did help me get clear of Wolff's soldiers. If he weren't a Guardian, you'd have to wonder why he'd do that, right? And he helped you, Darrell, and the girls escape.”

“Yeah, he did,” I said. “His fight with the Star Warriors was epic. Flying through the air, throwing stars, and all. Maybe I'm too suspicious.”

“No, just suspicious enough,” he said. “Be cautious. That's the only way.” He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired.

“Any news on Sara?” I asked.

He tilted his head one way, then the other, and then put his glasses back on. “I almost don't want to say, but I spoke with the Bolivian investigator on the way here. Things are moving. Cross your fingers—I think we'll have a good answer, and it might be soon.” He put his arm around me—whether to assure me or himself, I didn't know. “But everything we learn here will help.”

“Like that Galina's in Madrid, maybe?” I said.

He nodded. “If we all keep alert, listen, and stay careful.”

When we rejoined the others, Lily said, “You have to hear this—”

Darrell cut her off. “Before you do, eat this. I have no idea what it is, but you need to have some.” He handed me a bowl of steaming blobs drenched in gravy. “Seriously. These dumplings are amazing.”

I tried one. “Wow,” I said, swallowing. “So good . . .”

Lily glared at us. Then she turned to Feng Yi. “Mr. Feng, please excuse them. A few of us don't get out much. Can you say all that again?”

Mr. Feng grinned and bowed his head. “Some of this you already know. Years ago, one of the twelve relics—an iron scorpion, representing the constellation you call Scorpio—made its way in a box lined with lead to the capital of China. Once there, the scorpion, which Copernicus believed was deadly, was sealed in an outer body of the finest jade.”

“Which is now in San Francisco,” I said.

“Which is
perhaps
in San Francisco,” Mr. Feng said. “You see, the Ming artisans created not
one
jade scorpion, but
five
. One for the true relic, and four slightly different scorpions as decoys. Each of the five jade figurines was given its own identical mechanical box.”

“Whoa, we didn't know that,” I said, glancing at the others.

Becca raised her eyebrows at me. “Right?”

“Thus, while each outer box is the same, tiny markings on the four decoys themselves lead to the true relic, as, in fact, the twelve relics lead to one another,” Feng Yi continued. “All five scorpions remained in the vaults of the Forbidden City for nearly five centuries. Until thirty years ago, when a thief broke in and stole them—all five of them. Because the Order was just as frantic to locate them, the Guardians were convinced that the thief was, in fact,
not
a Knight of the Teutonic Order.

“Remember now, only one of the five jade scorpions contained the original relic of Copernicus's astrolabe. Unless a person uncovers a clue left by Copernicus himself, there appears to be no way to tell the five figurines apart. When I rose up in the ranks of the Eastern Guardians, I worked with Mr. Chen to locate the true Scorpio relic and bring it safely back to Beijing. Over the years we have located three. All three were beautifully constructed decoys. But Mr. Chen happily located a tile to a fourth box. Our experts have read the markings on the decoys, and I am nearly certain the true relic is here in San Francisco. Markus Wolff, who is no fool, believes it also.”

We sat there, mesmerized, trying to take it all in, adding this to what we'd learned from the spice box. The poem inside it was still a mystery, and I really didn't want to share it, but I thought Mr. Feng could at least shed some light on the strange non-Chinese character at the end. Could I trust him enough to let him see it?

“So the German man is working with the Star Warriors,” said Becca. “Is that because of the China connection?”

Mr. Feng's lips were set in a grim smile. “Exactly so. He recruited them in Beijing. You see, Wolff is like his name: a fearless, relentless hunter. He will use any means possible to find the relics for Galina. Alas, because Vela has crossed paths with Scorpio in this very city, Wolff now hopes to obtain both with a single move. You are his target now. Perhaps it is good luck that we, too, have crossed paths at this same moment, yes?”

Luck? I didn't believe in luck anymore, good or bad. Nothing was a coincidence where the Copernicus Legacy was concerned. Nothing.

“Can I ask why you don't know your fellow Guardian in San Francisco?” Dad asked.

Mr. Feng breathed out a long breath. “After the passing of your friend Heinrich Vogel—Uncle Henry, to you children—the Guardians' communications network was broken. For good reason.”

“I understand,” my dad said. “But how can we find the relic now?”

“We . . . ?”
Mr. Feng ran a slow hand over his long hair and brought it back to rest on the table in front of him. “Dr. Kaplan, you are in the center of a war. In the trenches, so to speak. Do you want to be here? I suggest you do not. You have your family with you. So that we Guardians may do
our
job, the task that centuries have prepared us for, perhaps you can tell me what you have discovered. If, for example, you have some Chinese script, I can decipher it for you. . . .”

It was the gentlest way I'd ever heard of saying
Tell me everything you know; then go away.

I glanced up at my dad to see how he'd take this. He smiled, like he had when we were talking across the room. For some reason, Becca had been watching the two of us. Maybe because she was smart and could “read” people and thought through stuff before she said it, she seemed to catch on to our caution. Before anyone could say anything, she turned to Lily. “Inside the spice box there was a character. Dr. Powell from the museum said she couldn't identify it. Maybe you can, Mr. Feng. Lily, the photo of the symbol?”

“I made it my wallpaper, plus there's the spice box and the poem you can help with,” she said, opening her phone, but Becca snatched it gently away before she could show Mr. Feng anything.

“Ah, you have the images of the spice box here, do you?” Mr. Feng said, leaning over as Becca enlarged the image of the non-Chinese character for him.

He studied it, taking in every detail of the brush strokes.

“I am surprised, or perhaps not so surprised,” he said. “Dr. Powell certainly knows the peculiarities of Ming court dialects. I must assume she was lying to protect the relic. The Order reaches everywhere.”

Becca frowned at the warning. She liked Tricia—we all did. Certainly the young, friendly curator hadn't seemed to be lying.

“Do you know what the symbol means?” Lily asked, reaching for the phone, which Becca wouldn't release.

Mr. Feng traced his fingers slowly in the air. “It is the character called
fēng huǒ tái
. It means, ‘tower with beacon.' There are many towers in San Francisco, some skyscrapers, but fewer with beacons atop them. Guardians have a deep sense of tradition. I believe the character is pointing us to an older tower. Such as the tower on Telegraph Hill. It is called Coit Tower.”

“Do you think the relic is hidden there?” Darrell asked.

“It is indeed possible. You may leave your things here while we have a look. My limousine should be close by—”

We heard a sudden crash from the front of the restaurant. Customers shrieked. A table went over; dishes shattered. Liang rushed into the room, his face dark with fear. He uttered some quick words to Mr. Feng, who jumped to his feet, throwing stars in his hands.

“The Star Warriors! They have found us!”

“I
should have known!” Feng Yi snarled, leaping up from the table. “Wolff's bag must contain a GPS microchip. Everyone down—”

We heard the Star Warriors barreling through the tables in the dining room, but there was no time to escape. We hit the floor as they tore the door from its hinges and pushed Liang roughly to the wall.

Feng Yi crouched and scattered a handful of throwing stars over our heads. Several of the black-clad warriors fell to their knees screaming, clutching their sudden wounds. One spat words in Chinese at Mr. Feng.

“Never!” he cried, and a second round of stars flew. The warriors retreated back into the restaurant's main room and shot their weapons from there. Plaster and glass exploded behind us.

I felt a rush of cool air from outside as the diners fled the restaurant.

“Hurry! Out!” Liang yelled, his first words in English, as he pulled a pistol from inside his chef's uniform and shot at the attackers.

Dad snagged our bags and pushed the girls through the swinging door Liang held open, then tugged us into the steamy kitchen with him. I looked at Lily, who was staring wide-eyed at Feng Yi, whose hand was bleeding. The cooks shielded themselves behind the counters and on the floor. Feng Yi managed to fling more stars back through the door before it swung closed. Liang, firing occasional pistol shots, slipped in behind us.

“Quickly now,” Feng Yi shouted. He and several of the cooks pushed a massive, industrial-size refrigerator in front of the door. “This will only give us a few minutes. Follow me.”

He hurried us out of the kitchen into an alleyway outside. The sky was blue-black now, and the streetlights and store signs spotted the alley with deep shadows. We started toward the street, but several men blocked the way and ran toward us.

“This way!” Feng Yi yelled. He pulled down a fire escape ladder from the wall behind us, and we scrambled up as fast as we could. “The roof connects to the temple next door. We can elude Wolff's men and escape through the pagoda.”

We followed Feng onto the roof—Lily first, then Becca, then Dad, me, and Darrell. One by one, we were out and running breathlessly across the roof, which was flat except for the multiroofed pagoda straddling the temple. “This way!” Feng Yi called as he bounded across the roof, looking back over his shoulder at the fire escape stairs. I shot a glance at Darrell. His forehead was bright with sweat, his eyes wide.

Dad, Lily, and Becca had already disappeared through the pagoda's small doorway. Darrell and I tried to follow, but we were suddenly cut off by a rain of throwing stars from Wolff's men, who were swinging up the stairs and onto the top of the building. Their stars tore up the roof in front of us. There was nowhere to go. We froze where we stood. The terrifying men advanced slowly. I looked around. Feng Yi was nowhere to be seen. Dad, Becca, and Lily were inside the pagoda, probably racing down to the street and safety without realizing we weren't right behind them.

The Star Warriors spread out with a series of identical moves, like a line of robot killers doing a ballet. We backed up until we couldn't.

Darrell groaned under his breath. “I don't like our options.”

“We have options?”

“One,” he said, “and I guess if you only have one, it's not really an option, but it sounds more hopeful to say it that way—”

“Are you still talking?”