The Perilous Polynesian Pendant Read online

  Written by Jason Lethcoe

  Illustrations by Jeff Clark

  Cover paint by Grace Lee

  Copyright © 2017 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  For information address Disney Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-368-00178-6

  For more Disney Press fun, visit disneybooks.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One: Rest in Peace?

  Chapter Two: The Letter

  Chapter Three: The Mysterious Staircase

  Chapter Four: Into the Secret Chamber

  Chapter Five: The Quest

  Chapter Six: The Airship

  Chapter Seven: Professor Phink

  Chapter Eight: A Rude Awakening

  Chapter Nine: Splash Landing

  Chapter Ten: Hoku

  Chapter Eleven: The Villains

  Chapter Twelve: A Dangerous Situation

  Chapter Thirteen: Treading Carefully

  Chapter Fourteen: The Enchanted Tiki Room

  Chapter Fifteen: The Tiki Key

  Chapter Sixteen: Escape?

  Chapter Seventeen: The Poachers

  Chapter Eighteen: Phase Two

  Chapter Nineteen: The Volcano Gate

  Chapter Twenty: Last Request

  Chapter Twenty-One: The Message

  Chapter Twenty-Two: The End?

  Chapter Twenty-Three: Rescue

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Honolulu

  Chapter Twenty-Five: The Menehune

  Chapter Twenty-Six: His Bravest Moment

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Brother vs. Brother

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Aftermath

  For Nancy, my greatest adventure.

  It wasn’t an ordinary funeral. At least, Andy Stanley didn’t think it was. True, Andy had never been to a funeral before, but he was fairly certain that there was usually a body…or a casket…or at least some evidence that the person in question was in fact dead.

  Perhaps Andy shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, his grandfather wasn’t exactly conventional—or so Andy had been told. Andy had never so much as spoken to his grandfather, but he had heard plenty of stories about Ned Lostmore. He had practically memorized the legendary archaeologist’s many books, with titles like Carnivorous Plants I’ve Nearly Been Eaten By and Witch Doctors: A Prescription for Madness?

  Andy wondered why everyone was so ready to accept the worst and proclaim Ned gone. He knew little about the details surrounding his grandfather’s disappearance other than the fact that he had been looking for a temple hidden deep in the Amazon jungle. The last communication anyone had received from Ned was a letter sent to the university where he worked, stating that he had found the temple and was determined to explore it. The temple was infamous for its protection spells. Legend claimed that any mortal who entered would never return.

  Andy assumed that most people would have ignored those legends, brushing them off as nothing more than superstitious mumbo jumbo. But Ned Lostmore was different. Andy knew from reading his grandfather’s books that Ned took such curses very seriously. He also knew how seriously his grandfather took his work. Andy guessed that the possibility of finding ancient artifacts inside the temple would have made Ned brave any danger. Not even the threat of hidden traps and deadly poisons would have deterred the intrepid jungle doctor from achieving his goal.

  But no one knew what Ned had found. He had never returned from the temple, and a search of the area around his last known location had revealed no trace of him. It seemed that Ned Lostmore had simply vanished into thin air!

  Now Andy found himself standing at the funeral of a grandfather he had never met, surrounded by the strangest assortment of people he had ever seen.

  Andy had always felt self-conscious around people he didn’t know. He tended to fidget and repeatedly smooth his blond hair, convinced that he looked strange and out of place. And in fact, Andy did look out of place in this crowd. Dressed in his best suit and tie, his hair only slightly ruffled, he was by far one of the most normal people in sight.

  Andy was still taking in the strange collection of funeral attendants when a short man wearing an elaborate tribal mask and headdress approached him.

  “Greetings, dear boy,” the man said, reaching out to shake Andy’s hand. “You must be Andy Stanley! Your grandfather described you perfectly. Dr. Cedric Willoughby Marcus Theodore Bunsen the third, at your service.”

  Andy shook the man’s hand, at a loss for words.

  The man’s voice was crisp and clear, tinged with an English accent that would have made him seem quite proper if not for the ferocious mask covering his face. Andy tried to pull his eyes away from the mask, but he couldn’t do it. I wonder what his real face looks like, he thought. There must be a reason he wears a mask!

  “By jingle, look at that!” the doctor exclaimed suddenly.

  “What?” Andy asked, finally finding his voice.

  Cedric grabbed Andy’s hand and studied his fingernails intently. Andy tried to pull away, but the doctor had a stronger grip than Andy would have expected from a man of his stature.

  “You have a rare case of the Ogopogo River Jimmy-Jams!” the doctor said. He paused a moment to think and then asked, “Have you been petting any hippos lately?”

  “Ummm…no,” Andy said, puzzled. Hippos? Is he crazy? Why would I pet a hippo?

  “Not to worry, my boy. I have just the thing!” the doctor said. He rummaged through a small pouch at his belt and produced a clay jar, which he shoved into Andy’s hands. “Hold on to the contents inside when you sleep at night. You’ll be cured within the year.”

  Andy stared down at the jar. He didn’t know whether to thank the witch doctor or run away from him. Cedric was obviously off his rocker.

  The doctor seemed to sense Andy’s hesitation. He leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t worry, I studied at Cambridge. Inside the jar is a pair of giant crocodile teeth. Very magical.”

  Andy managed a small chuckle, but the doctor didn’t seem to be joking. He just stared at Andy through the eyeholes of his mask.

  Andy edged away from him, feeling uncomfortable. “I’d better see what my parents are up to. Um…thanks for the teeth.”

  “Don’t mention it, dear boy,” Cedric said. “Your grandfather specifically told me to watch out for you. I have plenty more cures where that one came from, should you ever have need of them.”

  “Right. Thanks…” Andy mumbled, backing toward the crowd of people gathered in the yard behind his grandfather’s house.

  He looked at the jar of teeth in his hand. What do I do with these? he wondered. Before he could come up with an answer, he heard someone call out, “You there!”

  Andy’s whole body stiffened. He turned to see a large barrel-chested man with a red handlebar mustache approaching him rapidly. Andy stood still, arms stiff at his sides. He was too afraid to do otherwise.

  From a distance, the man looked relatively normal. But as he got closer, Andy saw that where his left eye should have been was a shiny steel ball. Andy stood up straighter, trying not to stare at the man’s metal eye. But he couldn’t keep his mind off it. What is it with Grandfather’s friends? First a tribal mask and now a metal eye? How does someone even lose an eye? he wondered. And why replace it with a piece of metal?

&nbs
p; The big man stared down at Andy. “What’s your name, private?”

  “Andy Stanley, sir,” Andy replied. He hated the way his voice shook when he answered.

  The man looked Andy up and down. “Stanley, did you say? Andy Stanley?”

  Andy continued to stare forward as the big man lowered his head next to Andy’s, peering closely at the boy’s face with his one good eye. After a moment, he grunted. Then, to Andy’s surprise, the man let out a big guffaw. “Ha! Had you going there, didn’t I?” he said, laughing. “Nice to meet you. I’m Captain Rusty Bucketts, bush pilot and adventurer.”

  Andy relaxed and tried to smile. His stomach was still churning as he shook the big man’s outstretched hand. The crushing grip that enfolded his own made Andy gasp with pain, but Rusty hardly seemed to notice.

  “I recognized you at once. You look just like your grandfather,” he said. “We flew over eighty missions together in the Great War. He’s a great man, to be sure. Nobody can match the indomitable Ned Lostmore!”

  Andy startled at hearing the pilot refer to his grandfather in present tense. But before he could give it another thought, Rusty whirled him to the left and introduced him to a pair of ladies.

  “Betty, Dotty, allow me to introduce Ned’s grandson, Andy Stanley.”

  Andy was taken aback. The beautiful ladies in front of him were conjoined at the hip! The two wore matching dresses, each black with a jade and silver dragon woven into it. They smiled at him, their dazzling white teeth gleaming. Both were rather tall and had glossy black hair and high cheekbones.

  “Charmed,” said the one Rusty had introduced as Betty.

  “Absolutely charmed,” said Dotty.

  “The sisters are accomplished belly dancers. They’ve performed for heads of state across Europe and the Far East,” Rusty said.

  Andy didn’t know what to say to that. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he stammered a reply.

  “I…I’m sure you’re quite good at it,” was all that he could manage.

  The sisters laughed, noticing how uncomfortable he was.

  “We do more than dance,” Betty said.

  “Yes, we’re much more than just dancers,” Dotty said.

  The women narrowed their eyes and grew serious. They leaned toward Andy and hissed in unison, “We’re the best assassins your grandfather ever worked with. Don’t let appearances deceive you, boy.”

  Andy’s eyes widened and he nodded vigorously.

  I certainly won’t! he thought. The change that had come over the women had caught him completely off guard. It was like admiring a beautiful animal from afar only to get close and see its teeth dripping with venom—shocking and hard to reconcile in his mind.

  Andy shook his head, processing the women’s words. Why would his grandfather need to work with assassins?

  He was trying to figure out what to say to the women when he heard the funeral director calling for everyone to gather around, his voice ringing out above the crowd. Relieved, Andy excused himself and rushed off to find his parents. He was moving through the crowd so quickly that he accidentally bumped into someone. He looked up to see a face covered with white makeup. The lips were painted a bright cherry red, and black makeup outlined the eyes.

  A mime?

  The girl looked at Andy and smiled broadly. Then she began to speak rather loudly and at a rapid pace.

  “You must be Andy! I’ve known your grandfather for years! He and I met when I was in Paris. I had just learned how to act like I was trapped in an invisible box! Of course, I hadn’t learned how to do it properly. Most people thought I was fighting off invisible mosquitoes. I tried to explain to everyone what I was doing, but only your grandfather guessed what I was really pretending to do. And of course, once he discovered that I was not only a mime but also an opera singer, he told me how much he loved the opera, too! We both love opera! Isn’t that funny?

  “I can’t believe it’s really you, Andy! Your grandfather said you might come, but I hardly expected…I mean, I knew that you probably would come, but you didn’t know him, did you? And I wasn’t sure you’d travel all the way to Oregon for a man you’d never met. I thought maybe you’d rather stay home, where it’s safe, and read a book. But then, Ned always said that there was much more to you than it seemed at first glance. Not that there’s anything wrong with you at first glance. You’re a nice-looking boy. I actually thought you’d be shorter. My name’s Molly, by the way. Say, have you combed your hair lately? It’s sticking up in the front. Here, let me….”

  Molly reached into a pocket and whipped out a comb. Andy tried to back away, but she had a surprisingly strong hold on his arm and kept him firmly in place as she ran the comb through his cowlicks.

  Andy sighed. It seemed he had no choice but to stay put until she was done. What does she mean, home is safe? he wondered. Is it not safe here?

  Andy shook his head. Molly was still blathering on about something or other. “I, uh, thought mimes weren’t supposed to talk,” he said as she tugged on a particularly obstinate tangle. “Ow!”

  Molly ignored him and just kept babbling. The more she talked, the more Andy wished for some of that famous mime silence he’d heard about.

  “I think that you should stop reading about your grandfather’s adventures and try having one of your own, you know? It’s not healthy to stay inside reading so much. A boy your age needs fresh air, excitement. And it wouldn’t hurt for you to get more protein in your diet. You’re looking a bit paler this week than you did a couple of months ago. More meat and vegetables, young man, that’s the secret.”

  Why is she acting like she knows me? Why are all of Grandfather’s friends acting like they know me—like he knew me? I’ve never met the man, and I don’t think Mom has spoken to him in years! Has Molly been watching me? Has he been watching me?

  “There, that’s better!” Molly finally said with a grin. She flipped her comb into the air and landed it expertly on top of her black beret. Andy didn’t know whether to thank her or laugh. Luckily, he was saved from having to decide by the funeral director’s announcement that the ceremony to honor his grandfather was about to begin.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please make way for Nicodemus Crumb,” the funeral director called. “Step aside, now. Those metal rods he’s carrying have sharpened tips, and we don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Andy glanced up to see a strange-looking man in gray robes enter the yard with a handful of homemade lightning rods. The man’s face was a web of deep wrinkles, and he limped when he walked. Looking closer, Andy noticed that this was because of a carved peg leg with strange symbols etched into it.

  Ned’s will had outlined specific instructions for the kind of ceremony to be performed upon his death. Apparently, this Nicodemus Crumb was the only one who could perform the appropriate rites. Once again, Andy couldn’t help wondering how his grandfather had come into contact with such a man.

  He sure knew some interesting people, Andy mused.

  Nicodemus Crumb planted the iron poles in a circle around the crowd. At the center of the circle sat an easel holding a black-and-white photograph of Andy’s grandfather. Then he asked everyone to join hands, forming a large ring between the photo and the lightning rods.

  Andy gulped. Now he knew this was no ordinary funeral. But he had always been one to follow orders. So with another deep breath, he set down the jar of crocodile teeth and, stepping forward, took the hands of the nearest people—one of the belly dancers and the mime.

  Satisfied that a proper circle had been formed, Nicodemus began to shout in a high, raspy voice, “Injunctae stormous lightinea! We call upon the four winds to honor the passing of Nedley Lostmore! Let the earth mourn his passing and the clouds demonstrate their fury! Injunctae stormous lightinea!”

  Andy could tell that a storm had been building all day. The air felt electrically charged, and a cool wind was already blowing from the south.

  Whether Nicodemus Crumb actually knew how to summon the st
orm was debatable, but Andy knew that putting a bunch of tall metal rods in the middle of a flat yard was asking for trouble. Every fiber of his being demanded that he leave right then and there. The thought of being struck by lightning terrified him.

  Andy tried to get his parents’ attention to let them know he wanted to leave. But try as he might, he couldn’t subtly catch their eyes. He tried clearing his throat and coughing loudly, but his mother and father were so absorbed in the unusual ceremony that they didn’t so much as glance at him.

  Finally, in a fit of desperation, Andy tried to extricate himself from his place in the assembled circle and move to where his parents were standing.

  And that was when his clumsiness kicked in.

  Andy tried to be careful. He always tried! But like so many times before, his shoelace had come undone and he tripped over it. Andy’s arms flailed wildly, and he grabbed for something to stop his fall. Unfortunately, the only thing nearby was one of the lightning rods. Andy’s fist closed around the rod, but it wasn’t strong enough to break his fall. As he hit the ground, the rod came free, flew from his hands, and conked Rusty—the pilot with the artificial eye—on the back of the head.

  The force catapulted the pilot’s steel eye through the air and across the circle, where it smashed into Molly the mime’s forehead. Molly let out a terrified yelp and stumbled into a massive torch, which fell over and ignited a patch of dry grass in the middle of the circle.

  Andy watched in horror as the crowd released their clasped hands and raced forward to try to put out the fire. By the time they succeeded, Ned’s picture had been burned to ashes.

  Nicodemus, who had singed off his eyebrows while trying to rescue his lightning rods from the blaze, turned to face Andy.

  Andy gulped. This is not going to be good.

  So, trusting his earlier judgment, he turned and ran back to his grandfather’s mansion, leaving the ugly scene behind.

  Andy walked quickly through his grandfather’s luxurious home, tugging desperately at his tie, eager to loosen it and breathe normally. What had just happened rattled his nerves, and he wanted to go somewhere quiet where he could think.