Four ordinary boys.

One not-so-ordinary laptop.

One extraordinary adventure.

The Amazing Laptop #6

Hot Pursuit

by

Christopher P. N. Maselli

To Lisa and John, with whom I share many memories of going to the races.

Hot Pursuit (The Amazing Laptop #6)

Copyright: Christopher P. N. Maselli

Physical version published 2003

Electronic version published 2012 by Writing Momentum, WritingMomentum.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

All Scripture quotations are from THE HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

1 - Golden Opportunity

Appearances can be deceiving. The inventor whose life was ruined thought he had lost control. Those who ruined his life thought they had control. But neither suspected that the only one who truly held the answer was an unassuming boy in a small American town.

—     —     —

Ka-zapp!

“Zowwwww!”

“Dad?!”

“C-close the d-door!”

Matt Calahan slammed the door shut. His dad, sitting on a short ladder inside the entryway, let go of the wrapped wires between his fingers. He licked his fingertips and flicked his hand in the air. “Ow.”

“Dad, your hair’s sticking up. What are you doing?”

Mr. Calahan frowned and flipped over a piece of paper on his lap. “Installing a security system.”

Matt’s mind suddenly jumped to his laptop sitting in his room…plugged into the wall. “Um…I gotta go!” Matt threw his blue, school backpack over by the couch and rushed down the hallway.

“What’s the hurry?” Mr. Calahan asked.

“My laptop!” Matt shouted. “It’s plugged in! A power surge could fry it!”

Matt’s dad dropped his head. “Your dad’s getting electrocuted and all you can think about is your laptop?”

Matt stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Well…no…I just…”

Matt knew his dad didn’t understand. For Matt’s laptop was no ordinary laptop. This was the laptop Matt received for his birthday—the one that somehow could “make things happen.” Whenever Matt wrote a story in the laptop, it actually happened in real life. All Matt had to do was hit the special key with the clock face on it. Over the past few months, the laptop had become more and more invaluable to Matt…and he couldn’t imagine losing it. Especially to a silly thing like a power surge.

“Don’t worry,” his dad said with a smirk. “I unplugged both computers and the TV before I started working.”

Matt let out a long breath, walking back toward his dad. “Why didn’t you just shut off all the power?”

“I want it on so I can tell when it’s working,” Mr. Calahan said, as if that made any sense. Mr. Calahan looked back at the sheet. “I’ve been a professional builder for 15 years. I think I know how to install one of these new-fangled systems.”

“You want a comb?”

His dad peered down at him again. “No, but do you see my wire cutters down there?”

Matt glanced at the tools scattered on the linoleum. He shook his head.

“I must have left it at the Zarza’s. Since I started remodeling their basement, I think I’ve left half my tools over there.”

Matt looked at the electronic box dangling from the wall. “Is that why you’re putting in a security system? Because of the break-in at the Zarza’s?”

Matt’s dad shoved his tongue in his cheek. “It’ll make your mom feel safer.”

Just a couple weeks ago, Matt was shocked when his dad found a bar of gold under some floorboards in the Zarza’s basement. The Zarzas were even more shocked. They had no idea when they asked Matt’s dad to remodel the dank, underground room that they might become rich because of it.

But what really jolted everyone was when, only about 10 days later, someone broke into the Zarza’s house. Ironically, nothing was taken…but the intruder knocked a couple holes in the basement floorboards, presumably searching for more gold.

The break-in, in the middle of their quiet, small-town neighborhood, had everyone on edge. Even Matt’s best friends, Lamar and Gill, said their parents were taking extra precautions. “We don’t need to be scared,” Gill’s dad, a security guard, said. “But we need to prepare our houses for the worst. We don’t want would-be thieves to suddenly think Oleander Street is an easy target.”

Matt’s dad grabbed the wires again and carefully twisted them together as if he were French-braiding a little girl’s hair. “You know what I want to know?” Mr. Calahan asked his son. “How did word about the gold get out? I know for a fact that Jacinto put the bar in a safety deposit box for safe keeping until he discovered more about it. Who was there to tell?’

Matt shrugged. “Sometimes,” he said, “secrets have a way of getting out.”

Pop! The door suddenly opened.

Ka-zapp!

“Zowwwww!” cried Matt’s dad.

“Matt?!”

“C-close the d-door!”

Lamar Whitmore from a few doors down, slinked inside and slammed the door shut. His eyes were wide. Matt’s dad let go of the wrapped wires between in his fingers. He licked his fingertips again and flicked his hand in the air. “Oooow.”

“He’s installing a security system,” Matt explained to Lamar.

“I’m almost done,” Mr. Calahan said, his eyebrows furled. Determined, he grabbed the wires again.

“Dad, have you thought about turning off the power?”

Mr. Calahan glared down at Matt. “I’m a professional, Matt, remember? This job doesn’t require it. There’s not much voltage coming through here.”

Matt and Lamar both looked at the hair sticking straight up from Stan Calahan’s head.

Matt turned to Lamar. “What’s up?”

“Gill and I were just about to go to Alfonzo and”—suddenly Lamar’s eyes grew big—“Gill! He’s right behind—”

Pop! The door suddenly opened.

Ka-zapp!

“Zowwwww!” cried Matt’s dad.

“Get out!” Lamar shouted.

Gill, wide-eyed, popped in, popped out, popped back in, shocked Matt’s dad again, then shut the door behind himself.

“What’s wrong?” Red-headed Gill wondered.

Matt’s dad patted down his hair. “I’m installing a security system.”

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

The boys covered their ears. Mr. Calahan shouted, “It’s working!”

Matt shouted, “Turn it off!”

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

Mr. Calahan looked at the dangling control panel, puzzled. “I’m not sure how! The code was…let’s see…4-2-1-3? No wait. It was 6-2-4-3. No wait…”

Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! Whoop!

He pulled the wires apart and the alarm shut off. Mr. Calahan nodded. “That’ll do it.”

Gill looked at Matt and Lamar. “With the new baby, my parents have been setting up all kinds of stuff, too,” he said. Then, “Hey, Matt, my dad got us ticket to the races!”

“Really?” Matt asked.

Mr. Calahan smiled. “Great! He told me a few days ago that he’d try. It’s a police benefit.”

Matt’s forehead wrinkled.

Gill explained, “There’ll be a bunch of cops there watching ‘cuz they get in free for the next two weeks. It’ll be the safest place in Enisburg.”

Matt and his dad laughed.

“Cool,” Matt said.

“Sorry,” Gill said to Lamar, “my dad was only able to get 4 tickets since he’s not on the Force anymore. But he’s getting more next week so you and Alfonzo can come too.”

“Cool!” Lamar cheered. “I might bring Oscar, too, if it’s all right.”

“You and Oscar getting along then?” Mr. Calahan asked about the man Lamar’s mother was dating.

Lamar nodded. “Better. I just don’t need to get mixed up with gangster business again.” He laughed at his own joke.

“None of you do,” Matt’s dad said, warning Matt with his eyes.

Suddenly the phone rang. Matt grabbed the cordless off the coffee table. “Hello?”

Matt put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Dad, it’s the security company. They said the alarm went off and they need our password. What’s our password?”

Mr. Calahan smiled. “Pooka Dookas are supa-dupa.” He glanced at Gill. “You inspired me.”

Gill covered his face. Matt gave the phrase to the agent and hung up the phone.

“Let’s go over to Alfonzo’s,” Matt said to his friends. Gill popped open the door.

Ka-zapp!

“Zowwwww!” cried Matt’s dad.

Gill slammed the door shut. Matt’s dad let go of the wires and patted down his hair. He stepped down from the ladder.

“Where you going?” Matt asked him.

“To turn off the power.”

—     —     —

Matt, Lamar and Gill entered the Zarza’s house, knocking fists with Alfonzo on the way in. Matt’s nose twitched at the spicy smell lingering in the air. He and his friends walked through the entryway and into the adjoining living room. Matt’s youth pastor, Mick Ruhlen, was there, sitting on the sofa, talking to Mr. Zarza. Alfonzo’s sister Isabel sat in a wicker chair across the room. She wore jeans and a red blouse. Her midnight black hair flowed down her back like a waterfall. When Matt entered, their eyes locked for a moment, then she offered a weak smile. Matt returned it.

“Well, I’m just glad everything’s all right,” Pastor Ruhlen was saying. “I believe God protected you from what could’ve been much worse.”

Jacinto Zarza just nodded.

“He is our hope,” Pastor Ruhlen said, pointing up. Matt and his friends claimed spots around the room. Alfonzo and Gill hit the floor. Lamar sat on the edge of some kind of stool. Matt just leaned against the wall and watched the Zarza’s faces.

Matt and his friends had all seen trouble lately—mainly because of the laptop he had received for his birthday. The boys had quickly discovered that whatever Matt typed into the laptop actually happened…and there were unknown people “out there” who didn’t want Matt to have the laptop. But the danger had never quite entered any of their homes.

Now, in the ripple effect of the break-in, Matt could tell the Zarzas felt violated. Alfonzo had turned quiet again, like he was when they first met him. Isabel just looked sad. And her father…well, Matt didn’t know him well, and he was hard to read. Still, he looked like he had a few months prior when he brought his children to the States after a job transfer. Somewhat hopeful, somewhat hopeless. Truth is, Matt always thought the job transfer was just an excuse. The real reason for the move, Matt had discovered, was that Jacinto’s wife had left him and left the family in shambles. Matt knew Mr. Zarza and his kids were just looking for a good place to start over.

“We’re running in a rat race,” Pastor Ruhlen said, throwing a grin to Isabel. “But if we run the race with God on our side, we know that we will make it through.”

Matt leaned forward and looked back over his shoulder at some photos of Alfonzo and Isabel as little children. There were cheesy school photos on blue backgrounds, as well as wonderfully candid shots. From one picture to another, Alfonzo looked like a handful—active and curious. Big, toothy smiles caught the camera. Isabel’s deep brown eyes swallowed the lens even as a baby, her black hair shorter, but shiny and straight. Matt turned his head to catch her eyes again. She looked away.

“I guess what I’m saying,” Pastor Ruhlen said, his Chia pet hairdo blue today, “is: Have you ever made Jesus the Lord of your life?”

Matt blinked.

Mr. Zarza tilted his head. “We go to church,” he said. “We have many times.”

Pastor Ruhlen nodded. “Yeah, I know you do. I know you really have an interest in getting to know God. That’s why I wanted you to know that—dude!—you can make a decision today to put Jesus first in your life. To follow Him above all else. Then when hard times come—like these—you and your family will have Someone you know you can count on.”

Matt suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He glanced at Lamar and Gill…and then to Alfonzo. Matt, Lamar and Gill had all been Christians for years. And when Alfonzo—a great guy—moved into their neighborhood, Matt just assumed he was a Christian, too. He never objected when they prayed. In fact, he joined in. But…Matt couldn’t say they’d ever talked about whether he served Jesus as his Lord.

Then Matt’s eyes clipped to Isabel. His hand went to his chest. He wondered, How could I have never asked—never even thought to ask?

Matt’s thoughts were interrupted by a sudden rapping on the door that jolted everyone in the room. Alfonzo made his way through the entryway. A brooding man stood there in the doorway, with dark, shadowy features and a nose like a hawk. He wore a tattered, black coat and equally tattered black slacks. He insisted on talking to the owner of the house. Mr. Zarza excused himself as Matt and his friends joined him in the entryway.

“Yes?” Mr. Zarza asked the brooding man.

The man’s voice was raspy and forceful, not unlike the mobster their friend Oscar played in the theater. “You have something that belongs to me,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” Mr. Zarza said plainly. Pastor Ruhlen rounded the corner, behind Matt. Isabel was beside him.

“The gold bar,” the brooding man bellowed. “I want my gold.”

Matt looked at Alfonzo. Alfonzo looked at Gill. Gill looked at Lamar and whispered, “He’s a gangster, isn’t he? He’s going to put cement on our feet and drop us into the ocean, isn’t he?”

Lamar slapped Gill on the chest. “Stop it! We don’t need to get into judging people as gangsters again!”

Mr. Zarza said to the man, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb, old man,” replied the brooding man. “I know all about it. This used to be my house. I hid my gold in the basement. And I’ve come to reclaim it!”

Matt couldn’t help but feel something about the circumstance was oddly familiar. He found himself instinctively reaching for his shoulder where his backpack usually sat, so he could pull out his laptop. But it wasn’t there—it was at home. Matt sighed. How Matt wished he had his laptop with him. If he had, he’d have taken care of the situation with a sentence or two.

A deep voice came from the other side of the doorway. “Is there a problem here?”

The brooding man shifted aside as Mr. Calahan stepped into his personal space. The brooding man opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it, most likely because Matt’s dad looked like a crazy man, his hair sticking straight up on all sides.

“No problem,” the brooding man said. “We’re just…ironing things out.”

“Well if everything’s ironed out, then maybe you should be on your way,” Mr. Calahan said. He tapped a large pair of wire cutters on his jeans. The brooding man stiffened his lip and with a haunting growl, he stated, “I’ll be back.”

He spun around and headed away, swiftly making his way through where the swinging gate used to be in front of the house.

“Gracias,” Mr. Zarza said to Matt’s dad, letting out an anxious breath.

“That was awesome!” Matt said to his dad. Mr. Calahan just looked back at the brooding man, a frown on his face.

“I sure wouldn’t want to meet that bad dude in a dark alley,” Pastor Ruhlen admitted.

“Me neither,” Gill said. “I’m glad he left.”

Pastor Ruhlen nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Actually, I was referring to Mr. Calahan.”

2 - Dodging Danger

“Dodge ball!”

Matt screamed, as the big red rubber sphere come toward him like a heat-seeking missile. Pow! It hit him in the forearm with a blow befitting its launcher, school bully Hulk Hooligan.

Like a tennis ball machine, Hulk grabbed one ball after another and targeted them at Matt, cracking them against his body as if he were a punching bag…which, at this point, he pretty much was.

On the other side of the gym, Lamar noticed his friend in dire need of rescue. He shouted to Gill and Alfonzo, “Matt’s getting the snot beat out of him!”

Matt lurched for any wayward ball he could find, but grabbing one meant exposing an extremity. Pow! Ooof! Pow!

Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo came to his aid, grabbing bouncing red rubber balls, launching them back at Hulk. Even with all three of them joining Matt’s side, they were easily outnumbered to the 200-and-some-pound beast with bleached blonde hair.

The only thing that saved the boys from excessive torture was the whistle of Coach Plymouth. “Hit the showers!” he cried.

The four boys let out sighs of relief as the bouncing balls came to a rest around their feet. They each grabbed several balls and set them on the nearest rack. Hulk passed Gill on the way into the showers and knocked four balls out of his hands. Gill protested, but it didn’t do any good.

Matt stood in the showers and washed up as fast as he could, thinking only about how much he hated showering after P.E. He knew he had to get clean, but he despised feeling awkward and always on the edge of running if Hulk came through with a wet towel. Fortunately, today, he could hear Hulk somewhere in the adjacent room giving someone else a snap-ful of trouble.

Back at the lockers, Matt dried off and put his clothes on as fast as he could. His shirt was sticking to his back so much he had to take it off again and re-wipe his towel across his back. Lamar, sitting on the bench next to Matt glanced over at Alfonzo who was talking to Gill by one of the sinks.

“Hey Matt,” Lamar said, “you think Pastor Ruhlen is right? You think Alfonzo hasn’t made Jesus his Lord?”

Matt shrugged. “I don’t know—I was wondering the same thing. Kinda weird. He doesn’t cuss or anything though.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“I’m just saying…”

“We need to ask him.”

“Go for it.”

“You’re not gonna ask him?”

“I want to…but it’s more your thing, Lamar.”

“My thing?”

“Your thing. You know, asking stuff like that.”

“It’s all our things,” Lamar corrected Matt.

Just then, as if on cue, Alfonzo and Gill walked over and grabbed their clothes from their lockers. As they got dressed, Matt and Lamar exchanged glances. Finally, Lamar just blurted it out.

“Hey, Alfonzo, what did you think about what Pastor Ruhlen said? Have you ever made Jesus your Lord?”

Alfonzo froze for a moment, looked at Matt and Gill, then answered, “I dunno. Never really thought about it.”

Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Matt. Gill seemed oblivious.

“Well,” Lamar said, “if you want, we can, you know, pray with you and ask Jesus.”

“Ask Him what?”

“To be Lord of your life.”

“Oh.”

Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Matt. Lamar obviously wasn’t sure how to respond to “Oh.”

Just then, Hulk came around the corner. Gill shouted, “Duck!”

Hulk guffawed and snapped Gill, Lamar and Matt with his wet towel. “Gotcha, Calhan!” he prodded.

“Cal-a-han,” Matt corrected, gritting his teeth.

Hulk continued on his way.

Matt quizzically looked at Alfonzo. “How come he didn’t snap you?”

Alfonzo shrugged.

Matt looked at Alfonzo’s arms. “Hey—you don’t have any bruises either. Did he ever hit you in dodge ball?”

Alfonzo smiled. “Guess it’s just my lucky day.”

Matt was puzzled. “If I know Hulk, luck had nothing to do with it.”

Matt buckled his belt and waited for his friends to finish getting ready.

When Alfonzo pulled his shirt out of his locker, a small, square paper hit the ground. Alfonzo bent to pick it up, but Matt beat him to it. Matt flipped the paper over and realized it wasn’t paper—it was a Polaroid picture.

“What’s this?” Matt asked, looking at the picture. Centered in the picture was the gold bar Matt’s dad found in Alfonzo’s basement. It had even been shined up for the picture. Light glared off the bar like the sun’s reflection. The only thing not shining were some dirty indentations in the top. Matt couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

“Alfonzo, what is this?” he repeated again.

Alfonzo snatched the picture out of Matt’s hand. He stuffed it back in his shirt pocket. “It’s the gold bar,” he whispered.

“Why are you carrying around a picture of it?”

“It’s cool. Everyone wants to see it.”

“But how’d they find out about it in the first place?”

“You know…I showed a couple people.”

Matt’s face dropped. “Did you show Hulk?”

Alfonzo hem-hawed a nod.

Gill noted, “That explains why you don’t have any bruises.”

“Alfonzo!” Matt nearly shouted. “It’s no wonder your house got broken into! You can’t parade stuff like this around!”

“No one from school broke into my house,” Alfonzo defended.

Lamar added, “But you tell your friends, they tell their parents, they tell their friends… Word of mouth is a powerful thing.”

“Especially in a town this size,” agreed Gill.

Alfonzo pulled the picture out of his pocket. “You think…I’m the reason my house got broke into?”

“No biggie,” Matt said to his friend. “We all make mistakes. Just…get rid of it.”

Alfonzo took a step forward. “I’ll go throw it away now.”

Matt grabbed the picture from Alfonzo’s hand. “You don’t want it in a trash can here at school.” Matt stuffed it into his pocket. “I’ll take care of it.”

—     —     —

“So you guys feel safe enough?” Pastor Ruhlen said, tightening something under the hood of his yellow Volkswagen Beetle.

After school, Matt and Lamar broke away from the group to go to Pastor Ruhlen’s apartment. Lamar insisted that they find out how to lead Alfonzo to Jesus.

“I feel safe,” Matt admitted. “I figure, what are the chances of the same bad guy breaking in to anyone’s house again in the neighborhood?” Besides, Matt thought, I’ve always got the laptop.

“Well, that’s swell-er-ino, dude,” Pastor Ruhlen responded, his hair now colored yellow, matching his car. Matt wondered if he got a bulk discount on his hair care products.

“This is really a cool car,” Matt noted. “Is this the V6 model with fuel-injected rotor cuffs and a turbo-pitched drive train?”

Pastor Ruhlen raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know a lot about cars, do you, Matt?”

Matt smirked. “Actually I don’t know anything about them. But I like cars. Even though I think they should have at least fit a backseat in yours.”

“Peer inside, dude,” Ruhlen encouraged. “There’s more room in there than you think. I can be a hip chauffer if the need ever arises.”

“Wow,” Matt said, peering into the back window. There were seats back there.

“Anyway,” Lamar said, bringing the topic back-on-track. “So what do we do to lead someone to Jesus?”

Pastor Ruhlen stood up straight and twirled a wrench around in his hand. “My prefer-ance is to use the ol’ Roman Road.”

“What’s that?” Matt wondered.

Pastor Ruhlen produced a small Bible out of nowhere. He flipped to the book of Romans, chapter 3, verse 23.

“Start here,” he said. “This scripture shows that everyone has done stuff wrong—and everyone needs forgiveness.” Then he flipped a few pages. “Next stop on the road: Romans 5:8. ‘But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.’ See, the first verse shows we’re all sinners. This one shows Jesus died for us—so we wouldn’t have to.”

“That’s cool,” Lamar stated.

“It gets better,” Pastor Ruhlen continued, getting fired up. “Next stop, Romans 6:23. It says here that sin leads to death. But if we accept Jesus as our Lord, we will have eternal life. Kinda makes your blood pump, don’t it?”

Matt nodded. “But exactly how do we help them make Jesus their Lord? Don’t they have to pray?”

Pastor Ruhlen confirmed, “Well, it’s really a heart decision for them. But, yes, they need to say something. We’re not off the road yet. Next is Romans 10:9 and 10.” He flipped the Bible around and let Matt read.

“If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.” Matt bit his lip. “So all they have to do is say it, and believe it in their heart?”

“Exactly,” Pastor Ruhlen confirmed. “Because—verse 13—‘Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.’”

“That’s cool,” Lamar said, jotting down the verses.

“That’s the Roman Road. Good stuff-er-ino.” Then, “So who do you want to lead to Jesus? Mr. Alfonzo?”

Lamar nodded. “I’m working on it.”

“Sa-weet! You know, sharing your faith is all part of being a LK252 guy! You know what Luke 2:52 says, don’t you?”

At the same time, Matt and Lamar recited, “And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and men.”

“Right-e-o! And when you lead someone to Jesus, not only is it the wise thing to do, but it’s deep, dude, because it’s what being a Christian is all about!” Pastor Ruhlen stuck his head back under the hood of his car. “Don’t forget to keep me updated, dudes! I’ll be prayin’ for ya for the perfect opportunity!”

—     —     —

Lying in bed, Matt said a prayer for the Zarzas. He prayed that God would give Lamar just the right words to say when he talked to Alfonzo about Jesus. He prayed that the Zarza’s fear would go away and things could get back to normal.

Click! Matt’s eyes popped open. As the sound lingered in his head, he wondered, What was that?

Pop! Matt sat up in bed. He definitely heard something. Downstairs. A cold chill crept down his spine. Someone? In his house? The alarm, Matt thought, It’s not set. Matt and his mother left it off until Matt’s dad got home from a late evening lumber-shopping trip. Matt pushed his covers aside and cracked open his door.

Pop! There was the sound again. Matt wished he had a dog. Matt softly closed his door. He looked at his desk. Sitting on top was Alfonzo’s picture of his gold bar. Matt wondered, Is the burglar back? Looking for more?

Matt felt frozen for a long moment, not knowing what to do. Gill’s dad warned them about break-ins in the neighborhood. But Matt never truly thought it would happen in his house. Matt held his hand out in front of him. It was shaking.

Matt’s eyes darted to the other object on his desk: his laptop. Matt smirked. His dad wondered how he could always be thinking about his laptop. His dad didn’t understand. This was why. He needed the laptop…for in situations like this, it would change everything.  Matt walked to his desk, tossed the picture of the gold in the trash and fired up the computer.

This thief isn’t getting far, Matt thought. Then Matt wondered…What if the sounds he was hearing were from someone connected to the laptop? Matt and his friends worked hard to keep the laptop a secret—they didn’t let anyone know, not even their parents—because it was too dangerous. But they knew there were people out there who wanted the laptop back. Matt’s dad picked it up at a local pawn shop, and ever since then, Matt had received clues to its mysterious origins. Even the previous laptop owner—“Sam”—had contacted Matt, telling him to be careful of them, whoever they were. And Matt couldn’t help but wonder if they had found his house.

With the laptop fully booted, Matt opened the word processor. He held out his hand again. It had stopped shaking. He unplugged the computer from the wall and carried it to his door, charged on battery. Quietly, he opened the door and made his way to the stairs. He wanted to see exactly what the intruder was doing, so he could best stop him in his tracks. If there was one thing he’d learned with the laptop, it was to be specific. And being specific meant knowing exactly what was happening at all times.

There! A shadow! It made its way across the living room! Matt’s heart skipped a beat. His hands felt sticky. Quickly, without much time to think, he typed,

The guy in my house runs into the wall.

Matt hit the clock key. Immediately, the on-screen arrow turned into a golden clock face, ticking forward, fast and furious. Then it stopped. Matt listened.

Boom! Downstairs, the intruder ran into the wall.

Matt smirked. He typed,

The guy in my house trips and falls over the sofa.

Seconds later, Ka-boom! Matt heard an “Oof!”

Matt leaned forward. He could see the glowing of the security panel coming from the other room. He thought for a moment and then typed,

The after-effect of my dad’s faulty wiring, the alarm suddenly goes off, dispatching the police. The guy in my house takes off out the door and runs right into the police.

At once, Matt saw a flash in his living room, then Whoop! Whoop! Whoop! The alarm went off. The shadow downstairs ran past the stairs, to the alarm. Matt heard him hitting the keypad. Matt smirked. Matt’s mother ran out of her bedroom, looking disheveled and surprised. Matt slammed his laptop shut.

“What’s happening?” she demanded.

“Someone’s downstairs,” Matt responded.

The phone started ringing. The security company. And then suddenly the alarm went off. The lights downstairs came on. The phone stopped ringing.

“Penny! Matt! You all right?”

Matt looked at his mother. His mother looked back at Matt.

“Dad?” Matt called.

Mr. Calahan rushed to the stairs. “Sorry about that,” he said, nursing his bruised knee. I wasn’t trying to wake you. Not sure why the alarm went off though.”

Matt’s eyes grew big. “That was you downstairs?! I thought it was a burglar!”

Mr. Calahan grinned. “No just me. But I think I missed the security call. The police are probably on their way.”

Matt rubbed his temples. “I can’t believe this,” he said.

“Sorry,” apologized Mr. Calahan.

Matt’s mother waved goodnight, yawned and went back to bed.

“I’m going to go out and wait for the police,” Mr. Calahan said. “They should be here any moment.”

“I’m sure you’ll run right into them,” Matt said, walking down the stairs.

Stan Calahan looked at Matt. “What are you doing with your laptop?” he asked.

Matt felt his mouth go dry. His father looked at Matt for an answer. A long, awkward moment passed between them.

Suddenly, Matt’s dad turned toward the door. “You hear that?” He opened it. Matt walked up behind him. A hollow knocking sound echoed in the street.

“It’s a good thing the police are coming,” his dad said, looking across the street. “It looks like that creep is back. He’s pounding on the Zarza’s door.”

3 - Na-cho Problem

“I demand what’s mine!” said the brooding man in a deep, almost haunting voice.

Matt and his dad made their way up the sidewalk, Matt shivering since he just had on a t-shirt and shorts.

Hearing their approach, the man turned and shot Stan Calahan the evil eye, then turned back to Mr. Zarza. Both Alfonzo and Isabel were standing behind their father.

“This is a copy of the property deed!” he declared, holding up a rolled bundle of paper. “It proves the house is mine.”

Mr. Zarza looked for help from Matt’s dad, who had now reached the porch.

Matt exchanged an eyebrow bob with Alfonzo. Isabel didn’t look as sad as she had earlier. Now her eyes were focused and determined, simply darting a hello to Matt. She wore a thick robe; Alfonzo was in a white t-shirt and shorts.

Mr. Calahan spoke up. “Sir, this may have been your house, but it’s not any more. It belongs to the Zarzas now.”

“Only because the courts thought I’d abandoned it. But obviously, I’m back.”

“That will never hold up in court,” Matt’s dad pointed out.

“There are other ways to get them out of this house.”

“Not legally.”

The brooding man conceded the point with a smirk.

To Mr. Zarza, the brooding man said, “Hand over the gold and we can forget about this whole thing. You don’t want this old house to be…condemned, do you?”

Mr. Zarza narrowed his eyes. Stan Calahan said, “Look, the police are on their way. Why don’t we let them handle this?”

Just then, flashing lights rounded the corner of Oleander Street. The brooding man glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. He threw his papers at Mr. Zarza, who jumped back suddenly. Matt’s dad lifted his arms and balled his fists, but the brooding man swiftly left, sliding into an old, olive green Buick LeSabre and speeding off.

Matt’s dad suddenly took off down the sidewalk, blank pages flying around him as he ran.

“Where you going?” Matt cried.

“To get his license plate!” he replied.

But his dad was too late. Instead, he ran into the police, which didn’t surprise Matt at all.

—     —     —

The stock car races took place on a dirt track about 25 miles from the heart of Enisburg. They were a monthly weekend getaway-and-have-fun for the town. Friday night, 6 p.m. was handwritten on many calendars throughout the city. For the next two weekends, however, special tickets were required. It was the “Policemen’s Have-a-Ball,” a yearly benefit, especially scheduled for police officers, their families and friends. Gill’s dad was no longer a police officer; he was now a guard at Security Bank. But he still had a lot of friends on the Force, making it easy to get tickets to the event.

The crowd was already roaring in the stands, nearly drowning out the roar of the stock cars ripping around the track.

“I didn’t know police officers could be this rowdy,” Matt yelled to Gill.

“What?” Gill yelled back.

“I said, I didn’t think police officers could be this rowdy!”

“I have what on my body?

“Never mind!”

During a break, Matt and Gill begged their dads to let them check out the pits and grab some food. Mr. Calahan and Mr. Gillespie each spotted their sons $10 and told them to stick together. The boys shot down the stands and headed to the pits.

On the way there, out of the blue, Gill asked Matt, “So what are you gonna do about the freaky guy bugging Alfonzo’s family?”

Matt stopped in his tracks. “What do you mean what am I gonna do?”

Gill whispered, “With your laptop. It can fix anything.”

Matt nodded. “I know…I just don’t know enough about it yet. I guess I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t know what to say? I thought you were a writer.”

Matt started walking again. “That’s why I’m a writer. I’m much better at typing my thoughts than saying them. That’s why I told Lamar he has to talk to Alfonzo about becoming a Christian.”

Gill’s face wrinkled. “Alfonzo’s not a Christian?”

“Where have you been?”

Gill shrugged. “Who cares. Use the laptop.”

Matt stopped in his tracks again. “For what?”

“To make Alfonzo a Christian.”

“You can’t force someone to become a Christian, Gill.”

“Your laptop can do anything.”

Matt continued walking. “Not that.”

Matt and Gill stopped talking about the laptop when they rounded the corner and suddenly bump into Hulk Hooligan…literally.

“Get offa me, Calhan!” Hulk ordered, pushing Matt back, then picking up a nacho chip that fell to the ground. He brushed it off and threw it back into his plastic tray of goopy nachos.

“What’re you doing here?” Matt wondered.

“It’s a free country,” Hulk protested, sounding like Rocky.

“It’s the Policemen’s Have-a-Ball,” Gill pointed out. “It’s only supposed to be for police officers, their families and friends.”

“So?”

“So…”

“So I have a lotta police friends. I’ve ridden in da back o’ halfa deir cars.”

Matt and Gill nodded, satisfied.

“How much were the nachos?” Matt asked.

“Five bucks for guys like me who’re buildin’ up deir muscles for wrestlin’. For puny guys like you, I dunno.”

Matt rolled his eyes.

Hulk picked out a chip and threw it at Matt. “Think fast! Dodge ball, Calhan!” He guffawed and walked off after picking up the chip.

“Cal-a-han,” Matt shouted back at the big lug. Then to Gill, “You’d think after all we’ve been through, he’d be a little nicer, wouldn’t you?”

Gill looked at Matt like he was crazy.

The pits were rather dirty, as expected, and filled with hustling and bustling crews—mostly drivers’ families—providing encouragement, working on the cars and just hanging out. Matt and Gill strolled around for a while before Matt found the car he was looking for: Number 00—a yellow and green rocket on wheels.

“What’s with the double-zero?” Gill wondered. “You’d think they could come up with something more creative. Who runs around yelling, ‘I’m number zero! I’m number zero!’”

Matt laughed.

“Oh, no,” Gill corrected himself. “You’re not number zero, you’re double-zero!”

“Hey, look!” Matt said, laughing. “There’s the driver!”

Thirty feet away, the young driver was yelling at someone, who was shrinking under his shouts.

“This crummy car!” he shouted. “If it gives out on me one more time, I’m going berserk!” He shoved his hand in front of the man’s face. “And look at this! The thing burned me!” Then, like hurricane on the move, he stormed off.

“What’s up with him?” Matt wondered. “I’d be happy to even be able to drive a car like that.”

Gill shook his head. “I don’t think you could reach the pedals.”

Matt grabbed Gill’s shirt, “C’mon!”

Before heading back, Matt and Gill looked at some other cars, admiring the big engines and fancy advertisements. As they walked, Gill talked about his baby brother. Matt could tell he was really beginning to like his “little buddy,” even though he had a few horror stories involving loose diapers.

When the races were about to start again, the boys took a shortcut to the refreshment stand, cutting under a set of bleachers. Half way through, they were both stopped in their tracks by an anonymous greeting…masked by an electronic voice. Sam.

“Hello, boys.”

Matt about wet his pants. Sam was the one who owned the laptop before Matt—the one Matt once presumed was dead. But Matt had discovered that Sam wasn’t dead. Sam was very much alive. And every time the mysterious stranger showed up, it meant another cryptic conversation that about scared the wits out of Matt and his friends. Though, recently, the four boys had come closer to discovering Sam’s true identity…

Sam stood in a corner, masked by the darkness under the stands. Enough light shined through for Matt to see the signature black trench coat and snakeskin cowboy boots. Something about it all was eerily unnerving.

“Sam?” Matt addressed the stranger, though he knew precisely that it was Sam.

“I’ve been watching you, Matt.”

Matt hated it when Sam said that. Matt quickly replied, “So what’s new?”

“I’ve been watching you, too, Gill.”

Gill muttered, “Mommy.”

Matt felt strangely perturbed at Sam’s continuing un-forthrightness. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“I know about the gold.”

“It seems everyone knows about the gold,” Matt noted. “There’s a Prime Time special on later this week.”

“But I know about the man who claims it is his.”

Matt’s eyebrows arched. “Really?” Then, “Who is he?”

“No one to mess with.”

“Is he connected to the laptop?”

Two little kids ran under the bleachers laughing. They picked up three empty Pepsi cans and continued on their way.

“No,” Sam said. “If he were connected to the laptop, you’d be dead already.” Sam, always the comforter.

“So what’s the big deal? He a gangster or something? Lamar will love to hear that.”

Sam’s head tilted.

Matt’s mouth went dry. “He’s a gangster?!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say it!”

“Just be careful.”

“Or what? You’ll sick CIVD on me?”

Again, Sam’s head tilted. The cowboy boots moved back slightly. “How…how do you know about CIVD?”

“Secrets have a way of getting out,” Matt responded. Then he came clean. “I saw the sign in your underground lab. The one that said CIVD—and you added the word ‘deceit’ to it.”

At once, Sam seemed on edge. “You…you’ve been to my secret lab?”

“Duh—you were there.”

“Yeah!” Gill chimed in, nervously. “Remember—that was the day we blew your house to smithereens!”

Matt cut his eyes to Gill.

“But…I didn’t know you were…in the lab.”

“I know a few things,” Matt said boldly. “Anyway, I’m going to get some nachos.” Cutting the conversation short, he grabbed Gill’s arm and walked off, pulling Gill with him. Sam stood motionless, obviously shocked at the sudden revelations.

Once they were out of sight, Gill stopped Matt. “Matt! Are you crazy! Don’t tick off the freaky cowboy! How’d you get so bold?!”

Matt didn’t know what had gotten into him. Maybe it was because he had seen his dad stand up to the brooding man so boldly. Maybe he was just hungry. Whatever it was, it took everything out of him. He grabbed onto a nearby light pole and let out a long breath. “I think I’m going to faint.”

—     —     —

Back home, after a late night with his dad, Gill and Mr. Gillespie, Matt tried not to let the whole “Sam” meeting spoil his fun memories of the high-speed racing. Number 00 came in fourth overall, which Matt thought was pretty good considering the troubles he had with his car.

Before heading off to bed, Matt took out the trash. He dumped one canister into another around the house, then dumped all of those into the tin can in the garage. He opened the garage door, then waddled the old tin can down the driveway, sending periodic scrapes echoing down the block. When he reached the curb, he set down the can and looked up.

To his pleasant surprise, across the street, standing at her mailbox, was Alfonzo’s sister, Isabel.

Matt tried to suck in his gut and thrust out his chest naturally. Isabel giggled and Matt realized he must have looked more like an alien with a back problem than a weight lifter. He relaxed.

Isabel smiled and waved, her fingers tumbling one after another. Matt waved back in similar fashion. This meet and greet at their curbs had started to become a tradition between both of them. They never talked about meeting, but they were doing so regularly. Well, it had happened about four times now…way too many for Matt to count it as coincidence. Matt purposely found himself waiting until he knew the Zarzas were home before doing his trash chores. He imagined Isabel must have been doing the same, though he dared not ask her.

Oh yeah. She likes me, Matt thought. He stepped forward and walked off the curb. Unfortunately, he forgot the curb was there and went down face first.

“Ooof!” Matt cried, stopping a scarring facial accident with his hands.

Isabel rushed over, her deep brown eyes wide with surprise. Matt quickly pushed himself up, dusting off his pants, and dusting the pebbles out of his palms. “Didn’t hurt!” he announced through gritted teeth.

At once, Isabel burst out in laughter—more free and loud than Matt had ever heard her laugh.

Matt couldn’t help himself. He started laughing, too, amazed at his smoothness. After about a minute, Matt’s laughter waned. Isabel’s didn’t.

Oh yeah. She thinks I’m an idiot, Matt thought. He just kept smiling as she forced herself to stop. “You’re so funny,” she said, touching his arm, her voice sounding like newly-spun honey. Suddenly, Matt forgot about the throbbing pain in his hands and knees.

“Yeah, I have a real gift for physical comedy,” Matt said dryly. Isabel giggled. Her long, straight, midnight black hair tumbled down her back like a waterfall. She wore a purple coat, zipped up tight, and blue jeans. Matt rubbed his hands together, wishing he’d worn his coat.

“So…” Matt began, not sure what to say next. He shoved his hands in his jeans pocket.

Isabel looked at the ground.

“How you doin’?” Matt asked.

Isabel smiled lightly, her mood suddenly becoming sober. She looked up. “Good. All right, considering.”

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m a little worried about our house.”

“That guy’s just a creep.” Matt thought about what Sam said, but chose not to say anything about it.

“I know it. I just…don’t want to move.”

“Legally, there’s nothing that guy can do.”

“I don’t think he’s worried about legalities. Someone needs to stop him from causing us trouble. My dad’ll move rather than put up with that. We came here to…well, to get away from trouble.”

Matt wasn’t sure what to say. He agreed that the man needed to be stopped…but he wasn’t sure what to do. Isabel was right; a man like that wouldn’t care about the law. He would just harass the Zarzas all he could until he forced them to move. And Matt knew he couldn’t let that happen.

Isabel looked at the street again. Her voice softened. “Hey, you know what Pastor Ruhlen was saying to my dad?”

Matt nodded.

“Well, I heard him say that stuff before in youth group. And…I’ve told Jesus I want to serve Him. But it’s all new to me.”

Matt listened closely.

“I’m worried because…I need to stay here, on this street, to find out more about what it means to live like this. I kinda feel like I need people in my life like Lamar and Gill and—” Isabel’s eyes lifted, catching Matt’s.

Matt swallowed hard. “I feel kinda guilty.”

Isabel’s forehead wrinkled. She sniffed. “Why?”

“Because, you shouldn’t have had to hear about all this in youth group. I should have said something a long time ago.”

Isabel smiled again. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’m not, I just…what about Alfonzo? Has he—”

“I don’t…he hasn’t told me.”

Matt nodded. “Hey, I’ll get you some Christian music.”

Isabel winked, shaking away the moment. “I’d like that.”

“It’s the least I can do.”

There was a long pause in their conversation. At one point, Isabel looked back at her house, but she didn’t turn.

Matt’s eyes drifted to Isabel’s house, too—the old mansion towering across the street. At one time it was abandoned and nearly condemned. But then Matt’s laptop happened. And he wrote a story about Isabel moving in. And the very next day, she was there…even though she had no idea he was the reason—of all the places her family could have lived—she ended up on his street.

Matt finally said, “I promise, you’re not going anywhere.”

Isabel giggled. “I don’t need someone to rescue me. I’m just saying—”

“I know you don’t need rescuing,” Matt admitted. “I’m not trying to be a hero. I’m just trying to be a friend. And as a friend, I’m saying, I’ll do all I can to be sure you’re not going anywhere.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

“I’ll think of something,” Matt promised. Then, “In fact…you know…now that I think about it…” Matt turned around. He tossed the tin lid off the trashcan and tore open the bag inside.

Isabel asked, “Um…what are you doing?”

“I took it home and I’m sure I threw it in the trash,” Matt said.

“Threw what in the trash?”

“And then I emptied the trash,” Matt mumbled, digging through the rubbish.

“Matt, that’s disgusting,” said Isabel, turning up her nose.

“Here!” cried Matt, lifting out Alfonzo’s Polaroid of the gold bar.

Isabel looked at the photo. “It’s the gold bar.”

Matt held it close to his face. He squinted, turning it to make the streetlight reflect off it.

“There! See that?!” Matt asked Isabel. He pointed to the center of the picture. Isabel grabbed the photo and held it close to her eyes. She pulled it away.

“It smells.”

“Look,” Matt said, pointing again. “See there? See the dirty indentations in the top of the bar?”

Isabel squinted. “I think so.” As she leaned in, her forehead came close to his cheek. He could smell her clean skin.

“I bet you a hundred dollars, that’s an insignia,” he said, his voice cracking.

Isabel pulled away. “A what?”

“A marking—a clue—that might tell us where the gold came from.”

A question mark popped up on Isabel’s face.

Matt explained, “I went to Gill’s grandmother’s last week and she was watching Matlock.”

Isabel nodded. “So if we can figure out where the gold came from…”

Matt finished her sentence, “…then we can prove it doesn’t belong to creepy guy.”

Isabel grabbed Matt’s arm tightly. “Matt Calahan, you are a genius!”

“It’s nothing,” Matt said humbly.

“But who could tell us something about the marking?”

Matt twisted his lip. “It would have to be someone who deals with unique items every day. Possibly someone seedy…who sees things no one else sees.”

Isabel’s bottom lip came out while she thought about it. She was still holding onto his arm.

Matt’s gaze drifted up to his bedroom window. Suddenly, it was as if he could see through the wall, to the laptop sitting on his desk. The laptop! He smirked. It came through for him again.

Matt said, “You know, there’s this pawn shop I heard about that deals in stuff like this. I think my dad said the owner’s name was Big Bo…”

4 - Being Watched

Click! The doors on Ms. Whitmore’s taxi cab (as she called it) locked suddenly.

“What’s wrong with you boys?” Lamar’s mother asked as they shot down the street at a blistering 25 miles per hour. “Askin’ me to take you out, then when I agree, you have me drivin’ down streets where there’re bars on every window…I’m tellin’ you, this is the last time I agree to somethin’ like this.”

“Aw, ma, it’s safe enough,” Lamar protested, sitting in the front seat with her. Matt, Gill and Alfonzo were in the back. Matt’s laptop was in his blue backpack on his lap.

“Safe enough…safe enough,” Ms. Whitmore repeated. “Safe enough only because I’m prayin’ a whole army o’ angels got their hands on their swords for us.”

Gill chuckled. “Buff angels with attitudes! ‘Cuz this time, it’s personal!”

“Gill, honey, you need to lay off the video games.”

They came to a stoplight. The car stopped, but Ms. Whitmore was going so slow, it was hard to tell the difference.

“How’s Oscar doing in his play?” Matt asked. Oscar was the man Ms. Whitmore was dating—the first date she’d had since Lamar’s father passed away 14 years prior.

Ms. Whitmore nodded. “Good, good. That man can act, I’ll say that.”

“He had me convinced more than once,” Matt said flatly.

“Can we change the subject?” Lamar wondered.

The light turned green and Lamar’s mom pressed the gas pedal. “Boy, you know you like Oscar,” she said.

“I know,” Lamar responded. “But I hate being reminded about how stupid we acted. Sometimes I wish he had been a gangster.”

Ms. Whitmore shook her head. “Better not speak it ‘less you believe it.”

Three blocks later, Ms. Whitmore asked Matt for the address again. “643 Bauer,” Matt reported.

“Well, there it is,” said Lamar’s mom, nodding forward. Then, “Where are we supposed to park?”

Lamar pointed to an open space, but it was in a fire zone. Finally, Ms. Whitmore said, “Look, you boys hop out and I’ll just pull in here and wait for you. But stay together and don’t take anything from anyone. And don’t talk to anyone. And don’t touch anything. And don’t use the restroom.”

“We won’t, Ma,” Lamar promised.

A moment later, the boys hopped out, Matt slinging his backpack over his shoulder. The pawn shop was actually called “Pawn Shop”—which Matt thought was about as uncreative as you can get. He wondered if it was owned by the same person who opened “Cleaners” and “Donut.” It looked remarkably like every other storefront in the neighborhood—worn down and creepy. Even the bricks looked like they were about to crumble. The large front window had bars in front of it, barricading easy after-hours access to the electronics on display.

Matt was the first one inside the door, causing an automatic bell to chime. The stench of cigarette smoke nearly made his eyes water. He immediately wondered how his dad ever found this place. The store was smaller inside than Matt had imagined, just three aisles, peppered with everything from old vacuum cleaners to CDs. There were even several products Matt had seen advertised as only available through special TV offers, like the Fabochef Egg Turbine and the ever-popular Ab-Flux Deluxe Series II.

A man at the counter with greasy black hair lifted his eyes from his newspaper and stared at the boys. He was quite possibly the largest man Matt had ever seen in his life. Hulk had nothing on this guy. He coughed, tapped his cigarette into a cluttered tray and went back to reading. Matt, Gill, Lamar and Alfonzo looked around for a couple more minutes, mustering the courage to ask the man at the counter a few questions. He beat them to it.

“So,” the man said in a gruff voice, “you boys gonna to buy somethin’? Cuz if you’re thinkin’ about liftin’ somethin’, you can give that up. Got it?”

Matt looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Gill. Gill looked at Alfonzo. Matt approached the counter. “Do you sell laptops here?” he asked.

The man cleared his throat. “Sometimes. You tellin’ me you’ve saved enough milk money to buy a laptop?”

Matt shook his head. “No, I was just wondering. Have you ever heard of Wordtronix?” Wordtronix was the brand name of Matt’s laptop. Matt thought it was worth a shot. The man shook his head, flippantly.

“Where do you get your laptops?” Matt pressed.

The man took a puff on his cigarette. “Is this 20 questions? ‘Cuz I don’t ask no questions when I get’em in, so I can’t tell you nothin’ about nothin’, so we can stop playing.”

Matt twisted his lip and decided to take another approach. “Um…I’m looking for…Big Bo.”

“Is that right?”

“…Yeah. Is he here?”

The man took another puff. “You know, kid. I’ve owned this shop for fourteen years. You’re the first person to come in, take a look at me, and think he still hasta find Big Bo.”

“So you’re Big Bo?”

“You don’t let anything slip by ya, do ya, kid?”

Matt nudged Lamar, who pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. Matt unfolded it and laid it on the counter. On it, Lamar had reproduced the insignia from the top of the gold bar. It looked like a bubbly letter “B,” but the bottom wasn’t closed off, and the backbone had a long, curly tail.

Big Bo glanced at the paper.

“We’re wondering if you can tell us if you’ve ever seen this symbol anywhere.”

“You mean other than this piece of paper?”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Matt looked at Big Bo for a moment. The door chime sounded. Matt turned to see who came in, but didn’t see anyone. He looked at the black and white monitor behind the desk, but it only showed them standing at the counter. He turned back to Big Bo.

“This is really important,” Matt pressed. “Would you please look at it again? I know you get a lot of stuff coming through here. I was just hoping you might recognize it.”

Big Bo chuckled and set down his cigarette. “You’re a pushy one, kid.” He pulled the paper closer to him and picked up a pair of bifocals. Squinting, he stared at it for a moment. “Where’d you see this?”

Matt wasn’t sure how to answer. Alfonzo said, “On money.” Matt nodded. The answer was as good as any.

Big Bo turned the paper around and looked at it from another angle. Then he said, “You buying anything?”

Matt looked at Alfonzo. Alfonzo looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Gill. Gill spun around and looked at the row of cassettes behind him. He surveyed it for a moment, pulled out a title and slapped it on the counter.

Matt raised his eyebrows. “The Greatest Hits of Sesame Street?” he asked.

“It’s for my baby brother,” Gill said.

Lamar added, “You know that thing won’t play in a CD player?”

“It’s a quarter,” Gill said. He slapped a quarter on the counter.

Big Bo rang him up and pocketed the quarter. “Tax is included,” he quipped.

The big man looked at Lamar’s drawing again.

“So…” Matt prompted.

“I’ve never seen it no where,” he replied. “That’s the truth.”

“But I bought a Sesame Street tape!” Gill complained.

“It’s for your baby brother,” Big Bo said. “What’ve you to complain about?”

Matt rolled his eyes. He slid the paper off the counter and handed it back to Lamar, who pocketed it.

The boys turned to leave when Big Bo said, “Wait. Wait a second.”

Matt and his friends stopped and turned.

“Look, if this is real important, I think I know someone who can help?”

“Yeah?” Matt asked hopeful.

“Yeah.” Big Bo asked Lamar for the paper back. When he received it, he scratched a name down on the back, along with an address. “This guy’s a coin dealer. Best I know. Maybe he can help you.”

“Thanks,” Matt said, retrieving the paper.

“But there’s one thing you should know,” the owner said.

Matt asked, “What’s that?”

At once, a shadow crossed the floor. The boys all jumped. Big Bo’s head turned fast.

“There someone there?” the big man shouted.

Suddenly, the security monitor flickered and popped off. Big Bo tightened his face and reached under the counter, grabbing onto something.

“I think we’d better go,” Matt said, pushing his friends.

Big Bo didn’t pay any attention to them. He just kept eyeing the back of the store.

Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo rushed out of the store, nearly crashing onto the sidewalk outside. They spied Ms. Whitmore where they’d left her. They ran to her automobile and piled in like a bunch of clowns cramming into an elevator.

“What’s the rush, boys? You find what you’re lookin’ for?”

Matt pulled his laptop out of his backpack. He wasn’t looking for a chase, but he was going to be ready if one popped up on him.

“No,” Lamar said, “We need to go to another place. On Reed Street.”

Ms. Whitmore, pulling out, said, “Do I look like the New York Subway System? Lamar, I have an appointment in a half hour. I don’t have time to escort you around town, boy.”

“But—”

“And don’t even think about taking a cab. If you’re going anywhere, find someone we know to chauffer you.”

With his laptop ready to go, Matt quickly typed. Then he said, “Can you drop us off at the church?”

“The church? Now that’s more like it. Who you gonna meet there?”

Matt looked out the back window, but it didn’t look like they were being followed. In fact, it was oddly quiet. Matt turned back to Lamar’s mom and simply stated, “Pastor Ruhlen.”

“But he’s a busy man,” Ms. Whitmore replied. “He can’t just drop everything for you boys.”

“It’ll be all right,” Matt promised. “His afternoon is free.”

Gill asked, “How do you know that?”

Matt turned his laptop for Gill to see what he had written:

Pastor Ruhlen is available to drive us to the coin dealer this afternoon.

“Oh yeah,” Gill quickly covered. “That’s right. He’s definitely not doing anything now.”

5 - High Speed Chase—Part I

“You know what’s wacky?” Pastor Ruhlen asked Matt and his friends. “I had a full afternoon of appointments. Then five minutes ago, they all called and cancelled. It’s pretty good co-inky-dink for you that I’m free.”

Matt forced a laugh. “Heh-heh. Yeah.”

Gill shifted in his seat, causing Lamar and Alfonzo, who were sitting in the back with him, to moan.

“Have you ever thought about getting a larger car?” Lamar asked Pastor Ruhlen, nudging for space between his friends. “You know, you’re a youth pastor and may be hauling guys like us around a lot.”

“Dude!” Pastor Ruhlen exclaimed. “This Bug is the cream o’ the crop for me. May be tight, but man, I’m stylin’!”

Matt looked over his shoulder into the back seat at his three squashed friends. “Just like peas in a stylin’ pod.”

Alfonzo playfully slapped Matt upside the head. “How come you get the front?”

Matt lifted his backpack. “I have luggage.”

“More like baggage,” Alfonzo quipped.

Matt glanced into the side view mirror. Pastor Ruhlen caught his glance. He kidded, “Think we’re being followed?”

“We could be,” Matt stated flatly.

“By who?”

“That creepy guy.”

Pastor Ruhlen gave Matt a double-take. He looked in his rearview mirror. “Seriously, dude?”

Matt nodded.

“Yo, I’m your youth pastor. If things start looking dangerous at all for you dudes, I’m goin’ straight to the police.”

“We dudes aren’t looking for trouble,” Matt said. “But sometimes…”

“It has a way of finding you,” Pastor Ruhlen completed. “So I’ve noticed. I’m just sayin’: trouble pops up, we’re outta here.”

The boys understood.

“So,” Pastor Ruhlen said, looking in the rear-view mirror. “Alfonzo. How you doin’, bud?”

Alfonzo shrugged. “Good.”

“You been talkin’ to Lamar or Matt about anything in particular?”

“Like what?”

Matt forced himself to stare out the window.

“Oh, I dunno. Football. School. SpongeBob. Making Jesus Lord of your life. Anything.”

Subtle, Matt thought. Then Matt kicked himself. Subtle. When hit came to his Christianity, Matt hadn’t been anything but subtle in front of Alfonzo and Isabel. He wondered why he couldn’t be more like Lamar, the spiritual one of the bunch. But he just didn’t have the words to say.

Alfonzo didn’t answer. The ride suddenly turned quiet for several blocks.

Pastor Ruhlen pulled off to the side and put the car in park. He looked at the address scribbled on the back of the paper Matt held, and then announced, “Here we are!”

“Thanks,” Matt said. He popped open his door and exited the car. Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo squeezed out the small door, climbing over Matt’s seat. Matt asked Pastor Ruhlen, “You coming in?”

Pastor Mick Ruhlen glanced in the rearview mirror again. “Dudes, I’m gonna keep a lookout. If there’s even an inkling of danger—”

“We’re outta here,” Matt said. “Gotcha. We’ll be out ASAP.”

“I’ll keep the car runnin’. And if you hear me honk, that means trouble.”

“Gotcha.”

A moment later, Matt, Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo entered the non-descript shop. It was in a nicer area than “Pawn Shop” had been; the bars on the windows were spaced farther apart.

The floor was clean, though the air was musty, and the room was surrounded with glass case countertops. Each case was filled with coins on display—all colors, sizes and countries, as far as Matt could tell. A man at the front of the shop leaned on the back of a counter, reading his newspaper intently. He didn’t even seem to notice the boys’ entrance. He was in his sixties, Matt guessed, with more bald on his head than hair. Silver wisps danced to the flow of the air in the room.

Matt approached the counter. Surprised, the man jumped, and then smiled. He winked and opened his arms.

“Hi,” Matt greeted him. “I’m wondering if you can help us. A friend of yours—Big…Bo—I’m not sure if that’s really his name, but anyway, he referred us to you. We have a question we wanted to ask.”

The man smiled and nodded. He winked and opened his arms.

Matt looked at him.

The man pointed to his ears and then waved his hands in front of him. Then he opened his arms, as if to say, “Which coin would you like to see?”

Matt turned and looked at his friends. “I have a feeling I know what it was that Big Bo wanted to tell us.”

“What’s that?” Lamar wondered.

“He’s deaf.”

“Big Bo’s deaf?!” Gill cried.

“No,” Matt said, nodding his head toward the old man behind him. “He’s deaf.”

Matt asked, “Anyone have a pen?” They all checked their pockets, but turned up empty.

Matt made a motion of a pen toward the store owner. He looked around, patted his pockets and shook his head, frowning.

“How can you not have a pen?” Matt asked.

“Don’t get mad!” Gill protested. “He might be able to read your lips!”

“Can you read my lips?” Matt asked the old man. He smiled, winked and extended his arms. Matt notified Gill, “I don’t think so.”

The man made a motion in sign language. Matt blinked. He turned and looked at Lamar. Lamar said, “Oh, I know sign language!”

Matt exclaimed, “You do?!”

“No.”

“Oh. This is no time to be sarcastic. This guy could hold the answer we need.”

Gill leaned in to Matt, “Why don’t you use the laptop? Write stuff to him and let him type back to you.”

Matt whispered back, “I’m not pulling out the laptop. No one uses the laptop but me. If we let him touch the keyboard, all he’d have to do is mistype and he could blow something up.”

Alfonzo laughed. “Like that’s gonna happen! When was the last time we blew…oh…never mind.”

Suddenly Lamar exclaimed, “Charades!”

“Charades!” Matt repeated.

“Charades!” Alfonzo shouted, turning to Gill.

“Charades!” Gill cheered. “I love charades! I’m the best at charades! Have I ever told you about the time I won $200 in a Junior Charades championship?!”

“Yes!” Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo said in unison.

Gill huffed. “One day you’ll appreciate my talents.”

“Let’s make it today,” Alfonzo said, turning Gill around to face the man.

Lamar put the drawing of the insignia on the counter. The man looked at it, then shrugged.

Gill pointed to the insignia. Then he ran around the shop, pointing to each sign. “Sign,” he kept saying. The man nodded.

“I think he understands,” Matt said.

Gill nodded. He stepped up to the man. He cupped his hand behind his ear.

Lamar said, “Sounds like…”

Gill folded his arms across his chest. He trembled.

“Sounds like shiver!” Lamar exclaimed.

Gill shook his head.

“Freeze!” shouted Alfonzo.

“Chilly!” Matt added.

Gill dropped his hands and looked at his friends. “Is this so hard? It’s cold.”

The man behind the counter understood. He pointed to the thermostat, folded his arms across his chest and shivered.

“Yes!” Gill exclaimed. “OK, sounds like cold…now…”

Gill looked around the room. He rubbed his temples.

“Headache!” Alfonzo shouted.

Gill looked at his friend. “I haven’t started yet—I’m thinking.” Then, with his finger, he drew a line around his neck. Matt, Lamar, Alfonzo and the man just stared at him. Gill drew a line around his wrist. He pointed to his ear lobes. He thought. He grabbed the air behind him and thrust his hands forward as if he were using an pick axe, chopping away at a cave.

Lamar said, “You’re a shackled slave.”

Gill shook his head.

The old man suddenly threw up a hand, pointing in the air. He rushed to one of the side cases and pointed to a collection of gold coins.

“Yes!” Gill exclaimed. “Gold!” He touched his nose to let the man know he’d hit it “on the nose.”

The man walked back to the piece of paper on the counter. He pointed to it, then to the coin. “Yes,” Gill confirmed. “That symbol was on gold money. But not a coin. A…” He formed a box with his hand and then stretched it. The man pulled back. He re-examined the insignia Lamar had drawn. He scratched his chin. He looked up at the boys. He chewed his bottom lip.

The deaf man then popped open his register and sifted through a couple checks. He pulled one out and pointed to it.

The boys looked at each other.

“Does he want us to pay him?” Lamar wondered.

“I’m not buying anything else,” Gill stated.

Matt reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet. He pulled out a dollar. The old man shook his head. He pointed to the check again.

“Wait,” Matt said. “He doesn’t want money. Look where he’s pointing.”

The boys leaned in. He was pointing to the bank address.

“Security Bank,” Gill said. “That’s where my dad works!”

Matt pointed to the insignia. “This”—then he pointed to the bank name—“is from here?”

The man nodded.

“My dad works there!” Gill exclaimed again.

Matt said, “I know. Do you think he can get us in to talk to someone who might know about this insignia?”

Gill nodded. “Hey, he’s got a lot of friends there. He foiled a bank robbery, remember?”

“Thank you,” Matt said to the old man, nodding. Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo nodded, too. The man nodded back.

Honk! Honk! The boys spun around.

They looked at each other.

Lamar said, “Why again did Pastor Ruhlen say he’d honk for us?”

Matt remembered clearly. “Trouble.”

—     —     —

“What’s going on?” Matt asked Pastor Ruhlen as Lamar, Gill and Alfonzo piled into the back seat. The youth pastor was peering into his side view mirror.

“Check it out,” he said. “A 1972 olive green Buick LeSabre’s passed me three times now. Keeps cruisin’ the block. He should put that thing out of its misery.”

“That’s our creep,” Matt said, slamming his door behind him.

“We’re outta here.” Pastor Ruhlen hit the gas and took a sharp turn off Reed and onto Ellis Avenue. The boys looked behind them. A split second later, an olive green LeSabre rounded the corner, screeching its wheels.

“What’s he after us for?” Lamar wondered.

Pastor Ruhlen slowed down as he approached the next signal. As soon as it turned yellow, he hit the gas. By the time the Buick LeSabre hit the light, it was red—but he sped right through.

“He’s after us,” Matt reasoned, “because he knows we’re onto something. And we’re much easier targets than Mr. Zarza.”

“But we can’t even give him the gold!” Alfonzo cried.

Pastor Ruhlen said, “He doesn’t know that, dude.” He took another sharp turn around the block.

Gill noted, “He’s still behind us.”

“I can’t shake him.”

Matt glanced at his backpack. Gill caught his eye and nodded.

“I wanna be in the front seat!” Gill whined.

“No way to switch now!” Pastor Ruhlen responded.

“I’ll trade with you!” Matt offered, playing along.

Pastor Ruhlen asked, “How you gonna do that?”

Matt threw his backpack in Lamar’s lap. He unbuckled and crawled over the seat, crushing his friends in the process.

“Unsafe!” Pastor Ruhlen cried. “Unsafe!”

Gill squeezed over the seat, taking Matt’s place, quickly buckling up.

“Now do you see why my mother doesn’t like driving us around?” Lamar chided.

“Danger like this,” Pastor Ruhlen said. “This is a good time to know that you know Jesus.” Pastor Ruhlen smiled big and took another turn. Sitting unseen behind Pastor Ruhlen’s seat, Matt pulled out his laptop. He fired it up, his leg bobbing up and down nervously while he waited.

“He’s gotta know we see him,” Lamar said, glancing out the back window.

“He knows,” Pastor Ruhlen agreed. “But he doesn’t care. He knows we have to stop sooner or later.”

Matt opened his word processor.

“Just put in that we lose him!” Alfonzo whispered to Matt.

Matt shook his head. He whispered back, “No, that’s too general. We have to be specific or it could take too long. He typed,

Mr. Creepy, in the olive green junk-mobile, gets cut off at the next intersection.

Matt hit the key with the clock face on it. It ticked forward swiftly, turning to gold to white and back. Pastor Ruhlen sped through the next intersection.

HOOOOOONNNNNNNNNK! A dump truck plowed into the intersection behind them, slamming on its brakes, causing its back end to bounce twice. Mr. Creepy hit his brakes and came dangerously close to clipping the front end of his car. He spun around once.

“Matt!” Lamar whispered harshly. “You’re not trying to kill him!”

“I didn’t type that! Well…I…didn’t mean that!”

“Be careful!”

Pastor Ruhlen took another turn.

“I think we lost him,” he said. The boys let out a collective long breath.

Vrrrroooommm! The boys collectively gasped. Out from a side street, Mr. Creepy’s olive green Buick LeSabre shot onto their tail again.

“Unbelievable!” Alfonzo cried.

“Inconceivable!” Gill added.

Matt quickly typed:

A tire on Mr. Creepy’s olive green junkster blows suddenly. Not blows up—just blows out.

Matt hit the clock key. Moving fast, Pastor Ruhlen rounded another corner, re-circling the block. Mr. Creepy closed in behind them.

Clank-clang! At once, on the road in front of them, a sharp something that looked like metal hit the road from a construction site above. Pastor Ruhlen screamed. The boys screamed. Pastor Ruhlen whipped the car left, then right, quickly dodging the foreign object. In the backseat, Matt and his friends felt like shaken, canned sardines.

Behind them, Mr. Creepy wasn’t so fortunate. He swerved quickly, but hit the sharp whatever it was with his right-side back tire. Pow! The tire blew. The hubcap flew off, smashing into a mailbox. The driver zipped back and forth, but quickly regained control of the car. Sparks flew from the back tire. But he was still coming.

“Unbelievable!” Lamar cried.

“Inconceivable!” Ruhlen added, looking back.

When he looked forward again, he screamed. And so did Matt, Gill, Lamar and Alfonzo.

“Aaaaauuuuggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!”

At once, Pastor Ruhlen’s little Volkswagen Beetle hit a flight of wide steps and cruised on up, one bumpy step at a time. He hit the brakes just in time to come out on the top of the flight, without ramming into the building.

And for a moment, all were silent. Matt and his friends gulped and slowly let out their breath.

Behind them, Mr. Creepy’s olive green Buick LeSabre slowly drove away, sparks still shooting from the back tire, an irritating grinding sound filling the air.

“Why’s he leaving?” Gill asked. “He had us!”

Pastor Ruhlen offered, “I think I know why.”

The boys looked at Pastor Ruhlen. He tapped Gill on the shoulder and pointed forward.

There, in front of them, painted on the door they almost smashed into, were the words: Enisburg Police Station.

Pastor Ruhlen opened the door.

“Where are you going?” Gill asked.

“To file a report,” Pastor Ruhlen said. “That guy needs to get off the streets.”

Alfonzo laughed. “You mean like us?”

“You like danger, don’t you?”

“I like adventure.”

“There’s no better adventure than Jesus—is there, Lamar?”

Lamar pulled his fingernails out of the car seat fabric. “No, but driving with you sure comes close.”

6 - Tale of the Insignia

At the Security Bank headquarters in Enisburg, Matt, Gill, Lamar and Alfonzo were being treated like royalty. The whole building had an air of richness about it. White pillars surrounded the entrance. Gold frames set off every picture of past bank presidents—back to the late 1800s. And the purple carpet was so plush, Matt was pretty sure it would be more comfortable to sleep on the lobby floor than it would be to sleep on his own bed.

Matt felt a bit nervous, standing in the plush waiting area outside of the Bank President’s plush office. His leg was shaking back and forth. He figured his friends were nervous too, because Alfonzo was walking around and Gill was at his side, telling him jokes that made no sense. When they were at the other end of the office, near the president’s assistant’s desk, Matt asked Lamar what he’d been wanting to know all day. “Have you talked to Alfonzo yet?”

Lamar shook his head. “Not yet. But I’ve been praying for just the right time.”

“I’ve been praying you find just the right time, too,” Matt admitted.

Lamar nudged Matt with his elbow. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Maybe God will set up a time when you can tell Alfonzo about the Roman Road.”

Matt brushed off the thought. “I don’t remember all those scriptures and I don’t know what I’d say.”

“Well, check ‘em out again and trust God to help you remember them when the time is right.”

“Or you.”

“Or me. I don’t care. I just want Alfonzo to know about living for God.”

“Hmmm,” was all Matt could think to say.

“Hey! It’s a great pleasure to meet y’all!” said the bank president when he stepped into the room, bursting with enthusiasm. Matt and Lamar jumped up and Gill and Alfonzo made their way over. “I’m sorry I only have fifteen minutes. But the banking business is a busy business.” Then the president laughed, “By the look on y’all’s faces, I gather you expected someone taller?”

It was true: Bank President Buck Dollar (yes, really) wasn’t much taller than Matt or his friends. Five foot seven inches at best. He wasn’t thin, but he wasn’t really overweight either. Perhaps, Matt imagined, his three-piece suit made him look bigger than he was. Matt nearly chuckled at the thought of Big Bo in contrast. Some day, Matt thought, I’ll have to get these two together and take a picture.

President Dollar’s Southern drawl, he told them, was inherited from his father, a wealthy Texas businessman in the 70s. Now, Buck Dollar was proud to carry on the family name and the family drawl. (To get the full picture, insert Southern laughter here.)

“I’m awfully proud to give y’all a tour of my fine bank,” he said. He put his hand on Gill’s shoulder. “Your dad was a brave man, stopping those Baker Brothers the way he did. You tell him, whatever he needs, Buck Dollar will deliver.”

“Will do,” Gill said.

“Do you want anything? Water? Pepsi? Pie?” As soon as he asked the question, his assistant, a thirty-something woman with short, black hair rose from her seat.

“We’re all right,” Matt answered for everyone. The banker nodded to his assistant who sat back down and resumed her work.

“So let’s see…if I know youth, you’ll want to start by seeing the vault, won’t you?”

“Yeah!” Gill exclaimed.

“Actually,” Matt interrupted, bursting Gill’s bubble, “we were just hoping for a few minutes of your time. We have something we want to ask you about.”

The president smiled. “Of course! Anything!” He pointed to a comfy-looking set of sofas. “Have a seat!”

Matt and his friends sat down opposite the president. Matt felt his body sinking into the sofa as if it were eating him alive. He tried to scoot up a little bit so his knees wouldn’t end up by his head.

Matt nudged Lamar. Lamar pulled the now-wrinkled paper out of his pocket. He looked at the insignia—a bubbly letter “B” with a long, curly tail—and then passed it to the banker. The small man pursed his lips and quickly looked up at the boys. Without turning his head, he raised his voice and said, “Patsy, would you excuse us for a moment?” His assistant stood up and, without questioning, left the room. She closed two large wooden doors behind her. Once they shut with a resounding boom, the president continued.

“Where did you boys find this?” he asked. “An old news story?”

Alfonzo looked at Gill. Gill looked at Lamar. Lamar looked at Matt. Matt opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the president said, “Oh, I get it. Ever since the Baker Brothers, you’ve been fascinated with bank robberies. Y’all are after my own heart. Well, let’s just say: You’ve hit the mother lode.”

Lamar leaned into Matt and whispered, “Did he just say ‘mother lode?’”

“Shhhh.”

The president sat back and folded his hands across his stomach. “Let’s see…it had to be 1972? I think that’s right. May have been ’74. I’ll have to look it up. Anyway, this is the Security Bank trademark from that year. That year only. In fact, most people don’t even know it was ever our trademark—because we never used it in public.”

He held the paper up. “See—here’s the ‘B’—that’s obvious. And the ‘S’ makes up the backbone of the ‘B’.” He traced his finger along the squiggly backbone. Matt nodded. It wasn’t a “B” with a curly tail. It was an “S” and a “B” mashed together.

Alfonzo shook his head. “But why did you stop using the trademark?”

The short man raised a finger. “Because of a man named Dolt Lesniak. He—”

Matt threw up his hand. “Wait—‘Dolt?’”

“I didn’t name him,” the president interjected. Then, “Dolt Lesniak was a mobster—a gangster—and a very crafty man.”

Lamar threw his hands up. “Why does it have to be gangsters?”

“Dolt was the ringleader of a team of thugs. He fixed to steal a shipment of gold bars from an armored car. And he did—he and his thugs walked away with at least 30 gold bars. That’s 3 bars each—enough for each of them to retire comfortably.”

“I guess,” Matt said.

“But what Dolt’s team of thugs didn’t know, was that he stabbed them each in the back.”

“How’s that?” Lamar wondered.

“The best we could figure it, the reason he got a whole team together was because he knew if nine other guys were out there with stolen gold, there was less heat on him. He played the odds. So while these nine clowns hem-hawed around and got caught one-by-one, Dolt laid low and made a quiet getaway.”

“So he set up the other guys?”

“Yessir—and got away with three gold bars himself.”

Matt blinked. Three gold bars. Matt’s dad had only found one. That explained the break-in at Alfonzo’s house…and the other two holes in the basement. Dolt broke in to retrieve his other two bars before the Zarzas found them, too. Now he was after the one that got away.

“We hope,” the president said, “that one day we’ll catch him. See, we stopped having gold produced with that trademark immediately. That way, if he ever tried to get rid of it, we’d be alerted that it was the gold from the great bank robbery of ’72. Or ’74.” He waved his hand in the air. “I really need to look that up.”

Gill suddenly shook his hands before him. “Wait, wait. This was 30 years ago. Isn’t the time up on the case? You know, because of the statue of lemon nations?”

Buck Dollar burst into laughter. “That’s ‘statute of limitations!’ Yes, normally after seven years, there’s nothing we can do. But once we discovered what Dolt had done, we went right to the courts and got the judge to agree to toll the statute of limitations.”

“Toll it?” asked Matt.

“Toll it.”

“What does that mean?”

Gill spoke up again. “It means the seven years are on hold until he returns.”

Matt, Lamar and Alfonzo all looked at Gill.

“I watch Matlock whenever I go to my grammas.”

“So,” Matt surmised, “if this…Dolt…shows up again, you just need to know so you can nab him?”

President Buck sighed. “Unfortunately it’s not that easy. This was quite a while back. We have no security photos, no fingerprints, and no confessions from the other robbers. Apparently, Dolt put a heavy thumb on them. As far as I know, they’ve all refused to talk for fear of their lives.”

“So you need evidence,” Alfonzo stated.

The president pushed himself off the sofa and threw his arms down. “Bah, but we’ll never get it. I’m sure he’s living luxuriously in the Bahamas by now. Unless he really is a dolt, he won’t come back to Enisburg anytime soon.”

Matt and his friends exchanged glances.

“But I bet y’all wish he would, don’t you? Bet you’d like to stop a thief like Gill’s dad did, huh?”

The boys all laughed nervously.

Matt gulped. “Us?”

7 - Caught Off Guard

That Friday night, the boys were at the racetrack with a mission. Gill was able to get tickets for all of them, for which Lamar and Alfonzo were extremely grateful…even if they might not see much of the action. In the spirit of things, Matt’s dad bought him a race cap with a “00” on it, sold by the crew of Matt’s favorite car. Otherwise, they were all dressed relatively non-descript, in warm grays and blacks. After the first few races, the boys had broken away from their fathers—all sitting in the stands—and were ready to stop ol’ Dolt in his tracks. They stood behind one of the concession stands, going over their plans.

“I still don’t think this is the best place to get a criminal to confess,” Alfonzo complained.

Matt didn’t pay attention. He adjusted the small tape recorder under Alfonzo’s jacket and stepped back. “I think that’s a good length for the sling. How’s it look?”

“Fine,” Lamar said. “You can’t see it at all.”

“How’s it feel?”

Alfonzo said, “It itches. Is this absolutely necessary?”

Gill offered, “It works in cartoons.”

“Ah, well, ok then.”

“I’m telling you,” Matt said. “This is the perfect place for a confession. It’s filled with cops again tonight.”

“Policemen havin’ a ball,” Lamar interjected.

“They’re off duty cops,” Alfonzo argued. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of them with a gun!”

“We don’t have to capture him,” Matt said. “All we have to do is get a confession. Then we have evidence—and with evidence, the police can arrest him, which will keep him from harassing you and taking your house.”

“And getting the confession is my job why again?”

“Because it’s your house at stake.”

“And you’re sure he’ll show up?”

“I guarantee it,” Matt said. A short while earlier, he had written in his laptop:

Dolt the creepy guy made it a special point of coming to the races outside of Enisburg tonight. He found the crumpled flyer our handsome hero, Matt Calahan, conspicuously left outside of the Zarza’s household…and he was on his way, on a hunch.

Matt knew the laptop would come through for him. It always did.

Matt squeezed Alfonzo’s jacket together right where the tape recorder sat. He felt the buttons push under his fingers. “OK, try it,” he ordered.

“What do I say?” Alfonzo asked.

Lamar chimed in, “Say ‘Everyone who calls on the name of the Lard will be saved.’ That’s Romans 10:13.”

Alfonzo didn’t bite. Instead he suggested, “How about I say this: I’d like you to meet my friend Matt Calahan, the guy who has mistaken danger for adventure.”

Matt pressed his jacket together again, hitting the stop button. “It’s not dangerous, so long as all we do is talk,” Matt said.

“Famous last words.”

Matt unzipped Alfonzo’s jacket and pulled the player out. He rewound the tape and pushed play.

Big Bird was singing, “E-F-G! H-I-J-K! L-M-N-O-Peeeeeeeee!”

“Oops, it’s after that,” Matt said.

Gill’s mouth dropped. “That’s my tape! For my little buddy! I bought it for him! You stole it!”

“It was the only tape we could find,” Matt defended himself. “No one uses these things anymore.”

Gill narrowed his eyes. “You owe me a quarter.”

Matt ruffed up Gill’s hair. Gill tried to ruff Matt’s up, but just popped off his 00 cap instead. Matt picked it up and stuck it snuggly back on his head. Alfonzo hit play on the tape again and his voice came through loud and clear.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to say,” Alfonzo admitted.

Matt smiled. I know the feeling, he thought. But then he promised, “Really it’s no biggie. Once we spot Dolt, I’ll hide out with the laptop and type you through it.” Matt’s thoughts went back to what Gill had said about leading Alfonzo to Jesus by using the laptop. In some ways, he just wanted to type it in and see what happened…but he knew it took more than just going through the motions. It took a real heart-commitment—which was something that couldn’t come through typed words alone. “Anyway,” Matt continued, dismissing his thoughts, “how could anything go wrong?” Matt smiled wide. Alfonzo moaned.

“Hey! What’re ya guys doin’ back here?!”

The boys all jumped as Hulk Hooligan popped out from around the corner, a nacho platter in his hand. Matt was sure he felt the ground shake as Hulk leaped onto the scene. Hulk guffawed at the prank.

Alfonzo quickly shoved the recorder back under his shirt.

“Hey! What’s dat?” Hulk asked, moving forward. Matt moved between him and Alfonzo. He growled. Matt moved out of the way.

Alfonzo told him the truth. “You know about the gold, right?” Hulk nodded. “Well, if the thief shows up tonight, we’re going to try and get him to confess that he stole it.”

“What good does dat do?”

Matt explained, “If he confesses, he gets caught and Isabel gets to stay next door. Er…I mean, Alfonzo gets to stay next door.”

Hulk stood still for a long moment. Then he nodded. Then he said, “I have ta say. Dat is da stupidest plan I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“We weren’t asking for opinions,” Matt barked back.

“Ya should be,” Hulk said flatly. “Cuz dat’s stupid.”

“What would you do?” Matt replied.

“Me? Well, I’d get as close ta him as I could.” Hulk leaned into Matt. “And den I’d yell, ‘Dodge ball!’” Matt nearly fell over. Hulk laughed again, throwing a nacho chip at Matt. “Nice hat,” he teased. “Number zero. Way da go. Yer number zero.”

“No he’s not,” Gill defended. “He’s double-zero.”

“Hulk! What is your point?!” Matt cried. “Do you, in all your infinite wisdom and razor-sharp wit, have a better plan?”

“Da point is,” Hulk said, snarling, “when yer plan don’t work, you’ll come cryin’ ta me to pummel him for ya—which is what ya should be doin’ in the first place.”

“Whatever,” Matt said flippantly.

Hulk turned and left, offering a “have fun, losers” on his way out.

Matt let out a long breath. “Why me?” he asked.

“Maybe he’s right,” Alfonzo offered. “Maybe we should have a better plan. Isabel might like that.”

“I didn’t mean—,” Matt took a deep breath. “Guys, all I’m saying is: The day we run to Hulk Hooligan for help is the day I eat my hat.”

—     —     —

The first thing the boys did was split up. They did this because Gill said they always get the bad guys when they split up on Scooby-Doo. Matt wasn’t so sure that was a good enough reason, but he went along with it anyway. The race track wasn’t huge, but there was a lot of ground to cover on foot. And more than anything, Matt wanted to get the recording done quickly so they could save the Zarza’s house and get on with their lives.

The agreement was that whoever saw Mr. Creepy first was to warn the others by making bird noises. Then, with the laptop, Matt would type Alfonzo through a conversation with Dolt, getting Alfonzo out of there safely as soon as they had a confession. To the average Joe with average resources, this may have seemed risky, but to four sharp boys with one amazing laptop, it seemed to plot through rather neatly.

Only fifteen minutes had gone by when Alfonzo started questioning whether anything exciting was going to happen at all. Two minutes later, his question was answered.

Matt was literally yanked out from the open to under the stands. Matt nearly yelped until he realized it wasn’t Dolt Lesniak who’s hand was crushing his arm…it was—

“Sam?!” Matt cried.

The electronic voice greeted Matt, as Sam’s grasp loosened. Sam’s face was still unseen in the darkness, covered by a hood. But the tall stance, black trench coat and thin, snakeskin cowboy boots were there.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Matt said, stepping back. “You’re going to say we shouldn’t go through with whatever we plan to do—because it could draw attention to the laptop. But we have to save the Zarza’s house.”

Alfonzo watched on, speechless, more than likely surprised at the open dialog Matt was beginning to have with Sam.

“Listen,” Sam pressed Matt. “Forget that. I need to know something.”

Matt shut up.

“You said you were in my lab. When you were there…did you take anything with you?”

Matt’s mind immediately flew back to that day in the woods when he and his friends had discovered the old cabin with the secret bunker underneath. He remembered crawling down to the lab and finding computer parts strewn about the brushed metal tables inside. He remembered the ominous newspaper clippings tacked on the wall, and the computer underneath. He remembered finding a CD in the computer and, in the rush of the moment, shoving it into his pocket. When he arrived home, Matt and his friends found nothing recorded on the CD but a blurred picture, a mere unfit piece to a much larger puzzle.

“You did find something.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. Matt, this means we’re almost ready. You have everything we need. I thought we lost it, that we were months away from answers…but you…you found it.”

“But what is it?”

“A map.”

“To what?”

“To them.”

Matt gulped.

“I’ll be bringing you instructions soon. Be ready.”

“But…I’m not sure I want them.”

“You must trust me, Matt. I need you now. More than you know.”

Suddenly Matt felt put-off. “Look, if you want me to trust you, you have to start being honest with me.”

For the first time, Alfonzo spoke up. “I’m not sure if provoking Sam is the answer.”

“I’m not misleading you, Matt.”

“Says the one always in the shadows. The one using the electronic voice. And don’t think I don’t know how you disappeared that night.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, then the curiosity came through. “What night?”

“The night at the hotel,” Matt answered. “The night I ruined Isabel’s dress at the banquet. You met me in the restroom, then you left. When I followed you into the hall, you were gone.”

Sam stayed quiet.

“I know you didn’t just vanish. You went into the women’s restroom next door. It was easy for you.”

Sam shifted feet.

“Easy,” Matt punched, “because you are a chick!”

Sam stepped back.

“I’ve even got a picture of you in the crowd at last month’s parade.”

“Caw! Caw!” Matt and Alfonzo’s head snapped to the side. The sound was unmistakable. It was Gill doing his sick bird call. They’d spotted the creepy, brooding man.

Matt felt a brush of air and when he turned to look at Sam, he caught only the flow of her cape-like trench coat and a wisp of her long, blonde hair in the light.

“I’m really not looking forward to meeting with her again,” Matt said, letting out a long breath.

Alfonzo moved the tape recorder under his shirt. “You and me both. You think Gill and Lamar are close?”

At once, Lamar and Gill rounded the corner of the bleachers, rushing by like a blur of speed.

“Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnn!” they both cried.

Matt jumped to the side and looked back at his friend’s path. The brooding man was heading in their direction quickly, with long, determined strides.

“What do we do?” Alfonzo pressed Matt.

Matt pushed his backpack up on his shoulder. “There’s no time to boot up the laptop without being seen.”

“Right! So what do we do?!”

Matt looked at the man, closing in on them.

“I’ve got an idea,” Matt said.

“What?!?”

“RUN!”

Matt and Alfonzo took off at full speed, in the same direction as Lamar and Gill. A side parking lot was near and they dove in between the cars. It wasn’t long before they heard the brooding man crack his feet against the gravel and stop. The boys waited. Matt motioned to Lamar, who motioned to Gill, who motioned to Alfonzo. The boys split up and quietly, carefully, crouch-walked to different cars.

Matt reached back to pull out his laptop when he saw a shadow pass over the car he was pressed against. He froze. The shadow froze. Matt could hear the man breathing.

“I know you have the gold, Spanish boy!” the brooding man taunted. “I saw you go into the pawn shop! I saw you go into the coin shop! I know you’re trying to find out about it! I know you have it! Give me what’s mine!”

“We’ll never give it to you, Dolthead!”

The call came from eight cars away. Gill popped up and dropped back down. Dolt ran toward him, passing Matt without knowing it. Matt jumped up and ran the other way. Suddenly, hearing Matt, Dolt stopped and hesitated. Gill popped up, another four cars over. Then Lamar and Alfonzo popped up, both on the other side of the lot. Seeing Alfonzo, the brooding man chose to head for him. Matt ran back into the area outside the track, by the concession stands. He stopped to catch his breath. He pulled his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it.

“Run! Matt! Run!” Alfonzo cried, screaming past him. “I’m going to the pits!”

Matt looked up. He didn’t see anyone. The races had started, but there were a few customers lingering around. They looked up, trained to respond to alarm, but didn’t see anyone either. Matt thought for a moment, and then decided to catch up with Alfonzo. If he lost him, that could be even worse news than not having the laptop ready. He re-zipped the backpack and slung it back over his shoulder. He ran into the pits area where he saw Alfonzo run.

Matt ran by several crews before he heard Alfonzo shout his name. Matt looked around and then realized it was coming from underneath an RV. Matt hit the ground and slid under with Alfonzo.

“Is my life going to end tonight?” Alfonzo asked.

“If it were, what would you do?” Matt asked, surprising himself.

“What?”

“I mean about…er…you know…would you go to heaven?”

“What?!”

“Er…well…I mean…just think about it.” Smooth, Matt thought, real smooth.

“Well, get out your laptop. I want to get this over with.”

Matt nodded. He flipped the backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it. He pulled out the laptop and turned it on.

Snatch! Matt screamed when he felt the hand grab his foot and start pulling. He kicked with all his might, trying to get it to let go. Alfonzo grabbed Matt’s laptop with one hand and Matt’s arm with his other.

“Let go!” Matt cried.

Alfonzo let go.

“Not you!” Matt shouted at Alfonzo. He grabbed Matt’s arm again.

Alfonzo swung his body around and slammed the hand with his foot, too, causing Dolt to cry out and let go. “Hulk had the right idea,” he muttered as they scrambled out from under the other side of the RV.

“No he didn’t,” Matt said, pushing himself off the ground. “We’re going to get this confession.” Just as they stood up, the gangster rounded the front of the vehicle and came at them. Matt and Alfonzo took off as fast as they could. They ran through the gravel, kicking up rocks, as they headed toward the only opening: the track.

“We can’t go out there!” Alfonzo shouted over the roar of passing stock cars.

Matt looked behind them. The brooding man was still after them, and closing. Matt zigzagged back and Alfonzo followed.

“Where are we going?!” Alfonzo wanted to know.

Matt suddenly stopped. There was nowhere else to go. In front of them was a twenty-foot high wall, channeling pipes into the pit area. Behind them, Dolt closed in. And he wasn’t happy.

Seeing that he had the boys trapped, Dolt slowed his stride. He grinned. Matt and Alfonzo gulped.

“What do we do,” Alfonzo whispered.

Matt tightened his fists. “We pray.”

Ka-varoooommmm! Pop! Pop!

At once, the pit entrance filled with the smell of burning rubber and smoke. Stock car number 00 rushed in, spitting up dust and gravel—and stopped right between the boys and the gangster. Dolt stopped in his tracks. The driver squeezed out of the window of the yellow and green car, shouting for help from his crew. The pit man Matt and Gill had seen before rushed forward.

“Gave out on me again! Gave out!” the driver cried. “I should have had turn three!” He kicked the car and popped the hood. He stormed around to the front and stuck his hands inside the engine area. “Augh!” he cried, snatching his hand back out.

The lanky man ran to his side. “Burned you again?” he asked. The driver just huffed and stormed away, holding his hand.

Dolt Lesniak stood still, trying not to gather attention. He knew the car would leave soon…and the boys would be all his. Matt and Alfonzo exchanged glances. Matt quickly flipped open the laptop. He typed:

The pit guy finished working on car 00 quickly. When he leaves, Dolt—filled with pride and arrogance—confesses his true intentions. He admits to his wrongdoing, and brave Alfonzo gets it all on tape.

Matt hit the clock key.

Seconds later, the lanky man slammed the hood and revved the engine. He looked at the boys, didn’t think much of it, and then ran off shouting to the driver, “It’s ready to go! Ready to go!”

Matt and Alfonzo looked in the direction from which he’d left, but the driver didn’t come back. The car just sat there idling. The brooding man started to move forward again.

“What am I going to say?” Alfonzo whispered.

Matt closed the laptop. “I know. We have to improvise,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “I can’t be typing or he might suspect something.”

Alfonzo squeezed the button on the tape recorder under his jacket.

“We know who you are!” Matt shouted at the brooding man. He stopped on the other side of the car. “You’re Dolt Lesniak!”

“A bank robber and a thief!” Alfonzo accused.

The man smirked. “That is my gold,” he said.

“What?” Matt shouted. “We can’t hear you!”

“I said,” the man shouted back, “the gold in your house is mine!”

Matt looked at Alfonzo. Alfonzo looked at Matt.

“How did you get the gold?” Matt shouted.

The man rushed around the front of the car. Matt and Alfonzo rushed around the back. They ended up standing on the opposite side from Dolt again.

“We know you stole the gold, Bo-bo Head!” Matt shouted, using a term Hulk’s little brother once taught him.

“The name’s Dolt Lesniak, twerp. And, that’s right. I stole the gold from the fools at Security Bank—back in 1972. But I got away free and clear and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

The man rushed around the back of the car. Matt and Alfonzo rushed around the front. They were suddenly back where they started.

“You’re wrong!” Matt shouted.

“Yes,” Alfonzo shouted. “You’re toast! Because they told the statue of lemon nations!”

The man’s forehead wrinkled.

Matt said, “I think that’s ‘tolled the statute of limitations.’”

“What he said.”

The brooding man snarled. “They can’t prove anything.”

“They can if they have a taped confession,” Matt said with a smile.

Alfonzo unzipped his jacket and lifted up the tape recorder slung around his neck. The brooding man tilted his head. Alfonzo hit rewind, then play.

Big Bird sang, “E-F-G! H-I-J-K! L-M-N-O-Peeeeeeeee!”

“It’s after that,” Matt whispered. Alfonzo hit fast forward.

The man on the tape said, “The name’s Dolt Lesniak, twerp. And, that’s right. I stole the gold from the fools at Security Bank—back in 1972. But I got away free and clear and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Alfonzo hit stop.

The man shouted out in anger and slammed the top of the car. Matt and Alfonzo jumped back. But Matt knew there was no where to run. They were still trapped with a wall behind them.

“Well, then,” Dolt Lesniak said in a biting tone, “I guess I’ll just have to eliminate all the evidence.”

8 - High Speed Chase—Part II

What gangster Dolt Lesniak did next was the last thing Matt or Alfonzo expected. He dove over the hood of the car.

Under normal circumstances, Matt and Alfonzo would have ran around the back to get away. But two things happened almost instantaneously that made the circumstances quite unnormal. First, Lamar and Gill ran into the area screaming their heads off. They were doing so because of the second thing that happened: Another stock car rushed into the pit area, nearly clipping the back end of car 00.

So, faced with the choice of either being caught by Dolt or crushed by another car, what Matt and Alfonzo did was the last thing Dolt expected. They dove into car 00.

“This is crazy!” Alfonzo protested, squeezing in behind Matt. Matt started out the other side, his laptop under his arm. Dolt, who had landed on his rear end on the other side of the car, dove back over the hood to intercept Matt. Alfonzo pulled Matt back in. “Hit the gas!” he cried.

“I can’t drive!” Matt protested.

“Don’t let that stop you!”

Dolt slid off the car and jumped up. He reached out to grab Matt.

Matt stretched. “I can’t reach the pedal!”

Just as Dolt’s arm came in the window, Alfonzo shouted, “I can!” and he slammed on the gas with one foot, slamming on the clutch with the other, and shifting.

The car lurched forward, picking up speed fast. Alfonzo shifted again. Dolt jumped out of the way.

“How’d you learn to do that?!” Matt cried.

“My grandpa was a farmer!” Alfonzo shouted back. “I learned to drive old trucks on his farm!”

“Cool!”

“Steer!” Alfonzo ordered, sitting next to Matt, slouched down, still pressing on the gas.

Matt shoved his laptop under his rear end to boost him up. Thank God for the laptop! He took the wheel. On the other side of the pits, Lamar and Gill’s eyes grew big as meatballs when they saw Matt and Alfonzo at the wheel. Dolt didn’t go after Lamar and Gill though—instead, he shoved the driver of the new car in the pit area to the ground and slid into his car.

Matt whirled the wheel around and aimed for the only escape route: the racetrack. With Alfonzo bearing down on the gas, they shot forward, entering the arena at full speed.

Vrrrooommmmmm! Vrrrooommmmmm!

Two cars swept past Matt and Alfonzo. Matt jerked the wheel to avoid a collision.

“What are you doing?!” Alfonzo cried.

“About 80!” Matt responded.

Matt turned for a split second to look behind him. He saw Dolt enter the track, avoiding a collision himself.

“He’s behind us!” Matt cried.

“Well don’t let him catch up!” Alfonzo shouted back.

Alfonzo reached over Matt and grabbed the seat belt. He put it around both of them.

Vrrrooommmmmm!

Vrrrooommmmmm!

Two more cars whipped around Matt and Alfonzo. Matt passed the stands and wondered how long his father would ground him if he knew it was Matt out on the track.

Alfonzo shifted gears again. Matt felt the car pick up speed.

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

“What was that?!” Alfonzo wondered.

“We just passed someone!” Matt yelled. “We’re not too bad!”

At once, from behind, Dolt rammed the boys, full force. Matt kept his hands on the wheel as they jerked forward.

Alfonzo didn’t let up.

Vrrrooommmmmm!

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

“You know what I think?” Alfonzo asked.

“What?”

“I think life with you and that laptop is loco! Half the time, I don’t even know if I’ll make it through the day alive!”

Matt grimaced. “Sorry.”

“No—what I’m saying is…I think maybe you’re right. I don’t know if I’ll go to heaven! Like Pastor Ruhlen has said, I think I need to make Jesus the Lord of my life…before it’s too late!”

Matt angled around the next curve. He felt his head swimming. And he found himself smiling. “Really?!” he said to Alfonzo. Was this the ???perfect opportunity” Pastor Ruhlen was talking about?

“Yes, really!”

“You’ll have to talk to Lamar when we get off this track!”

Bam! Dolt hit the back of their car again.

Alfonzo added, “We might not get off this track!”

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

Matt’s mind raced. Lord, give me the words to say, he prayed. When Alfonzo didn’t know what to say earlier, Matt had told him to improvise. Somehow, that just seemed the right thing to do now, too. Just improvise and go for it. “Follow the Roman Road!” he shouted.

“Where’s that at?!” Alfonzo cried.

All the verses Pastor Ruhlen had shared with Matt and Lamar jumbled in Matt’s head. He looked behind him. Dolt was falling back.

“I can’t remember all them—I’ll show you later,” he said. “But basically, you know we all need Jesus because we’ve all done wrong things, right?”

“More so since I met you, I think.”

“Ha-ha. But, see, God sent Jesus to die in our place even though he knew we do wrong stuff all the time and can’t make it to heaven on our own.”

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

Bam! Alfonzo pressed on the pedal as hard as he could. Matt veered around the next curb, narrowly missing two other race cars.

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

Matt continued, “So without Jesus our wrongdoings lead to death. But with Jesus—”

“We go to heaven!” Alfonzo completed Matt’s thought. “I got it! But tell me what to do!”

“Right!” Matt cried. “But are you sure you’re doing this because you want to and not just because we’re on the brink of disaster?”

“I’m sure! I’m sure! Tell me!”

“Well, if you believe that God sent Jesus for you and raised Him from the dead in your place, just say it! God will hear you!”

Alfonzo looked up at Matt puzzled.

“Pray with me!” Matt said.

“Don’t close your eyes!” Alfonzo responded.

Matt opened his eyes. “Right! OK, just say, ‘Father God, I’m sorry for all the rotten things I’ve done.’”

“God,” Alfonzo repeated, “I’m sorry for all the rotten things I’ve done!”

“I believe You sent Jesus to die for me and rise again in my place.”

Alfonzo repeated the words.

“So be Lord of my life today and every day.”

“So be Lord of my life today and every day,” Alfonzo repeated.

“That’s it!” Matt cheered.

“I don’t feel any different!” Alfonzo shouted back.

Zzzzzzzitttttttttttttmmmmm!

“You don’t have to,” Matt told his friend. It’s not about how you feel today. It’s about how you live your life—for God!”

“Sweet!”

“Oh no…” Matt whispered.

Alfonzo’s eyes grew big.

“What?!”

“The two cars in front of us are stopping!”

Alfonzo screamed, “It’s the end of the race!”

Immediately, Alfonzo shifted both feet over to the brake pedal. The car came screeching to a halt on the track, spinning around as it crossed the finish line.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaughhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” the boys screamed in unison. The car skidded to a stop, slamming into the side of the car in front of them. Matt and Alfonzo looked back at the track and saw Dolt making his way in, more controlled than they were.

Matt undid the seatbelt and the boys caught their breath, their ears ringing.

“Let’s get out of this car!” Matt suggested, shoving his laptop under his arm. Alfonzo didn’t need any encouragement. He pushed out the passenger side as Matt pushed out the driver’s side.

When their feet hit the ground, they heard the crowd cheering. Matt and Alfonzo looked at the stands to see all the spectators on their feet, clapping.

Matt’s eyes drew over to the drivers of the cars in front of them. The first one was accepting a golden trophy, speaking into a microphone. The second was having his picture taken with a girl. Matt blinked and grabbed Alfonzo’s arm. “How fast were we going?” he asked.

Alfonzo shrugged. “I’m not sure, why?”

“I think we won the race.”

Alfonzo pushed Matt out of the way. “Get out of town.”

“No really—I think—”

Suddenly an attractive young woman with long black hair approached the boys and stood between them. She smiled big. Matt and Alfonzo looked at her, aghast at what was happening.

Pop! A flash of light hit them in the eyes.

“Congrats, boys,” the woman said. “I dunno where Robby is, but you just earned him third place.” She kissed each of them on the cheek, leaving a bright red lipstick mark. The boys wiped it off in disgust.

“Hey!”

Matt and Alfonzo turned around. Dolt may not have won the race, but he wasn’t giving up easily. Anger and frustration contorted his face…and he was heading straight toward them.

9 - Dodge Ball

Dolt picked up his pace, making a beeline for Matt and Alfonzo. Alfonzo unzipped his jacket and yanked the tape recorder off his neck. The sling snapped like thread. “Take it!” he said to Matt. “You can get a head start. Save my house.”

“I’m not going without you.”

“If you stay, he’ll get both of us—and my house.”

Matt hesitated, looking at the cheering crowd, the rambunctious winner’s circle. Then, with determination, he snatched the recorder from Alfonzo with one hand and handed him his laptop with the other. “Don’t let him get this—no matter what,” Matt shouted to his friend. Alfonzo accepted the laptop, cracking it open. With a frown on his face, Matt looked at the recorder and hit rewind.

And he ran.

Just as Dolt reached Alfonzo, he froze. He stared ahead at Matt, who grabbed the microphone from the announcer.

“Now hear this!” Matt shouted into the microphone.

The cheering crowd quieted down long enough for Matt to press the small recorder against the microphone. He pushed play.

Big Bird sang, “E-F-G! H-I-J-K! L-M-N-O-Peeeeeeeee!”

“Sorry,” Matt said. “It’s after that.”  He hit fast forward.

A moment later, a voice emerged from the recorder saying, “The name’s Dolt Lesniak, twerp. And, that’s right. I stole the gold from the fools at Security Bank—back in 1972. But I got away free and clear and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Matt hit stop.

Dolt stared at Matt. The full crowd of police officers stared at Matt. Then Matt said, “This tape was made just a few minutes ago.” He swung his arm in the direction of the brooding man. And Matt added, “By that man.”

At once, in unison, the off-duty officers filling the crowd reached for their guns—and all hit air. There wasn’t a gun in the crowd. Matt gulped. Alfonzo gulped. Dolt grinned. Matt noticed a few officers run into the aisles, making their way down. But Matt knew they wouldn’t be fast enough. This criminal may have been named Dolt, but he wasn’t a blockhead. He scanned the area, obviously looking for a quick escape. He’d lived in hiding for the past 30 years…he could wait longer. He wasn’t about to get caught because of some kids’ tricks.

Matt felt frustration build up inside him. How could he possibly let the criminal get away? Quickly, Dolt started to move. Alfonzo caught Matt’s eye and ran over to him, the laptop open and booted. Matt didn’t have time to think about what to write, he just knew he had to write something. As fast as he could, Matt typed the first thing that came to mind:

Hulk gets to play dodge ball.

He hit the clock key.

Just as Dolt was about to escape, a faint voice in the crowd shouted, “Dodge ball!”

Dolt froze. With question marks above their heads, the off-duty officers looked at the big lug shouting insanely. It was Hulk Hooligan. “Dodge ball!” he shouted again.

Dolt shook his head. He started to move again.

Suddenly a nacho hit him in the face.

Then another.

Then a chili dog.

Then a sloppy burrito.

Then a large Pepsi.

At once, a whole barrage of expensive, fast and flavorful food came over the fence, through the fence and from all around the area, focused on one target: Dolt Lesniak.

Knocked back by the sudden onrush of junk food fare, Dolt had no choice but to cower.

Within seconds, off-duty officers, two men and a woman, had the criminal on the ground, squirming in the mess of dirt and nacho surprise that would have him smelling like the greasy floor of the concession stand for weeks.

“We did it,” Matt said, as surprised as anyone.

Lamar and Gill rushed into the winner’s circle and gave Matt and Alfonzo high-fives.

“You did it!” they exclaimed.

“You guys got to drive?!” Gill shouted, more excited about that than apprehending the criminal.

“Yeah—we saved our house and we won the race!” Alfonzo said excitedly.

“We won more than one race,” Matt said, smiling at his friend.

Lamar’s mouth dropped. “You mean—”

Alfonzo smiled. Lamar shouted and gave him a high-five. Then he said, “And Hulk,” Lamar said. “Can you believe that? He actually helped!”

“Well, the laptop helped,” Matt admitted. “But still…Hulk was pretty amazing.” And then, to keep his end of the bargain, he took off his hat and stuffed it in his mouth.

—     —     —

Despite the fact that Matt and Alfonzo helped capture a gangster-at-large, neither of their fathers were pleased with the fact that they had put themselves in peril not only with a dangerous man, but also behind the wheel of a racecar. Matt assured his father that he wore his seatbelt, but that didn’t help much. “Ace,” Mr. Calahan said, “you’re grounded.”

“But—”

“But nothing,” his father said. “Ever since…I don’t know. You know what I keep coming back to? Ever since you got that laptop, you’ve been getting in way over your head.”

“That just comes with being 13,” Matt countered.

“When I was 13, I was never present at a bank robbery. I never—not even once—got lost in the wilderness. I never accused an actor of being a gangster in front of my hometown. And I certainly never put myself in danger by tracking down a real gangster.”

“The world’s not the same as when you were a kid.”

“It’s not that different, Matt.”

Matt shook his head. “What did mom say?”

“Your mom wants me to send you to a private military school on the East Coast.”

“Great.”

“She’ll get over it.” Matt’s dad, sitting on the sofa in their living room, flipped on the television with a remote. “What I’m saying Matt, is that your mother and I are more than a little concerned that your enthusiasm for writing has got you living out the fantasy adventures you’re writing about. But life isn’t make-believe. It’s real.”

“I know that,” Matt argued.

“I don’t think you do. You’re acting like you think the fantasies you write can actually happen. Your mom and I have agreed that you’ll be grounded for a month, starting tomorrow.”

“What?! You can’t—a month?!”

“It’s for your own good, Matt,” Stan Calahan said. “You need a break. And we’re going to ground you from your laptop, too.”

“What?! OK, yeah, you know, you’re right. It’s me. I’ve been acting crazy! But, hey, you don’t need to take away my laptop. You just need to ground me to my room. Lock me in my prison.”

“Well, we’re doing that, too. But we’re not changing our minds.”

“Dad! You don’t understand.”

“Then help me. Look, I gave up using my cell phone all the time. You said you were going to try and give up this…obsession with your laptop. But it has gotten worse.”

“It’s not an ob—Dad, it’s different.”

“Four weeks,” Mr. Calahan said. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“It could be.”

Matt’s dad turned up the volume on the TV. Matt stood up and stormed out of the room.

“Oh—and Matt?”

Matt stopped, not turning around.

“Don’t forget to take out the trash and set the alarm. And one more thing.”

Matt waited. “What?”

“I love you.”

Matt huffed. “I know.”

“And, despite the danger…well done. On all accounts.”

And Matt smiled.

—     —     —

At the end of the driveway, Matt met Isabel by the trashcans. Best Matt could tell, she must have been watching, because as soon as he hit the end of the driveway, she was there, over on his side of the street.

“Hey,” Matt said, smiling kindly.

“Hey,” she said back.

Matt reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a CD. “I was hoping I’d see you,” he said before he could retract the admission. “Uh, I mean, I brought you a CD.”

Isabel accepted the CD.

“Her name’s Rebecca St. James,” Matt said. “She’s a good singer. We normally listen to more guy groups, but she has a cool sound.”

After looking at the cover, Isabel’s right eyebrow popped up. “You guys like her just because of her sound. Right.” She smirked.

Matt shrugged.

“I’m just kidding,” Isabel said, smiling.

Matt let out a long breath. “I know. I just got grounded. For a month.”

“Ouch. But…thank you. I mean for helping with the house. Not for getting grounded.”

Matt smiled back. “You’re welcome. It, uh, was worth it.”

“I told you before I didn’t need a hero to rescue me. But…well, I’m glad I know one anyway.”

Matt felt color rise to his cheeks. He changed the subject. “Well, it’s too bad you don’t get to keep the gold.”

Isabel looked down the street. “Ah, I don’t want dirty money anyway.”

Matt nodded.

“Besides,” she said, looking back at Matt, her brown eyes swallowing him up. “I’ve discovered something more rewarding. In Jesus.”

“I’m really sorry for not saying something sooner,” Matt apologized, still kicking himself. “I’m supposed to be a good example. You know, that’s part of the whole growing-in-Jesus thing.”

“Matt,” she said, touching his arm. “You did say something. Every day. Through your example.”

And for the next 20 minutes, Matt and Isabel stood outside and froze and talked—but mostly talked—about the chase, about the race, and about what it meant to be a Christian. Matt felt like he could stand there all night. For Matt knew when he went back inside, his life would stop cold for a month. That is, if Sam…if Wordtronix…if this crazy new world of 13 would let it.

Epilogue

“What do you mean you’re not fit enough?” Matt asked Hulk.

“I mean, Calhan, dat I need ta be in tip-top shape for wrestlin’. Rumor is Coach wants ta start a team.”

“So…” Matt pressed, closing his locker.

“Well, remember how ya helped me in English a while back?”

Matt squeezed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and his thumb. “How could I forget?” He was still recovering from Hulk’s lame haikus. Why did he always insist on poetry about bodily functions?

“Well,” the big lug continued, “yer skinny. I figure ya can help me lose weight, too.”

“You want me to put you on a diet?”

“Don’t gimme attitude, Calhan. Ya owe me one.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “I’m grounded,” he said. “I can’t even leave my house.”

Hulk threw a meaty fist in front of Matt’s face. “Den find a way to get outta it, or yer gonna find out what it means ta be grounded!”

Matt sighed. Without his laptop, this was going to some challenge. Still, better that than a crushed face.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

To be continued…

How to use

The Romans Road

A Cool and Deep Way to Lead Your Friends to Jesus!

By Lamar Whitmore

(as stolen from Pastor Ruhlen who probably stole it from an anonymous place.)

OK, here are 5 scriptures you can use when leading your friends to Jesus.

Underneath each one I put what it means so you can share that with your friends.

Romans 3:23: “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”

We’ve all done stuff that’s wrong. Because of that, we don’t deserve to go to heaven.

Romans 5:8: “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

God loves us a ton. Because He knew we didn’t deserve to go to heaven, He sent His Son Jesus to earth. Jesus never did anything wrong, but he was killed anyway. We were the ones who deserved death, but when Jesus died and rose again, He took our place—so we wouldn’t have to die.

Romans 6:23: “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Yes, doing wrong leads to death, but God’s gift to us is Jesus. And if we make Him the ruler of our lives, we can live forever with Him in heaven.

Romans 10:9-10: “If you confess with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you confess and are  saved.”

To make Jesus your Lord, all you have to do is say that you believe He is Lord, and then believe in your heart that He died and rose again for you.

Romans 10:13: “Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.”

Count on it: God will hear your prayer—and you will be saved!

About the Author

For two decades, Christopher P. N. Maselli has been sharing God’s Word with kids through stories. He has authored more than 50 books, including the Amazing Laptop series, the Commander Kellie and the Superkids Adventures and more.

With a Masters of Fine Arts from Vermont College, Chris lives in Fort Worth, Texas, with his wife, Gena, and their three children. His hobbies include running, playing hide-and-seek with his kids, collecting It’s a Wonderful Life movie memorabilia, and “way too much” computing.

Visit his website at ChristopherPNMaselli.com.

Other books by Christopher P. N. Maselli

The Amazing Laptop series:

1 – Reality Shift

2 – Double Take

3 – Explosive Secrets

4 – Power Play

5 – Dangerous Encounters

6 – Hot Pursuit

7 – Choke Hold

8 – Shut Down

The Commander Kellie and the Superkids adventures:

1 – The Mysterious Presence

2 – Quest for the Second Half

3 – Escape From Jungle Island

4 – In Pursuit of the Enemy

5 – Caged Rivalry

6 – Mystery of the Missing Junk

7 – Out of Breath

8 – The Year Mashela Stole Christmas

9 – False Identity

10 – The Runaway Mission

11 – The Knight-Time Rescue of Commander Kellie

Want to write a children’s book?

Chris teaches writers regularly through an interactive system on the Writing Momentum website, as well as at writer’s conferences nationwide. Visit WritingMomentum.com for details!

Table of Contents

1 - Golden Opportunity

2 - Dodging Danger

3 - Na-cho Problem

4 - Being Watched

5 - High Speed Chase—Part I

6 - Tale of the Insignia

7 - Caught Off Guard

8 - High Speed Chase—Part II

9 - Dodge Ball

Epilogue

The Romans Road

About the Author

Other books by Christopher P. N. Maselli

Want to write a children’s book?

Table of Contents

1 - Golden Opportunity

2 - Dodging Danger

3 - Na-cho Problem

4 - Being Watched

5 - High Speed Chase—Part I

6 - Tale of the Insignia

7 - Caught Off Guard

8 - High Speed Chase—Part II

9 - Dodge Ball

Epilogue

The Romans Road

About the Author

Other books by Christopher P. N. Maselli

Want to write a children’s book?