The Shadow Mask Read online

  “I don’t understand, a straw man?”

  “A straw man is a manufactured agent, an invented fiction meant to confuse the enemy. Governments will spend years inventing their straw man, then leak his information to the enemy so they’ll chase a ghost and ignore the real spies in their midst. Bertrand Veirhelst is such a straw man, a man who appeared to move in the world and talk with people, but who only existed on paper.”

  I could hardly believe it, but I checked my astonishment in front of Crane. “I guess that’s okay because I won’t be at Satellite North much longer, right?”

  “Not so fast, Leo,” he said, pulling out that familiar burlap bag and placing it on the desk. “The information you gave me from the Borneo expedition, while voluminous, failed to illuminate. I have been poring over it. Your father visited almost thirty villages, none of which match your description. And nowhere in his files is there anything about a mask, just rubbish about music.”

  “I told you everything I know about that mask,” I lied.

  With a suddenly violent movement, Crane pounded his fist on the desk so hard that the lantern trembled. His face had turned red. “Half-truths and lies, and nothing more, Leo. I am frustrated beyond belief, and as you know, I do not enjoy frustration.” He removed the mask from the burlap bag and slid it across the desk, its hollow eyes staring at me. “I am convinced that somewhere in that empty skull of yours, you know more. Perhaps your dull memory will sharpen with touch. Now take the mask in your hands and tell me what comes to mind.”

  I just shook my head. Feel nothing, I told myself. Feel nothing.

  Crane leaned back in his chair, his head out of the lantern light, and rocked for a long time. “You and I have not always seen eye to eye,” he said in a different tone of voice. He had switched tracks. “We’ve quarreled and argued and plotted, just like two brothers. Just as I used to quarrel with my dear brother.”

  “You mean ‘stepbrother.’”

  “No, Leo, we were brothers in every sense but one. I loved your father, and he loved me. Why else would he leave you to me? No, we understood each other. More than you can imagine. I have always followed his work, you see. And in his memory, I have continued his work, just as you have. Now let us continue his work … together.”

  “You’re nothing like my father,” I said through clenched teeth. “Nothing.”

  “That’s right!” he boomed, lurching forward into the light. “Your father wasted his life chasing music. Music?!” He laughed savagely. “A worthless trifle for the stupid and weak. While I … I …” He paused to laugh. “While I have uncovered real treasures … real objects only spoken of in legend, the real objects that history would rather forget. And what has that gotten me? They call me a gray-market dealer, a shady businessman on the fringes of the law. But no matter. I’ll prove them wrong. My work is exactly like your father’s, only he was too cowardly to search for real truth.”

  “I hate you!” I screamed.

  “Good. Now take it!” he growled from his throat, shoving the mask into my hands.

  I grasped the mask, my hands like claws, my thumbs digging into the hollow eye sockets with all their savage force. The world melted away in a flash of inner lightning, and I went down. I felt myself disappearing into that storm drain from the day before when Crane split Hollis and me apart, dropping down fast as a bullet into the sewers, drumming sounds all around me, pulsing and beating. My being seemed to race underground as fast as thoughts through murky tunnels and mazes, zigzagging but always going down, always down, traveling through the entire Earth itself into another underground maze, going faster and faster, drawn by a terrible black hole until I reached a cavernous wall, and there saw the other half of the shadowy mask gazing across its underground domain, eyes black as death. All around me the hypnotic beat of otherworldly drums.

  Summoning all my powers of concentration, I pried my hands off the mask and snapped back to myself. My fingers were stinging with pain. My right thumb was bleeding, caught on a sharp edge.

  Crane was watching me carefully. Did he know that I had traveled through time and space? I honestly couldn’t tell, and he certainly wasn’t saying.

  “I’m starting to remember more,” I said.

  “I thought you might, Leo. Now tell me everything.”

  “Not yet. I want something from you,” I said, and wiped the blood on my thumb onto the white sheet of paper. “I don’t ever want to go back to Satellite North. I want to go back to my old school immediately.”

  “I will see to it as soon as —”

  “I’m not done, Crane. I want you to fund a fact-finding mission to Antarctica. I want to know everything that happened to my parents. Everything.”

  “Hmm …” he said, taking the white piece of paper and scribbling on it. “If you lead me to the other half of the mask, which I believe you can, I will allot one hundred thousand dollars for the mission,” he said.

  “I want a hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “We’ll see how much I can sell the mask for. If it’s complete, it should raise a pretty penny. But first, you must guide me to it.”

  “You’re going to sell the mask? I thought this was about history, about truth.”

  “Of course it is. The mask will be photographed and documented, then I will sell it to the highest bidder. Perhaps that will be a museum. It matters little to me. Come now, Leo, we understand each other. You know I have only two loves, Leo, money and my dear mother. Now sign this document.”

  He slid the paper across to me. In black ink, he had written:

  I, Crane Rathbone, on the date of February 17, do hereby swear to fund a fact-finding mission to Antarctica totaling no less than $100,000, if Leo Lomax will guide me and my expedition and prove instrumental in recovering the missing half of the Long Pulling Conjoined-Twin Mask, to match the half in my possession, inventory #8367-99909-76187-33. Additionally, I, Crane Rathbone, also pledge to reinstate Leo Lomax into the Academy of Science and Arts effective immediately upon successful execution of this contract.

  There was a dotted line for my signature, right next to Crane’s signature, just above my bloodstain. I took the pen in my hand and signed.

  “The mask is underground, in a cave or a tunnel,” I said to him. “I believe it’s in the village of Byong Ku.”

  “And you believe this why?”

  “My dad said the villagers there wore it during some weird death ceremony.”

  “Excellent, Leo. That wasn’t so hard was it? A little unpleasant, but that’s behind us now. If you continue to be helpful, you will find that your future will be much brighter. Now pack a bag, and pack one for Hollis as well. Tomorrow night, we leave for the jungle.”

  I’m not sure how someone is supposed to feel after signing a shady midnight deal with Crane Rathbone — in blood, no less — but I felt great.

  When I got back to my room, I had no idea what time it was because all the power was still off, but it felt late. I poked my head into Hollis’s room and was relieved to see he had fallen asleep. As I looked at him clutching Ghosty, I wished with all my power that I could bring our parents back … for him, and for me.

  As I reviewed what I needed to do to get ready for the trip, the only thing nagging at me was Trevor. My phone was dead, but I didn’t want to call him anyway. What I had to tell him was complicated, and you don’t always hear everything you’re supposed to on the phone. An e-mail was out of the question for obvious reasons, so after pacing the room for a while thinking about my friendship with him, I decided to put my thoughts down on paper. If I couldn’t get in touch with him tomorrow through electronic means, I could always drop a letter in the mailbox.

  FEB 17

  Dear Trevor,

  I hope you’ll believe me when I say that I’ve tried to call you a million times over the last few days, but for various reasons, I’ve never been able to get through. And although I’ve needed you more than ever, maybe it’s better that we didn’t actually connect.

&n
bsp; Tomorrow, I’m leaving with Crane and Hollis for Borneo, for a trip lasting anywhere from a week to a month. I’ve agreed to help Crane locate the other half of that Siamese twin mask. You remember it, right? It’s worth a fortune, and he is obsessed with finding it.

  Now I know you probably don’t understand why I’m doing this, or you probably think that Crane has blackmailed me in some way. But it was my decision, and you’re the only person in the world who I can be totally honest with about why I made that decision.

  I believe there is a chance my parents are still alive. Maybe I just hope there’s a chance. In any case, I can’t rest until I know for sure. Remember that note I channeled in Jeremy’s store? Well, I heard something on it, a conversation between my dad and a shadowy Belgian diplomat, who turned out to be a spy, which makes me wonder if my parents’ death might have been faked, for reasons I don’t know yet. Even if they really are dead, I’ve got to know what happened to them. And even if it turns out they simply died in a plane crash like everyone says they did, I’m starting to believe that maybe there’s more to death than we think. And maybe I can use my power to know for sure.

  I hope you understand. I know Crane is a bad guy, but I made the deal with him in the hopes that good will come from it. I would have asked him to bring you on the trip, but I don’t think he likes you much after our last trip, and I think that whatever it is I’m searching for, I’ll have to find it alone.

  Please understand.

  Your best friend,

  Leo

  I read it over once, and though I didn’t get everything down the way I wanted, it was close enough.

  I unpacked one of the boxes with a few of my old toys and the records I brought home from the storage locker as well as the CDs my dad had made from his Borneo trip. I set up my Fisher-Price turntable, which gave me a little feeling of home. It was certainly the lowest-tech thing in my superautomated, supersleek, supermodern room at Uncle Crane’s. Before going to bed, I reread the contract just to make sure Crane hadn’t put in anything sneaky, but he hadn’t. I wanted to stash that somewhere safe while I was gone. As I was looking for a good hiding place, I did double duty and also searched for the package from my dad, the one with his letter and my blue disc. I looked in every drawer, in between books on my bookshelf, even stood on a chair to check way back in the top shelf of my closet. When I still couldn’t find the disc, I considered the very real possibility that Crane had swiped it like he swiped my computer. I wanted to make sure to find a perfect hiding place for my contract so he couldn’t ever claim that it had disappeared, too.

  I folded up the contract into a tiny square and crept out into the Mask Room. It was still white outside, but the whiteness was less thick and I could almost swear I saw the moon reflecting off the ocean in the distance. I scanned all the ghostly masks, and when I found one with a large gaping serpent mouth, I stashed the contract in the hollow cavity inside of it. Then I went to bed.

  I slept like a baby. No weird dreams, just relaxing, restful sleep. When I woke up, the sheets and my pillow even felt soft. Maybe my bed had just needed to be worked in a little. When I finally glanced at my bedside clock, it said 9:15. The power was back on!

  I took a deep breath, smiled, then ordered some breakfast from Olga on the control panel. Bacon and eggs, with a side of French toast. So long, stale granola bars. I noticed that there was a stack of adventure clothes that had miraculously appeared in the corner of my room. Before my food came, I took a long, luxurious hot shower. Just like that weird record, Fresh Metzger, I’d found in Jeremy’s store a few weeks back, I felt fresh. Today was going to be a good day. Today was a fresh start.

  After I’d gotten dressed in some of my new adventure gear, waterproof khaki pants and a shirt that felt made out of Windbreaker material, Dmitri arrived with my breakfast, carrying it all on a black lacquer platter. I was starving, and it smelled delicious.

  “Here is your breakfast, Mr. Leo,” he said. “Matka made the bacon extra crispy for you and squeezed fresh orange juice.”

  “Put in on my desk, Dmitri. Thanks.”

  I sat down and got busy, making a French-toast-with-eggs-and-bacon sandwich. Just as I was about to dig in, I heard Klevko’s voice on the intercom in my room.

  “You have a visitor downstairs, Leo,” he said. “The man who has a ponytail like a woman.”

  “His name is Jeremy, Klevko. Can you just send him up?”

  “No. That would make the boss very unhappy.”

  “He’s a friend of mine, Klevko. It’s not like he’s going to steal anything.”

  “I will have to search him. If he is clean, I will escort him to your room.”

  “Be sure to fingerprint him, too, Klevko.”

  “But I don’t have fingerprinting equipment here,” he said, sounding slightly panicked.

  “It was a joke, Klevko. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Security is no joke,” he said without laughing. Just before the intercom clicked off, I heard him say to Jeremy, “You, with the hair longer than my grandmother’s, put your hands out to the side….”

  I had just enough time to wolf down the rest of my breakfast sandwich before I heard footsteps in the hall. I ran out of my room to see Jeremy walking toward me with Klevko trailing close on his heels like he was a criminal about to bolt.

  “Tell your buddy here that next time he can skip the pat-down,” Jeremy said. “I don’t appreciate the physical contact.”

  “You can go now, Klevko,” I said. “We’re fine.”

  As Klevko turned to go, Jeremy called after him. “By the way, there’s another visitor on the way. He’s a skinny thirteen-year-old, pretty scary, so you’ll want to beef up your security measures. Call a code red or code orange or something.”

  “Trevor’s coming?” I asked Jeremy excitedly. “How’s he getting here?”

  “A hundred or so years ago, they invented something called the subway….”

  “No, I mean, how’d he get off school?”

  “It’s a snow day. He texted me to say he was stopping by. He texted you, too, but I guess you didn’t answer him. Speaking of which, I’ve been calling you nonstop, but your phone’s been going straight to voice mail. You’ve got to stay in touch, my man.”

  “Sorry, Jeremy,” I said as we walked into my room. “I’m all right. Things have been quiet here, and dark. We lost power for a while, that’s why you couldn’t get through, but it’s back now. You didn’t have to come all the way over here.”

  “No problem. It’s good to see you. And I get a chance to check out your room. So this is it, huh?”

  Jeremy glanced around, silently checking out all my deluxe accessories — the control panel above the bed with its intercom and TV remotes, the Swedish-designed bed with its chrome headboard, the mini-refrigerator built into the wall, the modular closet organizer with built-in shoe racks and wire baskets.

  “Not bad. It’s a little spare, but not bad. Not like your old room, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, that was so crowded with stuff, Hollis and I had to jump over piles to get to our beds,” I said. “That was fun.”

  “Oh, I see you got some records here!” Jeremy said, and walked over to the boxes on the floor. Just like it was a reflex, he started flipping through them.

  “I got them from my dad’s storage locker. Maybe we can go sometime and you can pick out some of the good ones.”

  “Sure, Leo. But it looks like you’re doing okay without me. Not bad,” he said, flipping through each one. “Oh, you got the Sun Ra album, Space Is the Place! Did you know the cover folds out, and you can see Sun Ra from head to toe? Check it out.”

  He opened up the cover. It was a gatefold cover, one of those ones that open like a book. Along one whole side was a continuous image of Sun Ra, wearing a robe and a wild Egyptian headdress.

  Jeremy put it back and flipped through more records.

  “Oh,” he said, his voice tightening. “I see you found that Spiricom record, too?”
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  “Yup. No thanks to you. Why’d you lie about it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Jeremy. You never forget a record. Especially not one as weird as that.”

  “I-I didn’t mean to, Leo. I thought it might scare you, I guess. In fact, I think I’m going to take this from you. I’ll hold it for you —”

  “No, it’s mine. Besides, I listened to some of it already, and it’s no big deal.”

  Jeremy walked over to my bed and flopped down, leaning back on his elbows so he could get a good look at me.

  “You guys have had a big shock,” he said. “A trauma like that can make people believe strange things.”

  “Like that you can communicate with the dead.”

  “Yup, like that.”

  I sat back down in my desk chair and rolled it over to Jeremy, so we could talk face-to-face. I respected his intelligence. So did my dad, which is why his will placed Jeremy in charge of overseeing our education. Maybe this was a conversation I could have with him, man-to-man.

  “Do you ever think, Jeremy, that maybe there’s something to it? I mean, the guy on the record seemed to think there was. And so did Raudive and Jürgenson and about a million other scientists. Are they all nuts? Maybe there’s more to death than we think.”

  “Leo,” he sighed, twirling his ponytail around his fingers until they were white. “This is exactly why you shouldn’t have that record, and exactly what I was scared of.”

  “Why? You don’t know everything.”

  “Yeah, Leo, but talking with dead people? Come on, use your head.”

  “I have. And you always say listen to your feelings. Have you ever died? No, you haven’t, so you don’t know what it’s like. Maybe we can actually talk with them. Maybe the dead are still around. Don’t a lot of people believe that after you die, that you’re born again into a new body? Maybe the dead are all around us. And if they are, shouldn’t we try to find them, to talk to them? Shouldn’t we try to know what happens when you die? What about those voices Raudive recorded? I heard them.”