The Calder Game Read online

  Ten minutes after leaving Mrs. Sharpe, Tommy and Petra walked up to a police line at the Woodstock Gate to Blenheim. An officer looked at their cards, grunted, then said, “Oh, yes! The Boy’s dad said the two of you would be here. Go along, then, looks like you’ve got your credentials! And no more trouble, d’you hear?”

  The kids nodded, and walked through the massive stone entrance into the park.

  Because of the high walls, neither had seen anything but photographs of the place. The real thing was a shock.

  “It’s GIANT!” Tommy gasped.

  Petra turned her head in a slow circle. “It’s art!” she whispered. “The way the palace fits with the bridge, and then the sweep of lawn and water — we’re inside an old painting, Tommy!”

  Tommy pulled on her sleeve. “Come on, they’re staring at us. Police assistants don’t go ga-ga about the scenery.”

  Petra glared down at his head, and nothing was said for a long time. They hurried along an endless road that led toward the maze, both feeling small in an extra-large landscape — small and not at all like a team.

  It was Tommy who broke the silence. “Calder must have been lonely walking around here, especially after sunset.”

  Petra nodded.

  Both were remembering that Calder always avoided the dark in Hyde Park. How could he possibly have chosen to hide here for a couple of nights? He wasn’t the kind of kid who’d go off on his own for days and not think about his family, either. What could be so important that he’d stay out of contact for so long?

  Tommy then said, “We’ll reason like Calder. I know how to do that.”

  “Yup,” Petra agreed stiffly. “So do I. We can try.”

  They walked in silence for the next ten minutes, both busy with troubled ideas.

  Tommy was thinking to himself that even if there were treasure around and Calder were breaking the rules, he wouldn’t be digging for it on his own. Not Calder, who was more interested in patterns and shapes than in keeping things. Except for his pentominoes, that is — he’d almost had a heart attack every time the Button made him leave them in his locker. So if it wasn’t treasure, what could be keeping him away?

  Petra was wondering, again, what game Calder could possibly be into — a game that involved a stolen Calder sculpture and the word WISH? Maybe he’d left another note for his dad, and the note got lost. Or maybe he couldn’t leave another note.

  “Tommy.” Petra stopped walking.

  Tommy stopped, too. “What?”

  “What if Calder is stuck somewhere? Or trapped. Kidnapped. I had a dream —”

  Tommy shook his head quickly. “Don’t say it. Let’s just concentrate on what we’re doing.”

  “Okaa-y,” Petra said slowly. “I guess you’re right. It doesn’t help.”

  Tommy sucked in his cheeks and shrugged, as if being right was nothing new. Petra rolled her eyes.

  On their way to the maze, they passed oak trees that had to be hundreds of years old. Gnarled and bent, some had gaping hollows big enough to hide a couple of kids, hollows you could step into without ducking. They peered quickly into each one, and found strange knotholes and knobs but no sign of Calder. At last they arrived at the high brick walls surrounding the old kitchen garden; the hedge maze was not yet visible.

  Tommy and Petra paused in front of the gate.

  “We’re here, Calder,” Petra said softly.

  Tommy startled her. “Hey!” he shouted. “Help us! We’re trying hard to find you, and you’ve gotta give us some hints.”

  Petra made a sound that was half laugh and half shush, mostly because it didn’t seem smart to be making so much noise. Tommy spun quickly in her direction and growled, “Think you’re the only one with ideas?”

  Suddenly she missed Calder more that ever, and her eyes burned. Tommy was always defensive, and always misunderstanding her. She stepped through the gate and sped up, passing a small, very old model of the town. She would have knelt down to peer in windows, but could feel tears prickling.

  She ran the last twenty feet across a cropped lawn, hopped over a large puddle, and disappeared between the high walls of green.

  Tommy watched Petra’s back hurrying ahead of him, her chin down and her black ponytail bouncing. He missed his buddy Calder more than ever. Petra was so — what? Big? Not just that. Irritating, because she thought she knew what she was talking about. Calder never gave Tommy one of those looks. And he didn’t talk about funny ideas like art, either. They just did things, and somehow understood each other.

  Tommy kicked at a stone, chasing it toward the entrance to the maze. The stone bounced sideways across the gravel walk, and Tommy stopped short.

  It had landed near a small disk that lay just off the path. Clots of mud and loose pebbles were scattered around it. Tommy picked it up. What? Had someone dropped this? No, it still had dirt clinging to it, as if it had been scuffed to the surface by a shoe.

  The metal was old, very worn, and brown with flecks of green. There was a woman on one side, just barely visible, sitting on a large, round ball. She held a spear in one hand and a plant — or was it a small flag? — in the other, and her hair was pulled back in a tidy bun. Her face was rubbed clean, with just the tiniest suggestion of an eye. The letters BRITANNIA curled around the edge of the design, and Tommy saw tiny numbers on the bottom. Could that be 1752? What a find! An ancient coin!

  On the other side was a man’s head, a man with a grumpy face — you could see one scowly eye and a hook nose. GEORGIUS II, Tommy spelled out, and then EX. He spat on the coin, and rubbed it carefully on his pants. No, it was REX. Tommy knew that meant king — King George II! What a discovery!

  What mattered of course was finding Calder, but this was definitely awesome — 1752! Tommy thought back to Mrs. Sharpe’s stories on the plane, stories about how long people had lived on this piece of land. There must be far older treasures all around. Maybe they were as common as bottle caps were at home. Maybe people picked them up all the time.

  “Petra!” Tommy shouted. “PETRA! Where are you?”

  No answer. A breeze ruffled the leafy walls of the maze. They’d seen no one else since they left the entrance to the park, not even any police. And this was a part of Blenheim that was made for families and children. It was kind of eerie.

  “Petra!” Tommy shouted again. No reply. He slid the coin deep into his pocket and hurried toward the opening of the maze.

  Inside, Tommy rushed along, jumping over mushy spots. One turn, a branch in the path, now another — still no sign of Petra. He stopped. “Petra!” he bellowed again.

  Silence.

  He could hear someone moving slowly, slowly on the other side of the maze. Or was that the wind? The bushes forming the walls of the winding paths were so thick that in most places he could barely see light between the leaves. He thought of Calder by himself in this huge park, by himself at night. A nasty shudder rippled down Tommy’s back, as if someone had touched him with an icy finger. He spun around — still no one in sight. Reaching into his pocket, he formed a fist around the coin. Help me, he said silently. Help me to find Calder.

  REX, he thought suddenly. I have a king in my pocket! A king and a woman warrior of some kind. What if the people on the coin had wanted him to find them; what if they had extra powers. That was the kind of thing Petra would imagine, he realized, and shrugged. Maybe she wasn’t all that bad. Being alone with her wasn’t great, but being by himself was a lot worse.

  He straightened his shoulders, glanced both ways, and walked ahead. What looked like a dead end became a curve. Following it, he came to another fork. Again he heard a tiny shushing sound, like someone running a hand along the bushes. Where was she? Well, two could play at this game.

  He decided to tiptoe.

  Step, step, step … Tommy kept glancing over his shoulder. The bushes were getting taller, and the sun had disappeared behind clouds. He felt as though he’d gone in at least ten different directions and hadn’t gotten any closer to t
he center of the maze. Then he saw something black moving near the ground, in a path parallel to his. He froze. Boots? If so, they were big. Petra had sneakers on, and they weren’t black.

  He crept farther, looking for another low gap in the bushes. The hand gripping his coin was now sweaty, but he didn’t dare let go. Who was this person in the maze with them? What if it was a man who already had Calder and had just grabbed Petra?

  He could no longer see the dark shape moving. Had this person seen him, too, and was he now a target?

  He rounded a corner and a line of black crows whooshed upward.

  It was then that he saw Petra lying facedown across the middle of the path.

  The night that the five men picked up the Minotaur, all went smoothly, or so it seemed.

  The transfer of the sculpture onto the market cart, the quick stenciling of the words WISH-WISH with yellow paint, the silent return of the cart on its rubber tires, pulled by the men in boots, black gloves, and black stocking masks: seamless. No lights went on in the town, no windows opened.

  Just off the main road, outside the formal entrance to Blenheim, the sculpture was hurried down a dirt road into some woods. All went as planned, without even one passing car.

  As far as the five men knew, there were no witnesses.

  The sculpture was taken to a huge, deserted barn on an estate that had stood empty for over a year. The men waited there for the American who had hired them to turn up. The agreement had been that he would meet them at the barn that night, with a truck. They would move the sculpture from the market cart into the truck. Having found a way to enter the park along a remote farming road, he’d ride with the men, and then tell them exactly where to unload the piece of art. The payment was to be in cash, in five envelopes. The American had explained that he was acting on behalf of a larger interest.

  The man never came.

  The five men bolted the barn doors at dawn and agreed not to leave each other until they heard from the American. After all, what if he gave all five payments to one of them, and that one ran off with the money?

  The men called home that morning and made their excuses, then stayed in the back of the barn, mostly napping and glaring at one another. By the second day, when the man who had hired them still hadn’t turned up, they began to make plans.

  They couldn’t tell the police, could they? After all, they had stolen something worth millions, something that had been given to the town of Woodstock. But if the man had run off, wasn’t the sculpture theirs to dispose of?

  And then they heard a discussion on the radio of some scheme called the Calder Game. A part of an American art exhibit, it was inspired by the same artist who’d made their sculpture. The game involved everyday people balancing ideas, but in unexpected ways — it all sounded quite crazy. The suggestion was that a Calder sculpture and a Calder boy, both out of sight, might be a part of an elaborate game or a teasing message, especially with the yellow WISH-WISH left as a hint.

  This was the excuse the five men needed. They had no intention of being a part of anyone’s joke. Wishes, indeed! If the man who hired them could play, so could they: They’d sell the sculpture.

  That afternoon, the men called a friend who handled large food deliveries, and borrowed a truck big enough for the Minotaur to disappear in. Their plan was to pack it in hay and head clear across Europe. Maybe they’d be able to unload it in Germany or Switzerland.

  That night, a large Cadbury truck with a heavy load made its way south, headed for the English Channel. Five men were crowded into the front cab. A fine rain had begun to fall.

  Wish, wish … The words swept back and forth with the windshield wipers, filled the truck, and rushed to fill the darkness ahead.

  “Petra?” Tommy’s voice had risen to a squeak.

  Her head popped up, and she waved a small piece of yellow plastic. “Nope,” she said, in such a matter-of-fact voice that Tommy suddenly felt enraged. “It’s not a pentomino.”

  Who was she not to be frightened? And hadn’t she heard him calling?

  “I thought you were hurt!” Tommy shouted at her. “And I heard someone moving in the maze, someone else.”

  Petra sat up. “Really?” She looked both ways.

  “Really!” Tommy said in his meanest voice. He decided not to mention the crows.

  Still on the ground, Petra crossed her arms. “You know what? I think it’s just you and me, Tommy, no one else, and if we keep getting mad at each other, we’ll never find Calder.”

  Tommy was quiet, and Petra continued, “You’re a good finder, we both know that, and I’m — well, I’m not sure what, but I do have surprising thoughts when I’m writing, and sometimes things get clear to me.” Petra was up now, and had stuffed what was left of her ponytail into the back of her sweatshirt, making a lopsided hump.

  Tommy smiled, surprising even himself. At least you couldn’t accuse Petra of being a fussy kind of girl.

  “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry I’m sometimes such a jerk.”

  Petra reached out and gave him a lightning-quick hug. Tommy’s heart thudded violently and his cheeks turned brick-red. When his nose squashed against her sweatshirt, he caught a whiff of something clean and flowery — something like a folded sheet.

  “Truce,” Petra said.

  “Truce,” he agreed, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “Hey! I forgot to show you, I was so scared you were dead!” Tommy pulled out the coin.

  “Whoa,” Petra breathed. “Is this real?”

  “I think so,” Tommy said. “It’s all beat-up, and look: Here’s the date 1752 on one side. It was in a bunch of dirt just next to the path.”

  “Wow, 1752! I’ve never touched a coin this old before. I wonder where it’s been all these years?” Petra’s voice was dreamy, then suddenly businesslike. “Hey! How about we get out of this maze, then head for the magical well, the one that was near the really old labyrinth. Rosamund’s Well, remember? Then maybe old plus old, the coin near the well, you know! Maybe it’ll add up to some luck.”

  Ordinarily, Tommy would have made a this-is-silly face, but something inside him was shifting. He almost believed that he and Petra could be buddies. “Fine, let’s do it,” was all he said.

  Then he had a thought, a thought that seemed to come directly from Calder’s brain.

  “Here’s something else about the coin: One plus seven plus five plus two equals fifteen. And then there are all the fives in Chicago at the MCA show. And Calder especially liked the size of ten-piece pentomino rectangles, remember? And wait —” Tommy counted on his fingers, his mouth moving. “‘Alexander Calder’ has fifteen letters!”

  “Multiples of five! Cool, Tommy.” Petra was beginning to think Tommy’s black, cannonball head looked smart, and not just stubborn.

  They hurried on through the maze.

  “I know we passed this broken branch and that purple candy wrapper,” Tommy said gloomily. “At least twice before.”

  “I know, I can’t believe this is so hard,” Petra said. “But at least we’re together.”

  At least we’re together. Tommy couldn’t believe the words.

  “You didn’t seem too scared when I found you,” he said.

  “But I was,” Petra said simply.

  “Imagine how it would feel to know a minotaur was around the next corner,” Tommy added.

  “Or charging right behind you!” Petra shuddered.

  “The idea of hide-and-seek in a maze is really a nightmare, isn’t it?” Tommy glanced behind them. “It’s like someone is following you and you can’t see them and you can’t hide. Not in time.”

  “Right, you can’t plan ahead because you don’t know where you are. Or where the hunter is,” Petra added. “I mean seeker.”

  “I wonder if Calder liked it once he got in here,” Tommy went on. “You know how excited he was to be going into his first life-size maze. I wonder if he was scared, too.”

  “I’ll bet he loved it,” Petra said.
“We’re only afraid because we don’t know where he is. Because being lost isn’t a game anymore.”

  Tommy nodded. Neither said anything for the next two stretches of path, and then suddenly, on the next turn, they were at the end, and could see the lawn of the Kitchen Garden.

  “At last!” Tommy leaped over a puddle. “I think I like paper mazes better,” he added.

  “Definitely,” Petra agreed. “Ten times better!”

  Once on the grass, they knelt down and unfolded their map.

  “We’re right here,” Tommy said. “Got a pen?”

  Petra pulled one out of her jeans pocket. “And a small notebook, if you need it.”

  He shook his head, and made a mark on the path where he’d found the coin. “There, X.”

  “How about an X where the WISH-WISH stencil is, in the town square?”

  “Done.” Tommy scrawled another X.

  “The Xs can mark places we know are important, but that we don’t yet understand,” Petra said.

  Tommy nodded.

  Perhaps, Petra thought to herself, the crossed Is that formed the X were a symbol of her and Tommy, of them combining forces to find Calder.

  “Symbols,” she said aloud, suddenly embarrassed.

  “Symbols,” Tommy repeated, and Petra wondered if he’d had the same thought.

  As they approached Blenheim Palace, the police were everywhere. The building was very grand and formal, and Tommy and Petra agreed that Calder would never have gone inside, at least on his first day in the park. After the maze, he would have been busy exploring the gardens and maybe the Rosamund’s Well area.

  They wandered behind the house and smelled hot chocolate. A sandwich wagon had been set up for the detectives and officers.

  “Should we?” Petra asked. “I’m starving.”

  “We’ve gotta eat. This is safer than leaving the park and then hoping they’ll let us back in, don’t you think?” Tommy said. Petra still wasn’t used to him sounding so relaxed and unprickly with her.

  “Yup.” She nodded happily, then mashed her hair into a fresh ponytail and brushed the dirt from the maze off the front of her sweatshirt.