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exit.”
    Professor Ragar’s men tore after them, their predatory eyes adjusting to the dim red light of the exit signs.
    â€œAddison, where to?” asked Molly, fists pumping as she sprinted.
    â€œThe place we know best.”
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    Addison and Molly, well out of breath, bounded into thelargest room in the museum . . . the vast atrium that housed the Aztec temple.
    The giant ziggurat was built of limestone and granite boulders shipped in from Tenochtitlán, Mexico. Even at night, the structure was dramatically lit with floodlights. One hundred steep stone steps led to an altar, where ancient Aztecs once performed thousands of human sacrifices.
    The temple was surrounded by a beautiful reflecting pool. Museum visitors often made wishes, tossing in pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters. Once a year, Addison and Molly rolled up their pant legs and helped the museum staff collect the coins from the water to donate to charity.
    Tonight, Addison thought he could use a little charity himself, or at least a bit of luck. He and Molly jumped into the reflecting pool with a splash. Soaked up to their knees, they sloshed across the moat to reach the temple. They climbed the base of the pyramid and watched the remaining bodyguards enter the atrium.
    â€œI like staying with Uncle Nigel for the weekend,” said Addison. “Never a dull moment.”
    â€œWe’re cornered.”
    â€œI will admit, this is a sticky wicket.”
    Molly blew the stray strand of hair from her eyes. She knew that once Addison landed on an expression he liked, he stuck with it.
    The bodyguards surrounded the moat. Zubov shoutedat his men, “You afraid of getting your little shoes wet? Go after them!”
    One by one, the bodyguards waded in, trudging through the knee-deep reflecting pool in their steel-tipped combat boots. They closed in on Addison and Molly like a slowly tightening noose.
    Molly considered climbing the steps of the ziggurat, but they would have no retreat. “Any ideas, Mr. Wicket?”
    Addison searched for options, his eyes settling on the giant floodlights illuminating the stone walls of the temple. He gripped the metal girder of a floodlight and strained with all his might, trying to wrench the light free of its rocky mooring.
    â€œAddison, what are you doing?”
    â€œDestroying museum property.”
    Molly shook her head in amazement. “It’s like I don’t even know you!”
    Addison snapped the floodlight free and dragged it to the edge of the moat. He watched the bodyguards splashing closer. “Mo, do you know why Aunt Delia gets mad when you leave the hair dryer near the bathtub?”
    â€œBecause it’s messy?”
    â€œWell, partly.” Addison casually rested his foot on top of the bright floodlight, poised on the edge of the moat. “But also, electricity and water don’t mix.”
    The bodyguards paused, suddenly aware of their danger.
    Addison smiled at them and winked.
    He kicked his foot and the giant floodlight crashed into the water. Electricity jolted through the reflecting pool with a thunderous zap. Bodyguards collapsed like felled oaks, hitting the water in a sizzling, jiggling mess. They yowled like cats stuck in a clothes dryer. The men raced from the moat, retreating to the safety of the atrium where they crumpled to the ground, shaking and twitching, their hair standing on end.
    Zubov stared down at his men in disgust. He raised his cold eyes to glare at Addison across the moat. His face was a pale mask of rage.
    Molly joined Addison at the water’s edge. “Will those guys be okay?”
    Addison nodded. “They will be soon. In the meantime, I suggest we take the fire exit at our earliest convenience.”
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    Addison and Molly had never used an emergency exit before. But they felt reasonably sure their situation constituted an emergency.