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looking for.
    I searched. “It’s not here! We’re dead!”
    Then I heard a rustle. My flashlight beam caught Zeek in the face. He was grinning, holding a sheet of paper covered with writing.
    I smiled, too. “Bingo!”
    Moments later we were out the window, on the ground, and scrambling across the grass to the main building.
    â€œSpotlight!” Zeek hissed, pointing to a bright white glow flooding our path.
    I froze and looked around. “Drainpipe!” I whispered. Zeek nodded.
    We did a Double N-Double Z zigzag run to the far wall of the main building. It was one of Zeek’s famous football moves. It always worked.
    In a flash, we were shinnying up the drainpipe.
    We were quiet. We were fast. We were good. Noodle and Zeek, masters of the smooth move.
    Up to the rooftop, through the skylight, into the building, and down to the floor. We were in a long dark hallway of the central building.
    Zeek tapped my arm and nodded at a small gray door. “That’s it, but what about alarms?”
    I checked my watch and shuddered. “Four seconds!” I said. “We’ll just have to risk it.”
    We tore down the hallway. Zeek, the incredible sports star, took huge leaps. He reached the door first, grabbed the handle, and pulled hard.
    It creaked.
    â€œOne second!” he cried.
    I dived into the darkness.
    RRRRIIIIIINNNGG!
    Lights went on all around us. We were completely surrounded.
    â€œNoodle Newton and Zeek Pilinsky!” echoed a deep voice.
    That’s when the whole place exploded.



TWO
    The whole place exploded, all right.
    In applause.
    Zeek and I leaped out onto the stage in the Mayville School auditorium. Mr. Strunk, our teacher, jumped aside as we skidded over to the microphone.
    Zeek handed me the piece of paper with writing on it. The paper we’d forgotten in our classroom and retrieved on our mission.
    I flashed a smile to the crowded room and began to read. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. And teachers too, of course!”
    â€œAhem,” coughed Mr. Strunk. Everybody laughed.
    â€œAs part of the Mayville School Evening Learning Series,” I read, “it is our pleasure to introduce to you a world-famous husband-and-wife exploring team.”
    â€œSince we first met them fighting underground treasure thieves,” Zeek added, “and then helped them battle sunken ship raiders, we’ve sure learned a lot about archaeology and other cool adventure stuff.”
    â€œYeah,” I went on. “Mr. and Mrs. Emerson are a couple of our favorite people. Because, well, they saved our lives about a gazillion times!”
    More laughter from the audience.
    â€œPlease welcome the Emersons!”
    The two adventurers walked onstage. Mrs. Emerson was really pretty, even if her hair was all bunched up in back like a teacher’s. But you’d never think she was a teacher. Teachers don’t wear exploring gear!
    Mr. Emerson had a short beard and wore a really cool wide-brimmed sun hat. He looked like he had stepped right out of a safari movie. He gave a nod to Zeek and me. We smiled back.
    â€œThank you, and good evening,” Mrs. E. said.
    Zeek and I walked to the side of the stage. I waved to my mom and dad sitting in the front row. Zeek’s parents and his sister, Emily, were right next to them. They all grinned back at us, but their smiles were weird. Really big, with all their teeth showing.
    Mr. Emerson began. “This evening we’d like to tell you a little about our next expedition, to the tiny country of Maribo, deep in the jungles of Central America.”
    â€œCool!” whispered Zeek. “If only we could—”
    But I was hardly listening. At that moment, the back doors of the auditorium opened, and six men in black suits stepped in. The same men from the limo outside.
    Four of them were as big as pro football players. One was small and skinny with a really thin mustache. It looked like his