Curse of the Terracotta Warriors (A Maddie Jones Mystery, #1) by Mark Douglas Jr

Author:Mark Douglas, Jr.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Children’s folk tales and myths Asian multicultural, Children's siblings books travel and exploration, Children's action and adventure detective story, Children's ebook fantasy and supernatural series, Children's historical fantasy ancient civilization, Teen and young adult fairy tale and folklore book, Teen and young adult action and adventure series
Publisher: Sky City Press
Published: 2023-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 37

Click. The gun didn’t fire. Its chamber must’ve been empty.

Rico laughed. “Did you think I was finished with you, Dr. Jones?”

Dad scoffed, but his tone sounded shaky. Rico pulling that trigger had clearly unnerved him.

Rico clutched his broken nose and snapped it back into place. “Argh—you are a difficult man to crack, Dr. Jones. Threatening your life appears to be a waste of time. But perhaps torturing your daughter will change your mind—” he motioned to the man with the tattooed hand. “Zheng, retrieve the girl.”

Zheng clenched his tattooed hand and marched away.

“NO!” my father shouted.

“Hold,” said Rico, and Zheng stopped in his tracks. “Are you finally willing to cooperate, Dr. Jones?”

Dad hesitated, but I saw a quick nod of his head.

“Then how do we open Emperor Qin’s tomb?”

Dad climbed unsteadily to his feet. “There’s a terracotta warrior in this museum,” he said, adjusting his glasses, “who has a clue hidden inside of his boot.”

“Which warrior?”

Dad mumbled something I couldn’t quite hear.

Rico snapped his fingers, and Zheng started to depart.

“Wait, all right.” Dad pointed in our direction. “Seventh corridor. Seventh row, middle soldier.”

Oh, fetch! Dad unknowingly pointed right at us.

Rico smiled, holstering his pistol. “Lynch,” he called.

A new figure emerged—the scarred goon whose eye I had jabbed back in Evansville. He now wore an eyepatch, and although I knew he earned the facial accessory because of me, his tactical gear and assault rifle were no joking matter.

“Search for this warrior,” Rico commanded.

Lynch shouldered his weapon and moved to obey. He hopped the railing and dropped to the dirt floor the terracotta warriors stood on. From behind, I heard more soldiers’ boots stomping into the pit. Lynch wasn’t the only mercenary fast approaching our location. Holy frigging crap! The soldiers were about to surround us.

“Move, move,” I told the boys, and we crept as quickly—and as quietly—as we could to the end of our corridor. We slipped into the next corridor, number eight I believe, just as mercenaries arrived at number seven. They marched past us, their faces pressing forward and not looking in our direction. They headed for the Shoemaker.

We crept deeper into the ranks of terracotta warriors within our row, hoping the ancient soldiers gave us enough cover to stay hidden. My heart was racing. Sweat beaded on my brow. Dirt brushed through my fingers as I crawled on my hands and knees.

“I found it,” Lynch suddenly shouted. “But it looks like somebody has already been here?”

“What? How?” Rico yelled back.

“A hidden compartment has been opened,” Lynch explained. “And its contents are missing.”

Rico’s yell of rage echoed throughout the museum, sending a chill down my spine.

“Wait,” shouted Lynch. “There are sneaker tracks in the dirt. Whoever looted the soldier is still here!”

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