Secrets of the Silver Lion

Copyright © 2020 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt IP LLC.

CARMEN SANDIEGO and associated logos and design are trademarks of Houghton Mifflin Harcourt IP.

All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to [email protected] or to Permissions, Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Publishing Company, 3 Park Avenue, 19th Floor, New York, New York 10016.

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Cover illustration © 2020 by Houghton Mifflin Harcourt IP LLC

The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication data is on file.

ISBN 978-0-358-38067-2

eISBN 978-0-358-37915-7

v1.0820

Chapter 1

CARMEN SANDIEGO MOVED SOUNDLESSLY around the deserted terrace, expertly avoiding loose stones and dodging security cameras. In the morning, there would be no evidence that an international thief had been there—Carmen was a pro.

This place sure is quiet for New York City, Carmen said into her comm-link earring. The terrace was several steps up from the street, and it had been ten minutes since the last car went by. At the far end of the terrace was a stately museum. Carmen thought it looked like a place where someone self-important would live.

The voice on the other end of Carmen’s earring was cheerful. Even though they had never met in person, Player was Carmen’s best friend. They were partners in fighting VILE (the Villains’ International League of Evil) and spoke every single day. Player was always ready with encouragement and quick facts, and now was no different.

It’s the middle of the night, Red. What were you expecting, a welcome band?

What ever happened to the city that never sleeps?

No one uses this terrace at night. It’s all yours, Red—that is, unless our friends show up.

Carmen smiled sneakily to herself. She had reasons to believe that operatives from VILE would be coming to ransack the museum—but with any luck, Carmen would thwart their plans and keep the museum’s treasures safe. She could just imagine the faces of criminals like Countess Cleo and Professor Maelstrom, or better yet her archrival Tigress, when they realized that Carmen had beaten them to their prize. Carmen had once been a student criminal-in-training at VILE Academy—ever since Carmen escaped from the academy and started fighting evil, she had tried to stay one step ahead of VILE.

I think I’ve found the spot. Carmen focused on a ledge just below a second-story window. It was narrow, but it looked sturdy, and there were no bars on the window.

Go for it.

Carmen reached into her red trench coat, wound up her arm, and pitched her grappling hook toward the ledge.

Got it!

As soundlessly as she had walked around the terrace, Carmen now shinnied up the rope. When she reached the top of the ledge, she gathered the grappling hook back into her coat and sneaked a peek over her shoulder. The view from above was impressive: to the west, the Hudson River glimmered, and to the south, the lights on Broadway snaked deep into the city. Carmen turned back to the window. It took her two tries to pick the lock before the window finally opened.

Carmen listened for sounds inside, but the museum was empty. She was completely alone.

Still crouched on the ledge, Carmen used her flashlight to figure out where she was. The window opened onto a grand exhibit hall, filled with richly woven tapestries, silver candlesticks, and elegant vases. It wasn’t a far jump, and Carmen landed on her feet.

The exhibit hall was packed with stuff VILE would love—she could just imagine Professor Maelstrom melting down those silver candlesticks for cufflinks, like he once wanted to do with an Ecuadorian doubloon. But Carmen knew that VILE was after a bigger prize than the knickknacks in this third-floor gallery. She spotted the stairs and quickly made her way to the ground floor. Luckily, Player had found floorplans, which Carmen had studied carefully.

On the ground floor, Carmen moved toward the front doors. They were heavy, studded with metal, and secured from the inside with multiple locks. Carmen would deal with those later. Right now, she had one mission.

Once you get to the doors, it’s to your right, Player instructed.

Carmen turned and faced a long, narrow hallway. She shone her flashlight, which illuminated only shadows and a worn stone floor. Past the reach of the light, the hallway continued like a pitch-black tunnel. Carmen squared her shoulders and strode down the hallway, holding the flashlight out in front of her.

A sparkle caught the light. As Carmen neared the end of the hallway, she could just make out a silver shape, about the size of her palm. She drew closer, until she could clearly see that it was a silver carving in the shape of an arrow.

Do you see it yet? Player asked into her ear.

Carmen raised her flashlight. She whistled. I see it.

The silver arrow was nestled into the base of a mahogany throne. The base was intricately carved with scrolls and curlicues, and the legs of the throne were shaped like enormous claws. The arms were fashioned like the heads of two roaring lions. On the seat was a velvet cushion, now threadbare.

The museum’s most prized possession, Player announced. It was commissioned by King Felipe IV of Spain in 1621.

The man clearly had money, Carmen remarked. But I don’t know about taste. The throne was foreboding.

I think the idea was to intimidate people, Player said. But that’s not why that throne is valuable, it’s actually that silver arrow.

Carmen examined the arrow, carefully inlaid on the base of the throne. On either side of it were hollowed out spaces, like molds that were never filled.

You see the space for the castle and the lion on either side of the arrow? Player asked. King Felipe IV also commissioned silver inlays for those spots. They were definitely made, because there are documents confirming it, but somehow the castle and the lion never got to the throne.

Carmen leaned in closer. The detail on this arrow is amazing. It’s almost as if the feather at the end were real. I wish I could see it in proper lighting. She straightened up. But I need to figure out what VILE is planning.

Do you, Black Sheep?

Carmen whirled around, dropping her flashlight in surprise. No one had called her Black Sheep since her days at VILE Academy. Someone flipped a switch, and the hallway was flooded with overhead fluorescents. Carmen covered her face to shade her unadjusted eyes.

I see our little friend is here, said a singsong voice. So predictable.

Carmen lowered her hands, still blinking. She gritted her teeth at the person now advancing on her. "I was a year ahead of you, Paperstar, don’t call me little."

Paperstar smiled sweetly. "But did you graduate ahead of me, Black Sheep? She skipped past Carmen. Her platform patent-leather boots squeaked against the tiled floor. No, I didn’t think so, Paperstar said. So you see, I think little is just the right word for you. Little thief. Little amateur. Oh, look . . .—Paperstar hopped onto the throne and crossed her ankles primly—from up here, little person."

Carmen’s eyes narrowed. Get off that throne before I make you, Paperstar.

As if you could. Paperstar lunged suddenly, throwing an origami star in Carmen’s direction. Carmen ducked as the star whipped through the air and sliced past her ear. Now Paperstar emptied her pockets and the paper weapons came faster and faster, thinner and sharper each time. Carmen retreated, ducking, running, and rolling to dodge the stars. At the end of the hallway she turned left and ran, racing through the galleries, taking every turn she could to try and shake Paperstar.

You’d think those boots would slow her down, but no, Carmen shouted to Player, panting as she ran. She hung a sharp left and shrank into the shadows. Paperstar ran past, and Carmen caught her breath as the sound of Paperstar’s squeaky boots faded away.

Player, Carmen hissed into her earpiece, I’ve got to get this throne to a secure location—I can’t keep it safe here. I think I’ve got five minutes, tops. Get Ivy—I need backup! She darted back the way she came and yanked open the door of the first supply closet she found. Yes, here’s a cart! Carmen grabbed the handle and ran back toward the throne, not even bothering to be quiet. It wouldn’t take Paperstar long to figure out where she had gone.

Grunting, Carmen nudged the throne onto the cart. Under her trench coat, she was dripping with sweat.

The front door rattled. Ivy! Carmen thought, praying her friend and partner-in-adventure was at the ready. She pushed the cart as hard as she could then leaped onto its base, leaning over the throne like a skier as the cart, the throne, and Carmen hurtled toward the front door. Something sailed across the doorway and Carmen knew Paperstar was back, but if she could just beat her to the door and meet Ivy—

AAARGH! Paperstar yelled as she hurtled her body at the cart, pushing it back into the museum and knocking Carmen to the ground. The doors burst open and Carmen heard Ivy yelling her name.

Seconds later, Carmen heard Paperstar shouting shrilly, You two get the throne! I’ll put Black Sheep out of commission.

Somewhere in the distance, Carmen heard the voices of Le Chèvre and El Topo, two of VILE’s top operatives.

Please let Ivy get the throne before them, Carmen said to herself. Ivy, get the throne! If she could lead Paperstar away from the museum for long enough—please get it, please get it! Carmen reached the window and jumped onto the ledge—with Paperstar only seconds behind.

Chapter 2

IVY PUSHED OPEN THE HEAVY DOORS. I’m coming, Carmen! she hollered, then stopped in place. A cart loaded with an imposing wooden throne was careening away from the entrance. Not at all the direction they wanted. Suddenly Ivy noticed a flash of red, and then Paperstar, one of VILE’s most dangerous villains, leaped off the cart and tore after Carmen, throwing paper darts.

Come back here! Ivy shouted. Then she took a second look at the cart and frowned. It looked like VILE had been trying to steal it. And if VILE was taking it from the museum, that could only mean one thing—Carmen would want the throne moved to a secure location. Ivy rolled up her sleeves. Carmen was the VILE expert; Ivy was the gadget expert. And carts were a gadget. She allowed herself one last fist-shake at Paperstar’s retreating figure before getting to work. "That’s my friend you’re chasing," she muttered.

A dry voice behind her replied, "And you’re such a good friend to load up this cart for us."

Le Chèvre! Ivy put her hands on her hips, storming back toward the door. Le Chèvre was one of her least favorite VILE operatives—his name meant The Goat in French, because he could climb up anything, like a real goat. He had a habit of getting in Ivy’s way.

I was going to climb up the side of the building, Le Chèvre said gleefully. But now I see that isn’t necessary! Ivy lunged at the cart, stopping it halfway down the hallway. You’ll have to get past me first, she said.

Or not, Le Chèvre replied happily. El Topo, another VILE operative, came out of the shadows and appeared at