The Village of Nowhere, Venezuela, Two Weeks Later
Nebraska Maple Lamentes, her two side kicks Miss Eugie and Foley, reporter Betty Robertsfield, and former reporter Scotty Sherman bumped along in the rickety old bus that Uncle Mackie owned. Maple's Uncle Mackie was a short, balding, jovial middle-aged man who enthralled the natives with his thousand voices. He was the one doing the driving, but Maple frankly wished that they could take a plane instead. Her stomach wasn't responding well. Foley looked positively green.
"Last stop, Nowhere, Venezuela," Uncle Mackie called to the locals he taxied around as a side business. It was his way of earning money for his research of the now-extinct Mayatec race. The various swarthy natives, bounty hunters, medicine men, freedom fighters, and lost romantic fiction writers swarmed off of his vehicle. Maple ran to her uncle and gave him a big hug. He flailed his arms. "Nebraska, honey, give me some air!" Mr. Foley decided that he needed some air at that moment and rushed into the trees, his hands over his mouth.
Eugie was busy photographing everything she came in contact with - the natives, the bus, the jungle, the animals, and even the hot dog stands on the side of the road. She took a photo of Mackie and Maple's embrace. Maple turned her to the door. "Eugie, I don't mind that you want to remember this trip, but could you find a flash that's not so bright? I don't really want to go blind."
"Oh, sorry. I guess I don't know my own strength. I bought this thing right before we left Pittsburgh, and I'm still learning how to use it."
"Well, why don't cha take pictures of the jungle or the village, something that doesn't have eyes?" Maple shooed her off the bus. Scotty and Betty also disembarked. The foursome walked to the small circle of jungle huts.
"I knew you'd come after the Lost Treasure of the Mayatec someday, Nebraska," Uncle Mackie grinned. "It's said to be fabulous beyond belief. The older Azurians, the people who live here, could tell you some great stories about the powers of the Sunstone..."
"I'm not interested in stories or Sunstones," Maple grumbled impatiently, "I'm interested in Dr. Victor Comwell. Somebody abtruckted him and his new invention, and Miss Robertsfield here hired me to find out why."
Betty introduced herself. "I'm Betty Robertsfield. I represent the Pittsburgh Daily News, the organization that hired Miss Lamentes. We'd also like to know what became of Dr. Comwell. He called me over the phone the day before he disappeared and told me that his newest creation was going to change the way we communicate. The Pittsburgh police found a ticket to Venezuela and a book on the Mayatec and the legend of the Sunstone in his office."
Scotty shook Uncle Mackie's hand. "I'm Scotty Sherman. I know a bit about the Mayatec myself, but I guess I'm mostly along to keep the girls and Foley out of trouble."
Betty rolled her eyes and Maple giggled. "It's more likely that we're going to end up keeping him out of trouble," Betty muttered. She said out loud, "We think that Dr. Comwell may have been after the Sunstone for his invention."
"I think there may be other little problems, too," Scotty reminded them. "A man named Kurt Holstrom burned Nebraska's Buttery Club down when she refused to find the Sunstone for him."
"There was something about that guy that rubbed me the wrong way," Maple explained. "He gave me the creeps."
Uncle Mackie's grin turned upside-down at the mention of Holstrom. "I've heard of him. He says that he runs a construction business, but everyone knows that he's really involved with a Nazi spy ring in the US. He probably wants to get his hands on the Sunstone and hand it over to Hitler. I've also heard rumors to the effect that he's not the only one involved, either. He has a superior who gives him his orders."
Their attention was attracted by a row near where Mackie left the bus. A tall man and a haughty woman stood by the tumbledown vehicle, arguing a blue streak. They wore fancy city-type clothes and looked more like they were on their way to a society tea than to the middle of the Amazon jungle. "I told you that this wasn't the right bus, Pumpkin," the woman growled. "We're supposed to be in Rio De Janero! I don't even think we're in the right country!"
The tall man with the curly brown hair was studying a map. "Well, if we took a left turn by the Christian monastery and a right at the..."
The woman grabbed the map from him. "Any idiot could read a map. How hard could it be? From now on, I'M leading this mission!" She ran her finger along the paper. "Now, if we follow this blue line to this green line right here, we might be able to reach the Brazilian border by sundown."
The man leaned over her shoulder. "We can't use that unless we have a boat."
"Why not, Jeffrey," Hilary hissed.
"It's the Amazon River."
Maple walked up to the two travelers. "Excuse me, folks, but, I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be really lost. Could my friends and I offer any assistance?"
"My wife and I are performing 'Razzle Dazzle' in the major South American and Latin American cities as part of a good-will tour," Jeffrey explained. "I'm Jeff Singer."
"And I'm Hilary Booth, of course," Hilary added. "This total stranger..."
"Hilary!"
"...ex-husband and I were traveling to our next destination, but we seem to have gotten on the wrong omnibus. Will another one be arriving soon?"
Mackie shook his head. "You're looking at it, Miss Booth. You just missed rush hour."
Maple beamed. "Maybe you could come with us! The more the merrier, I always say. I'm looking for a Dr. Victor Comwell. Some low-down sneak sneaked him and his new intervention out of his laborotory. "
Jeff frowned. "Dr. Victor Comwell is a good friend of mine. He told me that he was working on something..."
"...that would change the face of communications and society," finished Betty. "That's what he told me over the phone the night before he was kidnapped. The police say that they went after his invention and took him to keep him quiet about the theft."
"But why would they do that," Maple wondered. "Unless..."
Eugie and Foley emerged from the woods with a group of chattering natives. "Mr. Foley and I were taking pictures of some of the natives in their natural habitat," Eugie explained. "Mr. Foley was showing the natives how he plays the drums when he drummed a little too hard on the stump he sat on and put a hole right in the middle. We dug up these papers made of some funny material." She proudly held up her camera. "I have it all in here."
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Night fell on the tiny village of Nowhere and the weary travelers retired to the comforts of Uncle Mackie's Tent. Betty looking for some music on the radio, Hilary was calling her agent in New York on Uncle Mackie's private line, Eugie was cleaning her camera, Mr. Foley was getting drinks from the bar, and everyone else sat at the rough table and tried to interpret the molding documents. "I think they're from the Mayatec," Scotty said, "but I can't make out much."
"I forgot that the Mayatec used high-o-glifins, like the Egyptians," Maple admitted. "I'm afraid my Mayatecian is a little rusty."
Uncle Mackie pointed to one series of drawings. "These pictures talk about the last great king of the Mayatec, King Bonoruru, but I can't seem to understand the rest."
Scotty squinted. "Hey, I think I got this one. It says 'Come one and all to Urruno's Papaya Kitchen today and get our special while it's hot! We have a special today. For every one pound box of our creamy hand-whipped papaya fudge purchased, you get a free box of our homemade mango taffy.'"
"I think we found a little piece of history," Uncle Mackie mused. "The first commercial known to man."
Maple looked up hopefully from the other paper. "Uncle Mackie, I found a little piece of history that's more important." She enthusiastically read "I, Bonoruru, being of not very sound mind and body, declare that all my important treasures, including the mystical, useful, and way hip Sunstone, be hidden in the..."
"It's the first will and testament," Uncle Mackie exclaimed. "What does the rest of it say?"
Maple shrugged. "There ain't no rest of it. This is where it stops. The bottom part was ripped off."
Scotty inspected the bottom of the document. "It wasn't ripped, Nebraska. Someone cut the bottom."
"What's all this about lost treasure," Hilary asked as she joined them. "My now-ex-agent told me that an expedition was here searching for a gigantic hoard of gold and jewels that used to belong to an extinct culture."
The radio crackled and a man spoke in urgent tones. "Well," Betty said, "at least it's not 'Camptown Races'."
"We interrupt the musical program 'Jungle Serenade' to bring you this important news bulletin. Nazi officers, led by a Mr. Kurt Holstrom, have been seen in the vicinity of Nowhere. The suspects are armed, dangerous, ugly as sin, and carry bigger weapons than any of us could imagine. They were last seen driving a late-model German Army tank with all the standard equipment. If you should see these men, contact your local law enforcers and RUN LIKE HECK! I don't know about you folks," shrieked the announcer, "but I think Mexico City looks lovely this time of the year!" The radio died as the sound of heavy artilery brought almost everyone outside.
Maple ran over to see what was going on and ran smack into the barrel of a gun. "So we meet again, Miss Lamentes," said a smooth voice.
Maple did her best to contain her rage. "Holstrom," she gasped, "what're you doing in this neck of the woods?"
"We're in the jungle, dear," Holstrom reminded the surprised explorer, "not the woods. There's a difference. Bambi and Thumper don't live in the jungle."
"I don't care if they live in an apartment in Queens," snapped Maple. "What did you do, follow me?"
"No, actually, we just guessed." Holstrom pressed the rifle further into her bosom. "I want you to do me a favor."
Maple's jaw dropped. "I don't believe this! The guy who gave burned down my night club and is now holding a gun on me wants me to do him a favor!"
"You don't have much of a choice, Miss Lamentes."
"Forget it," Maple yelled. "I have my polices. I don't work with people who try to take over the globe by axing every country in sight."
"This would be a good time to change your policies, Miss Lamentes." Holstrom smiled and turned around as Maple heard Hilary and Betty scream. Betty, Scott, Hilary, Jeff, and Uncle Mackie were surrounded by Nazis and ugly natives with strange metal collars on their necks.
Uncle Mackie was waving a white flag. "I surrender," he whimpered. "Please don't damage me! I'm too young to die!"
Hilary stamped her foot. "I demand to know why I'm being held captive by a group of filthy locals and slimy Nazis who bear a close resemblance to the reptiles in the undergrowth! I am an actress, not a damsel in distress!"
Betty clung to Scotty, who didn't look too unhappy that he was being used as a vine. "What are you going to do with us," she asked.
"That all depends," Holstrom purred, "on Miss Lamentes. If she and Mr. McKinley Bloomington read my half of the Mayatecian document my men stole from the Azurians with no fuss, we'll keep all of you alive. If they refuse..." he pointed to the tropical forest, "the Yorkomalians, the hostile tribe I recruited to help my organization, will feed them to their bloodthirsty pets. Mr. Bloomington might know of them."
Uncle Mackie's face turned white as a Mayatec ghost. "You're not going to feed us to the legendary Great Mayatec Lizard? They're said to have teeth the size of the MGM studio system, could out-wrestle King Kong in a pinch, and enjoy blood of any kind, especially human!"
Holstrom held up his half of the paper. "What'll be, Miss Lamentes? The documents or the lizards?"
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Maple tried in vain to free herself from the tight ropes that bound her to Uncle Mackie. Scotty was tied to a wooden post, and Hilary, Jeff, and Betty were in what was now Holstrom's Tent. Holstrom wanted Betty to write about his activities and planned to let the Yorkomalians handle the pair of semi-famous performers. "I'm sorry, Uncle Mackie," she moaned, "but I just couldn't make heads or tails of that map."
"Well," her uncle sighed, "we did figure out that it was a treasure map. We just can't tell where it leads."
"Yeah, but now the Nazis will get to the treasure," Maple wailed.
"Aw, come on, Nebraska, this isn't the end of the world," Scotty reminded her. "Things could be a lot worse. We could be inside a the belly of a Great Mayatec Lizard right now."
"Yeah, but they're going to feed Eugie and Foley to..." Maple suddenly brightened. "Uncle Mackie, have you seen Eugie and Foley around?"
He frowned. "Not since Holstrom and the Nazis showed up. I wonder what they did to the Yorkomalians? They're not the most peaceful tribe in the Amazon, but I never thought that they'd consult with Nazis."
A bright flash of light outside of the prisoners' tent averted the captives' attention. Foley, dressed in a Nazi uniform, rushed in, followed by Eugie, who proudly toted her camera. "Foley distracted the guard in front of the tent with his German accent while I took his photograph. I hope it came out all right. He was a very nice young man, for a Nazi."
Foley untied Maple and Mackie while Eugie worked on Scotty. "How did you two escape?" Mackie asked in awe. "We thought you were a goner."
Eugie pursed her lips. "That mean Mr. Holstrom almost let those awful Great Mayatec Lizards eat us for brunch! I wanted to remember my final moment, so I took a picture of them. They were such ugly brutes, I'm surprised they didn't break my camera!"
Uncle Mackie beamed. "Good for you, Eugie! Great Mayatec Lizards mostly live in the thick of the jungle. They hate intense light!"
"Miss Robertsfield is taking dictation for Mr. Holstrom in Mr. Bloomington's Tent," Eugie explained as she freed Scotty. "Mr. Singer and Miss Booth are being sacrificed in the jungle tonight. The Yorkomalians seem to think that they can do magic."
Scotty rubbed his wrists and snorted. "I've heard of those two. The only magic they can do is their crazy mind-reading trick."
Uncle Mackie frowned. "The Yorkomalians aren't known for being the smartest culture in the Amazon. They're thick as jungle flora and highly superstitious. They'll put a dent into anything that moves in the name of their gods."
"There was someone else with Holstrom, too," Eugie added, "a large man with a kind of snake-like voice. I didn't like him at all, and Mr. Foley was afraid of him. Right Foley?" The small man shivered to show his fear. "I didn't get a clear look at him. His back was turned to me. Foley saw him, though." Foley opened his mouth to describe the unknown man when a tall figure strode into the tent.
Maple's ran to the figure and embraced him. "Victor, you're all right! They didn't use you for lizard bate or try to sacrifice you to the Yorkomalians!" She reached up to kiss him and found herself staring into the barrel of a gun.
"Mr. Holstrom told me that I was to bring Miss Lamentes to him," Victor stated in a dull monotone. "He wishes to speak with her about the map and the future of her and her companions."
Maple was horrified. "Victor, don't you remember me? I'm Maple, you know, like the syrup? Don't you remember Pittsburgh?"
Nebraska Maple Lamentes and Dr. Victor Comwell sat together in a small table in the Buttery Club, a steamy nightclub in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They were talking about their pasts, present, and dreams for the future. Eugie played a beautiful song on the piano and Foley accompanied her on the violin.
"Victor," Maple exclaimed, "I did it! I bought the Buttery Club! I just signed the lease tonight! Now I have a place where I can sing whenever I feel like it!"
Victor grinned his gentle grin. "Congratulations," he said. "That gives us two events to celebrate tonight."
"What's the other one?"
"The research on my new invention is almost complete. I plan to introduce my latest and greatest creation to the US government tomorrow morning."
Maple smiled dreamily and lifted her glass. Life was looking up for her. She had a man who respected and loved her, a stage that would spotlight her, and no reason to go running all over the world looking for ancient objects ever again. "Here's to us, Victor, and to the Buttery Club."
He lifted his glass as well. "Here's looking at you, Miss Nebraska Maple Lamentes."
"You too, Dr. Victor Comwell." The glasses clinked and she leaned over to kiss him as the flash went off.
The flash of Eugie's camera momentarily dazed Victor. Maple grabbed the gun, Scotty tackled him, and Mackie and Mr. Foley hauled him onto the only cot in the tent. "What got into him?" Uncle Mackie wondered. "He was always so dedicated to the US government and to the cause of the Allies."
"They must have done something to him," Maple said. "The Victor Comwell I knew wouldn't hurt someone unless it was self-defense, and he hates the Nazis' guts 'cause he doesn't like how they're manny-pull-ating the media for their own rotten purposes."
"What do we do now?" Eugie asked. "The guard may come to any minute, and Holstrom and that man he was with will probably want to know where Dr. Comwell is, not to mention Miss Lamentes."
Maple looked around. "We have to get outta here. But first, I want to figure out how they turned Victor against us and the Allies."
Scotty tapped the thin metal collar encircling Dr. Comwell's neck. "I wonder what this is? They were on the Yorkomalians, too."
"I was wondering about that myself," Maple mused. "Maybe if I did this..." She tugged hard at the metal strip. It finally snapped and fell in two pieces on the ground. Her actions jogged Victor Comwell awake. He groaned and finally looked into her eyes.
His mahogany-colored pupils were confused. "Maple, where am I? What are all of you doing here? Why is my skull pounding like the drums that the natives of this village relentlessly beat?"
Maple thrust her arms around the weary professor. "Victor, you're ok! You're not a Nazi anymore!"
"Why would I be? I don't agree with their politics, or with the way they use the media to further their conquest of Europe and Africa."
Scotty held up the two metal strips. "It must be these metal bands that are allowing them to control the Yorkomalians the way they controlled Dr. Comwell."
Eugie and Mr. Foley peeked outside of the tent. "Wait a minute! Dr. Comwell, that beating wasn't the sound of your head pounding! It really is the sounds of drums! They're going to sacrifice Hilary and Jeff!" Eugie exclaimed.
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The Middle of Nowhere, Venezuela
"This is another fine mess you've gotten us into, Pumpkin," Hilary snapped as a Nazi handcuffed her to her former spouse and two Yorkomalians tied them to a huge, flat rock. "If you hadn't insisted on taking the last bus instead of the one I wanted to take..."
"You were the one who wanted to hurry in order to get to Brazil before Grace Cavendish's tour," Jeff retorted.
"What does it matter now," Hilary wailed. "Neither of us will ever see a legitimate stage again! What will my friends on Broadway think of my unusual demise, not to mention all of the newspapers in the States? 'Famous Actress and Her Ex-Husband Fried By Nasty Nazis and Jungle Tribe With No Taste in Theater'!"
Her ex-husband gazed tenderly at her. "Mittens, I know we haven't been getting along very well lately, but I'm going to let you know now that I couldn't think of a better way to die than handcuffed to you."
Hilary sighed. "Oh, Jeffrey, I've only been angry with you because, as you may recall, you married another woman. Do you know how badly that hurt my heart and my pride?"
"I did it to save Victor, Hilary," Jeff insisted. "I've only told you that a thousand times. It was stupid, but I didn't know how else to stop Pavla from telling the Nazis about Dr. Victor Comwell's invention."
The drums stopped beating and the restless natives quieted. "I guess this is it, Mittens," Jeff whispered. "I just want to tell you that I love you with all of my heart."
"Jeff," Hilary gasped, "look! The natives didn't stop because the ceremony is about to begin! There's something coming toward us!"
An imposing figure that was perfectly identical to a stone statue near the front of the village walked solemnly through the crowd. The head of a small, middle-aged man wearing a wreath of tropical flora was perched on the top of what frankly resembled a yellow sheet covered with bits of flowers and tiny, shiny pebbles. Neither Hilary nor Jeff were convinced, but every Yorkomalian fell to their knees before the creature. "I am the Great God of the Sun, Kalomarono. I demand that this sacrifice does not take place, and that the warrior and his sharp-tongued mate be set free," the odd creature stated in deep, forbidding tones.
Hilary glared at the "god". "If you ever refer to me as Jeffrey's mate again I'll let you hear just how sharp my tongue can be!"
Holstrom was even less convinced. "Ok, buddy, if you're the all mighty Sun God, my men and I want to see what you can do."
Kalomarono lost the smug look on his face and began to stammer. "Uh, er, I, well, I can..."
An extremely bright flash temporarily blinded the natives and the Nazis. "This is what I can do!" Kalomarono jumped off of the shoulders of the black-haired fellow who'd been holding him. A small, plump woman with a camera and a short man in a Nazi uniform rushed to the aid of the imprisoned actor and actress.
Eugie and Scotty freed the two actors as Foley and Mackie removed the metal bands from around the necks of the dazed natives. "We couldn't find the keys to the handcuffs," Eugie admitted.
"WHAT?!!!" Hilary and Jeff shouted in unison.
"Jeffrey," Hilary said, "I know we told each other that we wouldn't try to pursue a solo career, but this is pushing it just a bit too far, don't you think?"
"At least I can keep an eye on you now," Jeff grinned.
"I'm glad that you two are so happy to be stuck together, but I think we have company!" Mackie pointed at the Nazis who'd drawn their guns at them. The Yorkomalians, however, were throwing spears at the Nazis to show how less than delighted they were with being turned into zombies, and the Azurians broke out of the Great Mayatec Lizard pit that the Nazis imprisoned them in and joined their former rivals in beating the Nazis back.
Maple hurried into the fight sequence and nearly tripped over a pair of battling natives. "Uncle Mackie, I found it! I...where is he?" She searched under every body, spear, and rock and finally found him and Foley under the flat boulder that Hilary and Jeff were tied to. "We didn't feel like dying today, so we decided to get some shade," Mackie said quickly. Foley nodded in agreement.
"Victor and I got the map. He's out hotwiring a Nazi car to get us out of here," Maple told them.
Eugie rushed over to the others. "No, he's not. Mr. Holstrom and the man that Mr. Foley and I saw earlier found Dr. Comwell in the car. They made him drive them to the location of the Lost Treasure. I think they kidnapped Miss Robertsfield, too. She was in the car with them."
"They must think that Victor has the map," Maple groaned. "I've lost him again! Darn you, Holstrom!" she added under her breath.
Hilary made her way through the now mostly captured Yorkomalians and the few Nazis who hadn't escaped with Holstrom and his shadowy superior, dragging Jeff behind her. "Jeff and I demand to know what's going on and why everyone is after this Lost Treasure," she snapped. "Now, if possible."
Scotty also joined them. He looked as if his heart was broken. "Betty's gone," he said, "but she left these coded notes for us. I've already cracked them. They're taking her and Dr. Comwell to the Jungle Tower of Death."
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