The Treasure of the Bermuda Triangle Page 6

  Dash stood panting with relief, his eyes puffy from lack of sleep. It was eight in the morning. His brand-new alarm system had done the trick, but the fourteen-year-old student at Eye International Detective Academy couldn’t remember why in the world he had set it to go off so early. He scratched his head as memories of the previous night began to seep through the fog around his brain. “Oh no,” he groaned in despair. “My Criminal Physiognomy class! I better get to work!”

  In a flash, he was sprawled in his swivel chair, staring at his army of computers. Every one of the monitor screens was open to Alien Hunt, an online video game in which a squad of action heroes patrols a space station, wiping out monsters from outer space.

  He’d spent most of the week in the avatar of Phil Destroy, a cyborg warrior armed to the teeth. In a week of marathon sessions, Dash had worked his way up to the national finals, taking on top-ranked players with names like Killderella and Exterminizer. Meanwhile, he’d completely neglected his Criminal Physiognomy homework, and now he was terrified that Professor FB32, who had a sixth sense for sniffing out slackers, would pick on him to answer questions in the class’s next videoconference.

  Would he make a fool of himself? In just a few minutes, his teacher’s face would appear on the screen. He had to get ready immediately!

  Feeling frantic, Dash logged off Alien Hunt and picked up the printouts and notes strewn all over his desk. He formed a mound of paper in front of him, picked up a yellow highlighter, and started to cram. Physiognomy was a difficult subject—it involved looking for clues about a person from their appearance, especially facial features.

  “Okay, okay . . . what does it mean when the subject has a unibrow?” Dash muttered to himself. He searched through his notes until he found a scrawl on the back of a candy wrapper. “Ah, here we go,” he went on. “It’s a clear sign of an inclination toward theft!”

  He narrowed his eyes and continued to work his way down the review questions. “Who came up with this theory?” he read.

  Dash didn’t need to dig through his notes for the answer to this question. “Simple!” he crowed. “Cesare Lombroso! His theory was later debunked by two other professors . . . wait, what were their names again?” He rifled through his pile of paper.

  “Where are my historical notes?” he cried in desperation. He remembered that Cesare Lombroso’s nineteenth-century theories had been revised from top to bottom. But who had done it, and why?

  “I don’t have a clue,” he groaned. “I really need to pay more attention and take better notes! Now what will I tell the professor?”

  To make matters worse, the Eye International symbol suddenly flashed on the screen of his main computer, followed by a message:

  CONNECTING, PLEASE WAIT.

  Dash ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sunk!” he repeated again and again.

  But weirdly, the face that appeared on his screen was not his professor but the school secretary, a middle-aged woman with frown lines framing her mouth. “We’re sorry to inform you that Agent FB32 is engaged in a mission and won’t be able to teach today’s class,” she announced. “The Criminal Physiognomy class is postponed until next Sunday. Happy investigating, everyone!”

  The smile on Dash’s face spread from one ear to the other. What amazing luck! Now he had a whole week to revisit the topic and take better notes, and he decided to start right away. But his stomach was growling. It wouldn’t hurt to have something for breakfast first, would it? He picked up the phone and ordered his favorite breakfast: a three-cheese pizza with double pepperoni, anchovies, and jalapeños. He’d nicknamed it “Zombie Pizza” because the smell alone could wake the dead.

  He had just put down the phone when a BLIP! let him know that his friends were online for a game of Alien Hunt.

  “I can’t give in to temptation,” Dash lectured himself. “I have to focus on my detective career.”

  But his resistance crumbled in seconds. “I’ve got a whole week,” he told himself. He swiveled to face his gaming computer, put on his headset, and greeted Clarke and Mallory, whose avatars were waiting for him at the entrance to the first level. Phil Destroy entered the dark corridors of the spaceship, overcome with the thrill of the challenge.

  “Blast that monster! Zap it!” Clarke’s voice shouted through the headphones.

  “Look out! They’re coming out of the walls!” Mallory yelled at the top of her lungs.

  “I’ll have to bounce pretty soon, guys,” Dash interrupted. “I’m getting a pizza delivered.”

  “Hey, Dash, did you hear about all the apartment thefts?” asked Clarke.

  “No, what happened?”

  “Scotland Yard says every one of the victims had a pizza delivered right before they noticed their stuff had gone missing,” his friend explained.

  “It happened to us,” added Mallory. “They stole my mom’s silver teapot.”

  Dash snickered. If the police had called him to investigate, he would have solved the case by now.

  “They wouldn’t have much luck with me,” he declared between blasts of his turbocharged ray gun. “I’m much too smart to fall for a scam like that!”

  The ring of the doorbell distracted Dash from the game. He swung the door open and welcomed the pizza-delivery man. His name was Derek; he was a nice guy who always told Dash wild stories about his deliveries around the city. And he didn’t have a unibrow, so he was clearly not a thief!

  “That’s sixteen bucks,” said Derek.

  After digging around on the table, Dash managed to unearth his wallet and hand over a twenty. Derek walked off, thanking him for the generous tip.

  But the morning still had surprises in store. As he scarfed down his first slice of hot Zombie Pizza, the aspiring detective noticed that the special titanium device hanging on its hook above the sofa was flashing.

  “Dash! What are you doing? We’re getting annihilated!” Clarke’s protests rang over the headphones.

  Dash ignored him and grabbed his titanium EyeNet, the high-tech device used by every student at his detective school. The message on the screen made him immediately lose his appetite.

  INVESTIGATION IN VENICE! UTMOST URGENCY. CONSULT THE ATTACHED FILES ASAP.

  Dash abandoned his half-eaten pizza and took off like an intercontinental missile to his cousin Agatha’s. He left the apartment so fast that he didn’t even notice his favorite baseball glove had vanished.