He was saved from responding by the sound of a heavy engine. They all turned toward the front door. Gravel crunched, and a small yellow school bus lumbered into view.

Morgan stepped to the door, his hand resting on his holstered pistol.

The bus swung around the circular drive and stopped. The door cranked open, and a tall, lithe figure in a cheerleading outfit stepped out. It was Jake’s older sister, Kady. She swung her length of blond hair like a mane and cast a baleful glance back at the bus as she climbed the stone steps.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the welcome party on the front stoop. Her gaze stuck on Morgan, then flashed to Jake.

What’s he doing here? she asked silently.

Aunt Matilda pushed forward. “Thank goodness you’re okay.”

Kady scrunched up her face. “As if riding in a school bus is ever okay. I’ve never been so humiliated.”

“What happened?” Aunt Matilda asked. “I thought Randy was driving you home after cheer practice.”

“He couldn’t get his car started. The shop teacher thinks someone poured sugar in his gas tank.”

All eyes turned to Morgan.

He shrugged. “Kept her away, didn’t it?”

Jake shook his head and headed back inside. He glared at Morgan. “Great. So you put a little sugar in Randy’s gas tank but almost ran me over.”

Morgan leaned to Jake’s ear. “Yet somehow you still got here, boy. Next time I’ll try unloading a dump truck on top of you.”

Jake stared up at the man. Was that just sarcasm, or was there a slight threat hidden behind his words? It was hard to tell. With that British accent, Morgan sounded like James Bond.

Before Jake could figure it out, a squeal of shock erupted from behind them. Kady stood in the doorway and gaped at the destruction down the hall, seeing it for the first time. “What happened?”

It was a good question.

Jake stared at the broken cabinets, the scatter of treasures.

What exactly had happened here?

3

KEY TO TIME

The knock on the door came at midnight.

Jake had been expecting it. He climbed off his bed, careful not to disturb the piles of paper and books spread across the floor like a minefield. It was all of his research for the past three months, everything from Howard Carter’s personal account of the discovery of King Tut’s tomb to Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time (inside, Jake had scribbled a couple of notes where the author got things wrong). He also had books on hieroglyphics, journals covering prehistoric fauna and flora, even scientific articles about the possibility of time travel.

Jake had spent most of the evening rereading the reams of reports and articles he’d collected about Bledsworth Sundries and Industries. Morgan’s sudden appearance had renewed his interest in the corporation. It was amazing the number of rumors—most of them nasty—surrounding the company and its history.