Clive Cussler Read Online Free PDF Page A

dilapidated or run-down ghost town. The boardwalks in front of the buildings were clean, and there was no litter in the street. True, the schoolhouse and the church looked badly in need of repair, as did the city hall and town jail, but the houses appeared neat and freshly painted.
    Lacey unclasped her seat belt, jumped from the airplane and walked over to a window of a merchandise store and peered in. "The shelves and counters are stocked with goods," she reported. Then she cautiously stepped to the front door and took one step, no more, inside. New kitchen utensils were displayed, all clean and shiny. Clothes hung on racks, and cans of grocery items were stacked neatly on the shelves. She saw no sign of the dust or cobwebs that one might think would be found in an abandoned ghost town.
    It was all very eerie.
    Casey pointed to a sign advertising a cafe next to the hotel. "Maybe we can find something to eat over there."
    "If not, the store looks like it has canned food," she said.
    Floopy was not behaving like he was happy and about to be fed. He sniffed the air with his enormous nose and raised his huge floppy ears to listen. He did not act like a cheery dog. He definitely sensed something that mere humans could not. He sensed trouble.
    Becoming a bit braver, Lacey and Casey entered the cafe and looked around. The chairs were all neatly parked under the tables. Silverware was laid out next to dishes on blue tablecloths, just like on their dining table at home. The napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers were all in order, as if expecting diners to arrive at any minute. Timidly, they sat down at a table and picked up menus.
    "I'd love to eat a hamburger," said Casey.
    Lacey began to read her menu. "I'm so hungry, I could eat everything in the kitchen."
    At the mention of the word kitchen, they turned and stared at the swinging doors that led into the kitchen from the dining room. Kitchens always had swinging doors so the waiters and waitresses could walk in and out carrying dishes without reaching for a door handle.
    "Hello!" Casey called out. "Anyone out there?"
    No answer came.
    Warily, they rose from the table, walked over and peeked under the swinging doors. The cooking area of the cafe was deserted. A big black iron stove stood cold and empty of pots and pans. The metal counters were clean and bright. The sinks were empty of dirty dishes, and the trays of knives, forks and spoons looked freshly washed.
    "Where did everyone go?" Lacey asked as if lost in a dream.
    "As soon as we make ourselves some lunch," Casey said, opening a walk-in icebox, "we're going to find out."
    Lacey fixed her brother with a questioning gaze. "Do you mind if I ask how we're going to pay?"
    He reached into his pants pocket and held up five folded one-dollar bills. "I borrowed from my piggy bank for just such an emergency."
    Finding what they wanted in the big icebox and a pantry, they made cheese and ham sandwiches with mayonnaise, mustard, lettuce and tomato. For drinks they found a small pitcher filled with milk. Since they were half starved, it all tasted good, so good that they had to use their utmost self-control to keep from making more sandwiches.
    But Casey looked at the menu and declared, "We have eaten up a dollar's worth of ham and cheese sandwiches with two glasses of milk. We can't take more without paying more."
    "That's all right," said Lacey. "I'm full anyway."
    They left the dollar on the table under the saltshaker and walked back out onto the wooden sidewalk. Then they looked up and down the street as fear and shock mushroomed inside them.
    The middle of the street was as empty as a bedroom without a bed, as empty as a tool shed without tools, even emptier than a mountain stream without water.
    Vin Fiz was gone. She had disappeared, vanished and evaporated as though she had never existed.

5 The Bad Guys

    "She's not here!" Lacey cried. "Someone has taken Vin Fiz!"
    Floopy frantically ran around the spot where he'd last seen