Spiders on the Case Read Online Free PDF Page A

that?” Jo Bell asked.
    â€œThere’s a drawing in there of Crispus Attucks, the first African American to die in the Revolution. To die once is bad enough, but to die again when the silverfish eat him is unthinkable.” A new somberness seemed to envelop the four spiders.
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Felix whispered.
    â€œIf the silverfish eat the drawing of Crispus, he will be gone. Gone from all memory if there isn’t another drawing of him. He sacrificed his life for this country, and the silverfish are devouring the evidence!”
    â€œWe’ll save him,” Jo Bell said. “Buster, you and I can save him together.”
    â€œPerhaps I should go with you,” Felix said. “This is a very urgent mission.”
    â€œNo, Felix,” Edith said. “Jo Bell and Buster can handle this. Let’s stick to your original strategy.”
    Jo Bell’s six eyes were shining as she looked at her mom. Finally! she thought. Finally, it’s not all about Felix.
    â€œAll right,” Felix barked. “Now prepare to climb!”

    At precisely one minute after seven o’clock, according to the clock on the wall, the five spiders’ spinnerets began to contract. Seconds later, they were squeezing liquid silk from their spigots for hoist lines. Attaching their lines to Checkpoint Quincy, they began to climb a vertical silken highway. On glimmering threads they swung through the amber light of the rare books foyer. They traveled steadily upward with singularly graceful motions to the lofty heights of the John Adams collection balcony shelves.
    Forty minutes later, Felix had reached the recessed lighting fixtures just above the balcony. When the rest of the spiders arrived, he gave a silent signal with his two forelegs, or pedipalps, to indicate a steady stream of silverfish flowing like a trickling creek toward the atlas.
    â€œShocking! Positively shocking,” Edith gasped.
    Felix waved his pedipalps wildly for silence. “No talking!” Of course, spiders do not exactly talk but, instead, communicate by sending out vibratory signals. The leg hairs of spiders contain some of the most highly refined sensors of any animal on earth.
    An even larger infestation of silverfish awaited Jo Bell and Buster at their destination. The insects’ long, flattish bodies seemed to be oozing in and out of the huge folio with the precious drawing of Crispus Attucks. “Thank God they don’t have wings,” Jo Bell muttered.
    â€œI’ll do a dead drop in from the top of the folio,” Buster said.
    â€œBe careful of the cracks. You might drop into the wrong place,” Jo Bell warned. The leather cases and folios that held so many of the rare book treasures seemed more like mummies than books.
    â€œOkay, I’ll come in from the side,” Buster said.
    Jo Bell spotted the long antennae of several silverfish poking out from the edges of the folio.
    Three seconds later, Jo Bell and Buster were inside the pages. The damage was impressive.
    â€œGood grief, Buster. Look at poor Crispus! They are all over him.”
    â€œYou go for the head, Jo Bell. The head’s the most important thing. We can’t have a hero without a face. I’ll get the silverfish at his feet.”
    Jo Bell swung down on a bouncy thread of number four grade silk through the volley of silent gunfire on the page and knocked two silverfish senseless with a double injection of venom. She rolled them to the edge of the engraving and returned to the fray, making her way toward the hero’s face. From the corners of three of her eyes, she saw that Buster had arrived at Attucks’s feet and was working feverishly to wrap up a silverfish and a glue bug, using his super-sticky binding silk. Within another two minutes, a dozen insect bodies were scattered across the engraving — from the cobblestones of King Street to the tippy-top of the state house.

    â€œWe saved him!” Jo