The Top Secret Toys Read online

  The Wondrous Whizzer Wishbook was more like a comic book than a catalog. It had storylines, settings, recurring characters, and dialogue throughout each issue to help showcase each new toy. Earl had written each Wishbook. And Royal had illustrated.

  Fans of the Wishbook might have assumed that Earl and Royal were of like minds to work so closely with each other and create something so wonderful. But nothing could have been further from the truth.

  “Knock it off!” Earl yelled.

  “You knock it off! You’re the one that started it,” Royal replied.

  “You know, you’re a ‘royal’ pain.”

  “Oh, like I’ve never heard that joke before. Did you think of that all by yourself, poet boy?” Royal grabbed an X-wing fighter off his desk and threw it over the six-foot wall that separated their offices.

  “Hey, man, that almost hit my computer!” Earl grabbed the fighter and set it on his desk next to his other Star Wars action figures. “Thanks, Royal. That was the perfect addition to my collection.”

  Earl heard a squeak outside his office door. “Not this time, Royal,” he thought. Earl quietly grabbed his eight-gallon Whizzer Shockwave from under his desk and tiptoed to the door. He kicked the door open and pulled back hard on the Shockwave’s pressurized blast handle, sending a powerful vortex of water streaming directly at Vincent Shadow’s head. Vincent was soaked. Again.

  “Oh, man. Vincent! I’m sorry. I thought you were Royal.”

  Royal looked over the top of the office wall, laughing.

  “Way to go, word man. You just soaked our new boy wonder.”

  “I’m starting to think I’ll need a rain-coat to work here,” Vincent said.

  “I’m so sorry. Let’s get you some dry clothes before Calli sees you,” Earl said.

  Royal walked out of his office. He was dressed all in black. He was always dressed in black. “You’ll have to excuse my colleague here. He tends to be a little jumpy.”

  Earl ran back into his office and emerged carrying a T-shirt with the words I’M A POET printed on the front. Earl had hundreds of I’M A POET T-shirts. They were the only shirts he ever wore. It drove Royal nuts.

  “Here.” Earl threw Vincent the T-shirt. “You can put this on. Calli called. She wants to see all of us downstairs right now.”

  “Come on in, boys. Have a seat.” Calli motioned to the two empty chairs in front of her desk. Vincent, Royal, and Earl rushed to get a seat.

  “Oh my, what have you done to Vincent? Why is he wearing that ridiculous shirt?”

  “Thank you,” Royal said. “See, Earl, I’m not the only one that thinks it’s stupid.”

  Vincent sat down in one of the open chairs.

  “It’s no problem. Really,” Vincent replied.

  “No problem?” Royal repeated as he tried to push Earl out of the way.

  “What are you talking about?” Earl said. “It’s a cool shirt.” Earl grabbed Royal and yanked him backward. Earl jumped over the back of the open chair and landed with his legs crossed.

  “You’re too slow, painter boy. You’d better brush up on your chair-racing technique.”

  “Brush up?” Royal turned to Calli. “And you let him write for this company? With that ridiculous shirt and those crummy puns—‘brush up.’ ”

  “All right, you two. Let’s try and behave. Today is a very special day,” Calli said.

  “Come on. This is technically Vincent’s second day. I think he needs to see how this place really operates. Speaking of operating, where is Fayman?” Royal asked.

  “He’s across the street, trying out the Hover Art prototype in the park,” Calli said.

  “Again?” Earl asked. “And you let him go? Alone?”

  “I’m sure it’ll be okay… this time.” Calli suddenly looked concerned. “I hope he’s smart enough to go to an area without people.” She hesitated a second. “Anyway, back to the special-day part. I spoke to Howard this morning and”—Calli cleared her throat as if she were about to deliver bad news—“Howard would like me to send Vincent—upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?” Earl asked.

  “To the sixth floor. Upstairs to the sixth floor,” Calli repeated.

  Earl stood up. “No! No way! Come on! Upstairs? Really?”

  Royal jumped into the empty chair and smiled at Earl. Then he smiled at Vincent.

  “Congrats, kid. That’s awesome. No one has ever been upstairs. Hey, take pictures for us. Earl and I have this running bet. Maybe you can resolve it. See, I think Howard has a pet horse up there. I swear I can hear a horse walking around up there.”

  “No, no. I’m positive it’s a llama. Or maybe an okapi,” Earl said.

  “What in the world is an okapi?” Royal asked.

  “It’s like a half-zebra, half-horse, half-deer thing found in the Congo. I saw it on the Discovery Channel.”

  “How would Howard have gotten this Congo hybrid horse-deer into the city and up to the sixth floor?”

  “I don’t know. But it is definitely not a horse. It’s some sort of small ungulate.”

  “Listen,” Calli said. “There’s no horse. There’s no llama. And there certainly is no mocha-pie thing.”

  Just then, Fayman walked into Calli’s office. He was covered in red paint.

  “What happened this time?” Royal asked.

  Fayman shook his head. “It wasn’t good.”

  “Did anyone get hurt?” Calli asked.

  Fayman set what was left of the Hover Art prototype on Calli’s desk. “No. Not this time. What’s going on in here?”

  “Vincent here is going upstairs,” Royal said.

  “Aw dude! I was kind of hoping he could work with me in the lab. You guys always get the interns upstairs. Do you know anything about gravity, kid?”

  “No. Royal means Vincent is going all the way upstairs,” Earl said.

  “All the way upstairs?”

  “Yes. Howard has asked Vincent to the sixth floor.”

  “Whoa. You are one lucky intern. Hey, let me know if you see any wild boars running around up there, will ya?”

  “Don’t listen to them, Vincent,” Calli said. “They’re just jealous. Now, come with me. We’ll get you a Whizzer Toys T-shirt and show you to the elevator.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Mr. Whiz, but you see I’ve got this obnoxious little sister. I’m sure she didn’t deliberately destroy the only known documents that could’ve unraveled the mysteries surrounding the greatest scientific mind this world has ever known.” Vincent felt terrible. He looked down at the floor. He knew he couldn’t say that. As the elevator door opened onto the sixth floor, Vincent had no idea what he would say.

  “Welcome back, Vincent!”

  Howard G. Whiz was standing in front of Vincent wearing his usual white shirt, white jacket, white pants, white belt, white socks, and white shoes, and a white tie with the Eiffel Tower painted on it.

  Howard shook Vincent’s hand as he stepped off the elevator.

  “Hello, Mr. Whiz. Thanks for having me back.”

  “Of course. I’m so excited you’re here, Vincent.” Howard took a deep breath. “We have so much work to do. And please, call me Howard.”

  “I’m excited to be here,” Vincent said, looking down the long hallway lined with white ties.

  “Oh, yes. My tie collection. I paint a new one every morning and then nail it to the wall every night. A pictorial diary of my life, if you will. There’re over twenty thousand ties, I’m happy to say.” Howard smiled as he slowly moved down the hallway.

  “Well, come on in. I’ll show you around. I was just about to feed the birds. Do you like birds, Vincent?”

  “Very much. I have an African gray parrot.”

  “Wonderful birds, African grays. So smart.”

  “Yeah. Too smart, sometimes.” Vincent smiled at the thought of Nikola’s endless supply of jokes. “I named him after Tesla. And he’s lived up to his name so far.”

  They walked down a long hallway with several closed doo
rs. They entered a large windowless room at the end of the hallway. Blueprints and sketches covered every inch of the brick walls. Dozens of strange-looking machines cluttered most of the floor. Vincent recognized several of them as the Tesla inventions he had seen in the basement of the Met. A metal cage in a corner of the room stretched from the floor to the ceiling. And a well-worn workbench lined all four walls. The workbench was covered with toys. New toys. Toys that Vincent didn’t recognize.

  “Wow. What are all these?” Vincent carefully picked up a toy that looked like an airplane. He couldn’t believe how light it was.

  “This is my main lab. And that there, in your hand, is project 1623.”

  Vincent noticed a tag hanging from the plane that said 1623.

  “These are my latest inventions. But I never name them. I find that names are like anchors. If you call something a football or an airplane, all you’ll see is a football or an airplane. You close your mind to what else it could be. Besides, picking names is Earl’s job—once the inventing is done.”

  Vincent walked along the bench looking at each toy. Each one perfectly crafted. Perfectly painted. And light! Vincent couldn’t get over how light they were. He picked up number 1587. It didn’t feel much heavier than his Pinewood Derby car.

  “Are they just models, sir?”

  “No. They’re all finished prototypes.”

  “There must be over a hundred of them in here,” Vincent said, looking around the room.

  “One hundred and twenty. Or 121. Depending on how you look at it. Sixteen-twelve and 1613 kind of work together,” Howard replied.

  “So they work? They all work?” Vincent asked.

  “No. None of them work yet. But I’m hoping that together we can change that. You see, I’ve gone and mixed up my dreams with Tesla’s. But there is plenty of time for all of that later. Come on, let’s go feed those birds before they get upset.”

  Howard navigated around the machines and slowly crossed the room toward the large metal cage. His cane clicked on the cement floor with each step.

  “Sorry for the disarray. I don’t get much company up here. Please watch your step.”

  Howard slid the metal cage door open. He was out of breath.

  “After you,” he said, motioning inside the cage with his cane.

  Vincent and Howard climbed inside the cage. Howard pushed a button and pulleys turned, ropes moved, and the elevator started climbing toward the ceiling. It made a klop klop, klop klop sound as it climbed.

  “I’ve been meaning to grease this old thing.”

  KLOP, KLOP.

  KLOP, KLOP.

  A hatch in the ceiling opened as the elevator rose. Sunlight poured in. Vincent shielded his eyes. Once they were on the roof, Howard pointed to a giant pigeon coop near the edge of the roof.

  “Those are my babies.”

  “Pigeons?” Vincent asked.

  “Yup. Racing Homers. Some of the fastest homing pigeons in the world. But I don’t race them any more. I just enjoy their company. And watching them fly.”

  They crossed the roof to the coop. Howard struggled to pull the lever on the side. “Would you mind, Vincent?”

  Vincent pulled the lever down and feed poured into the troughs.

  “How’s that cousin of mine?”

  “Cousin?” Vincent forgot for a moment that his favorite teacher and Howard were cousins. Vincent was still thinking about the toys in Howard’s lab. There were more than enough for a new Wishbook.

  “Oh, Mr. Dennis. He’s good.”

  “I imagine Dennis is a good teacher,” Howard said.

  “He is. We all like, um, Dennis.” Dennis? Was Dennis Mr. D’s first name? Vincent had always assumed it was his last name.

  “Dennis used to spend his summers here, you know. Years ago. He helped Royal with the Wishbook art. He even helped with the toys, occasionally. He wasn’t a half-bad inventor.”

  Howard pushed the lever back up and the feed stopped flowing.

  “That ought to hold them for a while,” he said as he turned and looked out over Central Park. “I never get tired of this view. I love this city.”

  “Me too. I miss it.” Vincent said.

  “So much history. So much energy. Speaking of energy, did you receive the copy of the Tesla notebooks I sent?”

  Copies? Vincent was thrilled to hear the word copies. Maybe they weren’t the originals. Maybe his obnoxious little sister hadn’t ruined priceless historical treasures after all.

  “Yes, I did. But—I’m not sure how to tell you this—but I’m afraid my sister accidentally ruined some of them. Actually, most of them, sir.”

  “Ruined them?”

  “She colored little pink bunnies and puppies and stuff all over them.” Vincent felt sick. “She didn’t mean to. I mean, I’m sure she wouldn’t have if she knew how important they were. I—” Vincent stopped. What could he say?

  Howard roared. He laughed so hard Vincent was worried he would fall over.

  “Oh, pink bunnies! That’s priceless!”

  Howard sat down on the edge of the building. He wiped the tears from his eyes.

  “Maybe that’s the missing piece, Vincent. Pink bunnies and puppies. It’s as good as anything I’ve got.”

  “So you’re not mad, sir?”

  “Mad? Why? Oh my, you thought those were the original sketches? Oh, you poor boy. You must have been sick. No, no. She would have to wait almost five thousand years to draw on the originals. The originals are buried in a time capsule a few miles from here.” Howard pointed north. “No, I have copies. Copies of what, though, I’m not sure. I have spent years of my life trying to figure out what those Tesla machines do. Every time I think I’m close… well, it proves to be another dead end.” Howard paused and wiped his eyes again.

  “Oh, Vincent. This inventing thing is a young man’s game. I’m glad you’re here.” Howard leaned on his cane, trying to stand up. “I’m kind of tired today. What do you say we take a look at Mr. Tesla’s inventions tomorrow?”

  “That sounds great,” Vincent said.

  Vincent sat up in bed and looked at the clock. Four forty-two AM. It was pointless to try to sleep any more. Aunt Bonnie would be in to wake him in just a few minutes. He grabbed a shirt out of his suitcase and hoped it would stay dry. He uncovered Nikola’s cage.

  “Good morning, buddy,” Vincent said. He sat down on the bed to put his shoes on. “You know, I met some pretty cool birds yesterday.”

  “Pretty bird. Pretty bird,” Nikola said.

  Vincent was thinking how great it would be to live in New York again. And how much fun it would be to have a rooftop for—

  “Falcons.” Aunt Bonnie burst into the room. “I’m pretty sure your uncle Ernie wanted falcons. Not parrots.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, falcons are cool too.”

  “Yes, but messy. I don’t think those birds of prey would make as good a pet as your little Nikola here.”

  “Right,” Vincent agreed.

  “Well, you’re up early. Big day at the office today?”

  “Yes, kind of. Mr. Whiz and I are going to start in on a new project together.”

  “Well then, you’ll need a good breakfast. I’ll go mix up some milk and pancakes for you.”

  “Great. Hey, Aunt Bonnie. Is it okay if I hang out with you at the museum until about eight o’clock? Nobody really gets to Whizzer until about eight o’clock.”

  “Oh, that will be just fine. Oh boy, I’d love the company and I know everyone would love to see you.” Aunt Bonnie turned and walked to the kitchen.

  Vincent sat on the bed thinking about what Howard had said: “I’ve gone and mixed up my dreams with Tesla’s.” He pulled Howard’s letter out of his backpack: “… I believe you may be the only person who can help unravel Tesla’s secrets… he claimed to have working prototypes… I have those prototypes… I have enclosed all of Tesla’s notebooks… Tesla’s secret lies within these pages!”

  Vincent wondered why Howard had becom
e so obsessed with Tesla. Vincent would have loved to see the Tesla inventions work as much as anyone, but Howard had a room full of new toys. Why not work on those first? Why not put out a new Wishbook?

  “No way. No, no, no. This can’t be young Mr. Shadow. No way. You’re way too big to be little Vinny Shadow,” the Met’s security guard said as he held the door open for Vincent and Aunt Bonnie.

  “Hi, Mr. Wooler,” Vincent said.

  “It’s been too long, my friend. How is your dad doing?”

  “He’s fine.” The security guard’s German shepherd suddenly leaped up on Vincent and started licking his face.

  “Well look at that. Addy remembers you. How old are you now, Vincent? I bet you and old Addy here must be about the same age.”

  “I’m eleven.”

  “Oh, boy. You’ve got her beat by two years. And good morning to you, Miss Bonnie,” the guard said.

  “Well, John, you’re going to be seeing a lot of Vinny this summer,” Aunt Bonnie said.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. He’s working across the street at Whizzer Toys this summer.”

  “Oh, right, right. I heard something about you winning a contest. Congratulations, Vincent.”

  Vincent was on his knees petting the dog. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Vincent,” the guard said, sitting down on a small stool. “How about doing me a favor? I need to sit here and let everyone in to work. How about you take old Addy here for a walk around the museum and give her some exercise?”

  Vincent looked up at Aunt Bonnie.

  “That’s fine with me, hon. It’ll give me a chance to get the coffee going. And you can get reacquainted with the old place. Vincent used to spend a lot of time here, you know.”

  “Oh, yes. I remember, I remember,” the guard said.

  Vincent stood up and took the leash from the guard and started walking up the stairs with Addy. He knew just where he wanted to go.

  “Okay. We’ll be back in a bit.” Vincent said.

  Vincent had practically been raised at the Met. He knew every room. Every hallway. Every nook and cranny. And the Met had a lot of nooks and crannies. Vincent never liked walking around the Met alone when it was closed, though. It was spooky. But he felt just fine with his very own guard dog.