Ten Thumb Sam (11 page)

“First, we need to have people patrolling the circus grounds at all times,” Harriet said from her place beside her cousin. “We need to make sure there's no more sabotage.”

“Absolutely. Good thinking,” said Mr. Pigatto as the other performers nodded.

“Everyone else will go into town to promote our weekend shows,” Sam said as he and Harriet began handing out the assignments they'd prepared. “As you
know, we have to sell out all eight shows or we won't make enough to pay off the fines.”

Sam gnawed on the end of his thumb while he waited for the performers to read their handouts. A hush filled the big top as everyone digested the details of the assignments they'd been given.

“Well done, you two,” Max said after a moment, looking up from the paper in his hand. “You've laid out our instructions very clearly. Looks like you've thought of everything.”

Annabel opened her mouth to say something, but Sam's mother cut her off. “Good job, both of you. Now it's our turn. As Sam said, we don't have much time, so we'd better get moving.”

Mr. Pigatto nodded. “You heard the lady. We've got our orders—let's move out!”

While the performers got organized into their assigned teams, Sam and Harriet returned to the Stringbini bus. Sam felt a shiver of anticipation run up his spine as he took his place at the kitchen table. The bus had been converted into a command center. Using borrowed cell phones, the two cousins were set to collect and pass on any information they received.

“Mr. Pigatto just phoned in,” Sam informed his cousin a few hours later. “He said the first school show they did went well.”

“Good,” said Harriet. “Your mother called too. They handed out over a hundred flyers at their elementary school.”

“Are they on their way to join up with the others?”

“They're already halfway there,” said Harriet.

Harriet and Sam had arranged for everyone to meet for a mini-parade in a busy part of the city at lunch-time. At the stroke of twelve, the Fritzi sisters started the parade on their stallions. As they made their way down the street, the other performers handed out flyers advertising the Triple Top's eight performances that weekend.

When the parade was over, the performers split up into smaller groups again and made their way to the next schools on their lists. When school was out at three o'clock, the groups performed wherever they could find an audience—on street corners, in parks, even in parking lots.

“Everything's going well,” Harriet reported to Sam between incoming calls late that afternoon. “Your parents' group has handed out all their flyers.”

“Listen to this!” said Sam. “Mr. Pigatto has just been invited to do an interview on one of the local radio stations tomorrow morning!”

“Yes!” said Harriet, pumping her fists in the air. “I don't remember if I told you—my dad called the local newspapers like we asked.”

“And?”

“And they promised to send photographers to the parade and to one or two of the school performances.” Harriet grinned. “My dad thinks we have a good chance of making tomorrow's front page.”

“I can't believe it,” Sam said, shaking his head in amazement. “Our plan is actually working.”

The performers continued their publicity campaign on Thursday, returning to the circus grounds at four o'clock that afternoon. They checked in with Sam and Harriet before they hurried off to eat and prepare for the first show of the weekend.

“Well?” said Max as he climbed onto the Stringbini bus. “How did it go today?”

Sam let out his breath. “Good—I think.”

“We couldn't have done any better with stage one of the plan,” said Harriet. “I guess we'll have to
wait and see what happens in stage two.”

“Good to hear,” said Max. He ran the back of his hand across his forehead. “Phew. I'm beat already, and the weekend's just starting. Sure hope all this is worth it.”

“Me too,” Sam said under his breath when his father was gone again.

Sam and Harriet went over their checklist one final time, half an hour before Thursday evening's show was scheduled to start.

“The air-conditioning is working?” asked Sam.

“Check,” said Harriet.

“Cotton candy's been tested?”

“Check,” said Harriet. “And the caramel corn, the snow cones and the hot dogs.”

“Ketchup, mustard and relish too?” asked Sam.

“Check, check and check.”

“The guards are all in place?”

“Check,” said Harriet. “Right now we've got my brothers, the Fritzi sisters, Tina Zuccato and your father on duty. They'll change places with the next shift at intermission.”

“And all the cell phones are working?”

“Check. They were all charged overnight.”

“No one's called in with anything suspicious yet?” Sam asked.

“Not yet,” said Harriet. “Everyone's got a copy of the picture of the man in the gray suit. If anyone sees him or anything strange, they'll let us know right away so we can alert everyone else.”

Sam phoned Mrs. Pigatto in the ticket booth. “How are ticket sales?” he asked.

“Fantastic!” said the ringmaster's wife. “We've got extra benches set up inside, but even with the extra seats, we're still going to have to turn people away soon.”

“Wait!” Sam said before she could hang up. “Don't let anyone leave until you've sold them tickets for one of tomorrow's performances!”

“Will do,” Mrs. Pigatto replied.

“Better get to our own stations,” said Harriet. “We've got a whole lot of cotton candy and caramel corn to sell tonight!”

Sam kept an eye out for the man in the gray suit as he worked the bleachers, but there was no sign of him. When nothing unusual had occurred by the end of intermission, Sam began to relax.

The second half of the evening show also passed without incident. One after another, Sam's friends and family members performed their acts flawlessly, to the delight of the capacity audience. At the end of the night, the tired but happy performers received a standing ovation.

The success of Thursday evening's show was repeated on Friday and again on Saturday. The big top was packed with appreciative spectators for each performance, and each performance ended with a standing ovation.

“If I could have your ATTENTION for a moment,” Mr. Pigatto announced in the performers' tent after Saturday evening's show. The room fell silent as the performers all turned to listen to the ringmaster.

“I know you're tired,” said Mr. Pigatto. “We've all been working very hard these last few days, thanks to Sam and Harriet's plan. But I think you'll agree that we have a lot to celebrate.”

A cheer went up from the assembled group.

Mr. Pigatto beamed. “I would like to propose a toast.” He waited while the glasses of punch were distributed. When everyone had been served, Mr. Pigatto raised
his glass. “To Sam and Harriet, for coming to the rescue of the Triple Top in our hour of need!”

“Hear, hear,” the other performers echoed, raising their glasses.

Sam's cheeks were burning. “Thanks,” he said. “But we're not quite done yet.”

“We're not?” said his brother Andrew. “But we've already sold most of tomorrow's seats in advance. Doesn't that give us enough money to pay our fines?”

“We can pay the fines this week,” said Harriet. “But what about next week or the week after that?”

“What do you mean?” asked Tony Zuccato.

“Well,” said Sam, “Mr. Beaverwick doesn't seem like the kind of guy who gives up when he doesn't get what he wants. If he really is behind all of the Triple Top's problems, he's not going to go away just because we beat him this time.”

Max nodded. “Sam is right. Beaverwick didn't build his empire by disappearing every time he lost a battle. He's the kind of man who will do whatever it takes to get his way. He'll be back. He'll wait until we have our guard down, and then he'll pounce.”

“Oh dear. What can we do?” asked Erma Fritzi, wringing her hands.

“Fortunately, Sam and Harriet have a plan to deal with Beaverwick,” Mr. Pigatto replied. “And if it works, we'll never have to worry about Circus Enormicus again.”