War of the World Records (22 page)

“We deduced,” said Ruby, speaking for the first time, “that Rex was the Treasurer and he'd hired Overkill and Undercut to sabotage your family.”

“But it turns out he didn't have to hire them—they're his
sons
.”

“What?!” exclaimed Mr. Whipple.

“My brothers,” said Ruby. “Rayford and Royston.”

“The twins Mrs. Goldwin is always talking about traveling the world on scholarship,” continued Arthur. “They've actually been living this whole time under the Goldwin house and carrying out Rex's bidding. The pictures of them in the trophy room are fakes—just like the names Overkill and Undercut. Royston and Rayford are really the Tallest and Shortest Humans on Earth. After we stumbled onto the tunnel, we followed it to their secret lair in the Goldwins' basement.”

“But just when we'd uncovered the truth,” added Ruby, “they turned up and threw us in a cage. After they'd left, however, we managed to escape back into the tunnel to discover they'd filled it with deadly lizards—which proceeded to attack us, of course. Luckily, Simon and Wilhelm found us in the nick of time.”

“Thanks for that, by the way,” said Ruby, turning to the boy and the butler. “If your lives ever need saving, I hope you'll let me return the favor—or, at least bake you a cake or something.”

“Please, miss,” the butler replied. “The pleasure vas ours.”

Mr. Whipple pondered the children's report, shaking his head in disbelief and disgust. “I've always known Goldwin was up to something—there was no question about that—but never in my darkest dreams did I imagine it would prove so utterly sinister.”

“Yeah, Arthur,” Cordelia scowled, “you might have mentioned some of this before. I mean, it would have been nice to know our neighbors were actually trying to murder us.”

“I am sorry about that,” said Arthur, “but the last time I spoke up, Sammy the Spatula was nearly shot to death, and the rest of us almost drowned. I wanted to wait until the case had been fully solved before saying any more about it, so no one else would be hurt by my mistakes.”

“The case, eh? So you're back to playing detective again, are you?”

“Cordelia—that's enough,” scolded Mr. Whipple. “It seems your brother has indeed made more progress on this case with his friends than the ‘World's Greatest Detective' has managed to accomplish with the full resources of Scotland Yard at his disposal. Well done, you two. Miss Goldwin, I am sorry I took you for a spy. You seem to be as good a friend to this family as any.”

Ruby smiled. “I'm a friend to the truth, sir.”

“Indeed, there is no better friend to have,” Mr. Whipple replied. “So tell me, where are these Rayford and Royston characters now?”

“They left for the championships with a sack of explosives,” Arthur explained.

His father gave a sardonic snort. “Seems the joke's on them then. Because
we
are not at the championships.”

“But Dad,” cried Arthur, “we've got to get back!”

“I'm afraid it's too late for that, Son,” Mr. Whipple said with a sad but comforting smile. “The competition is all but over. The important thing is you're safe.”

“No,” insisted Arthur. “We can still make the last event if we leave now. I can't let you lose to the Goldwins on my account. And as for me—well, I've dreamt of joining you in the championships all my life. Now that I've finally got that chance, you aren't going to take it away, are you?”

“But what about the Goldwin twins and their explosives?”

“They said they plan to use them against our family if things don't go their way. But now that we know their schemes, it might be our only chance at catching them in the act and proving Sammy's innocence. And anyway, are we really going to let them scare us off like that?”

Arthur's father wrung his hands in contemplation. “Very well then,” he growled. “I guess we'll just have to keep an eye out for our two volatile friends—as I have not the slightest intention of giving the Goldwins
their way
.” His eyes burned with fury and determination. “Come, we must get back to the championships at once!”

• • •

“You really have to wonder, Ted, if Charles Whipple took one too many blows to the head in the early rounds of that duel.”

“Absolutely, Chuck. First, to walk off the dueling field a mere four rounds from an all-but-guaranteed victory, and then to have his entire family disregard their remaining events in order to search for one recordless son—this is a man clearly disconnected from reality.”

“No question, Ted. And what's worse, this sudden lapse of logic has allowed Whipple's archrivals to claw their way firmly back into the competition.”

“Indeed it has, Chuck. What a remarkable display of resiliency the Goldwins have exhibited by winning every single one of their events since the Whipples' departure—and drawing the score line level between the two families once again. I certainly never would have bet on them this morning—but it now appears the Goldwins will indeed be this year's champions.”

“And let's not forget, Ted, the stakes are even higher for these two families, what with the official rivalry contract they've signed. Whichever family loses the cup will be disqualified from any events the winner is participating in for the next two years, making the cup that much harder to win back at the next championships.”

“That's right, Chuck. Seems we're about to witness a long-term regime change here.”

“It certainly does, Ted. With only one contest remaining—the newly added knife-block speed stocking event—even if the Whipples were to actually turn up for it, they would face an almost insurmountable battle, as the individual representing them in this event is none other than Arthur Whipple: the missing member of the family who has not even one world record to his name.”

“It's quite tragic, isn't it, Chuck? We knew the Whipples' reign had to end someday, but to end like this—with hardly a whimper, much less a roar—I just never thought I'd see it.”

“Nor I, Ted. Nor . . . Oh—hang on, what's this? Oh—oh my! We've just received word that the Whipples have arrived—with their son Arthur—only a moment ago at Champions Court Place Park—and are indeed heading toward the speed stocking arena as we speak!”

“Unbelievable, Chuck! It seems they're actually trying to go for it. Can this competition get any more sensational?”

• • •

As Arthur and his family approached the competitor's entrance to the speed stocking arena, the great double doors swung open. A man stepped through the doorway.

“There you are, Charlie!” Rex Goldwin grinned as he sauntered toward the group. “Where ever have you been? We've missed you terribly—but I'm afraid we've had to go ahead without you; as you well know, the championships wait for no one.”

“Of course, Mr. Goldwin,” Arthur's father replied. “You clearly had no choice in the matter. But why do I get the feeling you know
exactly
where we've been?”

“Honestly, Charlie—I have no idea what you're talking about. I must thank you, however, for finding my daughter. Sorry for any trouble she's given you; she can make quite a nuisance of herself when she wants to. Come on, dear,” Rex said as he reached toward Ruby, “let's get you back with your brothers and sisters. Your mother has been worried sick about you.”

Ruby pulled away as Rex's hand came close.

“Not so fast, Mr. Goldwin,” said Mr. Whipple. “I'm afraid Ruby will be staying with us until you've had a chat with the authorities. You see, she and my son Arthur seem to think you've had them thrown into a cage by your twin sons, Rayford and Royston, who are not in fact traveling the world on the Clapford Fellowship as you have claimed, but are indeed living beneath your house and doing your dirty work—including the numerous acts of sabotage recently perpetrated against my family. Furthermore, they insist the twins are not the handsome pair you have pictured in your trophy room, but in fact the exceptionally sized duo we met aboard the
Current Champion
: the sinister Messrs. Overkill and Undercut. So tell me, Mr. Goldwin—does any of this sound familiar to you?”

At his father's mention of “the twins,” Arthur thought he'd caught a glimpse of some darker emotion in Rex Goldwin's eyes—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared and replaced by a sly smile.

“You've got me, Charlie,” Rex smirked. “So the twins aren't quite as handsome as we've made them out to be. I'm afraid that was Rita's doing, mostly. It just kills her to think that those two actually came from her womb, you know? But really, Charlie, that's hardly a crime. You no doubt feel the same way about that little loser of yours—and I'm sure you would have covered him up as well if you'd had the chance.”

“I'll not have you talk that way about my son!” Mr. Whipple shot back. “I've made the mistake of grossly undervaluing Arthur for over twelve years now, and I refuse to let anyone else ever do so again. And as to your crimes, Mr. Goldwin, I'd say sabotage and kidnapping are easily enough to have you arrested.”

“Please, Charlie. What the twins do in their spare time is hardly any concern of mine. They're big boys now, you know—well, at least the one—and I can hardly be held responsible for their actions. Of course, if you want to talk to them, I'm afraid you'll have to find them first. As you may have discovered, despite their freakish sizes, they have a way of disappearing when they want to.” Rex snorted. “I'm surprised at you, Charlie! Just when my family and I are set to walk away with the championship, you try to dredge up some silly scandal in a ridiculous attempt to slander us. Afraid your failure of a son won't win the last event for you, eh?”

A moment after the words had left his mouth, Rex Goldwin found himself flat on his back with a very sore jaw. Mr. Whipple stood over him, fist in the air, his knuckles red from their impact with Rex's chin.

“I asked you, Mr. Goldwin,” said Arthur's father, “not to talk that way about my son. Whatever happens here, we are proud of him.”

Rex wiped a spot of blood from his lip. Neither the blow nor the fall had dislodged the charmingly sinister smile from his face. “Ah,” he smirked, “spoken like a man about to lose.”

Mr. Whipple ignored Rex's comment and turned to Arthur. “Come now, Son. We've not much time. We must get you to your event.”

Arthur looked at his father in amazement. “Yes, sir,” he said.

Arthur could hardly believe his ears. Had he really gained his father's respect without breaking even a single world record?

This was an unexpected turn of events. As far as Arthur could tell, his greatest dream had just come true—though not in any sort of way he had ever imagined. It wasn't easy to process.

Arthur hurried with his father through the doors of the speed stocking arena, suddenly struck by a strange sense of loss—as though his purpose in life had been abruptly drained away. With his chief aspiration fulfilled, did his big event really even matter anymore?

It took only a moment for him to find the answer—and with it, all sense of purpose he thought he had lost.

Breaking a world record, he realized, was now more important than ever before—but for quite different reasons. Though he had gained the respect he'd needed from his father, now his father needed
him
.

And this time, Arthur would not let him down. He would fight to repay the seemingly unconditional pride his father had expressed in him; he would teach his father's enemies they could not mock his dad and get away with it; he would show the world he was his father's son.

Arthur started up the rear steps of the speed stocking stage, but Mr. Whipple stopped him and clutched his shoulders.

“I have every faith in you, Arthur. You are as fine a Whipple as ever there was. Now get out there and do what you were born to do.”

“Yes, Father. I'll—”

“Positions!” screeched Mr. Prim from the certifier's podium. “Any competitor not in place at precisely 16:02 will forfeit his spot! There shall be no further warning!”

Mr. Whipple snapped his attention to Wilhelm and Mr. Mahankali, who followed just behind him. “Wilhelm; Mahankali,” he ordered, “the three of us will stand guard and watch for this dwarf and giant. They're bound to be here somewhere. And this time we're ready for them.” He turned back to his son with a thumbs-up and a smile.

Arthur waved quickly to his father, then scrambled onto the platform and ducked into position at the center of his knife-block ring.

He reached instinctively into his pocket, only to be reminded that his magical domino was gone, lost forever in the belly of a giant lizard. A wave of panic crashed over him—but quickly subsided.
Perhaps
, he thought,
the magic of the domino was never in the domino itself
. “
We all have our part to play
,” he heard his uncle saying. His domino's part, in the end, had been to help him and Ruby when there was nothing else for them. Perhaps his part was a similar one. Perhaps he was his family's magical domino.

He took a quick breath to settle himself and looked out at the crowd for the first time.

What should have been a smattering of spectators for an inconsequential last-minute event had become a legion of fanatics gathered to witness the deciding moment of the championships. Fortunately for Arthur, there was no time for stage fright.

“Ready. Set . . .”
Bang!
Mr. Prim's starting pistol echoed into the stands.

Time stopped. The world became clear. Arthur knew what he had to do.

He seized the hilt of the first knife, then drew back his arm and slid the gleaming blade from its sheath.