Fish Finelli Book 1: Seagulls Don't Eat Pickles by E.S. Farber Page B

meant.
    “This is the perfect time to try out the Zapper.”
    “Zapper?” asked Roger. He looked up from mopping the crud that leaked out when the toilet was unbolted. “Sounds dangerous.”
    “The Zapper 290 has a four-amp universal motor
(amp is short for ampere, which is the basic unit electric current is measured in, by the way)
and it’s set to run at 325 RPM
(short for revolutions per minute)
,” I explained. “It’s for drains one and three-quarter inches to three inches wide, and the snake is one hundred feet long. It even takes pictures.”
    “Whoa, Fish, how do you know all that?” asked my dad as he pulled the snake back out of the pipe.
    “Plumbing kind of runs in my family?” I joked. “Oh, and it cost a whopping—”
    “Don’t remind me,” interrupted my dad.
    “Remember the advertising?” asked Uncle Norman. “The Zapper goes where no snake has ever gone before.”
    The two of them cracked up. Plumbers have a weird sense of humor.
    “All right, let’s give the Zapper a try,” said my dad. “Fish, run down to the basement and check the water valves.”

    I headed down the hall. The basement was just past the kitchen. VROOM! VROOM! The Zapper sounded like a monster truck revving up for a rally. Its four-amp motor was really powerful.
    I pulled back the bolt and opened the basement door. Just then I saw a flash of white behind me. I wondered if it was the Lioness. I turned. There was no one there.
    I started down the steps. BANG! The door suddenly slammed shut. CLICK! The bolt slid into place.
Oh, no!
    I ran back up the steps. “Hey!” I shouted. “Open the door!”
    There was no answer. “Hey!”
    “Gotcha!” taunted Bryce Billings from the other side.
    “Let me out, Bryce!”
    “I told you not to mess with me.” Bryce laughed. “Later, gator.”
    I pounded on the door, but it was no use. Bryce was gone. And there was no way Roger, my dad, or Uncle Norman would ever hear me over the Zapper. I sighed and headed down the steps. I would just have to find another way out.
    While I looked, I thought I’d better check the valves. I waded through boxes and old furniture. Chunks of ceiling and insulation had fallen from the leak. The water pipes were at the far end, sticking out beside a giant stuffed swordfish mounted on the wall.
    I reached up and tightened the valves. Suddenly I heard a loud pinging sound, like someone was tapping a glass with a metal utensil. It was coming from the small window just above the fish.
    PING! PING!
    “A toast!” someone called out.
    “Save Lyons Island!”
    “Mr. E. Mann, director of the . . .
mumble mumble
. . . Captain Kidd . . . here at Lyons Island.”
    I stopped in my tracks. Mystery Man was the expert the Lioness had hired to save the island—but he was also hunting for the treasure? Something fishy was going on for sure. I climbed up on a trunk to hear better.
    After the clapping, Mystery Man started talking. I couldn’t catch every word, but it was stuff that I already knew—back in 1695, Captain Kidd had been hired by the English government to get rid of pirates, and King William III had even signed the order. Captain Kidd had overtaken a French galley that was filled with treasure from the South Seas. I couldn’t hear what Mystery Man said next, except the words “trouble with the crew” and “diamonds.” If only I could get closer to the window.
    I jumped down and grabbed a box and stuck it on top of the trunk. Then I climbed up on the box. My head was now almost level with the window. I was also eyeball to eyeball with the dead swordfish.
    “Captain Kidd was on his way home,” Mystery Man said, “when he discovered there was a warrant out for his arrest. So he stopped at the closest place to hide the booty—Lyons Island. It is believed that the map of where he hid the treasure was itself hidden in a trunk that has his initials on it, plus a skull-and-crossbones symbol.”
    Whoa!
That was exactly what T. J. said!
    “The trunk