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pattern. It just looks like random numbers.”
    â€œExcept for the last line,” Joe pointed out. “That’s obviously the time we need to solve it by.”
    I checked the last line. 11 o’. Short for eleven o’clock. Fair enough. One point to Joe.
    â€œOkay,” I said, “let’s break it down.”
    Joe studied the piece of paper. “There is kind of a pattern. Each pair of numbers is preceded by a word. Of 18–16. By 61–12. For 750,000–11 o’.”
    â€œCould they be referring to biblical passages?” asked Chet around a mouthful of fries.
    The waitress approached while Amber checked her laptop. I ordered a chocolate shake and Joe ordered a club sandwich.
    â€œI don’t think so,” Amber said eventually. “I mean, they could be. But there’s an 18–16 in the books of Proverbs, Luke, Revelation, Exodus . . . pretty much all of them.”
    â€œProbably not that,” I said.
    â€œCombination locks?” suggested Amber.
    â€œTo what?” asked Joe.
    â€œSafes? Do safety-deposit boxes have codes?” she said.
    I shook my head. “No. Keys.”
    â€œMap coordinates,” said Joe, sitting upright suddenly.
    I looked at the numbers again. It was a possibility.
    Amber broke the numbers into map coordinates. 18:1:6.611 latitude and -2:7:50.000 longitude. She entered them into a mapping program, but nothing came up.
    This was getting frustrating. I stared at the piece of paper. There was something familiar about the words. Of, by , and for . Where had I heard that before?
    The waitress brought my shake and Joe’s sandwich. He took a bite, then said thoughtfully, “What about an anagram? The words?”
    We spent the next few minutes rearranging of, by , and for , but we didn’t come up with anything helpful. Then we added up the first two sets of numbers, getting 34 and 73, but again, there was nothing we could do with the numbers.
    It was already after four, and we were no closer to solving the puzzle.
    â€œWhat about Dad?” Joe suggested.
    â€œWhat about him?”
    â€œCan’t we phone him? Ask him if he can help?”
    â€œThe Phantom said not to tell the police or Dad. It’s not worth the risk of endangering Mom. Or Aunt Trudy.”
    By this time we had all finished our food and sat in dejected silence, staring at the riddle lying in front of us. Joe pulled some cash out of his wallet and dropped it on the table where the waitress had left the check. The top note was a five-dollar bill; Abraham Lincoln’s face stared at me.
    Amber reached over to collect the money. But before she did, I slapped my hand down on the notes.
    Honest Abe. Sixteenth president of the USA. I grabbed the pen from the table and drew a line through the number 16 on the paper.
    â€œOf the people, by the people, for the people,” I said.
    Chet stared at me as if I was nuts. But Joe and Amber looked at me with expressions of dawning realization.
    â€œThe Gettysburg Address,” said Joe.
    I looked at the last three numbers: 18, 61, and 12.
    â€œQuick—the date—the exact date the Civil War began.”
    Amber typed into her laptop. “April 12, 1861,” she answered.
    That just left 750,000. “Are you on the wiki page?”
    Amber nodded.
    â€œHow many people died again?”
    â€œSeven hundred fifty thousand,” said Amber in an awed voice.
    We all stared at one another, then down at the sheet of paper. We’d cracked the code!
    â€œI still don’t get it,” said Chet. “The Civil War, sure. But what’s going to get stolen?”
    I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut again. He was right. We still didn’t know the target.
    â€œIt must be something to do with Lincoln?” asked Chet.
    â€œNo,” said Amber. “This is all about the Civil War. Not Lincoln.”
    â€œWas there anything at the museum?” I asked.
    Joe shook