'Or breathing,' added Beck, who was squished up against a porthole. 'The four of us can dive as a family without messing up our hair.' 'This sub is awesome!' said Tommy, who's seventeen and the closest thing we have to adult supervision. A trash barrel he and one of his assorted girlfriends used later for a beach bonfire. Well, if we're being honest, he accidentally used it as a napkin for a greasy slice of pizza, then crumpled it up and tossed it into a trash barrel. So finding those ships was crazy important.īut Tommy had lost the treasure map that took us to the Twins the first time. for as long as it took to figure out some way to help our parents, who-on top of being world-class treasure hunters-were neck-deep in dangerous CIA business. The ships' cargo holds were loaded down with treasure-enough to finance Kidd Family Treasure Hunters Inc.

Unfortunately, Mom and Dad weren't with us. That was why we were packed like sardines in the DSV. We still needed Storm's photographic memory if we wanted to go back to the pair of sunken Spanish galleons off the coast of Florida that our father, the world-famous treasure hunter Dr. See, Storm doesn't dive, because the last time she climbed into a rubber scuba suit, some mean old geezer on a yacht called her a 'shrink-wrapped whale.' Obviously, that little comment wasn't his best idea, because the next time he went to take his fancy yacht for a spin, the fish-head-in-your-bedsheets smell was getting pretty bad.

My big sister, Storm, was convinced we needed the submarine to help us in our continuing quest to bring home the two most important treasures in the world: our missing mom and dad. We'd purchased it at an auction with the half-million-dollar reward we collected on our last adventure.

The four of us were crammed inside a twoperson mini-sub (what the US Navy calls a DSV, or Deep Submergence Vehicle), our newest piece of high-tech treasure-hunting gear. All my life, we Kidds have lived on the sea.

Danger down the nile