by Jude Watson
“It makes sense if it was stolen,” Mabel said triumphantly.
“There could be another explanation,” Nellie said. But she couldn’t think of one. These were Sammy’s godparents. Would James betray his best friend?
Suddenly, she remembered meeting him this morning. She’d called Amy and Dan her kiddos. Suspicion sent a jolt through her.
“Well, I’m going to find out,” Mabel declared.
“You’d spy on your own parents?” Nellie asked.
“Sure! I do it all the time!” Mabel said. “I mean, usually it’s about vacation plans or Christmas presents. It’s never anything huge like this. It’s just that … I have to know things. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
“Mabel, I don’t want you to spy on your parents,” Sammy said. “That’s just wrong, no matter what. And anyway, there’s an easy way to solve this mystery. I’ll just ask my dad about it. He’ll clear it up.”
But Sammy looked uneasy. Nellie knew he was worried because he hadn’t heard from his parents.
“Okay, call him right now,” Mabel said. “It’s morning in San Francisco.”
Reluctantly, Sammy dug for his phone. He punched out the number on speed dial. He pressed the phone to his ear. Nellie saw his face change.
“The number’s been disconnected,” he said.
“Something weird is going on,” Mabel said. “I told you!”
“Mabel, this isn’t a game,” Sammy said. “This is serious. More serious than you know. I can’t let you —”
Mabel’s voice rose in fury. “You can’t stop me!”
“Stop you from what?”
James Chen loomed out of the shadows. He put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and gave her a tight smile. “What mischief are you planning?”
Nellie stared at that hand on Mabel’s shoulder. It seemed heavy, threatening. And the smile was too wide. She felt suddenly afraid.
“I’m going to destroy him in tennis tomorrow,” Mabel said.
“We don’t use that tone with guests, though, do we, petal. And I don’t think Sammy is in the mood for tennis. Come inside, everyone. It’s time for dinner. Tiff has been worried. She didn’t know where you were,” he said to Nellie and Sammy. It sounded like an accusation.
“Sightseeing,” Nellie said, keeping her voice light. “Sammy wanted to show me some of his old haunts.”
“Ah. Good.”
Tiff stood in the lighted doorway. Her anxious face broke into a smile. “I didn’t realize you’d returned. Thank goodness you’re back! Mabel, go wash your hands. No arguments, go!”
With a despairing look at them, Mabel dashed back into the house.
Nellie wondered what to do. The Chens looked so concerned. Even if Mabel was right — and she was hoping against hope that she wasn’t — it wouldn’t do any harm to tell the Chens what had happened to them in the park. She wanted to watch their faces.
“We ran into some trouble,” Nellie admitted. Sammy gave her a quick, startled glance, and she gave him an imperceptible nod that meant Go with me on this. She fished in her bag and carefully withdrew the weapon. She held it up in the light. She knew they would be looking at the spear. She was looking at them.
“Somebody threw this at us. It could have been a random mugging, but we don’t know. Do you know what it is?”
Nellie caught a lightning-flash look from husband to wife. They know.
“I have no idea,” James said. “But this is alarming.”
“From now on, you must take our car and driver wherever you go,” Tiff said in a concerned tone.
Yes, so you can keep tabs on us.
“You are incredibly generous,” Nellie said. And she smiled at her lovely hosts.
Cape Horn, Drake Passage
“Dan?” Amy stared at the ceiling. “Am I still alive?”
“Yes, Amy.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
Ham grunted. He was curled up on the floor on a mountain of pillows. Ian had commandeered the couch because it was closest to the bathroom.
The ship rolled, hesitated, and plunged.
“It’s kind of fun,” Dan said. “Think of it as a rodeo.”
“Stop,” Amy pleaded through gritted teeth. “Your words are hurting my face.”
The sea had been calm as they’d motored out of Beagle Channel and into the ocean. Once they’d hit Drake Passage, the swells had increased to twenty, then thirty feet. They’d hit one of the sudden storms the passage was famous for. Steady, cold rain fell, mixed with peppering hail. The crew had put up rope handrails on the decks and tucked barf bags in the passageway railings, but nobody ventured out. Most people were staying in their cabins.
Amy, Ham, and Ian had fallen so sick and dizzy that they were unable to move. They all wore wristbands for seasickness, but nothing could withstand the assault of the swells outside their window.
Dan, however, felt close to normal. Hungry — but that was normal.
“Okay, guys, I’m maxing out on the moaning,” Dan said. He switched on the closed-circuit TV, which ran a schedule of activities. “There’s a seal lecture up in the lounge and they’re serving cookies and hot chocolate.”
Ian stood, lurched, and ran to the bathroom.
“Don’t. Mention. Food.” Hamilton grunted each word.
“My point is that most people will be in their cabins or at the lecture, so I can explore.”
With her eyes closed, Amy said, “See if you can steal a pass key.”
“Right. Anybody want cookies?”
“Dude, leave immediately or I will kill you,” Ham said.
Ian started out of the bathroom.
“Okay, Onions,” Dan said, and Ian bolted back inside the bathroom again.
Dan left, quietly shutting the door. Walking was easy if you just expected the floor to heave and you didn’t mind slamming into walls. Using handhold after handhold, he lurched down the passageway.
They had only thirty-six hours before disaster struck. Dan figured that the first place he should nose around should be the places passengers weren’t allowed. He hesitated by a door marked CREW ONLY, but he knew he couldn’t get in without a magnetic card. He’d have to steal one. The crew would be in the common spaces, so he headed through the interior passage, following the signs to DINING SALOON and LIBRARY and LOUNGE as well as a small restaurant called CAFÉ PARISIEN. It was modeled after the restaurant on the Titanic. Dan pressed his nose against the glass and tried to imagine women in gowns and men in white ties, drinking champagne. Not knowing that the iceberg was waiting out in the North Atlantic, thinking they were safe on an unsinkable ship.
Just like all the people in their luxurious cabins on the Titanic II.
Outside the portholes he could see nothing but endless, churning gray sea that met endless, opaque gray sky. Not an iceberg to be seen.
“Are you looking for the lounge, young man?” A crew member materialized out of a side passage. “There’s an excellent lecture beginning in five minutes.”
“Uh, yes,” Dan said. He studied the crewman. There was a cord around his neck, and the end disappeared into a pocket in his jacket. That’s where the card was. The ship suddenly rolled, and Dan was thrown up against the guy. He planted his hands on his chest and fumbled with an alligator clip. His fingers slid along the plastic …
“Oops, there you go.” The crew member pushed him carefully to his feet. “You’ll get the hang of it. This way, sir.”
Dan had no choice but to follow. He had just missed lifting the card.
The lounge was all mahogany and brass, with inviting deep seats, gleaming wood tables, and flat screens hanging from the ceiling so that there wasn’t a bad vantage point in the place. There was something that could be a Picasso hanging over the sofa. Maybe it was a Picasso. Basically, it all looked like a fancy hotel lobby, if you didn’t notice that everything was bolted down.
Only two people sat in the lounge, one of them wearing a Cubs T-shirt and the other hanging on to a table wit
h both hands. Outside the picture windows, waves towered as the ship plunged its way through them.
A steward in a white jacket approached. “May I get you something from the buffet, sir?”
The boat plunged into a wave that seemed to suck it down to the center of the earth. Dan felt his stomach rise into his throat. He sat down quickly. The boat shuddered, then climbed the wave, seeming to balance on top for long seconds before plunging down again. The passenger who had been holding the table suddenly bolted toward the bathroom.
“Um, no thanks,” Dan said. “I think I’ll just sit.”
The man in the Cubs T-shirt spoke. He jerked his chin toward the door. “That was our lecturer, Dr. Gilman. Looks like it’s just you and me.” He looked like a genial guy in tortoiseshell glasses, his silver hair cut short. “The trick is to keep your eye on the horizon.”
“Yeah,” Dan said. “If only it didn’t keep disappearing.”
“Ha! Exactly! Well, too bad about Dr. Gilman. I was looking forward to the talk. Leopard seals are the most vicious predators in Antarctica. Can rip a penguin out of its bones. More fun than krill. That’s my specialty.” He stuck out his hand. “Dr. Jeff Tagamayer.”
Dan shook his hand. “J. P. Jones here. What’s a krill?”
The man’s face lit up. “Do you want to hear my lecture?”
“Antarctica is the coldest, driest, windiest continent,” Dan told the others when he returned. “It’s the only continent without an indigenous human population. That means no humans ever lived there! Plus, all the countries got together in 1959 and made this treaty that there could be no military bases, only scientific ones. Dr. Jeff told me that scientists work on all kinds of cool stuff in Antarctica. Not just penguins and seals and whales, but global warming — did you know that the retreat of ice in western Antarctica means that the collapse of the entire ice sheet is unstoppable now? Icebergs are calving at an incredible rate — that means that major chunks are breaking off. They melt from below the sea and the cracks radiate up. Because of the massive melt of the ice, sea levels are going to rise by at least a meter all over the planet, maybe close to five meters, in only a couple of hundred years. Millions of people will be displaced! No more beachfront property! Miami will be underwater, people! Jeff says it’s a huge problem. His specialty is phytoplankton and krill, which are tiny but actually crustaceans. Euphausia superba! They feed on algae and plankton. Krill are teeny tiny, but are a main food source for a bunch of species, even blue whales if you can believe it, and the warmer water means the krill are migrating to different places, and that’s endangering seals and penguins. It’s already shrunk their habitats. They’re migrating, and soon they’ll run out of land. Did you know there are twenty-one species of penguins in Antarctica? Hey, speaking of penguins, did you know that fathers chew their food and then spit it into the baby penguins’ mouths?”
Ian put a hand to his mouth and staggered for the bathroom yet again.
“Not only that, but there are scientists who are drilling down for hundreds of feet and discovering things about climate from about eight hundred thousand years ago! It has so much to teach us.”
“Can it teach us to stop the boat from moving?” Ham asked, his eyes closed.
Amy rose on her elbows, one hand holding a damp washcloth to her forehead. “We’re not here as tourists, Dan. We have to find out more about the ship.”
“I know! I’m doing that, too! Dr. Jeff told me all this stuff while we toured the ship. He knows a huge amount about it. The ship is way past state-of-the-art; it’s on to a whole new level of biotechnology.”
“Dan.” Amy pressed her fingers against her eyes. “Have you located any suspects? Anything suspicious?”
“Well, that’s sort of impossible, because everyone is seasick. And my attempt to steal a key card was a bust. We need more activity on the ship for cover. But here’s the good news — we’re through Drake Passage. Jeff said the sea will get way calmer once we cross this imaginary line and we’re in Antarctic waters. That means you can get up and get to work.”
Ian staggered out of the bathroom. “Has anyone heard from Cara?”
“Still no reception, but Dr. Jeff says —”
Ian groaned from his position on the couch. “Can you go away now? I’d lift my head, but I think I would rather die.”
“See you,” Dan said.
Dan headed out the door and into the passageway. Maybe the ship was starting to stabilize already. He didn’t feel as though he was walking on a bouncy castle quite as much.
Dan rounded the corner. Ahead was the ship’s officer who had checked them in on board. Doberman. If he recognized Dan, he’d remember that he’d only been cleared to visit Lloyd Trueman’s cabin.
Dan immediately lurched to the side and turned his head, hoping Doberman would just pass by.
No luck. “Can I help you, young man? Are you ill?”
“Just a little bit,” Dan mumbled. “I’m okay.”
“Let me help you to your cabin.”
“No! I feel okay. Really.”
Doberman looked at him closer. “Are you with the high school group? They’re all the way at the other end of the ship.”
“Right. I guess I got lost.”
Doberman continued to regard him. Dan could see the flare of suspicion in his eyes. He hadn’t placed him yet, but any moment he would. “May I see your key card, young man? I can direct you.”
“Sure.” Dan patted his pockets. “Gosh, I thought I had it …”
“Passengers are requested to wear it, sir. It does come with a chain necklace.”
“Yeah, but it didn’t match my outfit.”
“Do you have your ID on you?”
“Ah … no. Must be with my key card!”
Doberman whipped out his tablet. “Why don’t you tell me your name, and I can look you up on the manifest. Then we can issue you a new card.”
“I’m sure it’s in my room …” Desperately, Dan pretended to search his pants.
Then, down the passageway, Dr. Jeff turned the corner and headed toward them.
Dan froze. Dr. Jeff knew him as J. P. Jones, an imaginary person who was definitely not on the manifest. He was trapped.
“Well, hello!” Dr. Jeff said cheerfully.
“You know this young man, Dr. Tagamayer?”
Dr. Jeff hesitated. Dan pleaded him with his eyes, but he didn’t know what he was asking for.
Dr. Jeff put his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “Of course I do! This is my research assistant, Rollo Hardcastle. We were just heading to the lounge. He’s going to help me fix my PowerPoint for tonight. Speaking of which, we’d better hurry!”
Surprise propelled Dan down the hall, out of earshot of Doberman.
“Thanks for the save,” Dan said. “But why?”
“Why not?” Jeff asked him, his eyes twinkling. “It isn’t every day I get to meet a legend. Dan Cahill, I presume?”
Singapore
Sammy lay awake at three A.M. The house had been quiet for hours. The Chens’ chef had prepared a sumptuous meal with many courses, but conversation had been strained. Portions of his favorite foods were heaped on his plate, but the food stuck in his throat.
How could this warm, smiling couple, people he’d known his whole life, be bad? He couldn’t believe his godparents could betray the Cahills with that maniac Outcast.
He kept checking his phone, but his parents didn’t respond to any messages he’d left on the home or office phones. That worry was a buzz at the back of his brain. They didn’t check in with him constantly, but they always told him when they went away.
Over and over he tried to remember the past, tried to think of an indication that the Chens were power hungry. All he could remember were masses of flowers in Tiff’s arms as she filled vases, wonderful trips to gardens and museums, and the gift of cooking lessons on his sixteenth birthday. Thoughtful godparents, beautiful hosts. This house had been a dream of luxury and consideration.
But had th
ere been things he hadn’t seen? Strain on the corner of James’s mouth. Tiff’s need to control. He remembered going swimming once before breakfast, how she’d come out with a tight smile and a towel. We swim in the afternoons, Sammy. Breakfast is at seven.
And hadn’t his father hinted that he and James had had a falling-out? Sammy had forgotten. He remembered his father turning away, a shrug, an evasive wave of his hand. We’re not as close as we used to be. People change.
And what had always been missing in this house? Spontaneous laughter. Snacks in the kitchen. Staying up past bedtime. No, the house was run a certain way, and you got the hang of it fast. And it was all so pleasant, so luxurious, you didn’t mind.
Was this house too perfect? Was the thing that was missing summed up in one word, like fun? Or love?
He flipped over again.
There was more to learn here. But how to find it?
There could be reasons that his father sent his lab notes to James, couldn’t there? But James wasn’t a scientist. He wouldn’t be able to decipher those notes. Algae was surprisingly complicated. Sometimes he had had trouble following his father’s explanations about biofuels and hazards….
Sammy sat up. Wait a second. Had Mabel said combustion?
Sammy threw back the light coverlet. He pulled on his jeans and tiptoed out into the common area. He opened Nellie’s door and crept inside. She was sleeping deeply, one arm flung out into the path of moonlight that striped her bed.
He leaned closer. “Nellie,” he whispered.
The next thing he knew, a fist had rammed into his throat and he was on his back on the floor, seeing stars.
“Haven’t we been here before?” he croaked. “I seem to remember you once hit me with a fire extinguisher.”
“It was an accident!” Nellie hopped up, wringing her hands. “Sammy, you have to stop surprising me! Are you okay?”
“I … think … so,” he said.
“Here, let me help you. Sit on the bed. Take a deep breath. It’s a good thing I was half-asleep or I really would have clocked you.”
He looked at her, wide-eyed. “That one will do.”
“What’s the matter? Why did you come in?” Nellie tucked her legs underneath her and leaned toward him.