by Jeff Hirsch
“I need to be clear that the position we’re looking to fill is quite junior,” Comb-over said.
“That’s fine!”
“But someone with your qualifications,” he said, marveling at her résumé. “I mean, to have run an entire lab at Harvard while still an undergrad!”
“Yes, but I think it’s always important to stay practiced in the fundamentals, you know? Like” — Nellie slipped a cheat sheet out of her pocket and into her lap — “how to perform a recrystallization or calculate a solution dilution.”
“Well, I doubt you’d be called on to do anything that basic, but I applaud your sentiment. Honestly, Ms. Gormey, this is one of the most impressive résumés I’ve seen in quite a long time. But” — he leaned over across the desk in a kind of apology — “I would be remiss if I didn’t at least call one of your references.”
Nellie’s heart thumped. She knew this was a possibility, but had hoped it wouldn’t come up.
“Of course,” Nellie said through gritted teeth. “I understand completely.”
Nellie crossed her fingers as the man chose a number and dialed. Make this work and I’ll never speed again! I’ll never drive the wrong way on one-way streets. Or on sidewalks!
“What do you want?” A British voice exploded from the speaker phone. “Hurry, please, I’m on my way to catch a flight.”
Nellie had never been so happy to hear Ian Kabra’s snooty, infuriatingly entitled voice.
“Uh, yes, Dr., um, Kabra. This is George Takahashi from Tri —”
“Get to the point! This is about Gormey, I assume. Nadine Gormey? Have you hired her yet?”
“Well, no, I was just wondering if —”
“What in the blazes is wrong with you, man!” The speakerphone shook as Ian shouted.
You’re a genius, Nellie thought. I take back every bad thought I’ve ever had about you.
“In the entire time I spent slumming at the Harvard chemistry labs,” Ian continued, “Nadine Gormey was, without doubt, the only certifiable genius I ever encountered. Only a complete moron would be so stupid as to not hire her the second she walked into his office. Are you a complete moron?”
“No! I just thought —”
“Well, stop thinking, Jim!”
“It’s George actually. You see I —”
“And get down on your knees right now and beg — BEG! — Nadine Gormey to take over that rattrap of an operation you’re running! Beg her and just perhaps she’ll deign to bring the light of reason and scientific rigor to that pit of mediocrity you call a lab. Good day, sir!”
“Well . . .”
“I said good day, sir!”
The line went dead. George was a pale sweaty mess. Even his mustache was trembling. He got ahold of himself and looked up at Nellie slowly.
“So . . . when can you start?”
Somewhere over the Mediterranean
“There it is,” Atticus said from the seat next to Dan. “Your future.”
A jumble of brightly colored brochures littered Dan’s lap. He lifted one off the pile and held it up. Was Atticus right? Was this his future?
“You think?” Dan asked. “It doesn’t seem a little . . . ridiculous?”
“Oh, man, it’s so completely ridiculous.” Atticus took the brochure from Dan. The jet’s reading light illuminated a line of jugglers, sword swallowers, and baggy-pantsed clowns. “ ‘Bartleby’s World-Famous Clown Academy.’ Were more awesome words ever written? How could you not want to do this?”
Dan and Atticus had spent the previous night brainstorming Dan’s post-Cahill life over endless rounds of ice cream and Italian sodas. It seemed like a joke at first, but now, looking down at all the brochures they had printed out at the hotel, it felt incredibly real. Dan’s heart raced as he sifted through them. Each one set off a volley of fireworks in his head.
“I don’t know,” Dan said. “If I did the American School in Rome, we could hang out, like, every day. And then there’s baseball camp. And astronaut camp! I could totally go to astronaut camp.”
“You could do them all!” Atticus said, his eyes round with excitement. “It’s a perk of being one of the richest thirteen-year-olds on the planet. You can do anything you want.”
There was a ding and then the captain came over the loudspeaker announcing their descent into Tunis. Dan folded up the brochures and stuffed them in his backpack. Even with the zipper closed, Dan could feel them in there, the sheer possibility of them drumming against the fabric. He pushed the pack under the seat in front of him and turned to look down the aisle.
Amy was by herself in the last row, head down over Olivia’s notebook. Except for a quick conference with the pilot, that’s where she had been the entire flight. Nothing weird about her studying, of course. It was just weird that she was doing it alone. Surely she could have used Atticus’s brain or his own photographic memory. Dan couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Amy had been spending so much time alone ever since Turkey.
No, he corrected himself. Ever since Evan.
Amy’s first boyfriend, Evan Tolliver, had died on a Cahill mission months ago, and ever since, Amy had spent more and more time by herself, training and studying with an intensity that almost frightened Dan.
Dan, and just about everyone else in the world, thought that whatever had been starting between her and Jake might be good for her, but for some reason, whenever the two of them were in the same room, it all just devolved into the kind of bickering Dan had done with his fifth-grade crush. Who knew. Maybe that’s where Amy and Jake were headed — pulling hair and knocking ice-cream cones out of each other’s hands.
Not that Dan was helping any with Amy’s stress. Dan had just announced that after they stopped Pierce, he was leaving the Cahill family. Leaving her. Maybe Amy was the one who needed a relaxing month or two at Bartleby’s Clown Academy.
As soon as the plane bumped to a landing and slid into its private gate, Dan jumped up.
“Okay, everybody!” he announced. “Welcome to beautiful downtown Tunis! The local temperature is hot with a slight chance of incredibly, ridiculously hot. Here’s the plan! Atticus and Jake, you two go talk to your dad and see what you can find out about the silphium. Amy and I will hit the Carthage ruins and see what we can find there. Ian and Hamilton, we need a hotel and possibly a local guide.”
“I’m certain I can find something at least minimally acceptable,” Ian said.
“Good. And while you’re out there, don’t forget to make fun of the locals for their fashion sense. They love that. Now, Jonah and Pony —”
“Dan, wait!”
Everyone’s head turned to the back of the plane, where Amy was standing with her backpack slung over her shoulder.
“Change of plans,” she said. “Except for Dan and me, everyone is heading back to Attleboro.”
Jake stood up in his seat. “What? Why?”
Amy held up her hand to silence everyone. “The only way we’re going to find everything we need for the antidote in time is if we break up into teams.”
Amy held up several bundles of paper with her handwriting all over them.
“I’ve copied Olivia’s notebook into separate packs,” she said. “We’ll have three research teams and one retrieval team. Each research team will be responsible for one of the ingredients. Anything you learn is funneled to Dan and me, and we’ll retrieve it. Jonah and Hamilton, you’ll be team Tikal. Ian and Pony are on Angkor duty. Jake and Atticus, you’re going to stay on silphium.”
“Which we can do best here,” Jake said. “Seeing as how this is where the stuff, you know, is.”
“Exactly!” Dan interjected. “And besides, Amy, you and I can’t go talk to Dr. Rosenbloom. The last time he saw us, he called Interpol. He hates us. Right, Att?”
“No!” Atticus said. “Of course not. My dad just . . .”
Dan looked to his friend with one eyebrow raised.
Atticus flushed. “Okay, fine. He does. Like a lot.”
“Attic
us and Jake can talk to him on the phone and report back to us,” Amy said.
“Now wait a minute,” Jake said. “You may be the leader of the Cahills. But, as you’re so fond of reminding us, Atticus and I are not Cahills. So if you think you can stop us from staying in Tunis and seeing our own father, you’re crazy.”
“I’m not trying to stop you from seeing your father,” Amy said. “I’m just trying to get the job done.”
“Guys, guys, guys,” Dan said, forcing himself in between Amy and Jake. “You’re going to give our new friend Pony the wrong idea about us. He doesn’t know that while we argue occasionally, we all share a deep love and abiding respect that rises above petty little quarrels.”
“This isn’t little,” Jake said. “She doesn’t have the right to do this.”
“No,” Amy said. “He doesn’t have the right to —”
“Hey!” Dan said, pushing the two of them apart. “You know what we need? Pizza! Or the local equivalent. We’ll have a bite and then we’ll sit down and we’ll all make a plan together.”
Amy shoved past Dan and Jake to the plane’s exit. “We don’t have time to stand around talking,” she said. “The plan is made.”
“Amy, wait!” Dan called, but she was already gone.
Everyone left in the plane turned and silently stared at Dan. He backed delicately toward the plane’s exit, his best fake smile plastered across his face.
“Don’t worry, guys,” he said. “This is a minor hiccup caused by, uh, extreme jet lag. Why don’t you guys just hang out here on the plane. I’ll be right back!”
Dan dashed out of the plane before anyone could say a word. He found his sister striding through the intense afternoon sun toward their gate.
“Amy! Hey, Amy. Wait up!” Dan called, jogging to catch up to her. “What was that all about?”
“This isn’t pee-wee soccer,” Amy said without missing a step. “We don’t have time to make sure everybody is playing the position they want. We have work to do.”
“Which we do best when we’re all together. Seriously, Amy, I don’t think —”
Amy whipped something out of her backpack and pushed it into Dan’s chest. A newspaper.
“What’s this?”
Amy said nothing. Dan took the paper and opened it. His eyes went wide as he turned from page to page.
“But this . . . none of this is true,” he sputtered. “He can’t just —”
“He can,” Amy said. “Anybody standing with us is a target, Dan, and Pierce is not playing around anymore. The FBI is already looking at us back home. What if Pierce’s stories convince them to start going after the others, too? Think about Jonah’s music career. Or how Atticus wants to go to Harvard. You and I have to be here, Dan, none of them do.”
“Just because they’re back home doesn’t mean they’ll be safe.”
“No, but they’ll be safer,” Amy said. “It’s the best we can do.”
Something inside of Dan sank painfully. The paper dangled in his hands.
“Jake and Att have to stay,” he said.
Amy started to say something, but Dan cut her off. “We can’t waste time sending them all the way home just to talk to their dad on the phone. The only way we’re getting this done in time is if they’re here.”
There was a roar behind them as another plane lifted off into the skies above Tunis.
“Fine,” Amy said. “But as soon as we’re done here, they both go back to Attleboro. No arguments. Agreed?”
Dan met his sister’s green eyes. For the first time, they resembled stone. “Agreed.”
Amy watched as Dan stood by the plane, fending off angry questions from Hamilton and Ian. He must have been convincing, since he managed to talk them all back inside. Dan went up the stairs to help Jake and Atticus with their things, leaving Ian alone at the back of the line.
Amy’s heart ached as Ian looked at her across the runway. He was a Kabra, so his hurt was concealed beneath a veil of pride, but Amy could see it as plain as the desert sun burning over her head. She knew she was doing this for Ian’s own good, but she also knew how much their mission distracted him from what he had lost. Maybe one day he’d understand.
Amy turned away, fixing her eyes on the terminal and heading for it.
“Amy! Wait!”
She turned back to see Pony rushing up toward her.
“Sorry!” Pony said when he reached her, huffing and puffing. “Almost forgot!” He pulled a small padded envelope out of his pocket and held it out to her. “Some mail came after you left Attleboro. Wanted to bring it to you.”
“Thanks.”
Pony ran back to the jet, saying good-bye to Jake and Atticus as Dan led them out of the plane. Amy turned the package over. Her name and address were on the front, but there was no return. She tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of paper.
Amy,
Sorry again for messing things up with the serum. Took a look around the lab and figured out how to make one more dose. Thought you might need it.
Sammy Mourad
Amy dug back into the envelope, heart racing. She found something inside and pulled it out. It was a small glass vial, half filled with serum.
“Hey, Amy, whatcha got there?” asked Dan.
Amy dropped the vial back into the envelope and stuffed it into her backpack.
“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.”
Tunis, Tunisia
Less than an hour later, they had found themselves a hotel and Atticus was leading the group through Tunis on Avenue Habib Bourguiba. Amy had to admit that Ian was right. The avenue was nothing if not fashionable. She didn’t see any discos, but she did see smart-looking shoppers darting in and out of boutiques or lounging in the sidewalk cafés. The street itself was lined with well-manicured ficus trees and ornate black streetlights. All of it sat beneath a shockingly blue sky.
“Att,” Jake said. “You’re sure Dad’s library is this way?”
“Yep. Past here and into the medina.”
“The medina?” Dan asked.
“It’s like the old part of the city,” Atticus said. “Well, the old part of the city that still stands. There’s been a major city on this site for nearly three thousand years. The really old part of the city is the ruins of Punic Carthage to the north.”
“Puny Carthage?” Dan asked. “Like, little tiny wimpy Carthage?”
“No,” Atticus said. “Punic like Phoenician. See. Okay. We don’t know much for sure about Carthage, but we think it might have been founded by a Phoenician queen named Elissa. Only, when Virgil wrote about her in the Aeneid, he decided to call her Queen Dido instead. Anyway, what we know about her is kind of a mix of legend and possibly fact.”
“That’s pretty confidence inspiring, Atticus,” Dan said.
“Give me a break! We’re talking like three thousand years of history here. Anyway, the legend and maybe sorta kinda fact is that Elissa and her brother Pygmalion were supposed to share the throne of Phoenicia when their father died. But! Pygmalion killed their father and then killed Elissa’s husband. Not being suicidal, I guess, Elissa took a bunch of her people and got as far away from her brother as she could.”
“Apparently,” Jake said, “the locals weren’t too thrilled to have her and her people here, so she told the local king she only wanted as much land as could be encompassed by a single ox hide. When he said okay, she tore the ox hide into tiny little strips and surrounded an entire hill with it. Totally conned the guy.”
“Or,” Amy said, “she did what she had to do to protect herself and her people.”
“Right,” Jake said. “The end totally justifies the means.”
“I didn’t say that!”
“So,” Dan cut in as he wedged himself in between Amy and Jake, sending them to opposite sides of the sidewalk. “If Carthage was such a big deal, then why do we know so little about it?”
“Because,” Jake said, “Rome completely wiped them out after the Third Punic War.”
“Then, after the Romans,” Atticus said, “this place was conquered again by the Vandals — no, not that kind of vandal, Dan. They were a Germanic tribe that conquered a lot of North Africa and the Mediterranean — and then the Byzantines and then the Arabs. Then the French took over, and now they’re on their own.”
“Man, everybody wanted a piece of Carthage.”
“It was a pretty good strategic location and the farming was amazing, apparently. When Rome was in charge, they called the place the granary of the empire.”
“Did they grow any silphium?” Amy asked.
Atticus shrugged.
“Olivia seemed to think so,” Dan said.
“All we know is she thinks silphium had some connection to Carthage,” Atticus said. “What that is, is anyone’s guess. Leonardo da Vinci suggested she look for it on the ‘Island of the Athenian,’ but since Athens was the capital of Greece and not an island, Olivia figured it was his idea of a joke.”
“Hilarious,” Dan said.
“So what is silphium, exactly?” Amy asked.
“Some kind of plant,” Jake said. “We don’t even know for sure what it looked like, since it’s been extinct for something like a thousand years.”
Amy shook her head. “If we don’t know what it looked like, how can we be sure it’s extinct? I mean, there could be groves of the stuff and we wouldn’t know.”
They had moved from the ficus-lined Habib Bourguiba to a broad plaza of what looked like white marble crisscrossed by sharp geometric patterns. Towering in front of them was a great stone edifice with an arched tunnel cutting straight through it.
“Bab el Bahr!” Atticus marveled. “The entire medina used to be surrounded by a stone wall. The wall is gone now but these portals still remain.”
The plaza was packed with people moving in every direction. A babel of conversations in French and Arabic mixed with the splash of a fountain and the shouts of the sellers standing at umbrella-covered stalls.