The Sword Thief - 39 Clues 03

by Peter Lerangis

  Yes!

  Dan thought. That meant they had the swords. Dan climbed into the soft leather backseat with Amy and Ian as the others squeezed into the front. "Whoa,

  This is street cred," Dan said. "Can we keep it?"

  "We left some ... outer clothing near the subway station," Alistair said carefully. "Perhaps I can direct you there, Nellie."

  "Seat belts!" Nellie commanded. She started the car, pulled away from the curb, and floored it to get through a yellow light. Alistair pointed her to the right as she continued: "Okay, update. When I see Poindexter and Morticia on the plane? I freak. I'm, like, what happened to my kids? I think, they've, like, eaten you. Then they tell me what happened. Bragging.

  They're, like, fourteen and eleven, but they talk like they escaped from a Clue game. 'Forged the tickets, ho-ho!' Anyway, they try to threaten me, yada yada, and of course I argue and I'm figuring in my head, 'Ha-ha, the next thing is they put poison in the drink' -- but I'm, like, 'Nahh, of course they're not that skeezy.' Then I see her actually doing it, like two inches away from me -- uh, hello? So I get kinda mad -- you know, act like I'm going to drink it, and then zam,

  I spritz the stuff all over their faces. Well, I'm, like, 'Nyah nyah, this is really funny,' but they start to totally wig out and fall all over each other to get to their carry-on --they're, like,

  'Eek our faces have schmutz on them!' And I'm, like, 'Dudes, grow up!'

  So I take their carry-on and sit on it. Um. Baad idea."

  "The poison was in a concentrated form," Ian spoke up. "In the amount that Natalie had used, it would have mutilated, perhaps blinded us."

  Amy squirmed away from him in disgust, nearly squeezing Dan into the side of the car.

  "And you were going to let Nellie drink it?" she said.

  "We meant to temporarily disable her," Ian said. "Just a drop. But Natalie slipped during air turbulence. Before we could warn your nose-ringed nanny, she drenched us. Luckily, she allowed us to retrieve the antidote from our carry-on."

  "That's kindness," Amy said.

  "I made them agree to give me all their cash," Nellie explained. "That's bribery," Natalie grumbled.

  Nellie jerked the car to the right, and Dan felt like he was going to carry an Amy imprint on him for the rest of his life. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Amy's hand brush accidentally against Ian's. She let out a yelp and pulled it away.

  "Mrrp!" said Saladin, arching his back and spitting at Ian.

  "Er, ahem," Ian said, leaning away from the cat, "the reason we are still here is that we'd like to propose a temporary alliance. As we explained to your porcine au pair, we have something you need."

  "Like, two plane tickets?" Dan said. "Too late. And we'd rather have an alliance with a bucket of slime than with a Kabra -- if we could tell the two things apart." "Fine," Ian said. "We will use our artifact to find the clue ourselves -- " Alistair turned around toward Ian. "Artifact?"

  "How refreshing, an open mind," Ian said with a sly smile. "As you well know, Mr. Oh, the Lucians have been collecting hints for years. So have the Ekats. And presumably so have ... er, what branch do you belong to, Daniel?"

  "The Cahills," Dan snapped. He hated that he and Amy were the only ones who didn't know their branch. "And you're crazy to think we'll work with you." "Dan, they saved our lives," Amy said.

  "They also tried to kill us!" Dan countered. "In the cave-in at Salzburg, in the canals of Venice -- "

  "There -- you see how things change?" Natalie said brightly.

  "Our ... item once belonged to a Japanese warrior," Ian said. "It will be crucial for finding the next clue. Alas, neither Natalie nor I understand Japanese. Which is where you, Mr. Oh, come in." He leaned closer to the front seat. "You give us what you know. We'll give you what we have. We'll work together."

  "Just for this one clue," Natalie quickly added. "Afterward, we cut you loose. We have our reputation to think of." "Stop here," Alistair said to Nellie.

  Screeeee! The Porsche squealed to a stop at a desolate corner.

  "How do I know we can trust you?" Alistair demanded. "W-we already know we c-c-can't," Amy said.

  Ian grinned, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small velour bag stamped with the Kabra coat of arms and placed it in Amy's left hand. "This is yours, Amy Cahill. Now ... how do we know we can trust you?"

  A coin.

  A stupid gold coin with a symbol on it -- that's how the Kabras were buying their trust. Alistair had read the Japanese print on the back and claimed it might have belonged to Hideyoshi - might.

  Dan couldn't stand it. Collaborating with the Kabras was like kissing your sister. Well, maybe not that bad.

  "The coin is so beautiful," Amy whispered, as they rounded the corner toward the alleyway where Dan had tossed the objects. Just ahead of them, Uncle Alistair was filling in Ian and Natalie on what had happened in the subway.

  "It's a token for the arcade games at Laser Sport Time!" Dan hissed.

  "Uncle Alistair doesn't think so," Amy murmured. "He's a numismatist."

  "He takes his clothes off in public?" Dan said.

  "It means coin collector”

  Besides, I sense Ian's telling the truth."

  "That's because he touched your hand and did a mind meld." "Shhh!" Amy said, as Ian glanced toward them.

  The late-afternoon sky was a bruised purple as they reached the alleyway across from the subway stop. The silk jacket was still in the corner like a discarded old bag. Despite the near darkness, Dan could read the familiar look on Amy's face.

  Sorry to embarrass you in front of your boyfriend, he thought.

  Alistair knelt to pick up the cube container. "Move quickly," he said. With a reluctant sigh, Dan struggled to remove the rusted top from the cylindrical container. Beside him, Alistair flung aside the cube with disgust. "Nothing in here but lizards."

  As he reached for another container, a long black car pulled to a stop across the street. A black-uniformed man got out of the driver's seat and ran around to open the passenger door.

  Dan crept forward in the shadows to watch. An Asian man, rail-thin and elderly, climbed out. His silver-white hair flowed past his shoulders, and he was dressed in an elegant dark suit with a silk pocket handkerchief. Walking along the sidewalk, he flipped open a cell phone as he knelt by the subway opening and peered inside.

  Dan tapped Amy on the shoulder.

  He heard Uncle Alistair let out a gasp and mutter something under his breath that sounded like "Bye."

  "Bye?" Dan said, as Alistair suddenly pulled him farther into the shadow. The old man headed back into the car, and it quickly drove out of sight.

  "Who was that?" Dan asked. "The king of the yakuza?"

  "We ... " Alistair's voice seemed to catch in his throat. "We need to hurry. Open all the containers. Now."

  With a grunt, Dan finally managed to yank the top off the cylinder, releasing a stream of nuts, bolts, screws, and rivets.

  "Fascinating ... " Ian spilled tools from the rectangular box. "I adore hammers." Alistair exhaled with frustration. "That room we found may have been a subway storage facility sealed off during construction years ago and forgotten."

  "But what kind of subway workers leave mysterious haikus?" Amy asked, tentatively prying the top off the triangular-shaped tube.

  "Maybe they're really songs," Dan said with a weary smile. '"Cause, you know, those

  guys work on tracks all day "

  "Hey, look!" Amy moved into the streetlamp light, pulling a long scroll out of the tube. As the others gathered around, Dan trained his flashlight on the text at the center. It was written in dark, elegant calligraphy, surrounded by a faded, unfinished-looking landscape of a rock outcropping and hills.

  Alistair began translating: '"In the place of the final conquest, between three horns lies the people's wealth. And by the elements united is entrance granted, the highest to be revealed.'"

  "Clear as wasabi," Dan remarked. "Those letters right below," Amy
said. "They look...

  English."

  Dan grabbed the flashlight from his backpack and beamed it on a group of plain, thickly drawn letters at the bottom of the scroll:

  tOotA

  "Toota?" Ian said. "Could it be a phonetic spelling of the French toute?"

  "Good, Ian, good," Dan said. "French, on a Japanese scroll."

  '"Final conquest' ... " Alistair murmured. "That's it! That's the key. I know where the clue is!"

  "Where?" Amy and Dan asked at the same time.

  A smile crossed Alistair's face for the first time all day. "The place where Hideyoshi mounted his final campaign and suffered his most humiliating defeat!" "Right," Ian said uncertainly. "Of course. And ... that would be ...?" "We are going home," Alistair said, his eyes ablaze. "To Korea."

  CHAPTER 1 0

  Bae.

  The name, once so important in his life, now consumed Alistair with rage.

  His uncle Bae had been so close. Across the street! It wasn't the right time,

  Alistair reminded himself. He would have to wait. To plan.

  He turned in his seat to check on his flight companions. The Kabra siblings were absorbed in an old episode of The O.C. on their personalized seat-back flight screens, and the Cahills were doing the airline magazine crossword puzzle.

  Quietly, he unfolded the printout from the library. In his lifetime, Alistair had spent a fortune on private investigators looking for the man who had taken everything from him. Now the man's identity had been discovered. He had died of old age -- a respectable elder who had secretly built his fortune on contract killings and kept a record of each one in a private vault. Apparently, he had kept everything.

  Alistair spread the printout on his tray table. Fingers shaking, he read it for what seemed like the hundredth time:

  RETRIEVED, H. H. KOH INVESTIGATIONS, AUG. 25 01:23:52 UPLOADED VPN AUG. 25 03:14:27 OH INDUSTRIES

  April 22, 1948 Dear [blacked out]

  Brother will be arriving on 15:07 Delta flight, Idlewild Airport in New York, May 11. Booked into Room 1501 at Waldorf Astoria on Park Avenue. Scheduled to meet car in front of hotel on May 12"at 7:15 P.M. after dinner, for trip to Broadway play at Imperial Theater. Driver is [blacked out]. Will take route across 45th Street.

  Upon completion of mission, payment will be forwarded by the expected means. Please confirm $5K US as proper amount. Destroy letter immediately.

  Sincerely,

  Bae Oh

  Senior Vice President

  Alistair forced himself to read it, fighting back nausea and anger. Five thousand dollars.

  His father's life for five thousand dollars.

  The details of what had happened in New York were hardwired into Alistair's brain. He still carried around with him the tattered, yellow news clipping of the murder: New York City, May 12, 1948: Korean industrialist Gordon Oh was killed at the intersection of Madison Avenue and 45th Street while being driven to the theater.

  Here is what the newspapers all said: There had been a break-in at Brooks Brothers, an alarm, the desperate robber running up the avenue with a gun and trying to commandeer a car stopped at a red light -- his father's hired limousine. Mr. Oh had tried to subdue the man. He had struggled nobly but tragically lost his life. The gunman had slipped away and was never found.

  His dad had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. An unlucky accident. That was the official report.

  As a child, Alistair had never suspected foul play. But sometimes accidents were planned, and killers were hired. He had always been afraid of his uncle Bae Oh, his father's twin brother. Bae had grown up the lazy twin, the greedy slacker, repeatedly passed over for the head of the Ekaterina family, always under the shadow of the robust and well-loved Gordon. As an adult, Bae was all about foul play, as ruthless as a Kabra in his business dealings.

  Bae craved glory and riches -- and the 39 Clues. Whoever stood in his way had to go. Even his own brother.

  It didn't matter that Gordon had a wife halfway across the world whose grief was so great that she needed to be hospitalized. Or a four-year-old boy whose heart that day had been ripped out.

  A boy who was packed off, crying and alone, to be brought up by a man with a heart of glass, to be ignored and mocked his whole life. His uncle Bae Oh. The murderer's boss.

  Alistair glanced at the Cahill children. They were squabbling over the answer to a crossword puzzle now, the argument turning into a joke, the boy making up a nonsense word -- a babble of nonsense words, a burst of laughter. Even now they sounded as they did eleven years ago, as a newborn and a three-year-old. Back when Alistair had made his promise to Hope and Arthur. A promise that had been nearly impossible to keep.

  The children wouldn't remember, of course. But he did. And now the couple was gone, for the same reason he'd lost his own parents. For the Clues. He sighed. At least the children had each other. All Alistair could hope for was revenge.

  His fingers shook as he folded the sheet and put it back into his pocket. On this flight, he knew he would not sleep.

  CHAPTER 11

  Rumor had it that Alistair Oh was broke. His business had not succeeded. But when

  Amy saw his mansion, in a village outside Seoul, South Korea, she began pondering recipes for cheesy burrito fillings.

  "Dang! Whose palace?" Nellie blurted, as the limo pulled to a stop after their brief drive from the airport.

  A pristine white building stood gleaming atop a sloping, luxuriant lawn. The front path was decorated with orange and yellow chrysanthemums and led to a small grove of cherry trees and dogwoods, their leaves rustling in the breeze. Just being here, in this setting, made you want to smile.

  "Where is the main house?" asked Natalie, as they climbed out.

  "Voila."

  Alistair gestured dully toward the mansion. All day long he had seemed tired to Amy, a little off his game.

  "You mean, behind the pool house?" said Natalie. Ian elbowed her in the ribs.

  "My home is one of the few remaining perks from my days as a burrito magnate," Alistair said, as he walked up the drive. He was flanked by the Kabras and the driver, who held Dan and Amy's bags. "As is Mr. Chung, my driver. And Harold, my butler. Our cozy little team. Things used to be a bit more grand."

  "Ah, well, easy come, easy go -- not that I actually know the feeling," Ian replied. "The house does have lovely ... um, window moldings." "Thank you, they were imported from South America," Alistair replied.

  Dan leaned into his sister as they followed behind the others. "Window moldings?"

  he muttered. "What normal fourteen-year-old guy talks about window moldings?"

  Amy shrugged. "Did you check the duffel?" she whispered. "Yes," Dan replied. "Rufus and Remus are still there."

  Amy took off her shoes and stepped onto the soft, freshly cut grass. A cool breeze tickled her nose and she burst out laughing, windmilling her arms as she spun in the grass on her good ankle.

  "Oh, great, I'm in South Korea and my sister has turned into Julie Andrews," Dan said. Oops.

  Amy dropped her arms. Now everyone was ogling her. She felt like she did in ballet class. Dumpy and uncoordinated and ugly. She glanced down into the clover, as if by staring hard enough she would disappear inside it.

  "What your sister is doing," Ian said, walking toward the house, "is called enjoying herself.

  Maybe you could learn from her, Daniel. It's refreshing."

  "Refreshing?" Dan said.

  "Amy?"

  Amy stuck her tongue out at her brother. Ian was smiling at her, which made her stomach churn, but she managed a smile back, just to get on Dan's nerves.

  She stayed a few steps behind Ian as they crested the hill, until Amy could see the back of Alistair's house. It extended to a large sundeck overlooking a swimming pool and a vast lawn. To one side of the lawn, a stream wound its way through a landscaped rock garden that contained a pond stocked with goldfish. To the other side was a thick hedgerow that seemed to go on forever.


  "Tempting Tempura microwavable burritos bought me this," Alistair said, gesturing over the landscape. "Mostly beef."

  "Tranquil." Natalie nodded. "It really is amazing what you can do with a limited amount of space."

  Alistair raised an eyebrow. "Nothing like the Kabra estate, I hear." "We hated growing up there," Ian replied. "Every year one of us would get lost on the lush grounds, and they would have to send the homing poodles after us."

  "The what?" Dan said.

  Natalie sighed ruefully. "Some say it was an abusive childhood, but we didn't know any

  better."

  Nellie emerged from the house. Behind her was a uniformed butler with six soft drink bottles, which he set on a table next to six wooden chairs. "Thank you, Harold," Alistair said as the butler bowed and went back inside. "If Toyotomi Hideyoshi had had his way, this land would be Japanese. He intended to conquer all of East Asia, and he had never failed. Some say he meant to build his grandest palace here in Korea, to give birth to an heir who would take over the kingdom. He would also build great vaults and hiding places. Hideyoshi was one of history's most notorious collectors -- "

  "I knew I liked the guy!" said Dan.

  "According to family lore, he collected the most valuable item of all," Alistair said. "One of the clues to the Cahill family secret, which we still seek five centuries later." He sighed. "No Ekat has ever found it. No one suspected it was in Korea. But our parchment will lead us there, if we know how to read it."

  "Dude, I'm on it," Dan said. "How do we get started?"

  "Unfortunately," Alistair said with a yawn, "I cannot function after a rough, sleepless flight. Will you kindly grant an old man a half-hour nap in his own bed? Harold will feed you until then. Please stay close by and do not wander."

  "Of course," Amy said.

  Alistair waved to them and walked into the house.

  "Food, drink, magazines, TV, TiVo, Internet, handheld devices?" Harold asked.

  "Warcraft?"

  Dan blurted.

  Harold smiled. "Second door on the right."

  As Dan scooted inside, Natalie settled into a lounge chair with the Korean edition of People