by Roland Smith
Saladin was lying comfortably in an expensive chair, grooming Kabra blood off his front paws.
“Don’t just stand there,” Ian said. “Go fetch the first-aid kit. I believe it’s in the kitchen.”
“Where have you been?” Evan asked.
“Out, obviously. How about that first-aid kit?”
“Go fetch it yourself.”
“I’m wounded,” Ian huffed.
“It’s worse than you think.” Evan pointed at one of Ian’s expensive, handmade shoes. On the toe was an egg-size glob of gray goo.
“What is it?” Ian shouted in horror.
“Looks like a fur ball to me.” Evan started back upstairs, wondering if Saladin could detect something in Ian that Evan couldn’t prove. Perhaps Saladin is trying to catch a rat, he thought.
Ian kicked the slimy fur ball off his shoe. It hit the wall above the sofa with a sickening splat and slid down like a giant slug.
He has some nerve, Ian thought as he watched Evan disappear up the stairs. Sure, his computer skills kept him from being completely useless, but Evan wasn’t a Cahill and needed to show some respect for the world’s most powerful family.
Amy could really do better, he thought as he backed his way into the kitchen, afraid to take his eyes off the demonic cat. When he got there, he closed the door and latched it behind him.
What does that beast have against me? Animals had always taken a shine to Ian, from the homing poodles on the Kabra estate, to his imported polo ponies, Sebastian and Quigley. American cats were clearly terrible judges of character.
All Ian had wanted to do when he dragged himself into the Attleboro mansion was lie down on the sofa and take a nap. Now, he had to stem the flow of blood and figure out a way to get the lion out of the living room. He found the first-aid kit and patched his ear as best he could, then took a dish towel and buffed the slime off his shoe. He badly missed his servants.
Now for my nemesis. He opened a cupboard stacked high with tins of red snapper. As soon as he started the electric can opener, there was a scratching at the door. He opened it very carefully. The Egyptian Mau slipped through the crack and strutted over to the cat dish like he was Tutankhamen entering a banquet hall.
Mrrp, said Saladin before starting in on his fishy meal.
“Just remember who fed you,” Ian said. He shut the door, walked back to the living room, arranged the pillow, and lay down on his good ear, hoping Saladin didn’t know how to open a latch.
Dan was also eating fish when Amy’s cell phone rang.
“Heffo?” He tried to swallow a mouthful of bratfisch mit pommes frites and started choking. “Hong on.” He reached for a glass of ice water and took a deep gulp. “Sorry. Who’s this?”
“Erasmus,” a deep voice replied.
“Hey. How’s Pompeii? How are Hamilton and Jonah? I hear Mount Vesuvius is about ready to blow!”
“I wouldn’t know,” Erasmus said. “We’re in Mumbai.”
“As in India? I thought you were in Italy.”
“We came across Luna Amato in Pompeii early this morning,” Erasmus said. “This is where she led us. Where’s Amy?”
“She’s taking a shower.”
“Tell her Jonah’s jet is on the way. The pilot will call you when it lands in Berlin.”
“I will, but —”
“Gotta go.” Erasmus ended the call.
“Nice talking to you, too,” Dan said and exchanged the phone for a pomme frite, aka French fry, because Atticus had scarfed down the last piece of bratfisch, aka deep-fried fish, while he was talking to Erasmus.
“Here it is!” Jake said. He had found something on the television about the Pergamon blackout.
Dan and Atticus joined him in front of the tube. A news reporter was interviewing Rommel outside the entrance to the museum.
“The reporter’s asking him if there was anything stolen from the museum,” Atticus translated. “Rommel says that the collection is all accounted for except for an old manuscript called The Book of Ingenious Devices. He says that the manuscript may have been moved by one of the curators. He hasn’t had a chance to talk to all the staff yet.”
“It’s been swiped,” Dan said. “Or more accurately, it’s being swiped.” He pointed at the screen.
Cheyenne and Casper Wyoming were walking right past where Rommel was being interviewed. They smiled at the camera. Casper had a wrapped bundle under his arm the size of a large book.
“Vesper used us!” Dan said. “The Golden Jubilee was a diversion!” He pulled the velvet bag out of his pocket. “He knew this would set off the metal detector. He probably tipped Milos Vanek off, too. And then the Wyomings grabbed the book, which isn’t nearly as valuable as some of the other stuff they have in there. There probably wasn’t even a guard on it!” He picked up the Vesper phone and read part of the text again, aloud: “‘Thank you for your help at the Pergamon. We could not have done it without you.’”
Jake stood up. “I’ve had enough of the Vespers for tonight. I’m going to sleep.” He walked into one of the bedrooms and closed the door.
Atticus yawned. “I think I’ll go to sleep, too.” He snagged his third dessert from the serving cart and took it into another bedroom with him.
Dan switched the television off and slumped into a chair. He couldn’t sleep. There was a secret itching at him, scratching away at the back of his brain until he felt like he was going crazy.
Dan took his cell phone out and stared at his last text exchange with AJT — the person who was either posing as Arthur Trent . . . or was actually Dan and Amy’s father.
If you’re really my dad, can you tell me what special thing you said to make us smile together?
The answer had come back lightning fast.
Moon face.
Aside from Amy, the only person who could know this special nickname was his father.
Dan had deleted all of the previous texts from AJT, swearing that he would not contact him again. But he couldn’t help himself. He glanced at Amy’s door, then quickly thumbed in a text.
Why did you set us up at Pergamon Museum? What is The Book of Ingenious Devices?
Dan stared at the screen. An hour went by, then two. He finally dozed off, waiting for a reply from the dead.
The hostages were waiting on the dead as well. The Vesper guards had watched the whole thing unfold on their video monitors. Reagan Holt had died from an apparent heart attack on the ninth one-handed push-up of her third set.
At first they thought she was just resting, but the boy named Phoenix rushed over and shook her.
“Reagan?” Phoenix looked at the others with grim horror. “She’s not moving.”
“Ridiculous!” Alistair Oh said. He joined Phoenix and carefully turned her over. Reagan’s face was blue. “Oh, my God!” he shouted.
The guards watched as a few of the hostages took turns administering CPR, while the others shouted for a doctor until they were all hoarse. They cried. Finally, they covered Reagan with a sheet and left her by the door.
The guards waited to go down until after they finished their poker game. Before opening the door, they pulled balaclavas over their heads and shouted for everyone to back away.
The hostages looked at them dully, spent with grief. One of the guards pointed a camera at them. The other pointed a pistol.
“Why don’t you just shoot us right now?” Fiske asked. “Get it over with.”
The man with the camera laughed. “I am shooting you . . . in high definition.”
“Pigs!” Nellie said.
“Cretins!” Natalie hissed.
The man shoved the pistol into his waistband and grabbed Reagan’s arms roughly. But before he could drag the corpse an inch, Reagan’s lifeless legs did an acrobatic curl, latching on to his thick neck in a scissor lock. A split second later he was flying through the air, slamming onto the concrete floor on his back. The supposedly dead girl and the others swarmed him and his partner like a pack of flying monkeys. The othe
r Vesper guard managed to land a vicious kick to the knee of the man called Alistair, but it did no good. The guards were overwhelmed.
Reagan picked up the gun and the camera. She put the camera an inch from his face. “Now I’m shooting you in high definition!” she cried, then dropped the camera on his chest.
The guard tried to respond, but didn’t have enough air in his lungs to speak. His partner was unconscious. The hostages helped the old man he had kicked to his feet. They filed through the concrete door, sliding it closed with a loud bang.
Cheyenne Wyoming was running a brush through her long blond hair on a private jet flying south at thirty-five thousand feet. Her twin brother, Casper, sat across from her holding a small mirror and a pair of sharp tweezers, picking errant blond hairs from his nose.
“I told you that if we pulled off the heist at the Pergamon, we’d be back in with Vesper One,” Casper said. “Ouch!” He held the tweezers up, looking at his harvest.
“We’re not back in,” Cheyenne said. “We’re just not dead. Yet.” She picked up her smartphone and read Vesper One’s text aloud.
The wolves are at bay . . . for now. But it will take only the slightest irritation for me to set them upon you again. Proceed immediately to Bamako. From there you’ll catch the ship to Timbuktu. Keep an eye on the Cahills, but do not impede them in any way. Unless you want my pack of assassins to tear you to shreds.
Vesper One
“Guy has a way with words,” Casper said. “But he makes mistakes.”
“Like what?”
“Like failing to take Danny Boy as a hostage. His big sister wouldn’t try any tricks if Vesper One had her little brother.”
“He’s turned it to his advantage,” Cheyenne said. “The boy’s pretty bright.”
“He’s not bright,” Casper said. “He’s lucky.” He pulled the last nose hair out. “Ouch!”
Dan was dreaming that Vesper One was calling him. . . .
“Where’s my phone?”
His eyes shot open. Amy was standing in front of him in a hotel bathrobe, her hands on her hips.
“Uh . . .” He looked down at his cell phone and realized that the ringing he’d heard wasn’t a dream.
“Never mind,” Amy said. “I see it. It’s probably Evan.” She picked it up. “Hello?” She hesitated. “Who is this?”
A look of shock crossed her face.
“I’m betting it’s not your boyfriend,” Dan said.
Amy shook her head and put the phone on speaker.
“How did you get this number?” she asked.
“Interpol is the largest international police organization in the world. But that is not how I got your number. Is your brother, Dan, there? I believe he has a wallet that belongs to me, and a priceless manuscript belonging to the Pergamon Museum.”
“Yep on the first one,” Dan said. “Nope on the second. We didn’t swipe The Book of Ingenious Devices.”
“Then how do you know it is missing?”
“Television.” Dan glanced at Amy. “Hang on a sec, Vanek.” He took her phone and put it on mute. “You missed some things during your Skype date with Evan.”
“It wasn’t much of a date,” Amy said.
Dan quickly filled her in, then took her phone off mute. “Sorry about that, Vanek. We’re on an airplane and they’re telling us to switch off our phones. We’ll have to continue this conversation late —”
“Another of your funny jokes,” Vanek interrupted. “You are in rooms three thirteen and three fourteen of the Brandenburger Hof. I am standing outside your door, and all of the exits from the hotel, as you say in America, are covered. So as not to disturb the other guests I would like you to come out quietly.”
Dan and Amy turned and stared at the door in disbelief.
“We need to think about it.” Dan put the phone back on mute and walked over to the door. He looked through the peephole. A distorted Agent Vanek was looking back at him with a cell phone to his ear.
Amy walked over and resolutely opened the door.
Milos Vanek looked at the two children. They looked exhausted, disheveled, and nervous. The girl wore a white hotel bathrobe, and her hair was tangled as if she had just awoken. The boy looked like he had slept in his clothes.
“May I come in?” He wasn’t really asking, but it was always best to be civil. He had the hotel surrounded with plainclothes policemen, but he wanted to remove the Cahills quietly if possible.
Amy nodded and stepped aside. He slipped past her and Dan into the elegant room.
“Very posh,” he said. “It must be nice to have more money than you know what to do with.”
“We slept in a graveyard the night before,” Dan said.
Vanek smiled. Apparently, the boy’s imagination knew no bounds. He looked at Amy. “You will need to dress. And if you are thinking of exiting through the door of the other suite, I have a policeman stationed outside that door.”
Dan’s face cracked. “You don’t understand what’s going on here.”
Vanek looked at him. “I understand very well. The theft of a priceless masterpiece, escape from jail, assault of a police officer, impersonating a police officer, pickpocketing.” He held his hand out. “I would like my wallet and passport back . . . and my keys.”
“How did you get my cell phone number?” the girl asked.
“You left it for me at the Pergamon Museum,” Vanek said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out her watch. “Perhaps not intentionally.”
The children stared at the watch in dismay. The girl put her hand out tentatively.
Vanek shook his head and put the watch behind his back. “The wallet,” he said.
“Then what?” the boy asked.
“Then I will arrest you and take you to jail.”
“We didn’t take anything from the Pergamon!”
“That remains to be seen. And there is still the priceless Caravaggio painting you stole in Italy.”
“Which was a fake,” Dan reminded him. “We should have gotten a reward for returning the real one.”
“The wallet,” Vanek repeated.
The boy crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No.”
“Dan,” the girl said sweetly, giving her brother a meaningful glance. “You know that watch has sen-timental value to me.”
“I know,” the boy said, returning her look. “But Vanek’s wallet has practical value to him. If he lets us go, I’ll give him the wallet.”
The boy was correct. The wallet did have practical value to Vanek, which is why he had entered the room alone rather than having the door kicked in by the backup team in the lobby. The museum guards knew the boy had handcuffed him to the stanchion, so there was no getting around that embarrassment. But no one knew the boy had also stolen his wallet. Still, Vanek shook his head.
“No deal,” he said.
“Fine,” the boy said. “Let’s skip the watch and wallet and go directly to jail. Call your guys up here and search the rooms. You’ll never find the wallet.”
“I was hoping we could do this discreetly,” Vanek said, calling his bluff. He took a two-way radio out of his pocket.
“Wait!” the boy said, his face pale as snow.
Vanek frowned. The two children looked so sad and exhausted. There was none of the pleading or bravado he’d so often seen when crimes caught up with the guilty.
“How about this for a deal?” Dan asked. “I’ll give you your wallet back for the watch.” He hesitated. “And if you let us go, I’ll give you Luna Amato.”
The very sound of her name brought an angry flush to Vanek’s face. Thieves, murderers, forgers — they were all bad. But the worst of all of them was a dirty cop. When he’d reported Luna to his superiors, he’d been met by blank looks, blustering, and once even a cold glimpse of terror. Somehow she had gotten to them. Vanek had determined to track her himself, but after Turkey her trail had gone completely cold. He had been hunting Luna when he’d received an anonymous tip about t
he Cahills being at the Pergamon.
“You know where she is?” he asked.
Dan met his eyes. “I do. But I won’t tell you if you arrest us.”
Vanek locked eyes with the defiant boy, weighing his choices.
“How can I trust you will tell me the truth?”
“How can I trust that you won’t send your men crashing in here after I tell you where she is?”
“You have my promise,” Vanek said.
“And you have my promise.”
Vanek stared at him for several seconds. The boy did not blink. He could find the Cahill children whenever he wanted. The same could not be said for Luna Amato.
“I know there is more to what you are doing than meets my eye,” he said. “I am in a position to help you if you would allow me.”
The girl shook her head. “We can’t do that.” Vanek could hear the effort it cost to keep her voice steady. Something nagged him about the children. Something about them didn’t fit with the crimes he knew they had committed.
Vanek paused for an agonizing second, then brought the watch out from behind his back. The girl’s face crumpled for just an instant, as if the relief of having it back was almost more than her slim body could bear. The boy nodded, then reached into his back pocket and pulled the wallet out.
Vanek smiled. “Hidden in plain sight, I see.” He took the wallet. “Where is Luna Amato?”
“Mumbai.”
“I was stationed in Mumbai for many years. It is a very big city. Twenty million people. Where can I find her among them?”
“Find Jonah Wizard and you’ll find Luna Amato.”
Vanek raised an eyebrow. “Jonah Wizard, the star of music and the films? What does he have to do with the lying, traitorous Luna Amato?”
“He’s keeping an eye on her.”
“For what purpose?”
Amy cut in. “That’s not part of the deal,” she said. “Do you have police stationed at all the exits?”
Vanek nodded. “I have your promise about Luna Amato?” he countered.