Inside the Shadow City

by Kirsten Miller

  Although I was upset to hear she’d been kidnapped, Mitzi Mulligan and I had never been the best of friends. She was a member of the wannabes—the scholarship girls who wasted their time sucking up to rich girls like The Five. As far as the Princess and her cronies were concerned, there was no lower form of life than people like Mitzi Mulligan. They snickered at Mitzi’s less than fabulous footwear and told anyone who would listen that Mitzi’s father trapped rats in the subway tunnels and cooked them for his daughter’s dinner. Eventually, the rumor even reached Mitzi’s ears. Had she decided to kick the Princess’s scrawny butt, few people would have stopped her. But Mitzi couldn’t learn her lesson. She just took her punishment and kept coming back for more.

  Much to my surprise, Mitzi’s social climbing had begun to pay off. On at least two occasions, I had overheard the Princess speaking to her in what passed for civil tones. It looked like Mitzi might finally be making some progress up the social ladder. It was her bad luck to be kidnapped just as she was starting to become popular.

  I may not have cared much for Mitzi Mulligan, but her kidnapping intrigued me. On the night she disappeared, Mitzi had snuck out of her parents’ house. The security cameras in her apartment building had captured an image of Mitzi dressed in a flimsy party dress and tottering on a pair of stiletto heels. The police questioned her friends and classmates, but no one knew where Mitzi had been going or whom she had set out to meet. She had been missing for two days before her parents received a cryptic note written on elegant stationery. It informed them that Mitzi had been kidnapped, but it didn’t mention a ransom.

  Hoping for a clue to the kidnapping, I listened to the rumors that floated about the school like scraps of trash over a subway grate. One girl claimed that Mitzi had been taken by a band of subway-dwelling mole people who wanted revenge against her father—the man who had evicted them from their underground homes. A strange girl in my chemistry class tried to convince me that Mitzi had been abducted by aliens, but I doubted whether beings from an advanced civilization would have anything to learn from probing Mitzi Mulligan.

  My guess was that Mitzi Mulligan’s kidnapping had been an accident. Since Mitzi spent her days trailing after the Princess and her friends, I wondered if the kidnappers had mistaken her for a rich girl. It was even possible that the kidnappers had been after one of The Five. I suppose I could have warned them, but I didn’t. After all the suffering The Five had caused, a week in a sewage treatment facility was exactly what they deserved.

  • • •

  As I drew closer to the Chinatown Savings and Loan, an image of the Princess held captive in the New York sewers flickered through my mind. I burst into laugher, forgot to look where I was going, and knocked over a barrel of fingerlike roots that stood in the middle of the sidewalk. Several other barrels containing hairy seedpods and foul-looking fungi formed an obstacle course that blocked my path. They belonged to a Chinese herbalist shop with yellowing posters of wild ginseng in its windows. A little white porcelain cat with one raised paw waved to me from the windowsill.

  As I stooped to toss the roots back into the barrel, I heard an angry voice inside the shop. I peered between the hanging scrolls and into a dim room. Dozens of antlers dangled from the ceiling, and an enormous wooden cabinet with hundreds of tiny drawers stood against the back wall. A batch of dried shark fins and what looked like the claw of a giant bird poked out of an open drawer. Standing in front of the cabinet was an elderly man who was shouting in Chinese and shaking his fist at a dark-haired girl in a black cotton dress.

  The girl listened quietly, drumming her fingers on the shop’s counter until the force of the man’s rage began to dwindle. When at last he was quiet, she said something softly in Chinese. Her words had a magical effect on the man. He nodded curtly and turned to the cabinet. Opening a drawer marked with a Chinese symbol, he retrieved a small glass bottle. The girl dropped the bottle into a black pouch and started for the door.

  In an instant, the girl was looking directly at me. A sly smirk spread across her lips and she raised an eyebrow high above one of her icy blue eyes. She spun around, whispered to the man behind the counter, and disappeared through the shop’s back door. It all happened so quickly that I barely had time to think. I ran into the shop and out the back. The old man shouted ferociously and snatched at my T-shirt, but I barreled past him without even pausing.

  I followed the girl through the cluttered backyard of the shop, under a clothesline filled with dripping men’s underwear, over a small fence, and out onto the street on the other side of the block. I arrived just in time to see her toss her black wig into a trash can and slam a helmet over her own long white hair. Then Kiki jumped on a black Vespa motor scooter parked on the sidewalk. As I watched her run a red light and turn the corner, it occurred to me that I had no idea what I would have done had I caught her.

  • • •

  That evening, Oona was the first to arrive for the emergency meeting of the Irregulars. She was still wearing her smock from the manicure shop when she knocked at the door.

  “You look good, Ananka,” she said, examining me from head to toe. “No more pudge. And you got some new clothes. I always said you had potential.” She took off her smock, revealing a stunning dress that looked better suited for a cocktail party than a nail salon.

  “Do you always dress like that when you’re working?” I asked her.

  “Sure,” she said. “It helps me remember why I’m there.”

  “Why are you there?” I asked.

  “So I can buy more dresses like this,” she answered.

  Oona took a seat in the living room, and I handed her a drawing of the symbol I had seen on the drawer in the herbalist’s shop.

  “Can you tell me what this means?” I asked.

  Oona examined the sheet of paper.

  “Your calligraphy sucks, but if I squint my eyes and tilt the page to one side, it kind of looks like it says Devil’s Apple.”

  “Devil’s Apple,” I mused. “Where have I heard that before?”

  “It’s wart remover, remember? We found a bottle of it in the Shadow City.”

  I was just about to search my library for information on Devil’s Apple when Luz barged through the door with DeeDee and Betty following close behind.

  “Did you see the news?” Luz demanded.

  “Nice to see you again, too, Luz. And yes, we’ve all heard about the robberies,” I said.

  “I’m not talking about the robberies. They’re ancient history by now.”

  “What, then?”

  “You don’t know?” Luz smiled and pretended to brush at one of the oil stains that speckled the overalls she wore around her workshop.

  “Know what?” I hadn’t seen Luz in over a year, and she was already driving me crazy.

  “You heard about Mitzi Mulligan, that girl who was kidnapped?” asked Luz.

  “Sure, she goes to my school,” I said.

  “Well, there was another kidnapping last night.”

  “We’ll talk about the kidnappings later,” I told her. “Right now we have more important things to discuss.”

  “I doubt it,” said Luz, yawning annoyingly.

  “What could be more important than the fact that the Shadow City wasn’t destroyed?” asked DeeDee. “Did someone we know get kidnapped?”

  “No, the girl goes to school at Bronx Science,” Luz said.

  “Would you get to the point, Lopez?” said Oona.

  “I know why they took her. And I don’t think anyone else has figured it out.” Luz looked pleased with herself.

  “Would you care to share?” I sighed.

  “The girl’s name is Penelope Young. Her mother works for the city—just like Mitzi Mulligan’s father. But they mentioned one interesting fact in the news report. The new girl’s mother works for the New York City Parks Department. I thought it sounded weird. Why would anyone kidnap two girls with no money? So I did some research on Penelope’s family. Her mother was one of the
original designers of the NYCMap.”

  “You mean our NYCMap?” asked Betty as the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle began to come together in my head. “The map with the gas and water mains? The one we took from Con Edison?”

  “Yeah, except we could only find the bottom layer. Penelope Young’s mother has access to the middle layer— the one that shows everything at street level.”

  “I remember,” said DeeDee. “You said that if someone put all the layers together it would be a terrorist’s dream.”

  “That’s right. Anyway, Mitzi Mulligan’s father must have access to the bottom layer. Penelope Young’s mother can get the middle. I’d bet you a billion dollars that the NYCMap is what the kidnappers are after,” said Luz.

  “You mean what she’s after,” I said, more to myself than to the group. The other girls fell silent. “Don’t you see?” I asked them. “It can’t just be a coincidence. First someone finds a way inside the Shadow City and then someone else decides to steal the NYCMap? No. I think the same person’s behind the robberies and the kidnappings.”

  “Are you talking about who I think you’re talking about?” asked Betty.

  “Who else could it be?” I asked.

  “Why would Kiki want to kidnap Mitzi Mulligan?” asked Oona. “She already has the bottom layer of the NYCMap.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” said Luz. “Kiki’s computer was destroyed by the people who raided her house. She could have lost the maps, too.”

  “Wait a second,” said DeeDee. “Aren’t we getting a little carried away? Isn’t she supposed to be in Hong Kong?”

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you,” I told the Irregulars. “Kiki Strike is back. I saw her in Chinatown this morning, less than three blocks away from the Chinatown Savings and Loan.”

  HOW TO PLAN AN ESCAPE ROUTE

  Whether I’m crossing the North Sea on a luxury liner or spying on an enemy at the local Gourmet Garage, I always know what path I’ll take should anything go wrong. But you don’t have to wait for disaster to make use of an escape route. They also come in handy when you’re avoiding an annoying suitor, evading the authorities, or running from a furious sibling.

  Know Your Surroundings. Take a moment and look around you. Find out where all the exits, lifeboats, or hidden trapdoors are located, and figure out how to get to them quickly. It’s always best to have at least two routes planned in case one is blocked. You should also make a mental list of possible hiding places and know how long you’ll need to reach them.

  Prepare in Advance. If you have time, practice your escape routes. That way, you’ll be able to act quickly and confidently when you need to. (You should be able to escape from your own house in a matter of seconds.) And always know where you’ll go once you’ve made it out.

  Wear the Right Things. Unless you’re attending a ball, try to wear clothes that will allow you to move comfortably. In particularly dangerous situations, you may want to choose fabrics such as wool or silk that won’t easily catch on fire or melt under extreme heat.

  Have the Tools You Need at Hand. If your escape route involves climbing out a window, it’s always best to have a rope at the ready. A small flashlight can help you navigate in the dark, and a cell phone will allow you to call for help. But don’t bother searching for unnecessary items. Take only what you need and get out fast.

  Act Fast, but Move with Caution. As any horror movie will teach you, running blindly won’t get you anywhere. Listen carefully and, in case of fire, check doors for heat before you open them—if they’re hot, choose another path.

  Smoky Conditions. If you find yourself in a real emergency, there may be smoke. Tie a wet cloth over your nose and mouth, and crawl on your hands and knees to an exit. Don’t let your head drop too low, or you may breathe in toxic fumes.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The Return of Kiki Strike

  Most people think of maps as simple tools that can guide them from one place to another. (Of course, these tend to be the same dimwits who will tell you that disguises should only be worn to costume parties and that all good stories come with a moral.) But for those who know the right way to read them, maps can reveal remarkable secrets. Even the most ordinary road map can show you where to find dusty ghost towns, dangerous mountain passes, and swamps blooming with rare orchids. But there are other kinds of maps as well—maps that can lead you to hidden gold mines, lost Mayan cities, or the caves in the Oregon forest where Bigfoot resides.

  Unlike maps of Wisconsin, these kinds of maps can’t be purchased at your local gas station. They’re usually kept locked away in bank vaults or tucked beneath your grandmother’s mattress. That’s because the guardians of such maps know they must be protected at all costs. The secrets they hold can be dangerous in the wrong hands. And there’s no shortage of people who would be willing to kill or die for the chance to possess them.

  Of all the maps ever created, the NYCMap was among the most powerful. Even the Irregulars’ map of the Shadow City couldn’t compare. Put the three layers of the NYCMap together, and the secrets of the greatest city on Earth would be laid bare. With the bottom layer of the NYCMap to guide her through New York’s sewers and subway tunnels, the middle layer to help her find the perfect shrub to hide a bomb, and the top layer to show her the way into every building aboveground, a criminally inclined fourteen-year-old could break into any museum, destroy any building, or kidnap any Princess. And she wouldn’t have to stop there. She’d have all the information she needed to bring millions of New Yorkers to their knees.

  I hadn’t forgotten the feverish look in Kiki Strike’s eyes when Luz first told us she had found the NYCMap. For me, it had been a bit like discovering an alien spaceship. Though I’d found it fascinating, I didn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with it. But Kiki had always understood the true power of the NYCMap. And once it was no longer possible to break into the Princess’s house through the Shadow City, the NYCMap became Kiki’s last hope. It alone could guide her to the one thing she really wanted.

  I knew that if Kiki was after the map, the Princess, the Irregulars, and the entire city of New York could all be in serious danger. We needed to find her before she found us. But searching for a single girl in a city the size of New York is like looking for a diamond ring that you’ve flushed down the toilet. In other words, we had no clue where to start, and we knew it might turn nasty. Finally, Oona suggested we pay a visit to Kiki’s hidden house. Of course, I doubted we would find her there. Few sane people would return to a place they’ve been forced to flee in a hail of bullets. But we couldn’t afford not to follow every lead. If she was after the NYCMap, Kiki Strike was more dangerous than I had ever imagined. And unless we could stop her quickly, I’d be forced to take drastic action. I didn’t want to do it, but I was prepared to call the police.

  • • •

  The Irregulars waited until dark and set out through the streets of Greenwich Village. We arrived at the wooden gate at 133½ Bank Street to find that the knocker in the shape of a severed hand had been replaced with a bronze smiley face engraved with the words Have a Nice Day! With an effortless flick of her wrist, Oona picked the lock, and the gate creaked open. The little garden was in full bloom, and warm light streamed out the windows of the cheerful storybook cottage. Hiding behind a bush in the yard, I took out my trusty binoculars and aimed them toward the house.

  Sinking into the cushions of an overstuffed sofa were angelic dark-haired twins sporting pretty purple party dresses. One girl’s dress was embroidered with the name Emily, while the other girl’s dress bore the name Charlotte. Apparently, even their parents had a hard time telling them apart.

  Without so much as a warning, Emily pounced on her sister, and soon the two girls were beating each other senseless. Charlotte sat on top of Emily, her fingers en-twined in her sister’s curly hair, yanking with all her might. Emily’s hands were locked about her twin’s throat. The two girls seemed intent on killing each other, and I had a feeling we were
witnessing just one battle in a long and bloody war.

  A tired-looking man whom I took to be their father entered the living room from the kitchen, carrying a newspaper under his arm. He stepped over the twins, who were locked in mortal combat, and took a seat in an armchair by the fire. As Charlotte turned blue and began to lose consciousness, he opened the newspaper and started to read, ignoring the struggle taking place at his feet.

  “Kiki must have sold the house.” I shoved the binoculars at Oona and silently thanked my parents for allowing me to remain an only child.

  “Yeah, but look on the bright side. If we ever need to hire an assassin, we’ll know where to come,” Oona remarked with a note of respect in her voice. “That Emily’s a real killer.”

  We slid out of the bushes, and tiptoed through the yard to Bank Street. Though the hidden house had been a long shot, I had secretly hoped we would find Kiki Strike sitting on the sofa, wearing a mink coat and counting the cash she had stolen from the Chinatown Savings and Loan. Now those foolish hopes had vanished. I said nothing to the other girls, but I wondered how long we should look for Kiki before I took our story to the authorities.

  With no time to waste, we started our search immediately. That very night, in a flurry of caffeine-fueled activity, Luz crafted two miniature video cameras, each no bigger than a bonbon. The next afternoon, Oona carefully tucked the cameras inside a pair of stuffed pigeons that Betty had discovered in her parents’ prop collection. Before the sun had time to set, one of the cyborg pigeons was keeping a silent watch over the gates of the Marble Cemetery. The other recorded all the comings and goings at the Princess’s brownstone on Bethune Street.