by Jude Watson
“I am from Paris.”
“Score! They love your boy in Paris!”
Jonah trailed after Nicole, who leaned against the bumper to apply lipstick. Hamilton scooped up Nicole’s heavy suitcase from her open trunk. He slammed the trunk shut and trudged back toward the car. Nicole was checking it out, circling around it with little coos of admiration. She ran her hand along the fender. “Eet is so formidable, zees car.”
“Why don’t you get into the backseat, Hamilton?” Jonah suggested. “Nicole, do you like music? Are you a hip-hop fan?”
“I like la musique, oui,” Nicole said. “Le jazz.”
“I can be mad jazzy,” Jonah said.
Hamilton was stuffed into the tiny backseat with Nicole’s suitcase. Even her purse was too big for the front seat. Instead, it sat on his lap.
A bee buzzed into the open window of the car, and, without pausing in her conversation with Jonah, Nicole grabbed it in its midair flight. She crushed it in her fist, then flicked the carcass out the window.
Whoa, Hamilton thought. Even models could have amazing reflexes.
“Tell me the story of your life and I’ll tell you mine,” Jonah said to Nicole. “But first, are you sure you don’t recognize me?”
“Is this place real?” Dan asked, looking up at King Ludwig’s castle. “Or am I in Disneyland?”
Up the winding trail through the pines loomed the castle, a folly built by a mad king, all turrets and windows and gables and peaked roofs and windows wink- ing back in the slowly sliding sun. The castle was situated on a high, rocky cliff, with snow-capped Alpine mountains rising around it. It overlooked a sparkling, deep blue lake. Isolated and yet proud of its grandeur, this castle flaunted the crazy.
The Nazis had crammed millions of dollars of looted treasure in that magnificent castle. Jane Sperling had come in 1945, maybe on a misty day like this one. She’d found her old enemy here. Amy was sure of it.
“Actually, the castle was used as the model for Sleeping Beauty’s Castle in Disneyland,” she said. She checked her cell phone again, but there were no messages. No calls. “Where are they?”
She’d left messages for both Jonah and Hamilton. They hadn’t checked in with Attleboro, either. She was starting to worry.
She punched in the Attleboro number. “Are you having any problems with Gideon?” she asked. “We still haven’t heard from Jonah and Hamilton.”
“Satellite in the mountains can be iffy, even for the Gideon,” Evan reassured her. “Give them more time.”
“Did the GPS map come through?” Ian asked.
“Check,” Dan said, glancing at his wrist. “I’ve got a bead on a room down in the tunnels.”
“That’s the room where the ERR kept its records,” Ian said. “We think you should start there. That would have been the first place Jane would have gone to look for evidence of the de Virga.”
“If they don’t show up in twenty minutes, we’re going in without them,” Amy said.
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Ian put in. “Just fridge yourselves, as Jonah says.”
“Dude,” Dan said. “Do you mean chill?”
“Precisely. Just what I said.”
“Give me the phone, Ian.” Evan took the phone off speaker. “Listen, I know it’s hard to wait. But I don’t like you going in without backup.”
“I’ll give them ten more minutes,” Amy said.
“I’ve got a stubborn girlfriend.”
“You’re just realizing that, huh.”
Amy cut the connection and drew her jacket closer around her. It was cool under the pines. Dan sat on the side of the road, leaning against his pack and drinking one of the six-pack of soda he’d bought in the village. Amy could picture Evan’s half smile, the way his mouth curved on one end. It was as though she could feel it, the warmth in his eyes when he looked at her.
Just then she felt a buzzing in her jacket pocket. Vesper One. She signaled to Dan.
Sightseeing? The Alps are so lovely this time of year. But don’t forget I’m waiting for the arrival of the next package! If you need some incentive, I’ve got seven ideas. Just let me know!
Vesper One
“Another threat,” Dan said.
They both turned to face the castle above them on the mountain. The sun had dropped behind the tall pines, and shadows stretched toward them.
“We can’t wait any longer for backup,” Amy said. “We’ve got to go in.”
Jonah didn’t know how it had happened. He only knew that they were lost. The GPS had stopped working. They’d had to get off the autobahn. Nicole had directed them to an exit, since the GPS was still working on her phone. But after twenty minutes of driving past farms and cows, Jonah was beginning to suspect that Nicole was not what she seemed.
He checked her out again. There was something about her …
The clouds cleared, and a bright shaft of sunlight illuminated the curve of her cheek. Jonah tried not to stare. He was an actor, and he knew makeup. There was a telltale line along the bridge of her nose. And did perfect girls sweat along their hairlines?
They do if they’re wearing wigs. He met Hamilton’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He cut his eyes over to Nicole. Hamilton nodded. He knew something was off, too.
Oldest trick in the book. And he’d fallen for it.
“Ze gas station ees just around thees bend,” Nicole said. “I zink… .”
“Why don’t you let Hamilton take a look at your phone?” Jonah suggested. Again his eyes flicked to Hamilton’s.
“Let me check it out,” Hamilton said. “I’m totally good at GPS.” He leaned forward and put his meaty hand on her phone. She tried to keep it, but Hamilton’s grip was not to be denied. With a slight hiss through her teeth, she let go.
Jonah made the right turn. He pulled the wheel hard, and she put out a hand to steady herself. He caught a glimpse of a tattoo on the inside of her wrist. A purple triceratops — just like her brother.
He almost groaned out loud. How could he have been such an idiot? He’d seen the photo of Cheyenne Wyoming. But this girl looked nothing like her.
Because, you fool, she’s wearing a wig, a fake nose, and contact lenses!
“I can’t get the GPS to work on this thing,” Hamilton said, looking at the phone.
“May I ’ave it back?” Cheyenne put her hand over it and yanked it.
They needed to ditch her, and fast. Who knew what she was planning?
“Look, there’s a farmer!” he called.
“’Ee is way out in ze field,” Cheyenne said.
It was true. The man was a dot in the grass, and the stone wall in front was at least six feet high.
“It’s the best we can do,” Jonah said, jerking the wheel.
The car skidded to a stop. “Hmm,” Jonah said. “Girls are so much better at charming directions out of cranky farmers.”
“Totally!” Hamilton jumped out and then opened Cheyenne’s door. He practically lifted her out.
“I cannot climb zat wall!”
“No problemo,” Hamilton said. He picked her up, and, as she shrieked, lifted her onto the wall.
Hamilton quickly jogged back to the car and squeezed into the front seat.
“Punch it!” he yelled.
Gravel flew as the car skidded back onto the road.
“That was crazy!” Jonah said, pounding the wheel. “I can’t believe we were so stupid! That was Cheyenne Wyoming!”
“We were stupid, dude? You’re the one who said let’s pick her up!”
“Dawg, that’s a low blow.” But he knew Hamilton was right.
“She completely hosed us,” Hamilton said. “I think she blocked our satellite signal. She must have planted some sort of device in the car.” He began t
o search along the dashboard and floor, looking for a blocker. “You were probably too busy trying to get her to recognize you to notice. At least I got her phone.”
“Whoa! How did you manage that? I saw her take it back, bro!”
“Last summer, at the mansion? Dan and I took lessons from Lightfinger Larry.”
Hamilton accessed the phone. “I’m going to check her old messages… . She has a text! ‘G is in the picture. Could need removal — ’”
Hamilton stared at the screen as the letters began to disappear. “It’s getting wiped! I can’t read the rest!”
“The phone is probably password-protected to erase,” Jonah said. “Chill, bro. Attleboro might be able to put some spyware on it.”
Hamilton looked over at him nervously. “But why was she trying to delay us? Do you think Casper is up there with Amy and Dan?”
Jonah pressed the accelerator down. “Let’s just hope Amy and Dan wait for us before they go in.”
Amy and Dan had toured the courtyard and pretended to admire the splendid panorama of lake and mountains with the other tourists. They’d shuffled through the imposing rooms that opened one after another in grand magnificence: the throne room, the study room, and the drawing room. They had tilted their heads back pretending to admire the elaborate murals that portrayed scenes from Ludwig’s favorite operas. They had circled around, trying to figure out how to get away without the guide noticing them. But the rooms were too large, and the crowd was too small.
“We just have to do it,” Amy whispered. “This place is so big they’ll never know where we went. And we’ll be in the tunnels … they won’t think of looking there.”
“All right. As soon as the guide starts to talk again, fade back.”
The guide turned toward a mural and started to talk about a Wagner opera. Dan figured it was the perfect opportunity to go, or else he’d pass out from boredom.
They backed away behind a red curtain, made their way to a doorway, and stepped through. They were in a long hallway, and they quickly ran down it. Dan checked his GPS watch and put the earpiece in his ear.
“Left, then right.”
They were in a part of the castle that was closed to visitors. Dan led them down the back staircase and past the vast kitchen. From there they found the door that led to the lower levels and the tunnels. Amy was expecting small, cramped, and dirty spaces, but the tunnels were large and airy. They could see a group of tourists just exiting out to the courtyard.
Dan kept moving, listening to the instructions in his earpiece. They followed turn after turn. Finally, he stopped.
“This is the one,” Dan said. He removed the earpiece and pushed open the door.
The room was completely empty except for a battered gray filing cabinet. They opened the drawers, but they were empty.
“Talk to me, Jane.” Amy slammed the drawer shut. “Where did you leave it?”
Dan began to run his hands along the bricks on the far wall. He followed the line of bricks that met the floor. Nothing.
“The floor slopes,” Amy said suddenly. “Why is that?”
“Well, it’s a tunnel,” Dan said. “It could flood. There’s probably a drain.”
Amy followed the slope of the floor and found a tiny square drain.
“Dan!” she cried. “In the article I read, Jane said ‘All down the drain’!”
Dan peered down at the drain. “You think?”
“I think. Can you get the grating off?”
Dan got out his multi-tool and fitted the blade against the drain. It took him several minutes, but he was able to pop it free.
Taking a breath, Amy reached her hand in. She felt along a corroded pipe. “Yuck,” she said. She lay down on the floor, her cheek against the cold stone, and stretched her arm as far as she could.
“There’s something here,” she said, her heart beating. “A string … looped around something …”
“Can you get it?”
“I think so… .” Slowly, painstakingly, Amy drew up a small, flat package wrapped in yellowed plastic. Her hands shook as she carefully unwrapped it.
A small black leather notebook was revealed. Not the de Virga map. Disappointed, Amy carefully opened the flap of the notebook with a fingertip.
Written in faded pen she saw initials on the inside front cover: JS june1945.
“Jane,” Amy breathed.
She gently turned the page. Written in pencil, so faint she could hardly read it, was:
“Oh, terrific,” Dan muttered. “Just what we need! Another code! Why can’t people just say what they mean? Why can’t they say THE MAP IS IN THE DESK?”
Amy quickly thumbed through the notebook. The rest of the pages were empty. “At least we found something that will lead us to it.” Amy slipped the notebook into the inner pocket of her jacket. “Now let’s get out of here. I have a creepy feeling about this place.”
“Hmmm. Secret passageways, tunnels, Nazi ghosts, security, a mad king … I have no idea what you mean.”
“Going so fast? But you forgot something.”
The voice echoed outside in the tunnel. Amy and Dan jerked up from where they were kneeling as a figure blocked the doorway.
“Me.”
It was Casper Wyoming. He leaned against the doorway, a glittering knife in his hand.
The road climbed into the mountains, Jonah taking the hairpin curves as fast as he dared.
“You look so macho clutching the door handle that way,” he said to Hamilton.
“Just … be … careful,” Hamilton said through clenched teeth.
Ahead Jonah could see a particularly winding set of turns that led to a spindly looking bridge over a gorge. He eased off the accelerator. He wanted speed, but he wasn’t suicidal.
He hit the brakes for the first curve. The car didn’t slow but scraped against the guardrail.
“WHOA!” Hamilton shouted, looking down into the gorge. “Dude, the brake pedal is on the left!”
With an uneasy feeling, Jonah pumped the brakes. The pedal went to the floor. His hands were suddenly sweaty on the wheel. “There’s something wrong with the brakes.” He didn’t recognize his shaky, weak voice. He pumped them again. Nothing.
“There’s something wrong with the BRAKES?”
“I don’t think we have any.”
“We don’t have any BRAKES?”
“Bro, it doesn’t help to repeat everything I say!” Jonah yelled.
“She did it!” Hamilton cried. “She planted some kind of device… .”
Jonah downshifted as the car roared up the mountain. The engine protested in an angry whine. “C’mon, baby, work with me!”
At least they were climbing now. The natural drag was slowing down the car.
“It must be remote-activated or something… . Watch OUT!” Hamilton screamed, as another curve loomed ahead. Jonah barely made it, tires squealing. “Or maybe it’s inside the car and I can find it!” Frantically, Hamilton began to search.
Jonah concentrated on the car. “Keep your seat belt on! And secure any loose items in the car.” If they went over the side, anything that flew in the air would turn into a missile.
“Maybe it’s in her suitcase!” Hamilton twisted in his seat. He undid his seat belt and reached behind, grabbing Cheyenne’s big purse and flinging it out the window. Then he wrestled with her suitcase and forced it through the small space. He tried not to look as the suitcase bounced and careened off the side of the mountain, splitting in two. That could be him in a minute.
“Check the brakes!” he yelled. He stuffed himself back into the seat and clicked the seat belt shut.
A perspiring Jonah shook his head. “Sorry, bro. That wasn’t it.”
Jonah was using the shift to brake now, remembering his driving
course. He had been taught how to use steering to control the car, how to accelerate into curves and keep the car on the road. He tried to remember everything he’d learned about downshifting, about the process of deceleration and acceleration… .
He just wished his hands weren’t sweating so badly… .
“The bridge.” Hamilton’s normally deep voice was a squeak. “If you don’t make that turn, we’ll go straight off.”
Jonah didn’t answer. There was no answer. Hamilton was right.
He tried to plan the route even as he struggled to keep the car on the road. He would need to come out of that turn and downshift immediately. He could see from here that it was impossible. Unless … unless he used the side of the mountain to slow down the car. Just enough so that he wouldn’t lose control …
He swallowed and gripped the wheel.
“Hang on,” he tried to say, but his mouth was so dry the words barely made it out.
He eased the car to the left.
“What are you doing?” Hamilton yelled.
The car slammed against the mountain and then jerked back on the road. That didn’t work. Too hard.
He eased it over again, this time watching carefully. The side mirror snapped off. Sparks flew. The car was slowing, definitely … but he was heading for the curve.
He bumped back on the road, the wheel shuddering in his hands. He took the curve on two wheels. For an instant, the clear Alpine air was all they saw, dark blue sky and dark green pines… .
The car shivered and kept the road. Jonah downshifted, fighting gravity, fighting the road, fighting the mountain, fighting the VESPERS, because he was going to WIN… .
The car straightened out and zoomed over the bridge. Jonah kept it steady.
“Jonah! Up ahead, on the left — that road. See it? It’s going uphill.”
Jonah saw what Hamilton meant. If he could make that turn, the car would naturally slow as it climbed the mountain. If he stayed straight, they’d be traveling down the mountain again. With more curves to navigate, more chances to crash …