The 39 Clues: Book 8

by Gordan Korman

  Dan's voice dropped. "I get it. We have to check it out when there's no one around."

  "That's how I know we're family," Jonah approved. "Cahills think alike, yo. Got a good feeling about us working together. We make a fly team."

  114

  If this were Amy, Dan reflected mournfully, she'd be telling him how stupid he was, calling him dweeb while she went to some library to check out six hundred books on terracotta warriors.

  His mood darkened abruptly. Then she'd accuse their poor parents of deserving their fate. How could she even think that about Mom and Dad? He patted his pocket where the picture from Bodhidharma's cave lay hidden. "You know, Jonah," he ventured, "it's been--uh--two days, four hours, twenty-one minutes--"

  "Since you last saw your sis," Jonah finished sympathetically.

  "Not that I'm keeping track," Dan added quickly.

  "Must be hard," the star agreed. "I've got to tell you, cuz, I'm amazed we haven't come up with her yet. By now-- it's almost like she doesn't want to be found."

  Dan recoiled as if he had just been slapped.

  His distress was interrupted by a knock at the door. The entertainment had arrived.

  Dan had little appetite at first. He sat at the table, viciously dismantling dumplings with his chopsticks, eating next to nothing as he mulled over the devastating notion that Amy might have written him off. Was that possible? She called him annoying often enough. Yet he said the same about her, and he would have given anything to be reunited with his sister.

  The show turned out to be Chinese acrobats who executed an unbelievable climbing-and-tumbling routine. It was off the chain -- Jonah's words. Even Dan

  115

  began to climb out of his funk, especially for the grand finale -- a dragon dance performed upside down while hanging from the ceiling.

  Jonah's father invited a few local entertainment reporters to join the fun, so Jonah was sure to get good press in Xian -- as if Jonah got bad press anywhere.

  The man of the hour was at his schmoozing best, laughing and joking with the media. No way could anybody tell that, as soon as this was over, he was off to burglarize the most important archaeological site in Asia. Yet when no one was looking, Dan couldn't help but notice a glazed expression on the famous face.

  Funny--I think the rock star lifestyle is amazing, but it has to be brutal twenty-four/seven. For Jonah, this was the normal routine. It was probably exhausting to be at fever pitch, day after day, week after week.

  It was past midnight by the time the acrobats had gone home and the reporters had finished their interviews. Dan was rummaging through the minibar when the sound of distant music reached him. Not Jonah's music --in fact, the melody was classical. To Dan's astonishment, he recognized the piece. It was by Mozart, perhaps the greatest of Jonah's Janus relatives.

  He followed the sound to the suite's smallest bedroom and peered inside. Broderick Wizard perched on the edge of the bed, an acoustic guitar in his arms, his fingers a blur over the nylon strings. It was obvious -- even to Dan, who knew nothing about music--that Jonah's father was playing with great skill.

  116

  "You're awesome."

  Broderick looked up in surprise. "Oh --it's you." He set the guitar down on the comforter, picked up his BlackBerry, and began self-consciously scrolling through e-mail.

  "Does Jonah know how good you are?" Dan asked.

  Jonah's father cleared his throat uncomfortably and tried to hide behind the pocket-size device. "I was quite the rising star in college. But then I met Cora, and ... well, I'm decent, but, you know, compared to them --"

  Them. The Janus. Why play music if you can't be Mozart, or Scott Joplin, or John Lennon, or Jonah Wizard? What a Cahill attitude!

  Dan was surprised to feel genuine sympathy for Jonah's father. Whatever dreams he might have had were gone, traded for a spot on the red carpet a half step behind his famous son. And what was left for Broderick? Thumb cramps, maybe, from texting.

  It made Dan wonder about his own father. He remembered very little about either of his parents, but, like Broderick, Arthur Trent had been an outsider who married into the Cahill family. When people talked about Dad, he was always just Mom's partner, working with Grace in the Clue hunt. He'd even raised his kids with the legal name Cahill, just as Grace had done with her daughter. What else had he given up to play in the big leagues with the Cahill heavy hitters?

  Jonah appeared in the doorway behind Dan. "You

  117

  guys having a secret meeting without me?" His eyes fell on the guitar lying on the bedspread.

  His father looked uncomfortable. "I was just--you know--killing time."

  "He's amazing!" Dan enthused. "Not all your talent comes from the Janus side, Jonah. You should hear your dad play. He's good enough to --"

  "Great, cuz," Jonah interrupted firmly. "Let's bounce. The car's waiting for us outside."

  His father nodded in resignation. "Let's go."

  It was 12:25 a.m . when the silver stretch pulled away from the curb in front of the Bell Tower Hotel.

  "Tell the driver to stop short of the terracotta museum," Jonah advised his father. "We can hoof it a couple of blocks. Last thing we need is cops nosing around our ride."

  "Got it," Broderick confirmed. "Good luck, guys."

  "Luck's got nothing to do with it," Jonah replied with supreme confidence.

  They drove about twenty minutes before the driver called out that they were getting close.

  Dan squinted through the window. "There's no museum coming up. Wait--you mean that thing?"

  The structure that loomed out of the darkness was low and absolutely enormous -- at least five blocks wide and stretching back as far as they could see.

  "They built a giant airplane hangar over the whole dig," Jonah's father explained. "The biggest in the world."

  118

  "Crazy," Jonah commented. "Okay, we'll roll from here. Ready, cuz?"

  "Let's do it," Dan replied.

  They got out, keeping to the shadows. The limo backed away to a spot behind some bushes.

  They made their way swiftly and silently toward the hangar. It was farther away than it looked --its sheer size created the illusion of closeness. Both were breathing hard as they mounted the front steps and concealed themselves behind the ticket booths.

  Jonah reached into the pocket of his black leather jacket and pulled out a device that resembled a larger version of his father's BlackBerry.

  "Is that to call your dad when we're done?" Dan asked.

  "It's a heat sensor," Jonah explained in a low tone. "A place like this has got to be crawling with guards. We can keep track of them on this screen."

  Dan peered at the readout. The vast complex was mostly in darkness, but there were at least seven or eight heat signatures inside and outside the building. Several of them seemed to be bunched together.

  Dan was alarmed. "Do they see us?"

  Jonah watched as tiny but very bright flickers appeared around the group. "I think they're on a tea break."

  "Yeah, but where?" Dan persisted.

  "In the back. Come on, cuz, we may never get a better chance!" Jonah produced two lumps of putty and affixed them to the lock on the glass doors,

  119

  kneading them together. There was a sizzling sound, and he whipped his hand away. Smoke issued from the spot as the chemical reaction burned the lock away.

  "I thought you guys were just into art," Dan said.

  Jonah shrugged. "Depends what you call art, yo. Burglary can be an art. We jacked this stuff from the Ekats." He pushed the door open. They were inside.

  Dan gawked. Laid out before them was a most astonishing sight. It was like looking at a vast crowd of people --in Fenway Park, maybe. But they weren't real. An entire army of soldiers, horses, and chariots, all made of off-white earthenware. Thousands of them, lined up in tight ranks and forever on guard.

  Jonah dragged him into a crouch. "Cuz--we're not tourists!"
/>   "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen!" Dan breathed.

  "I've seen better," Jonah told him, "by my own branch."

  "Yeah, but there are so many of them!"

  "Yo, here's the plan: You check out the warrior in row thirty-eight, space fifty-three of the first pit."

  Dan looked worried. "What about you?"

  "I've got you," Jonah promised. "I'll be right behind, monitoring the guards. Hurry!"

  That made sense to Dan. He scrambled under the railing and dropped down into the huge excavation pit, where the warriors towered over him, each one unique.

  120

  He flashed a sign at Jonah and began to count rows, hiding himself among the tall figures. The detail was astounding. The facial features, hairstyles, and clothing textures were all distinctive. He passed a kneeling archer and was amazed to note that there was a tread pattern on the bottom of the figure's shoe. From close up, he could see that the warriors had been painted, although the colors had faded over the centuries. Jonah's father had told them that the terracotta army was more than two thousand years old. According to legend, each statue had been built around a living soldier. It was very cool, in an ultra-creepy way--burying thousands of warriors with their emperor to protect him in the afterlife. As Dan threaded his way between the figures, he imagined a skeleton at the heart of each one --a real army of the dead.

  Concentrate! If you lose count, you'll have to go back to start! Thirty-one... thirty-two... thirty-three...

  He peered over his shoulder, but Jonah was out of sight. How much longer could the guards' break go on? Jonah's heat sensor wouldn't be of much help if they were spotted.

  Row 38. He made a right turn and began to count his way across the ranks. One... two ... three...

  The almond-shaped eyes were blank and unmoving as he passed by. Yet he couldn't escape the feeling that he was being watched.

  121

  CHAPTER 17

  Jonah lay flat on his stomach, keeping one eye on the heat sensor and the other on Dan. The kid had guts --you had to give him props for that, even if he was too dumb to know he was being used.

  No, he corrected himself. Poor little orphan. Bad luck, that's all. It wasn't as if Dan and his sister ever had a shot at being big players in the scheme of things. Jonah had earned his success, sure. But it hadn't hurt to be the son of Cora Wizard, the Janus leader. He'd been born with his foot in every door in the arts.

  Find the thirty-nine clues, and you won't need anybody's connections. You'll be your own man.

  More like your own Superman.

  The hangar was in night mode, with most of the lights out. Anybody else scanning the ranks of soldiers would probably miss seeing short, scrawny Dan Cahill in between the larger terracotta figures.

  Pretty wild to build a fake army to protect a dead guy. But as a Janus, Jonah had to respect the ancient Chinese who had set this up. Very sweet. From his

  122

  vantage point over the pits, the endless rows of soldiers looked almost like one of his concert audiences--except, of course, they weren't going totally apewire.

  He checked the monitor. The tea break was still in progress, but that couldn't last much longer.

  Hurry up, cuz...

  He squinted at the sensor. Pretty tight technology, but there were still some bugs to iron out. You could see everybody, yet it was hard to judge the perspective. He was pretty sure the guards were out back. But on the monitor, they appeared dead center and higher up. Two other security people on the side pathways, also toward the rear. The smaller, moving blip was Dan. But--

  He frowned. Who was that bright spot over there? If this guy was at the back, shouldn't his heat signature appear near the top, by the tea drinkers?

  Jonah tapped the sensor in annoyance. This dumb gizmo made it seem like there was an extra person right smack-dab in the middle of the terracotta army!

  And the Dan Cahill blip was heading directly toward him....

  * * *

  Twenty-seven ... twenty-eight... twenty-nine...

  Dan pushed through the ranks of warriors, nearly tripping over the hoof of a terracotta horse. When he righted himself, he ended up scraping his chin against the elbow of the archer in the row in front of him.

  123

  According to Jonah's father, all these warriors had originally been armed with real weapons. I could have just sliced my head off! Certainly, it would have been even harder to move through these tight ranks if they were filled with razor-sharp swords and spear points.

  Dan scrambled over an unexcavated mound. Forty-seven ... forty-eight... just a few more, now ... He peered ahead in an attempt to pick out number fifty-three.

  He saw the battle mace first--a heavy spiked iron ball attached by a chain to a wooden handle.

  Maybe a few of them are still armed....

  This thought was quickly replaced by another: If this is number fifty-three, maybe the weapon is the clue!

  Eagerly, he scrambled toward it. Just as he noticed that this figure was shorter than the (others), terracotta warrior number fifty-three moved.

  The astonishment paralyzed Dan for an instant. And by the time he came out of it, the mace was hurtling through the air on a collision course with his head. With a gasp, Dan ducked, and the lethal spikes went singing past his ear. A warrior's elbow shattered. The hand and forearm fell to the ground.

  No bones, no dead guy inside, Dan thought -- when he should have been concentrating on survival.

  The imposter hefted his weapon for another strike. Through his terror, Dan could see that his assailant was clad in head-to-toe padded foam, colored to match the fading paint of the terracotta army. He wore a full mask made of rubber, designed to mimic the faces and

  124

  expressions of the statues. From close range, it was not a great likeness. But standing amid thousands of his fellow soldiers, it would have been impossible to pick him out.

  "Who are you?" Dan rasped.

  His answer was another attack from the mace, a devastating swipe that missed only by inches. Dan felt a stab of pain as the chain burned along his arm.

  All rational thought disappeared from Dan's mind, save for one:

  Run.

  * * *

  A trap! Jonah's eyes were riveted to the small screen where the heat signatures of Dan and his assailant played out the chase. The security people hadn't noticed them yet, but how long would that last?

  I've got to get out of here!

  He was on his feet in a heartbeat, sprinting for the front door where he had burned away the lock. And from there, the turnstiles, the limo, the hotel --it was all going to be okay....

  He froze in his tracks. Dan. How could he leave him in danger?

  Forget Dan! You brought him in case it was a trap!

  Dan was an eleven-year-old kid. He was only down in that pit because Jonah had sent him there.

  Boo-hoo, life's rough. You're a big player! Cora Wizard's son! The only chance for the Janus in the clue hunt --

  125

  He threw open the door. The cool air of the outside beckoned. Freedom; safety ...

  Awww!

  Jonah spun around and ran back inside, jumping down into the pit. Through the rows of warriors he dashed, using the heat sensor to guide him.

  His mind whirled. If I get killed in China, the press is going to have a field day! Mingled with a more urgent thought: Hang on, cuz! I'm coming!

  When he came upon the attacker, he almost rear-ended him. Whoa, the guy was dressed up like one of the statues! Jonah's eyes bulged. The fake warrior was twirling a mace, ready to smash Dan's head in.

  "Yo!" he called.

  The imposter spun around, and the mace shattered the face of the terracotta swordsman beside him.

  Dan jumped up and threw himself onto the imposter's back. Enraged, the man jabbed at him with the wooden handle.

  Jonah grabbed two fistfuls of the foam costume and pulled with all his strength. The material tore away, revea
ling track pants and a sweatshirt. The man swung at him with his free hand, landing a dizzying blow on Jonah's cheek. The star went down, landing in a terracotta chariot, stunned.

  With a violent twist, the imposter threw Dan off his back and wheeled menacingly. Dan tried to scramble up again but whacked his forehead on the clay hoof of a battle horse. The attacker raised his mace high over

  126

  his head, ready to bring it down with crushing force.

  * * *

  Dan knew a moment of perfect horror. He was going to die. He was too hemmed in to roll away, and the impostor's momentum was unstoppable.

  Momentum. The abbot's voice echoed in Dan's mind. The momentum of your adversary is your greatest ally.

  As the fake warrior loomed over him, arm high to deliver the fatal blow, Dan's foot shot up and lodged in his attacker's midsection. Dan's hands were next, grabbing the ripped foam of the costume so he could guide his assailant up and over him.

  Dan was amazed at how little of his own force was required. Just as the wushu master had promised, the smaller Dan was able to launch his fully grown attacker fifteen feet down the row, wiping out warriors like tenpins. The man lay in the rubble, unconscious.

  Dan and Jonah were on him in an instant. Jonah pried the mace handle from the foam glove. "That was some serious Jackie Chan, cuz!" the hip-hop star wheezed in awe.

  "Let's get out of here!" Dan hissed.

  "Not yet," said Jonah grimly. He yanked their prisoner's mask off and slapped him awake.

  The man shrugged blankly. "No speak."

  Dan reached into the man's fanny pack and pulled out a thick wad of hundred-euro notes. "Where did you get this?"

  127

  Jonah brandished the spiked ball of the mace. "We could jog your memory."

  "Children!" the imposter babbled. "Boy and girl!"

  "Got a name?" Jonah persisted.

  "No name! Talk like Simon on American Idol!"

  "British accent!" Dan breathed. "The Kabras -- they set you up, Jonah!"

  "They set us both up," the star amended. "And now they're way ahead while we're in the wrong city, fighting for our lives."

  "We'll pay them back," Dan promised. "But first we've got to get out of this--"

  His sentence was interrupted by the loudest alarm either of them had ever heard. At the first sound of the Klaxon, their captive was up and gone, hopping along the rows, ripping off his costume as he ran.