by Jude Watson
Had Grace been trying to reassure herself … as well as Amy? Had Grace been just as afraid as her granddaughter?
They had to have been on a Cahill mission. It was no pleasure trip. They wouldn’t have left Dan and Amy for that long if they didn’t have to. Amy knew that as a solid truth in her heart.
“Surprised me when Arthur became a professor,” Shep said. “I would have thought anything but that.”
“What do you mean?” Dan asked. “What did you think he’d become?”
“Lion tamer,” Shep said, putting his empty mug down with a smack. He grinned. “Acrobat. Professional race car driver. Bush pilot, like me.”
Dan hooted with laughter. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“When we were kids, Artie was the daredevil,” Shep said. “He was always egging me on. Built an obstacle course for our bikes. Built a tower out of boxes so we could jump into the lake. Once we built a slide from the garage roof. Artie always went first.”
“Dad?” Dan’s voice was close to a squeak. “Awesome!”
Amy looked at Dan. He was sitting up straight in his chair, his eyes sparkling. Hearing about their father always made him happy. Why did it make her so sad?
When you lose your parents, the sadness doesn’t go away. It just changes. It hits you sideways sometimes instead of head-on. Like now. Amy hadn’t expected to suddenly feel like bursting into tears just hearing that her dad had been a daredevil when he was younger … just like Dan.
“Your dad, though — he was smarter than me. He did his schoolwork. He was always interested in puzzles, too, in figuring things out. I moved to Hawaii and discovered waves, and I was a lost cause.” Shep grinned cheerfully at them. “I’ve been traveling around the world ever since. Until I landed here in Oz.”
“Awesome,” Dan said again. Amy could see that he’d found a new hero.
“Now it’s your turn.” Suddenly, Shep’s blue gaze was penetrating. “What are you doing in Australia?”
Amy spoke quickly, before Dan could say anything. It wasn’t as though they couldn’t trust Shep, but it would be better for him if he didn’t know anything about the chase for the 39 Clues.
“We’re on vacation,” she said. “And we’re tracing our family history for a school project. Have you ever heard of Bob Troppo?”
“Can’t say I know him. Does he live in Sydney?”
“No, he was a famous criminal from long ago, like the 1890s,” Dan said. “He has these really fierce scars on his face. He was in jail in Sydney and he escaped to the outback.”
“Where?” Shep asked. “The outback is a pretty big place, you know. Thousands and thousands of miles.” He raised his eyebrows. “The land of the Never Never.”
Amy and Dan looked at each helplessly. They didn’t know.
“Doesn’t seem like you have much to go on,” Shep said genially. “That’s just the way I like it. You find out more that way.”
“But where do we start?” Amy wondered.
“Well, I have a mate who does outback tours from out of the Red Centre,” Shep said. “Uluru, Coober Pedy, the Alice.”
Dan and Amy had no idea what he was talking about. He fished in his pocket for his cell phone. “I can give him a call and ask if he knows anything about your Bob Troppo.” He dialed a number and waited, then shrugged and hung up. “No answer. Jeff’s not keen on voice mail. But he’ll turn up eventually.”
They didn’t have time for eventually.
“So,” Dan said. “You have a plane.”
“That’s really cool,” Amy said.
Shep laughed. “Hold on, I’m starting to get this,” he said. “You want me to fly you to the outback? Meet up with my mate and see what you can find?”
“It’s not like we’d want you to feel obligated or anything,” Amy said, feeling defensive.
“It really wasn’t that bad, being brought up by an evil aunt,” Dan said. “Except for that whole part about being chained up in the basement.”
Shep rolled his eyes, but then the humor drained from his face. “I wasn’t much of an uncle to you two, was I.”
“No worries,” Dan said. Amy could see that in Dan’s eyes, Shep could do no wrong.
Shep cleared his throat. He stood up and stacked the mugs on a tray. “Well,” he said, “at least I can fly.”
Dan hooted with laughter. “You mean you’ll do it? You’ll fly us, like, a thousand miles, just because we asked?”
“A couple of thousand. Welcome to Australia, mate,” Shep said with a grin.
He disappeared inside, whistling.
Dan leaned over to Amy. “We could have gotten him as a guardian. Instead, we got Aunt Beatrice the Bloody. Life stinks.”
Nellie laughed. “Those are the breaks, kiddo. Anyway, now you’ve got me—Nellie the Magnificent.” Nellie’s phone rang, and she was smiling as she answered it. Her face changed as she listened. She put her hand over it. “It’s Ian Kabra,” she said to Amy. “He wants to talk to you.”
CHAPTER 7
Amy felt their eyes on her as she took the phone. Her face grew hot and she turned so that Dan couldn’t see it. “Wh-what do you want, Ian?” She hated herself for stuttering. Pressing her lips together, she promised herself she wouldn’t do it again.
“Now, that’s not much of a greeting,” Ian said in his silky British accent. “But I suppose I deserve it.”
“You deserve worse than that,” Amy said.
“I know. I have done some terrible things to you. But we’re in a contest. I learned from my father that the only important thing is to win,” Ian said. “I hear his voice in my head all the time, like after a cricket match. Ian, I don’t care if you played well. Didn’t you notice that your team lost? If you expect a pat on the back, you’re not getting it from me!”
Amy felt a spurt of sympathy. But Ian had manipulated her before. She wasn’t going to fall for it again. No matter how sincere he sounded.
“Tell it to your therapist.”
“Look, I deserve everything you’re saying. I’m not calling to gain your trust,” Ian said. “I’m calling because I have some information.”
“Tell it to someone who cares,” Amy said. Dan moved closer so he could try to hear the other side of the conversation. Amy backed away. “Do you expect me to—”
“It’s about your parents,” Ian said. “About their death.”
Amy froze.
“My mother told me everything. They were murdered.”
Amy felt a buzzing in her ears. She couldn’t concentrate. She just kept hearing the word murdered.
Parents … murdered … Parents … murdered …
“Amy?” She heard Ian talking, but she couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.
Was it something she’d always known somehow? Deep down in a place she was afraid to look?
The fire … wet grass against her legs … Dan shivering in her lap … smoke and fire pouring out into the night air …
What was that? The image had just popped into her head. Amy put her fingers on her forehead and kneaded it, trying to make the image go away.
“… wanted to talk to you about it. A temporary truce. We give you our word that nothing will happen….”
Parents. Murdered.
“Will you come?” Ian asked.
“Tell me what you know.” Amy struggled to keep her voice level. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.
“This phone is not secure.”
“What?”
“Trust me. It’s not. Listen, I’ll meet you in an open place with lots of people — The Rocks Market at Circular Quay. Meet me in front of the Museum of Contemporary Art at three o’clock.”
Amy said nothing.
“I hope you do,” Ian said, and hung up.
“So, what did the creep say?” Dan asked. “What did he expect you to do this time? No, don’t tell me. You’re going to fall for whatever he said, right? Oh, Ian,” he said in a high voice, fluttering his eyelashes, “take me for a sail on your
S.S. Dreamboat …”
Amy turned on him fiercely. “Cut it out, dweeb! He just asked for a meeting!”
“Stop the madness!” Dan said, holding his head and rocking back and forth. “My sister is a love alien!”
“DAN!”
“All right, you two,” Nellie said. “Separate corners.” She peered worriedly at Amy. “But you’re not going to meet him, are you, Amy? Because …”
“I wish you two would stop treating me like I’m completely stupid,” Amy said.
“Hey, if the Crocs fit,” Dan muttered.
Amy jammed her hands in her pockets. She had to be alone and think. Because the idea was just too huge. She couldn’t begin to talk about it. Not yet.
Parents. Murdered.
Amy turned and flung herself back into the house. Shep was just heading out, jingling his car keys. “Everybody ready to hit the road? We have time for a quick tour of Sydney, then let’s head to the market for some grub.”
“I’m going to hang out here,” Amy said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Jet lag just hit. I need some downtime.”
Nellie looked at her sympathetically. “You’ll feel better after a nap.”
“Are you going to dream about your dreamboat?” Dan asked.
“Down, boy,” Nellie said to Dan. “Let’s give Amy a rest.”
They cleared out, and Amy was left alone with Ian’s voice in her head. Murder. Was he lying? Or did he know who killed them?
Amy bent over and took deep breaths. Someone had killed her parents. Someone she probably even knew.
The Kabras couldn’t be trusted.
She could be walking into a trap. She didn’t care.
Because inside her brain one question burned: Who?
The late afternoon sun was still strong as she left the bus stop and walked toward the museum by the harbor. Circular Quay was a busy spot for tourists. She was relieved to find it crowded and lively. It was easy to lose herself in the wandering throngs. She stopped at the first store she found that sold touristy things and bought a baseball cap that read OZ. She pulled it low over her face as if she was shading her eyes from the bright afternoon sunlight.
She wished she could be one of the tourists with a camera, ambling through the maze of cobblestone streets and alleyways. This was one of the oldest parts of Sydney, and the stores and sidewalk cafés she passed looked tempting. Ahead, the spectacular Harbour Bridge curved against a brilliant bright blue sky. She caught her first glimpse of the famous Sydney Opera House, looking to her like a flower unfurling its petals. Music filled the air. Awnings mimicking the shape of the opera house roof shaded tables laden with crafts.
But she wasn’t a tourist. Her strolling had a purpose. When she stopped to look in a store window, it wasn’t to see the merchandise. It was to check out the people around her in the reflection. When she turned a corner and doubled back, it wasn’t because she’d made a mistake in direction — it was to catch any tails behind her. And when she tilted her head to admire the surrounding buildings, she was checking out the rooflines and any possible flash from binoculars.
When Amy felt satisfied that she wasn’t being followed, she headed down toward the museum. She slowed her steps and proceeded cautiously as she grew closer to the harbor. She was fifteen minutes ahead of schedule. Time to check out the area. She hung back in a doorway, watching the swirl of tourists. Every so often she checked her watch so that it would appear as though she was waiting for someone.
Suddenly, she felt someone behind her, a little too close.
“Beautiful day. Hope you are able to enjoy it.”
Amy felt the fear curl inside her at the sound of that harsh Russian-accented voice. She tried to move away, but a group of tourists was directly in front of her, loudly discussing where to eat dinner. She felt something press against her back.
“By the way, the nails are loaded,” Irina said.
All Irina had to do was bend back the joint of her finger, and a needle full of poison would sink into Amy’s neck. She looked around frantically for a policeman.
“Do not be a stupid person. No one can help you. Now go.”
She moved away from the harbor, back down the street. Her eyes searched the area, looking for a way out. Could she outrun Irina? Maybe. But Irina pressed so close behind her that Amy knew she’d never get away without a prick from that needle.
“Don’t think. Just walk. No business that is funny. Now in here. Go.” Irina urged her inside an old stone building. The door was unlocked, and she pushed it open. Irina crowded in behind her and shut the door.
They were in an old pub. The curved wooden bar stretched the length of the room. Dim light caught the flash of amber in bottles still lined up on a shelf. But cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and they had disturbed dust that swirled in the slanting sunlight.
“This way,” Irina said, prodding Amy toward a small door at the back.
Fear coiled inside Amy. She had seen the blank, intense look in Irina’s eyes in the Church on the Blood. Irina had been close to killing her and Dan that dark night. “No.”
“Push door, please,” Irina said. When Amy hesitated, Irina’s foot shot forward and kicked open the door. She gave Amy a small shove. “If I were going to kill you, I could have done it ten times already. We need private talk away from the Kabras. When you don’t show up on time, they’ll come looking. So go.”
Amy found herself in a large storeroom. Huge cans of baked beans and tomatoes sat on the shelves. “You’ve brought me to Costco?” she asked in a mocking voice. She needed to push back, let Irina know she wasn’t paralyzed with fear. Even though she was.
“You should know by now I don’t understand the jokes.” Irina pushed her to the rear of the storeroom. A smaller door was set into the thick stone wall, made of old wood with deep, long cracks running down it. Irina produced a large iron key and fitted it into the lock. She pushed open the door. All Amy could see was darkness.
“Now I show you special piece of Australian history.” Irina nudged her in the back. Amy felt the sharpness of her fingernail. “Go.”
CHAPTER 8
A tiny penlight barely illuminated a rickety set of stairs. The door thudded shut behind them.
“We could meet an occasional rat,” Irina said. “Otherwise, perfectly safe.”
“Don’t worry,” Amy said. “I’m used to rats. They run in my family.”
“Comedian like your brother, eh?” Irina said. “This tunnel was used in the 1800s. If a lowlife drank too much rum at a bar, he found himself on a ship out to sea the next morning. Smuggled through tunnel to harbor.”
They reached the bottom of the stairs. The floor was dirt, the walls crumbling stone. Amy couldn’t see what was ahead.
“Wh-where are you taking me?” She hated the quaver in her voice. She wouldn’t let it out again.
“Ha!” Irina barked the word without humor. “You think I’m kidnapping you? I’m saving you. There are some things I won’t stoop to do.”
“Really,” Amy said. “I thought you stooped at nothing.”
“Is a joke? It’s true, though, what you say. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to win. But today, Amy Cahill, I’m doing you a favor. I’m giving you advice you need. Here it is—you are afraid of everything except what you should fear.”
“Thanks,” Amy said. “That was really helpful.”
“For example, you are afraid of me right now. Understandable, I am your enemy. But at this moment, I am least of your problems.”
“Really?” Amy said. “Weird. Seeing that I’m in a tunnel with rats, and you just threatened me with poison.”
“Here is other thing I must tell you — you don’t remember what you should never forget.”
“That really clears up a lot.”
“Go ahead, make the fun. But before we part, you must understand that what you don’t know will doom you. And the world.”
“Exaggerate much?” Somehow, taunting Irina kept her fear in check.
&nbs
p; “No.” Irina spun her around. In the darkness, she stood very close. “Listen to me, Amy Cahill. It is time you lift your head and look around you. The thirty-nine clues are like game to your brother, yes?”
Amy felt compelled by the ferocity of Irina’s gaze. Her eyes, even in the faint glow of the penlight, were ice blue, her lashes startlingly dark against them. She couldn’t deny what Irina had said. In many ways, the chase for the Clues was a game for Dan.
“But you know better. That’s why I risk so much to talk to you. Your parents died for this. Do you think they wanted to go?”
“Don’t talk about my parents!” Amy would have put her hands over her ears if she wasn’t afraid it would make her look like a child.
“No parent would ever want to leave a child. Do you think they would leave their beloved children for a game?”
“Stop it!”
“Do you think your mother left you alone and raced back into a burning house just for her husband?”
Amy looked at Irina, startled. Frozen. “How do you know what happened?” she whispered.
Irina shrugged. “From newspaper, of course. Unless not. Only you know for sure. Because you know who was there that night. You were old enough to see. You won’t believe what any Cahill tells you, and that is smart. We each have our agenda. So you must remember.”
“I don’t remember anything from that night,” Amy said. But something dislodged and floated up into her brain, cold grass, ash flying, a window shattering, Dan crying …
“You have been resourceful, I give you that,” Irina said. “You think on your feet, you and your brother. But there comes a time when you must think deeper. You must face the thing you don’t want to face. Until you can do that, you’re vulnerable.”
“To what?”
