by Jude Watson
“To someone who will tell you what you want to hear,” Irina said. “So I ask again. What happened the night of the fire?”
She was choking through the cold, wet towel Mommy had placed over her mouth. Mommy held her hand so tightly. She could hear the flames, but she couldn’t see them. It was all smoke. Dan cried in their mother’s arms.
“I don’t remember! I was a kid!” Fear tore the words from Amy’s throat. The flashes she was getting were making her dizzy and sick.
“It’s strange,” Irina said, her gaze suddenly unfocused. “I remember so clearly being seven. The day I got separated from my mother on the streets of St. Petersburg … I remember the coat I was wearing, my shoes, the exact color of the river, the look on her face when she found me …”
“I’m happy for you,” Amy said, swallowing hard.
“Did anyone visit the house that night?” Irina asked. “Did you hear anything? Did your mother come upstairs for you? How did you get out of the house?”
“Stop it!”
They fought their way down the stairs. Daddy was in the study, throwing books on the floor.
“Get the children out!” he shouted.
“Daddy!” she screamed. She held out her arms and he stopped for a second.
“Angel,” he said, “go with Mommy.”
“No!” She sobbed as her mother pulled her away. “No! Daddy!”
“No,” Amy whispered. “No.”
“We push away the bad memories,” Irina said. Bleak sadness deadened her voice. “We tell ourselves is better not to remember. It is not better. Better to remember everything, even pain.”
“What do you want from me?”
Irina’s gaze snapped back into its glittering directness. “Come. We run out of time. This is a Lucian site. If we’re both missing, it won’t take long for Isabel to look here.”
They started to walk again. Amy thought the light might have been getting grayer. Were they reaching the end of the tunnel? She was ready to run if they were. She felt something scurry past, and she jumped.
“Just a rat,” Irina said. “One of the family, eh? And it’s a rat who will fill your ears with lies.”
“Stop!” Amy said. “If you’re not going to kill me or kidnap me, the least you can do is talk straight.”
They had reached the door. Amy saw the heavy iron lock. She wasn’t getting out without Irina’s help.
Irina stood with her back to the door. “Okay, I will talk straight. Isabel has called a meeting, yes?”
“Ian did.”
Irina waved a hand dismissively. “Ian is the lure. She thinks you’re stupid enough to come running if he asks. She chose him to dangle the bait. She knows you will come if you want to know who killed your parents.”
“Does she know?”
Irina lifted a shoulder. “That is wrong question. Right question is, will she tell you the truth? Of course not. She will tell you a lie in order to soften you. The lie will sound like truth. Then she will offer you a deal.”
“And you think I’m dumb enough to believe what she tells me.”
Irina held up a finger. “Nyet, not dumb. You are here with me now because I know you are smart. You need to know that if Isabel doesn’t get her way, she can be … unreasonable. There will be bad consequences if you refuse the deal.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Amy asked.
“Don’t go. You don’t need her version of that night. You have your own. Reach for it.” Irina put her hand on the door. “This leads to the street three blocks from harbor. No surveillance here. You can catch bus or taxi right outside. Go back to wherever you are staying.”
“Why should I?”
Irina sighed. “Because you must fear the right thing, as I said in beginning. Do you think whoever killed your parents would hesitate to kill you, too?”
“I don’t believe anything that you’re saying,” Amy said. “I think you’re trying to manipulate me and frighten me.”
Irina’s gaze flared in anger or exasperation, Amy couldn’t tell which. “Little girl, keep up. You should be frightened.” She hesitated. “What if I give you clue to let you know I’m telling the truth. Okay?”
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” Irina said impatiently. “Listen. Sooner or later you will get hint leading you to New York City subway. The clue is hidden there in a mural in the tile. Seventeenth Street stop on number six subway train. I know what you will say — Irina, there is no stop on number six train for Seventeenth Street. But that is why the clue is so difficult to find. Rosemary. One sprig.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Irina shrugged. “Thirty-nine clues, I give away one. So? As you would say, no biggie. It is worth it if you trust me.”
“I could never trust you in a million years,” Amy said.
“I’m not asking for a million years or never or forever,” Irina snapped. “I’m asking for one day only. Today.”
“Why are you doing this?” Amy asked. “If the clue is real, you just betrayed your branch.”
Irina flinched. “I’m doing this for my branch. Someday I hope this becomes clear.” She unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Turn right at end of alley. Go.”
Amy’s legs trembled as she walked out. She was in a dark, narrow alley. Ahead she could see sunlight and traffic, a taxi cruising by. When she reached the street, she looked behind her. Irina was gone.
Could Irina really have just let her go?
She hesitated. Why should she trust Irina? She was suddenly paralyzed with fear. Her parents had been murdered. This was all too real. Was someone watching her even now? If Irina had lied, she had also set a trap. If Amy hailed a taxi or got on a bus, someone would follow her straight to Shep’s. Irina had said wherever you are staying. They still didn’t know.
But if Irina hadn’t lied, she was walking into Isabel’s trap.
People were starting to look at her curiously. Did she look as stunned as she felt? She forced herself to move. When she reached the corner, she saw that she was now blocks away from the museum. A ferry was crossing the water, passing underneath the Harbour Bridge.
Maybe that could be her escape. Nobody expected her to leave by water.
She saw the ferry heading in. She was blocks from the museum. She could easily lose herself in the throng and jump aboard.
Legs pumping, Amy ran toward the ferry stop. Passengers filed down the gangway. She’d reach it in time.
She reached the dock and started down toward the ferry. Suddenly, a speedboat zipped in front of the idling ferry and came straight toward the dock. At the last moment, it cut its engine and the boat bobbed only inches away. A boy on the bow leaped down in front of her.
“There you are!” Ian said.
Isabel waved from the deck. “Amy! Come aboard!”
Amy glanced behind her. Irina stood at the end of the dock, blocking her way back to The Rocks. She was wearing sunglasses, and Amy couldn’t read her expression.
Amy felt like a fool. Irina had planned this. She’d probably been behind her the whole way and radioed ahead to Isabel.
Ian slid an arm through hers. “I’m glad you came,” he murmured. “There’s a lot to say.”
Isabel waved from the wheel of the boat. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
Amy knew she had no choice. She had walked right into the trap. She shook off Ian’s arm and climbed aboard.
CHAPTER 9
“Have a seat, Amy,” Isabel said, pointing to the long cushioned bench in the stern of the speedboat. She was dressed casually in a striped T-shirt and trim white pants with white sneakers. “Let’s take a quick tour of the harbor and then I’ll show you the prettiest cove. I’ll have you back in forty-five minutes. Promise!”
“I guess it’s—” Amy’s next words were drowned out as Isabel gunned the motor. The boat zipped away from the quay, passing right by the ferry as it blasted its horn. Amy clapped her hands over her ears.
“Oops
ie, sorry!” Isabel laughed as she turned the wheel and skipped over another boat’s wake. The waves thudded against the hull. “Let’s get away from this traffic. Don’t worry, Amy, I’m an expert captain.”
“Mother keeps a boat at our place in the Bahamas,” Ian shouted in Amy’s ear. “She’s raced competitively. There’s no cause for concern.”
In her head, she heard Dan mimicking Ian’s British accent and formal words. She wished he was here to make fun of him. Anything to stop this dread in her stomach.
She had been afraid of grim, colorless Irina for so long and the menacing Holts that this new shape of villain didn’t make sense. Isabel looked like a model. Her eyes sparkled and her smile was generous and warm. She was one of the most beautiful women Amy had ever seen. Isabel perched high on the captain’s chair, her white sneaker swinging gaily. Dangerous? It didn’t seem possible. Just another of Irina’s lies.
An open path of water lay in front of them now. Amy’s teeth slammed together as the boat surged forward. She felt the bow lift off the water. They raced across the harbor at what Amy considered a terrifying speed.
“That’s more like it!” Isabel yelled. When she turned, her eyes were alight with excitement. “Don’t you love it?”
“LOVE IT!” Ian shouted, but Amy noticed he was gripping the railing.
The boat slammed against the waves as they entered a rougher part of the harbor. Amy bounced up and down, trying to keep her seat. The wind whipped her hair into her eyes.
Finally, when Amy thought her bones might disintegrate into powder after being slammed against the water so much, Isabel cut the speed and motored into a beautiful cove. Amy saw a white horseshoe-shaped beach. She could see a sprinkling of people on the beach and a few swimmers beyond the surf line. She relaxed. She’d been afraid that Isabel would take her somewhere totally secluded or way out at sea. If she had to, she could dive off the boat and swim to shore from here.
The boat bobbed gently in the waves. Isabel crossed over and sat in a deck chair that faced Ian and Amy. She took each of their hands.
“Now, you two,” she said. “Enough squabbling. You’re here to make up.”
Amy looked at her incredulously. Squabbling? Obviously, Mother Kabra didn’t have a clue about the homicidal tendencies of her son.
Amy withdrew her hand. “I’m not here to make up with Ian,” she said firmly. She was relieved that her voice came out so strong. “I’m here because he told me that my parents were murdered.”
“Right to the point, aren’t you?” Isabel dropped Ian’s hand. “I admire that! All right, then. I’m going to tell you some things in confidence and hope that you will respect it. I didn’t come to Australia just to collect my darling children.” Isabel paused. “There is a mole in the Lucian branch. We believe this mole has been operating for some time. Thwarting us at every turn.”
Nataliya, Amy thought. She had led Amy and Dan to Russia. She was a Lucian, but she’d helped them get their last Clue.
“We’ve wondered where they were getting information, resources. And then we realized. The Madrigals. One of our own has joined them.”
Amy didn’t believe it. If Isabel was talking about Nataliya, she had to be wrong. “What does this have to do with me?” Amy asked.
“I believe — we believe, those of us at the highest levels — that this person, this spy, this mole, along with the Madrigals — murdered your parents.”
No. Isabel was definitely not talking about Nataliya. It was someone else. Nataliya had risked so much to help them.
“How do you know?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“The fire was deliberately set. Cleverly done,” Isabel said. “We investigated ourselves. I’m sorry to shock you, Amy, but you must come to terms with it. You must see what you’re up against. The Madrigals are ruthless.”
“Why should I believe you?” Amy challenged. Why should she believe anyone?
Isabel’s voice was soft. “Because I was close to your parents, for one thing. I mourned them. When I realized that the Lucian spy was aligned with the Madrigals, I decided I had to get involved with the hunt. I called off Ian and Natalie. I want an alliance with you and Dan. I will help you bring the murderer to justice.”
“Who is it?” Amy asked, swallowing hard.
“Not only will I help you,” Isabel said, ignoring Amy’s question, “but the full resources of the Lucians will be placed before you and your brother. Information. Strongholds. Money. We’ll share the clues, and we’ll win together.”
“Enough about the clues. Who killed my parents?”
“Irina Spasky.”
The sun was sinking lower in the sky, staining the blue water with pink. The glare behind Isabel put her face in shadow, obliterating her features. It seemed to flare out like fire around her. Amy felt dizzy.
This was what Irina had warned her about. The lie will sound like truth. But was it a lie? Or did Irina just want her to think it was?
“My husband and I knew Irina when we were all teenagers,” Isabel said. “I watched her turn from an idealistic scholar into a cold-blooded killer. But I never dreamed she’d strike against her own relatives. The chase for the clues is a hunger for her. It’s warped her. I’m sorry, Amy. This can’t be easy to hear. But you should know who killed them.”
And Isabel did look sorry. Her bright eyes, the color of dark honey, were full of sympathy.
“If we join forces, we can defeat her,” Isabel said. “We can expose her. That’s what she fears more than anything. The Madrigals … they are the game changers. What do we know about them? Only that they’re bent on the destruction of all Cahill branches … and yet nobody knows who or what they are. We suspect that the group was formed by rogue Cahills hundreds of years ago, and they are committed to the destruction of the entire family. Surely you’d think the branches would unite against them. But for all those years, the branches couldn’t form an alliance, even against a common enemy. Until now.” Isabel clasped her hands. “We can make the future, Amy. We can find the thirty-nine clues and you can avenge your parents. If we work together.”
“I don’t see what you get out of this,” Amy said.
“Your brains. Your brother’s instincts. You have to admit you’ve bested even my own children. And remember this, Amy—you could already be a Lucian. Grace chose not to have allegiances. You seem most like a Lucian to me,” Isabel said. Her voice was husky, warm. She opened her arms. “So this could be just … coming home. One more thing we offer, the most important thing. Protection. Irina has more tricks up her sleeve, I promise you. And the Madrigals are ruthless.”
Had she been in the tunnel with her parents’ murderer? Amy thought again of the look in Irina’s eyes at the confrontation in the church crypt. She knew Irina was capable of terrible things….
Unless … Irina had told the truth, and it was Isabel who was lying. Amy felt her stomach churn.
Trust no one, Mr. McIntyre had said. For the first time, she truly understood what he meant. The stakes were so much higher than she’d thought. The lies cut so much deeper. Right to her heart.
“What do you say, Amy?” Isabel looked at her with concern. “I hate to hit you with this all at once, but you need to get up to speed, and fast, if you want to survive.”
Why would Isabel just assume Amy would believe her? Because Ian had duped her so easily? She looked over at him. He was gazing at his mother, his handsome profile turned to Amy. He had barely said a word on the boat. He hadn’t even met her gaze, not once.
He had lied to her over and over again. Had he told his mother how gullible Amy was?
It didn’t matter, Amy thought. If it was the truth, then she and Dan would figure out what to do about it. Together. They were a team. They’d gotten this far.
She lifted her chin. “Dan and I can handle our own problems. So thanks, but no thanks.”
A tiny flush stained Isabel’s cheek. Amy noted some perspiration above her lip. “You need to be certain,” Isabel said
tightly. “I can’t make this offer again.”
“It’s my final answer,” Amy said.
Isabel paused just a fraction of a moment. Then she smiled. “I understand. I’ll take you back.”
She stood and went to the railing. “But first, let’s take a moment to admire this lovely cove. Australia has the most beautiful beaches in the world, don’t you agree? Of course, you have to watch out for riptides and bluebottles and sharks, but what are the odds of them finding you? Shark attacks are actually quite rare. I find sharks beautiful. The great white is a machine that searches for food constantly. It has one purpose in life, and it knows exactly what it is and what to do about it. It can rip your arm or your leg off with one bite, but you can’t blame the shark. And then when blood foams in the water, what else can it do but keep feeding?”
“Mum, please—” Ian started to say, but Isabel just talked over him.
“Have you ever been in a shark cage? I have. I’ve looked into a shark’s eyes and it’s like looking at death itself.”
Isabel walked over to a storage compartment on the far side of the deck. She flipped open the top and hoisted out a large white bucket. Amy saw the muscles in her arms flex as she lifted it and carried it over to the railing. She reached in and began to ladle something into the water.
The smell reached Amy’s nose just as the realization hit. Isabel was tossing fish parts into the water. Amy saw the slimy white chunks, the bloody ends. She heard the splash as half of a bloody fish hit the water.
She felt Ian tense up next to her. His hands gripped the edge of the seat cushion.
Isabel didn’t look at Amy. She was smiling to herself as she ladled out the macabre stew.
Amy looked out over the calm blue water. She saw the fin. It moved back and forth in a line a few yards from the boat. She saw another, farther out. The sharks must have smelled the blood. Now they were tacking back and forth, heading for the boat.
Isabel straightened. She went over to a shelf by the wheel and pumped out a dollop of antibacterial gel on her hands. She rubbed them together briskly.
“All right, then,” she said brightly. “Why don’t you tell me all the clues that you and your brother have gathered? Or would you rather go for a swim?”
