It was a regular hangout for him now—a memory bank where thirty-nine ingredients boiled.
The formula he used to pray he could forget.
The formula he now understood was part of his destiny.
Amy was smart, and her thinking made sense. But Dan had a backup plan, a secret weapon.
Gideon Cahill’s serum.
CHAPTER 27
The taxi driver breathed a sigh of relief as Amy Cahill lowered her arm and turned her attention to the smartphone in her pocket. He hadn’t really been looking for a fare tonight anyway. He was far more concerned with getting the precious package that lay on the passenger seat beside him to a safe place.
He ran a finger along his sleeve and felt the scar that stretched from shoulder to wrist. It still itched sometimes, even so many years after the unfortunate accident that had burned him. An accident that could be laid at the doorstep of the hated Cahill family.
He passed another potential customer, ignoring the woman’s waving hand. He was not a real taxi driver. It was just a cover. He’d had dozens of them, just as he’d had dozens of aliases — although none was as important as the name he had assumed for this, the greatest project of his life.
He called himself Vesper One.
Sneak Peek
The race to stop the Vespers continues with more dangerous heists to perform, historic treasures to find, and hidden traitors to unmask. Stay one step ahead of your enemy and help save the kidnapped Cahills by following Amy and Dan’s next adventure.
Turn the page for a sneak peek! (Just keep your eyes peeled for Vesper spies …)
CHAPTER 1
Florence, Italy
Dan Cahill didn’t realize just how many policemen there were in the world until he became an international art thief.
At this early hour, the Santa Maria Novella train station was crammed with travelers. Businessmen with briefcases, students chugging espressos, tourists with too much luggage, and two teenagers, one with a stolen priceless thirteenth-century book in a backpack.
That would be him.
Dan hung his thumbs on the straps of his pack, hugging it closer to him. He almost felt that Marco Polo’s original manuscript, Il Milione — the one that had been lost for centuries until he and his sister had found it hidden in the Colosseum in Rome — was actually emitting heat. Was that why he was sweating so badly?
Or was it the fact that there seemed to be a policeman every five feet?
“Polizia everywhere,” his sister, Amy, murmured.
“They’re checking passports at the boarding platforms,” Dan noted. He watched as a uniformed officer stopped two young students about to board a train. They were older than he and Amy, but the girl had brown hair to her shoulders like Amy, and the boy was wiry like Dan.
At least he and his sister had fake passports and disguises. He couldn’t get used to the sight of Amy in a blond wig, and his heavy framed glasses screamed DORK, or whatever that was in Italian. Il Dorko?
“What we need is a distraction,” Amy murmured. “If they look at our passports too closely, we could be in trouble. We’ve got to get on that train to Switzerland!”
“Because when a deranged psycho gives you orders, it’s important to snap to,” Dan said.
The text had come only a few hours before.
Perhaps you notice that your loved ones continue to accept our Vesper hospitality. This is due to your previous treachery. They will remain our guests until you complete four more tasks. The first of these will be in Lucerne, Switzerland. I suggest you get yourselves there immediately, lest the number of our little party dwindles.
Vesper One
Their enemy Vesper One was a big fan of the mocking taunt. Every word was a thrust to the heart, letting them know that he was holding members of their family hostage and was prepared to kill them.
Dan stared up at the train departures board as if it would hold all the answers. Why was he here, desperate and scared, instead of back in Massachusetts, trying to scam himself out of math homework like any normal thirteen-year-old?
Wherever they turned, headlines screamed the news: IL CRIMINE DEL SECOLO! The crime of the century. They had stolen a Caravaggio from the Uffizi Gallery, and now they were on Interpol’s most-wanted list. Which would have been sort of cool if he didn’t have to be afraid of going to jail for ten thousand years.
Lives were on the line. Lives of people they had become close to, including Reagan Holt, Ted Starling, and Natalie Kabra. Twelve-year-old Phoenix Wizard. And people they loved — their Uncle Alistair Oh and their guardians, Fiske Cahill and Nellie Gomez. That was the hardest thing to bear. Fiske had disappeared in California, and Nellie had been kidnapped right off the streets of Paris.
The destinations on the board blurred, and Dan rocked on his feet with weariness. He heard the hiss of an espresso machine. Over his head the loudspeaker announced a track change in Italian and English. Everything seemed to fade a little. “I’m so beat I could lie down right on the floor,” he told Amy. “When was the last time we slept?”
“Day before yesterday?” Amy asked with a frown. “I know what you mean. This is some jet lag. Let’s get a coffee while we make a plan.”
“Oh, yeah, jet lag. That must be it,” Dan agreed as he trailed after her to the espresso bar. “Not the fact that we pulled off a museum heist, went without sleep and food, and oh, yeah — did I mention this — almost got killed? Jet lag. That’s why we’re tired.”
“Well, if you want to get technical,” Amy said, but she summoned up a smile for her brother. She pushed balled-up paper money at the counterman and held up two fingers for coffee.
“I wonder what he wants us to steal next,” Dan said. “I think I maxed out my museum heist skills.”
“If we could just get one step ahead of them …” Amy murmured. She took the change from the counterman and handed an espresso to Dan.
He took a sip and his face turned red. He let out a series of explosive coughs, stamping his foot with each one. Passersby turned and stared, and Amy saw a policeman’s gaze sweep the crowd, looking for the source of the commotion.
She grabbed the now-empty espresso cup and put it back on the counter, pushing Dan forward and quickly maneuvering him through the crowd.
“I said distraction,” she hissed. “Not pandemonium.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Dan wheezed. “Dude, what was that sludge I just inhaled?”
“Just Italian coffee,” Amy said. “Look, the train to Lucerne leaves in fifteen minutes. We have to take a chance.”
Dan scanned the crowd. “You know what we need? A —tuba!”
“A what?”
Dan pointed with his chin. Off to their right, a tuba seemed to be floating through the crowd. Dan began to follow it, with Amy trailing behind. Suddenly, it dropped out of sight. Amy and Dan skirted a family running for a train and saw a slender young woman slumped on a suitcase, holding a tuba and crying. A large sticker on a small trunk read WILMINGTON WOWZABELLES EUROPEAN TOUR.
“Distraction!” Dan crowed.
They moved forward, not knowing what they’d do or say but knowing they had the perfect opportunity for … something.
“Need a hand with that?” Dan asked the girl. “I happen to have experience as a tuba wrangler.”
She looked up, startled. Her eyes were a warm brown behind her delicate wire-rimmed glasses. She smiled. “Thanks, but I think I have it covered.” Dan detected a slight Southern accent. Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears. “Actually, I don’t! I missed the train, and I have the tuba and all the costumes! It’s all Heather’s fault. She just had to get her last Italian gelato before the train. She told me to just watch the tuba for two seconds and she’d come back. If I don’t make it to Zurich in time, I’m doomed!”
“Hey, we’re going to Switzerland, too!” Dan said.
“You are?” She swiped at her tears. “I’ll miss the concert. My suitcase is with Ms. Mutchnik, and my charger’s in my bag, so I can’t even
call them. And I c-can’t speak Italian!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide, as though this was the final awful thing that had happened.
“You can borrow my phone,” Amy offered. “And you could take the train to Lucerne with us and then go to Zurich from there. We can travel together.”
“Really? That would be so awesome! Europe kind of freaks me out, y’all, to tell you the truth,” the girl confided, leaning toward them. “I’ve never traveled much.” Awkwardly, the girl struggled to her feet. She stuck out her hand. “Vanessa Mallory, from Wilmington, South Carolina.”
“Mark Farley,” Dan said, remembering the name on his fake passport just in time. “This is my sister …” His mind was a blank.
“Caroline,” Amy supplied. “But you can call me Carrie! We’re from Maine,” she improvised.
“It’s so awesome that I bumped into you,” Vanessa said, shouldering one of the bags.
They hurried to the track and got in line behind a wealthy-looking woman with a large trunk and several suitcases. She was dressed in a fur coat and hat, even though it wasn’t that cold. She spoke sharply to the police officer at the train door in rapid Italian. He shrugged.
Finally, the line moved forward. Amy pulled the Wowzabelles trunk, and Dan grabbed the tuba.
“On your way to a concert?” The policeman smiled.
Vanessa nodded. “We’re on a European tour,” she added proudly.
“And what is a Wowzabelle?” he asked.
“Awesome singers,” Amy said, handing over her passport.
Dan waited while the policeman scrutinized the photo, comparing it to Amy. Then he reached for Dan’s.
It seemed to take long seconds before he handed back the document. He ticketed the trunk. “This will go in the oversize compartment — pick it up in Zurich. Welcome aboard.”
Only Dan heard Amy’s long sigh of relief as they boarded the train and found their seats, stowing the tuba overhead.
Dan glanced out the window. A man in a raincoat was talking to the friendly policeman. He had a nose like the beak of a raptor, and his dark hair looked as though he’d blow-dried it with an airplane propeller.
Dan looked away, checking out the station, but his gaze snapped back. He didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe because the man wasn’t showing the officer a ticket or a passport, he was just leaning in, talking to him. And all the while his gaze swept the station.
Detective, Dan thought, as the policeman pointed to the Lucerne train.
CHAPTER 2
The man scanned the windows as he walked alongside the train. Dan shrank back.
He nudged Amy and tilted his head.
“Can I use your phone, Carrie?” Vanessa asked Amy. “I really need to call Ms. Mutchnik.”
Vanessa leaned forward for the phone, and Amy crashed back against the seat. Now shielded by Vanessa, she was able to watch the man as he moved, his gaze on the windows.
The train started with a lurch. They saw his face briefly as they slid past him. He started to run as he tried to catch up and jump aboard. Had he seen them? The train accelerated, and he was left behind on the track. Dan and Amy exchanged a relieved glance. He could have been just a guy who missed his train. But somehow Dan didn’t think so.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Vanessa was saying. “The Farleys are awesome — they’re from Maine, which is, like, the nicest state ever. I have Heather’s tuba, I have the costumes, and I even have a sandwich. No, you don’t have to meet me at the station … oh, whatever. No! Don’t call my parents! I am so incredibly fine. …”
As the city of Florence receded, Dan felt himself relax. He and Amy had learned during the hunt for the 39 Clues to grab rest when they could. He yawned. The slight sway of the train reminded him of his grandmother Grace’s hammock on the lawn on a warm September afternoon, back when he had nobody chasing him, and nobody missing, and nobody to save. He felt as though he could finally sleep.
The hand came out of nowhere. Dan almost scissored out a powerful kick but was glad he didn’t. Did breaking a conductor’s kneecap get you thrown off a train in Italy?
The guy said something in Italian. Then the English penetrated Dan’s foggy brain. “Ticket and passport. We’re crossing the border.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Dan handed the conductor his ticket.
“Grazie.”
“De nada,” Dan said.
“That’s Spanish,” Amy whispered.
“No, it’s whatever,” Dan said. “I’m too tired to think.”
“You guys slept through Milan,” Vanessa said.
“Jet lag,” Amy said. Her phone buzzed. By now Dan recognized the sound. It was the special phone Vesper One had sent to them, the phone that he used for his text messages. The DeOssie secure smartphone that was used by spies and soldiers. Vesper One had reconfigured it so that they couldn’t reply to his messages.
He could always get to them. They could never get to him. The guy didn’t play by the rule book.
Vanessa stood up. “I’m going to find some snacks. Anybody want anything?”
“Anything crunchy,” Dan said. He handed her a couple of euros. “But if you can find American potato chips, we’ll be friends forever.”
She flashed a grin. “I’ll work my mojo.”
As soon as Vanessa started down the aisle, Amy scrambled for the phone in her pocket.
Lucerne is such a great place to shop. While you’re there, can you pick up a de Virga mappa mundi for me? Don’t worry, you don’t have to gift wrap it. I need it soon, though. Four days from now, bright and early. Or else.
“I wish this guy would stop making jokes,” Dan said through gritted teeth. “And giving ultimatums. Do you know what de Virga mappa mundi means? Sounds like a pasta dish.”
“Mappa mundi means ‘world map,’” Amy said. She tapped out a quick text to their research team at the comm. center back home in Attleboro, Massachusetts. In a large attic room they had banks of computers, an array of handhelds, and sleeping quarters. They even had their own satellite, the Gideon. Amy had spent a fortune on a communications bunker in case something like this happened. She wasn’t paranoid or psychic. Just wicked smart.
RECEIVED NEXT TARGET: DE VIRGA WORLD MAP.
In less than a minute, a reply came from her boyfriend, Evan.
GOT IT. ALL OK?
OK FOR NOW Amy tapped back.
Then she plugged the words de Virga map into the search engine on her smartphone.
“‘The de Virga map is a medieval map of the world that was created in Venice between 1411 and 1415,’” she read to Dan. “It was discovered in Croatia in 1911.” Amy frowned as she scrolled through the information. “Then it went missing for good, right before it was going to be put up for auction in Lucerne in 1932. It was withdrawn from the auction and nobody ever saw it again. Well, that explains why Vesper One directed us to Lucerne. We should head right for that auction house and see if we can get access to their records.”
Dan frowned. “But how can we find a map that disappeared almost eighty years ago? That’s impossible!”
“Haven’t you gotten it yet?” Amy asked. “We’re expected to do the impossible.”
Dan looked at her bleakly. “And we’re expected to do it fast.”
The train slowed, then stopped. Dan pressed his face to the window. “What’s going on?”
“It’s okay,” Amy said. “When we cross the border, sometimes they change personnel.”
Dan watched as a group of train conductors left the small building and headed for the train. He relaxed back into his seat.
Then he shot forward again. Trailing behind the men and woman was a man in a shabby raincoat. A man with messy hair and sharp eyes …
“It’s him,” Dan told Amy. “He caught up to us. He’s going to board the train!”
“I bet he’s Interpol,” Amy said, biting her lip. “We passed so far, but I don’t know if we’ll get by the international police force.”
“Where is Vanessa?” Dan wondered. “She�
��s our cover. I never thought I’d say this, but snacks just aren’t that important!”
Just then the door at the end of the car opened. The man in the raincoat entered. He followed closely behind a train official, who politely asked a couple for their passports. Dan twisted and saw Vanessa heading down the aisle, her hands full of bags of chips and pretzels. She squeezed past the man and the train official.
Vanessa waved the bags at them cheerfully.
“Whew,” Dan said. “She’s back. Are you ready to be a Wowzabelle? I’ll take the tuba, and maybe you can pretend to be asleep … we might fool him. How’s your South Carolina accent, y’all?”
Amy gripped Dan’s wrist. “That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Something has been bothering me about that girl. When we first met her, do you remember how she introduced herself?”
“Sure. ‘Hi, I’m Vanessa Mallory.’”
“‘Vanessa Mallory from Wilmington, South Carolina.’ Wilmington is in North Carolina.”
Dan slowly turned to look at Vanessa. She was now blocked by a couple with a baby. Impatient to get by, she tried to help them with their stroller. Dan noted the tight, angry look on her face as she snarled a remark at the parents. Suddenly, her pretty face looked hard.
Suspicions started to flip through his brain like someone shuffling a deck of cards. Why had she been so friendly? How come she’d agreed to travel with them so quickly? It had seemed like they’d been the ones to approach her and offer to travel together, but did she set herself up to be approached?
They’d been played. By a tuba!
Amy grabbed her backpack. “Come on. We’ve got to get off this train.”
Copyright
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