UNLOCK A TOP SECRET FILE
ABOUT THE CAHILLS’ DEADLIEST ENEMY —
THE VESPERS!
The seven Rapid Fire stories each contain a fragment of a code. Collect the fragments in order to assemble a complete ten-digit code.
Go to www.the39clues.com.
Click on “My Cards.”
Enter the ten-digit Rapid Fire code to unlock a digital card and Top Secret Vesper file!
The code fragment for this story is: Fi
Are you ready to save the world?
Contents
Title Page
Code Page
Turbulence
Copyright
Eleven Months After the Clue Hunt
Fifteen-year-old Amy Cahill had seen a lot of angry faces on the hunt for the 39 Clues. The museum guards who’d screamed at her in countless languages. The backstabbing family members she’d outwitted. Those furious Benedictine monks. But none of those expressions quite matched the look of pure loathing on Saladin’s face as the silver cat glared at Amy, his whiskers twitching with rage.
“I’m sorry, Saladin,” she said, trying to suppress a smile. “I don’t know where the contractor put the laundry room key. I’ll have to find it later, okay?” She glanced down at her watch. The other Cahills would be here any minute, and she still hadn’t figured out where the movers had stashed the extra bedding.
The cat flattened his ears. Amy reached out to scratch his fluffy head, but he pulled back and hissed. Ever since they’d moved into their grandmother Grace’s partially rebuilt mansion, Saladin had taken possession of the small laundry room next to the kitchen. Normally, the regal cat would’ve turned up his damp nose at such undignified accommodations, but it was the only spot in the new house where he would sleep. After four months of crisscrossing the globe with his Clue-hunting owners, the cat had made it clear that his traveling days were over. Amy wasn’t an expert in feline psychology, but she was pretty sure the cat figured if he slept under the dryer, there was less of a chance that he’d be kidnapped in the middle of the night and whisked off to Tibet.
It had been almost a year since they’d returned to Massachusetts, but Saladin wasn’t the only member of the Cahill family who was having trouble adjusting. Amy had known it was going to be difficult — how did you go from a global hunt for the most valuable secret on Earth to biology class with Mrs. Schneider, who always smelled like onion soup? But she hadn’t expected the nightmares. Or the strange flutter in her chest that never went away, no matter how many deep breaths she took.
A thunderous crash shook the kitchen, causing Saladin to leap off the counter and Amy to duck for cover.
She certainly hadn’t expected a little brother with a death wish.
“Dan!” Amy screamed, turning toward the ceiling, which was, miraculously, still intact. “Dan!” She groaned as she rose slowly to her feet. The kickboxing class she’d been taking left her muscles feeling like they’d been run over by a steamroller. She stepped forward and winced. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reschedule this afternoon’s rock-climbing lesson.
She limped toward the stairs but forced herself to walk up properly. This is how you get stronger, she told herself. Amy glanced down at her gold watch and tried to ignore the image that flashed through her head. The silver knife glittering in the cold sunlight. The smile on the Vesper agent’s face as he fingered the blade. She’d thought they’d be safe after the Clue hunt ended, but it turned out she and Dan were in more danger than ever. Their family’s historic enemy, the Vespers, had chosen this moment to emerge from the shadows. Amy and Dan had barely survived the first attack. Next time, they might not be so lucky.
She pushed herself up another step and grimaced. Next time, I won’t have to count on luck. She paused as the burning in her calves crept up the backs of her legs, but the pain was nothing compared to the fear that had been growing in her stomach. Next time, we’ll be ready.
When she reached the top of the stairs, she saw her younger brother, Dan, sitting amid a mound of broken wood and shattered glass.
Or, at least, I’ll be ready.
Dan’s new snowboard was strapped to his feet and his hair was matted with white flakes. Except it wasn’t snow — it was plaster from the ceiling. Three construction workers were standing nearby, laughing. One was taking a photo of Dan with his cell phone. The grin on her brother’s face was so wide Amy didn’t bother asking if he was okay and went straight into phase two of big-sister interrogation. “What are you doing?” she hissed, trying to keep her voice low.
“Practicing my ollies.”
“It’s August.”
“I know. That’s why I installed a snow machine in the backyard.”
“You what?”
“It’s awesome. You gotta try it. You get really wicked air coming off the roof.” He glanced at the mess around him and cocked his head to the side. “Though I might have miscalculated.” He popped up without undoing the straps and took a hop toward the stairs. “I think I’ll land it this time.” He looked over at the man with the phone. “Ready, Joe?”
Amy turned sharply, ignoring the twinge of pain in her stiff lower back as she forced a smile. “Sorry, Joe, but, um, instead of filming Dan, do you think you guys could try to finish the gymnastics room in the basement?” Joe lowered his phone and raised his eyebrows. The burning sensation in Amy’s cheeks grew worse than the pain in her legs as she saw the other two men try to contain their chuckles. She knew they weren’t used to getting orders from a fifteen-year-old, but their guardian, Nellie, was at school and Uncle Fiske had disappeared once he heard that six Cahill kids were coming for the weekend. “I mean, um, if you have t-t-time,” she said, stumbling over the words like she'd stumbled over the tires she’d installed in the new obstacle course out back.
Joe shot a look over his shoulder, then turned to Amy. “Sure thing, Miss Cahill,” he said, smirking.
Amy stared at her toes until the men trudged past her, and then looked up at Dan. “Are you crazy? Even if you manage to go the afternoon without breaking your neck, you’re supposed to be helping me get the house ready. We’re seriously behind schedule.” Not counting the damage caused by Hurricane Dweeb, the place was still a mess. Although the construction workers had finished the bedrooms and the library and had moved on to the upstairs command center, the floors were still covered with plastic tarps and scattered tools. “Ian and Natalie’s flight landed an hour ago, and the Holts are going to be here any minute. I can’t believe you haven’t been getting ready.”
Amy had invited the Kabras, the Holts, and Jonah Wizard to Attleboro for a reunion — the first time the kids would be together since the Clue hunt ended. Amy had told them that she had some activities planned, but no one except Dan knew why she was so keen to host a training weekend. Apart from their guardians and their lawyer, Mr. McIntyre, none of the other Cahills knew that the Vespers had tried to attack Amy and Dan in order to steal a family heirloom — an ancient gold ring. Although the ring was now safely concealed in her custom-designed watch, Amy still shivered thinking about that day. Since the attack, Casper Wyoming, a Vesper assassin, had become such a regular fixture in Amy’s nightmares he should have been paying rent for the privilege of haunting the darkest caverns of her mind. She generally woke up from these dreams with her heart beating so loudly she couldn’t hear the faint ticking of the watch. Sometimes, as her pulse slowed and her breathing returned to normal, the sound comforted her with its steady, familiar beat. Other times, the ticking sent chills down her spine, as if it were counting down the minutes until the next Vesper strike.
That’s why it was so important to make sure she and Dan were prepared. That all the Cahill
s were prepared. Amy knew it was only a matter of time before the Vespers attacked, and there was no knowing which of them was going to be caught in the cross fire. She thought about the schedule she had spent hours preparing for this weekend. Tonight they’d have their first cryptography lesson, in case they needed to send coded messages in the future. She’d even arranged for an MIT professor to come to the house to lead the session. In the morning, they’d have tumbling and jujitsu practice in the gymnastics room . . . if Joe and his crew finished up in time. And then skydiving lessons that afternoon. Amy had tried to include Dan in her planning, but despite the fact that he’d almost died in the first Vesper attack, he generally acted like Amy was crazy. And today was no different.
“I am getting stuff ready,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I ordered fifteen cases of Red Bull and twenty jumbo tubs of Sour Patch Kids with the purple ones already picked out. It’s amazing what you can do when you’re rich.” A manic smile spread across his face, as if just thinking about the snacks had given him a sugar high. “I can’t wait to show Hamilton the wave machine I got for the pool. He’s going to teach me to surf before our trip to Fiji!” His expression darkened slightly. “It’s a crazy-long flight. They have Wii in first class, right? Maybe I should look into booking a private jet.”
He unbuckled the straps on his snowboard and had begun walking toward his new bedroom when Amy grabbed his shoulder. She might not be able to stand up to smirking construction workers, or even a sullen Egyptian Mau, but she could certainly handle her little brother. But just as she was about to explain where she’d like to send him on a private jet, the doorbell rang. Amy looked up at the security monitor on the wall; she’d had one installed on every floor of the house. Despite her frustration with Dan, she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the three Holt kids standing on the front steps. There was sixteen-year-old Hamilton gaping at the enormous house, ignoring his twelve-year-old twin sisters, Madison and Reagan, as they elbowed each other out of the way, each trying to be the one to stick her tongue out at the security camera.
“They’re heeeere!” Dan hollered as he shook off Amy’s hand and bounded down the stairs.
By the time Amy reached the front door, Dan had already disabled the high-tech air lock and was letting the Holts inside. He fist-pumped Hamilton and waved at Madison and Reagan, who had stopped fighting and were looking wide-eyed around the foyer.
“Whoa,” Madison whistled, craning her neck to examine the chandelier.
“This is even fancier than Red Lobster,” Reagan said with awe.
“Look at this rich people’s hockey-stick holder,” Madison said as she ran a slightly grubby finger along the edge of the antique umbrella stand. “I want one!”
“Ames!” Hamilton shouted and scooped her into a bear hug that lifted her off the ground.
“Ouch!” Amy yelped, causing Hamilton to release her. “Sorry,” she said, smiling as she rubbed her shoulder. “I’m just a little sore.”
Madison nodded gravely. “Smart people books are pretty heavy.”
“No, I’m sore from all the training I’ve been — ”
“Don’t talk to me about sore,” a voice called from the door. Amy looked up to see Natalie Kabra lugging an enormous monogrammed suitcase into the foyer. “Mum canceled our frequent flyer miles, so we had to go business class.” She shuddered, causing her pink, ruffled dress to sway dramatically. “The seats were horribly uncomfortable, and there wasn’t even a masseuse!”
The word mum made Amy flinch slightly. Natalie’s breezy tone made her sound like a normal teenager complaining about her mother, but Amy knew that Isabel Kabra wasn’t punishing her children for missing curfew or not cleaning their rooms. She’d disowned them for betraying her during the Clue hunt, for choosing to work with the other teams instead of murdering them. As she stared at the perfectly groomed twelve-year-old, Amy had trouble believing that she'd ever seen Natalie covered in dirt and blood. But Amy knew there was a reason the fashionista was wearing tights in August, and it wasn’t because she’d seen it in British Vogue. Natalie was covering a scar on her foot — a bullet wound from her own mother.
The Clue hunt had brought the siblings face-to-face with the gruesome realities of their family’s centuries-old feud, but Amy couldn’t think about the final confrontation with Isabel without feeling like she was going to throw up. She shivered as she recalled the image of Natalie crumpled on the ground.
“Well, that’s quite a greeting.” The clipped cadences of Ian Kabra’s voice brought Amy back to reality. “Is it customary in your country to take ill when guests arrive? It doesn’t say much for American hospitality.”
Amy pushed her hair behind her ears and stealthily tried to whisk away the beads of sweat that had gathered on her forehead. She took a deep breath and smiled. “Hi!” she said, a bit louder than she meant to. Ian raised one eyebrow and Amy felt the beginnings of a blush. She started to give Ian a hug, but he had already bent forward to kiss her on the cheek. Her sudden movement threw him off, and they ended up bumping foreheads.
“Sorry,” Amy said, turning away so Ian wouldn’t see that her face had turned bright red.
“Quite all right. I had forgotten you do things differently across the pond.” He took a step back to look at Amy. “I take it jeans are the latest in evening wear here in the wild west?” He made an exaggerated show of narrowing his eyes. “Is that a juice stain on your blouse? How fetching.”
Amy tried to ignore the prickle on her skin caused by Ian’s gaze. As usual, he was dressed like a model from a country club brochure. But even though the expensive shirt and perfectly pressed khakis looked the same as always, there was something different about him. The old Ian had mastered the art of always looking like he was waiting for his private jet, maintaining a confident, slightly bored demeanor at all times. This Ian stood with his shoulders a little hunched and his arms folded across his chest, as if he were trying to protect something deep inside of him — or trying to keep something from spilling out.
“Juice stains will be the least of your worries when I’m done with you,” Amy said, avoiding Ian’s eyes. “I have a big weekend planned for all of us. Come on, I’ll show you guys to the dorms.” She turned around and motioned for Ian to follow her up the stairs.
“Dorms?” Amy heard Natalie call from behind her. “You’re joking, right?”
“Don’t worry,” Hamilton said as he raced ahead, carrying both his and Natalie’s suitcases. “Madison doesn’t sleepwalk anymore.”
“Bring that back!” Natalie shouted as she ran up after him. “I’m going to stay at the Ritz-Carlton.”
“Is that where they make the crackers?” Madison asked. “I’m coming, too!”
Amy tilted her head down to check her watch. “Hey, Dan,” she called without looking up. “Make sure everyone meets in the library in a hour, okay?”
There was no answer, only a loud thud from upstairs, followed by a muffled “whoo-hoo.” Amy winced as the chandelier began to sway. “Dan?” She raised her head and glanced around the foyer. She was all alone.
Two hours later, Amy was forced to accept that her weekend schedule might have been a tad ambitious. She gave a weak smile to Professor Morris, the MIT instructor whom she’d paid to lead their cryptography workshop. They were sitting across from each other in the otherwise empty library, a perfect replica of Amy’s favorite room in Grace’s old house. The sun was setting, and amber light spilled through the openings in the maroon curtains that grazed the floor like elegant ball gowns. Amy had spent months tracking down the same oak bookshelves that had lined the walls, and was still in the process of filling them. It broke her heart to think of the thousands of books that had been lost in the fire that destroyed the original mansion — almost as painful as losing a friend. After Amy’s parents died, Grace’s library had become the only place she felt truly safe. She used to spend hours curled up in the window seat, poring through her favorite books, grateful for the opportunity to spend tim
e with people she knew would never leave her.
Amy wished she could pull out a book right now. Anything to avoid making small talk with the stern man scowling at her from across the room. With each passing moment, the silence grew heavier, until Amy could almost feel it pressing against her skin. The door pushed open and Amy sighed — finally, someone else had arrived. But it was just Saladin. The Mau strode across the room, his tail held high, and promptly began to rub against Professor Morris’s leg, leaving a layer of long silver hairs clinging to the professor’s wool trousers.
“Saladin,” Amy chided, grateful for an excuse to break the silence. “Stop it.”
Professor Morris grimaced slightly, then stood up. “I’m sorry, Miss Cahill, but I don’t have all evening. It appears that the other students have more pressing obligations, so if you’ll excuse me.”
Amy jumped up from her chair. “No! I mean, just five more minutes. They’re all in the house . . . somewhere. I’ll go look again.” She dashed toward the door, leaving Professor Morris and Saladin staring at each other.
I’m going to kill them, Amy thought as she ran up the stairs, ignoring the pain in her protesting muscles. But then a grim truth surfaced through her rage. Or the Vespers will do it for me.
She slowed down when she reached the top of the stairs, taking care not to slip on the plastic tarp that covered the floor. The top level of the house — the site of their new command center — was still under construction. The lights were off, but there were sounds coming from the end of the hallway. Amy stepped carefully over a clump of wires and turned sideways to avoid bumping into a tower of cardboard boxes. A thin sliver of light shone from under the door to the screening room Amy had built in order to analyze surveillance footage and host video chats with Cahills around the world. She opened the door and gasped. Dan, Hamilton, and Madison were hurtling across the room, vaulting over the rows of leather armchairs as they swatted one another with plastic lightsabers. Amy didn’t even have to look at the screen to know that Star Wars was playing. The volume was up so loud that the room shook every time Darth Vader exhaled. She marched up to the control panel and shut the system off.
39 Clues Rapid Fire 5 Turbulence Page 1
