by Jenny Goebel
Magnus’s iceberg eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Then Nellie remembered something else she’d heard about Magnus. He’d had some financial trouble with the Tomas treasury. He’d been kicked out of the family for some conspiracy that Grace had uncovered years ago. It wasn’t until the Outcast reinstated him that Magnus had once again become active in the Tomas network.
“They didn’t trust you, did they? The rest of the Tomas—they didn’t trust you with the combination, even though you’re their leader.”
Without warning, Magnus charged like an angry bull. An angry bull with an ax. But that’s what Nellie had been counting on. She reached back, snagged a heavy marble trophy, and hurled it straight at Magnus’s head. A sharp corner of the base caught Magnus between the eyes. He let out a groan and crumbled to his knees.
Nellie screamed, “Go!” and she and Sammy hightailed back the way they’d come. As she went, Nellie threw everything she could in Magnus’s path—medals, trophies, plaques—anything to slow him down. A few steps ahead, Sammy was fiddling with something by the secret entrance. “Come on. We don’t have time!” she said.
“Just another second!”
Nellie didn’t have another second. Magnus was up and his ax was swinging.
Nellie ducked, narrowly avoiding decapitation. She felt the hairs on the top of her head lift as the ax whistled past and the serrated blade dug into the wall.
The Tomas leader grunted and heaved to dislodge it. The ax came loose. At the same time, Sammy grabbed Nellie by the arm and pulled. She was almost out the door when Magnus lunged after her, clamping his free hand around her boot. Stuck in a tug-of-war between her scientist boyfriend and a former Olympic athlete, her bets were on the athlete.
But she could even the odds.
Nellie twisted, leaned back into Sammy, and raised her other boot. She landed a kick that sent Magnus’s head cracking back on his beefy neck. He let go and Nellie went rocketing all the way through the doorway, landing in a pile with Sammy on the floor. Nellie slammed the door shut with her foot. She sprang to a vertical position, ready to bolt, but Sammy didn’t get up. He didn’t move. He just grinned at her, as if all of a sudden, he wasn’t in such a terrible hurry.
“What did you do?” Nellie asked, frozen in midflight.
Sammy’s grin stretched wider. “Oh, I just disabled the fingerprint scanner. The one that opens the door from the inside.”
“So he’s stuck in there?”
A loud thwack reached their ears from the opposite side of the door and Sammy’s grin faltered. “For now. But he does have an ice ax, the stamina of a horse, and the strength of a polar bear.”
Thwack!
“I don’t think we want to be around when he eventually chops his way out,” Sammy added, hopping to his feet.
Thwack!
“And we need to break the news to my kiddos,” Nellie said. “They have to know what the Outcast is really after.”
Thwack!
A brick on the false wall rattled, kicking a tiny cloud of dust into the air.
“Yeah. But we can’t tell them if Magnus brings this whole place down. Let’s go!”
Attleboro, Massachusetts
Hamilton opened his eyes. Amy was sitting cross-legged beside him, the black files scattered everywhere on the corridor floor in front of her.
“Where’s Jonah?” he asked groggily.
“You’re awake!” Amy said, throwing her arms around him and helping him to an upright position. Her lips curled into a smile, but Ham could see her eyes were haunted and scared.
“He’s searching for a way out,” Amy continued. “The concrete walls block reception on our cell phones, and no one even knows we’re here. Not even Dan.”
“I knew you’d find those,” Hamilton said, gesturing at the files. His head felt heavy and it was throbbing. When he explored his forehead with his fingers, he found a large, tender bump. He massaged it gently.
“Did I hear Ham’s voice?” Jonah said, popping out of the bottom of the stairwell. His face went supernova bright when he saw that Hamilton really was awake. “Dude, you’re up!”
“Any luck finding a way out?” Amy asked.
Jonah’s face fell. “Nah. Get cozy, homeys. We’re stuck here for a while.”
Hamilton cast a thin smile to Jonah, then turned back to Amy. “So what did you find out? Anything good?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘good,’ ” she replied carefully. She couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Apparently, Grace called them ‘black files’ because they’re full of blackmail material. There’s a file here on almost everyone we know. I just … I just can’t believe Grace did all this. If she didn’t have dirt on someone, it seems like she was perfectly okay with inventing it. It’s awful.”
Amy looked down at her hands, and her voice broke awkwardly. “There’s even a file on your father.”
“My dad?” Hamilton asked. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Amy met his eyes again. “Grace is the real reason he was kicked out of West Point. After Eisenhower forgot the rule about taking guns off campus—”
Hamilton had heard the story before. “Dad was just so excited to show his rifle to my grandfather. He totally spaced out that he wasn’t supposed to take it with him when he left West Point to visit his family,” he said, his voice rising as he spoke.
Amy nodded slightly. “I don’t doubt that,” she said. “But maybe you shouldn’t look in the file. You might not like what you find.”
Hamilton ignored her warning. He had to know. The dark gray folder had the name Eisenhower Holt printed in gold on the cover. He took it from Amy, flipped it open, and found a photograph of his dad, dressed in a crisp military uniform, paper-clipped to one side. Below the photo was a student number followed by a grades report from West Point. Someone had stamped EXPELLED across his father’s face in bright red letters.
Grace had included a handwritten note:
Despite his temper, Eisenhower is friendly and charismatic. People are naturally drawn to him. If he succeeds in graduating from West Point, I fear he might gain too much favor among the Tomas. Mr. Holt clearly does not possess the intellectual capacity for the important decision-making that may be required of him should he take on a prominent role within the family.
Hamilton set his jaw. He resisted the urge to hit something. His dad wasn’t a rocket scientist, but he wasn’t a dummy, either. Just because the Tomas were athletically gifted didn’t mean they were all a bunch of blockheads.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Amy said as though she’d been reading his mind. He could feel her hand hovering above his shoulder, as if she wanted to offer comfort but didn’t know where to start.
Hamilton exhaled through his nose as he turned the page.
The Honor Board at West Point has decided to let Eisenhower off with a warning for taking his gun off campus, as it was his first transgression. Therefore I have decided to take matters into my own hands. A fake ID, cheat sheets, and proof of plagiarism have all been planted among Eisenhower’s possessions. Conveniently, Arthur Trent is his current roommate at West Point. Thanks to his affinity for my daughter, he was easily persuaded. I have given Arthur clear instructions where to look for the fabricated evidence of honor code misconduct. I have no doubts that once Arthur hands over the items I planted, the Honor Committee will in turn rule in favor of expulsion.
By the time he finished reading, Hamilton’s body was rigid with anger. “How dare she?” he said, his voice quavering with emotion. “My grandfather was framed, too, for allegedly leaking secrets to the Ekats. More than anything, my dad wanted to redeem the Holt family name. He thought graduating from West Point would be the first step.”
A hot tear pooled in the corner of his eye and rage boiled in his chest. “Grace stole the opportunity right out from under Dad’s feet.” His voice broke. “You know, I’ve always wondered why my dad is so bitter. It’s no secret that we aren’t really that close. Things might’ve been diff
erent if Dad had graduated, if the other Cahills showed him more respect. Honestly, he has a great sense of humor, but he always uses it to cut me down. Like I’m a huge disappointment.”
“I’m so sorry,” Amy said. Hamilton watched as blotches of red blossomed on the skin of her neck and cheeks. She was really upset—maybe even as upset as he was.
“That’s messed up, for sure,” Jonah chimed in. He crossed the room and sat down with them. Ham could see that Jonah was clenching and unclenching his jaw, and something inside him lifted just a bit to see his friends so upset for him.
“Like, what happened to our parents and grandparents?” Jonah continued. “How’d they all turn into such a bunch of backstabbers?”
“Hypocrites,” Amy said. “Imposters.”
“Slanderers,” Ham added, with a dark look at the file.
“I thought growing up was supposed to make you smarter. It, like, has the opposite effect on our family,” Jonah said.
Amy nodded her head in agreement. “I wanted to be just like Grace. I wanted to live up to her. And now … I just can’t believe this. Is this what being the leader of the Cahill family turns you into?”
Hamilton sniffled, then reached out for her hand. “No. Not you, Amy. You’re better than that.”
Amy took his hand and wrapped it in her own. She gave him a wavering smile and squeezed. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “But I haven’t shown you everything that I found.”
Hamilton retracted his grasp as Amy picked up another file. She gripped it so tightly that the skin around her knuckles turned white and her hands began to tremble. “The one on Nathaniel Hartford is the most terrifying, and I’m afraid that Grace didn’t fabricate everything that’s written about him.”
The tremble from her fingers overtook the rest of Amy’s body, and she gave a sob and buried her face in her hands.
Hamilton and Jonah exchanged a glance. “Amy?” Ham asked.
She lifted her head. Her face was ghost white, and her eyes were clouded with fear. “I’ll be all right,” she said uncertainly, and cleared her throat. “It seems like Grace and Nathaniel were both obsessed with finding the clues, but Nathaniel’s obsession … how far he was willing to go to get his hands on the serum. He … ” She clutched the file to her chest. “My mother. His own daughter. He threatened to—” Amy said choppily, unable to complete a single sentence. She buried her head again. “It’s too awful. I can’t.”
Hamilton gingerly placed a hand on her back. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell us now.” He felt her back heave beneath his fingers as she gulped in air and let it out again.
“Thanks. There is one helpful item, though,” she said. She sat up straight, wiped her cheeks, and pushed back the hair that had fallen in her face. Hamilton could see the effort it took to force herself to get it together. “The file contains a photo of my grandfather. It’s from forty years ago. But if we ever manage to get out of here, we’ll run an age progression on it so we’ll know what Nathaniel Hartford looks like today.”
“And if he’s the Outcast, right?” Jonah asked.
“Right. And maybe—” Amy stopped abruptly and they all listened.
A grinding sound echoed from the stairwell. The secret panel was sliding open.
Ham’s skin prickled. His tongue felt like a stone in his mouth and his gut tightened. They hadn’t done anything to open the door. So who had?
Amy shoved the file into her pack, and she and Hamilton sprang to their feet a second after Jonah.
“What’s the plan?” Hamilton whispered. “Whoever opened that door has us backed into a corner. If we stay down here, there’s no hope for escape.”
A look of understanding passed between the three of them.
“Okay, then.” He felt his anger solidify into resolve. No matter how hard the world tried, he wouldn’t become the victim his father was. “We dive for cover as soon as we reach the top. Agreed?”
Amy and Jonah nodded their heads. Then the three of them bolted up the stairs together and launched themselves through the opening in the floor.
As Ham ducked and rolled, a small silver missile flew through the air and Jonah let out an agonized shriek. An iron fist clenched around Ham’s heart.
“Jonah!” he screamed.
For an excruciating moment, Ham could only see the horrendous way Jonah’s face was contorting with pain. He couldn’t see where the emei piercer had nailed him. He couldn’t tell if the injury was life-threatening.
Reaching back, he encircled an arm around his friend’s waist and hauled Jonah along, then dove for cover. They slid to a stop behind the aircraft tug a second later, just as another silver object whizzed by Ham’s ear.
As Ham dropped his cousin, Jonah clutched his leg and writhed in pain. Hamilton glanced down at the steel rod impaled in Jonah’s thigh and breathed a sigh of relief. Better there than in his chest.
“Spasky?” Ham asked as Amy slid safely behind the cover of the tug.
“I didn’t get a good look, but it’s got to be,” she said. “How bad is it, Jonah?”
“Takes a lot more than one spear to do in the Wiz,” Jonah joked. But it was obvious by the way his face crumpled and his body folded in on itself that he was suffering.
“If we don’t act fast,” Amy said, “it might come to a lot more—for all of us.”
A great white wave of anger hit Hamilton. Why were some people so bent on making others miserable? He peered over the tug, then whipped back as Alek let another steel rod fly. Ham felt the whoosh of air splitting around him as the rod sliced straight through the spot where his head had just been. The emei piercer ignited sparks as it hit the wall behind them and clattered to the floor.
Fire boiled in Hamilton’s veins. His words were knife sharp as he reported back to the others. “Spasky is standing near the hull of Grace’s plane. He has enough spears in his pack to turn us all into Swiss cheese.”
“Yo, but we have him outnumbered,” Jonah said.
Hamilton inhaled, then shot Amy a grim look. “Have any ideas?”
“I do!” Jonah said. “When we were searching for Grace’s files, I saw a switch for the fire suppression system on the wall. It’s right by the door.” He winced again as he pulled himself upright and pointed at a button inside a glass box on the opposite side of the hangar. “If we can activate the switch, the foam might disorient Spasky long enough for us to jet. I went to this foam party once and—”
“Got it. Try not to talk too much, bro. Can you snag that cone behind you?” Ham said. “I wouldn’t ask—you know, ’cause you have that, um, spear sticking out of your leg … ” Just looking at the wound made Hamilton feel light-headed. “But you’re the one closest to it.”
Jonah grimaced as he reached for the orange traffic cone sitting by one of the tug’s rear tires. Hamilton whispered in Amy’s ear. She nodded and then took the cone from Jonah’s hands.
“On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”
Amy popped out. The sound of another flying rod hissed in the air. Using the cone as a shield, she dropped into the seat of the small tractor, started the ignition, and wedged the gas pedal down with the cone. As the tug lurched forward, Amy threw herself from the vehicle.
The tug caught Alek by surprise. It pinned him to the side of the plane just as Hamilton made a break for the switch.
He opened the glass, hit the button, and instantly the hangar began to fill with thick clouds of fire-suppressing suds.
Alek roared and Hamilton glanced in his direction, then grinned. One of the sprinklers was spraying right in Spasky’s face. Beneath the white lather the assassin’s skin was beet red. Then the anger in Alek’s eyes turned to panic as he was swallowed up entirely by the foam.
The three kids slogged around the spray. Then Ham and Amy helped Jonah hobble out the nearby door. Submerged beneath ten feet of foam, and immobilized between the tug and Grace’s plane, Alek Spasky was no longer a threat.
“Huh,” Hamilton said, feeling
slightly vindicated. “Do you realize we just took down an ex-KGB spy with bubbles?”
Amsterdam, Capital of the Kingdom of the Netherlands
On King’s Day, or Koningsdag as the Dutch call it, everyone in the Netherlands seemed in a topping mood—everyone except Ian, Cara, and Dan.
Ian’s stomach was tied in knots. The view outside the hotel window showed a city awakening and loads of jolly people streaming into the capital. Beyond the glass pane the streets and canals were streaked with orange. People in orange shirts. People in puffy orange wigs. People in orange Morphsuits? Well, horses for courses, he supposed.
He, Cara, and Dan had stayed up late into the night researching everything there was to know about the extensive system of storm barriers and dikes in the Netherlands. By all accounts, the technology was first class, and the country was the model for flood prevention. Yet, in Ian’s experience, anything powerful had an Achilles heel, a weak spot in an otherwise impenetrable armor. Ian just had to place his finger on the weakness before the Outcast exploited it.
Every smiling face plastered on each passerby only added to the crushing pressure. A smartly dressed, precocious child who reminded Ian a bit of himself was refusing to hold his mother’s hand as he toddled down the sidewalk. The child obviously wanted to lead the way.
Being out in front isn’t what you imagine, chap. You think it’s all about freedom and telling everyone else to step in line. Come to find out, you’re the one in shackles.
The concierge had said that close to a million visitors would flock to the already populous city of Amsterdam for the day, and Ian still had no idea which levee the Outcast would target. A small, shameful part of him called out to run before the wave hit. That’s the way he’d been raised—to look out for himself above all others. But there was the lovely Cara, and Dan, and all these cheerful Netherlanders to consider.
