Mission Hurricane

by Jenny Goebel

  And despite the fact that his third disaster had been stopped, the Outcast was one step closer to checkmate.

  Video Conference, Various Locations

  As Dan gave the blow-by-blow on how he’d escaped the surge just as the gates clamped shut, Amy’s heart cramped in her chest. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she touched the computer screen his face appeared on. It was agonizing to know how close he’d come to death, but knowing how well he’d handled it made her ache with pride.

  “Yo, tell them about me!” Jonah chimed in from where he was propped up on the hotel bed.

  Amy recounted their run-in with Alek Spasky. “Forty stiches,” she said. Then a wry smile played on her lips. “Someone at the hospital leaked the story. Now there’s all this speculation in the media that he was attacked by some wacked-out fan with a twisted obsession.”

  “Yeah. Completely took the heat off me for the Shakespeare madness. Earned me a bunch of sympathy instead!” Jonah’s voice was gleeful. “Oh, and show them what you found.”

  Amy rifled through a folder and then held up a photo of a handsome young man wearing a dark suit with a skinny black tie and horn-rimmed glasses. There was an unsettling shrewdness in his eye. He had Amy’s round cheeks and light brown hair. She found the resemblance distressing. “It’s a photograph of Nathaniel Hartford—from about fifty years ago, I think,” she said. “I found it in Grace’s black files, along with some … other stuff.”

  Amy glanced down and to the right when she said “stuff.” She’d wait until they had privacy to tell Dan the rest. “Ham’s going to run an age progression on the photo for us now,” she said. Ham sat down at the laptop.

  Part of Amy wanted confirmation that Nathaniel was the Outcast, so they could move ahead. But a larger part of her hoped it wasn’t him.

  A few minutes later, Hamilton projected an image on both of their screens of an elderly man with modern-day glasses. Amy studied it and then shook her head. “I can’t tell. The Outcast has had some work done. Can you take off the glasses? And give him a face lift or something?”

  Ian piped up from the background. “Also, teeth whitening, Botox, laser resurfacing, collagen treatments … oh, and eyelid surgery to correct the sagging, I believe.” After a moment of awkward silence, Ian added, “What? So I know a thing or two about plastic surgery. My mother went under the knife at each and every opportunity.”

  “Right,” Ham said, and went back to work. The image he projected next resembled the first, but with night-and-day differences.

  “It’s like looking at ‘before’ and ‘after’ photos of models who’ve been Photoshopped,” Dan said. “Not that I’ve been looking at pictures of models or anything,” he added quickly, face reddening.

  “That’s our man,” Amy said solemnly as Ham stood up, and she dropped back into the seat behind the computer. “The Outcast is Nathaniel Hartford—our grandfather.” Quiet again fell over the bunch.

  Amy was about to wrap things up and give them all time to let the revelation sink in, when a call popped up on the screen. “Nellie!”

  Amy hit the green button, then the screen split in half and Nellie’s face appeared next to Dan’s. Saladin hopped on the desk, purring and rubbing against the screen until Amy gently nudged him aside.

  “Kiddos!” Nellie squealed. Her eyes were alight and her smile was warm, but the bruises on her forehead, the blisters on her lips, and the chapped skin on her cheeks were more than a little alarming.

  She was in some sort of café, Sammy beside her, and there were Japanese characters on the wall. A balaclava was pushed back on her head, and they appeared to be wearing layers of outerwear.

  “Nellie?” Amy wondered. “Where were you?”

  “Trapped in an ice cave for two days, but never mind,” Nellie replied. “What matters is that you know what the Outcast is really after. These disasters are all just a diversion. His endgame is the clues,” she said gravely. “And I know for a fact he has all the Tomas clues already.”

  Amy clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. It was as bad as she’d suspected. People were dying and places were being destroyed all so her grandfather could get his hands on the serum. It was messed up. It was sickening. And she’d had enough.

  Amy scrutinized Dan’s face on the computer screen, looking for any signs that he was ready to call it quits again. Ever since Grace had passed away, it seemed as though the world had done its best to break them both.

  Knowing what they knew now—that the Outcast was their very own grandfather and that he’d stop at nothing to get the Clues—meant that things were only going to get worse. The decisions were going to be harder. Their actions would have even greater consequences as they grew older. Grace’s files, heavy as a concrete block where they sat on her lap, were a heartbreaking reminder of that.

  But Dan’s face gazing back at her was unflinching. His jaw was hard set and determined. The look in his eyes reminded her how strong they both were. They were ready to take on whatever the Outcast threw at them next.

  Amy felt confidence ballooning inside her. “Put Ian on,” she said.

  Dan stood up and moved out of view, and Ian’s face appeared before her. Ian was a wilted version of his former self. His hair was unbrushed, his shirt had a tear in it, and his shoulders were slumped. There was barely an ounce of the Kabra arrogance left in him. Amy felt a twinge of guilt for ever having asked him to step into her role. It would surely be a knock-out blow if she asked him to step down.

  “How are you holding up?” Amy asked gently.

  “I feel like a perfect fool, if you really want to know.”

  Amy held her tongue. Anything she could say would only make things worse.

  “That plonker at the visitor center refused to listen to reason. I don’t know,” Ian said. Amy detected a quaver in his voice. He tried to clear it before going on. “I thought being head of the Cahill family was going to be different, somehow. I thought people would recognize my authority and heed my demands. Instead, I have to take responsibility for every last thing that goes wrong, and let me tell you, loads of things go wrong in this family. You have no idea how many complaints I’ve had to listen to these past few months.”

  The expression on Ian’s face changed. He spoke in a falsetto voice, “ ‘Ian, why did you spend so much on tailoring your clothes this month? That money would’ve been better spent on a remodel of the Paris headquarters.’ Or, this one was rich,” he continued. “ ‘Ian, the plumbing inside the Venice stronghold is on the fritz again.’ ” Ian shook his head disdainfully. “Why do they think they can come to me with every little loo problem? I tell you, I’d much rather be the one complaining than the one listening to all the complaints.”

  “Okay,” Amy said in a precise and even tone.

  “Okay?”

  “Yes, it’s okay.” Amy held Ian’s gaze. “If you don’t want to listen to any more complaints, then you don’t have to.”

  “I-I don’t?” Ian stammered. “You mean I can just shut them up somehow? How does one go about shutting up dissenters?” His eyes widened with hope. “Are you suggesting that I use threats, poison—blackmail, perhaps!—to keep the peace?”

  Amy scrunched her face in consternation. Getting through to Ian was even more difficult than she’d thought it would be. “No, Ian, I’m not. I’m saying that if you don’t want to be the one with the responsibility anymore, if you don’t want to be the person the Cahills turn to when they register their complaints, then you don’t have to be. That’s okay with Dan and me.”

  “Oh,” Ian said quietly. “Oh, I see.”

  “You’ve done a terrific job, but if you want—”

  “No, no, I understand. I understand perfectly now.” Ian’s shoulders began to quake and short puffs of air escaped through his nose.

  “Ian, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry. Dan and I … we just—” A great honking noise interrupted her. “Wait? Are you laughing?”

  Ian threw back his head and did a
very un-Ian-like thing. He whooped with joy. “Cry? Are you serious?” He whooped again. “It’s yours! All of it. Every last problem, every complaint and disaster—they’re all yours, and Dan’s, of course. Brilliant! Dan, get back in here! Your sister has something to tell you!”

  Ian sprang from his seat, giving Amy a clearer view of the hotel room. Cara was standing by a window. When Ian ran to her, arms open, she beamed with delight, grabbed his cheeks, and planted a kiss firmly on his lips. He dipped her low and kissed her deeper.

  “Gross! Cut that out!” Dan yelled.

  He gagged loud enough for Amy to hear as he slid back in front of the screen. “Ian took that well, didn’t he?” he asked his sister.

  “Remarkably.”

  “So I guess this means it’s up to us to stop the Outcast,” Dan said. “I mean, I know we’ll have help—our friends aren’t going to ditch us. But it’s you and me. We’re the leaders again, right?”

  “Right.” Ian’s outburst had offered a short reprieve from the seriousness of their predicament, but Amy felt the enormity of it come rushing back. Ian was right. Being in charge wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Being a leader meant being stuck with the hard choices and difficulties. It also meant being constantly tempted by all that power, the way Grace had been.

  Per usual, Dan seemed to be reading her thoughts. “You know, I think we’ve actually done a pretty good job. Grace and Nathaniel”—her brother shook his head—“we’re light-years ahead of our grandparents. And don’t even get me started on the previous generation of Kabras. Compared to the Cahill leaders that came before us, we’re killing it!”

  “Killing it?”

  “You know what I mean. Our family may be the most powerful one in history, but we’re a real mess. Seriously, we put the Mafia to shame.”

  Amy cracked a smile. “Some of our ancestors were in the Mafia.”

  “But not you and me. Through all our ups and downs, we’ve stayed solid. Sure, we’ve both thrown in the towel a time or two, but we always came back. This is what we were born to do.”

  Amy agreed. “I know. It feels natural now.”

  “And we have something that the leaders before us didn’t have.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We have each other.”

  Amy’s heart swelled. “Definitely. You didn’t do so shabby on your own in the Netherlands, did you, dweeb? Sounds like you basically saved the day in Rotterdam.”

  Dan sat up a hair straighter in his chair. “Then that settles it. We’re officially back in the saddle.”

  “For sure. But one thing has to change,” Amy said. She leaned forward. “We’ve always played catch-up. We’ve always chased after the bad guys and followed a path that bad guys created. That has to stop. We can’t sit around just waiting for the Outcast to spring the fourth disaster.”

  “So what do we do?” Dan asked. “Are we going to attack him, like Ian said?”

  “No. We know who he is. We know what he wants. We have what he wants. We’re going to set a trap.”

  As a grin spread across her brother’s face, Amy inhaled sharply. She’d only just realized what setting a trap would mean. They had what the Outcast wanted, because all 39 Clues were stuck inside Dan’s fortress of a head. To set a trap they would need bait.

  And that bait would have to be Dan.

  Sneak Peek

  If you think you know the Outcast’s plan, you’re in for a serious shock. Dan and Amy have never seen danger like this. Brace yourself for the ride of your life in the thrilling conclusion to the DOUBLECROSS series in Book 4: Mission Atomic.

  Copyright © 2016 by Scholastic Inc.

  All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, THE 39 CLUES, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015951470

  ISBN 978-0-545-76748-4

  Cover, back cover, and endpapers: blueprint: © amgun/Shutterstock; map: © Map Resources; spiral: © Herr Biter/Shutterstock; sign: © Go Bananas Design Studio/Shutterstock; dam blueprints: Library of Congress; Cityscape: © mihaiulia/Shutterstock; sky: © Sergey Nivens/Shutterstock and © gyn9037/Shutterstock; hurricane diagrams: © Grolier; stormy sea: © Andrey Yurlov/Shutterstock and © Joel Calheiros/Shutterstock. Back endpaper: Ekat crest: SJI Associates for Scholastic. Interior images: clog page 22: © Paul Koomen/Shutterstock; mug page 42: © microvector/Shutterstock; shield page 42: © Vector1st/Shutterstock; crown page 42: © Ivan Ponomarev/Shutterstock; water page 58: Wojtek Starak/CG Textures; boy “Jonah Wizard” pages 66 and 68: Ken Karp for Scholastic; bathroom pages 66 and 68 © Photographee.eu/Shutterstock; uniform page 125: Library of Congress; boy “Hamilton” page 125: Ken Karp for Scholastic; paper page 125: CG Textures; concrete page 158: CG Textures; fireworks page 164: © Kalenik Hanna/Shutterstock. All other art and book and cover design created by Charice Silverman for Scholastic.

  First edition, February 2016

  e-ISBN 978-0-545-76929-7

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