Inside the Shadow City

by Kirsten Miller

  “Naomi Throgmorton?”

  “The one and only,” said Kiki. “And my, my, my. Look who’s escorting the lovely Miss Throgmorton this evening.” I barely recognized the young man standing at Naomi’s side. In the two years since I had seen him, he had grown even taller and more handsome. Standing side by side, he and Naomi looked like a prince and princess from a sinister fairy tale.

  “That’s one of the guys I saw with Thomas Vandervoort that night in Central Park.”

  “Jacob Harcott.” Kiki nodded. “Heir to the Harcott smuggling fortune and all-around bad seed.”

  “I don’t suppose it’s a coincidence that he’s escorting Naomi while his best friend has been glued to Betty’s side all night.”

  “We both know there are no such things as coincidences,” chided Kiki.

  “But Naomi can’t be behind the kidnappings,” I argued. “She’s too dumb to mastermind something like this. And from what I’ve heard, she doesn’t have enough money to pay for the hors d’oeuvres.”

  “Maybe not, but her date does. Jacob Harcott’s father is swimming in cash. Remember the warehouse we found packed with counterfeit shoes? It belonged to Oliver Harcott—Jacob’s father. He’s our connection to Chinatown. They’re working with the Fu-Tsang gang.”

  It was only then that I began to get anxious. We may have identified the kidnappers, but Betty’s life was still in danger. It seemed pointless to continue the stakeout.

  “Maybe we should get Betty out of there. We can find out where Jacob and Naomi live. We don’t need to plant a tracking device.”

  “Are you insane?” said Kiki, looking at me as if she already knew the answer. “They’re not hiding the girls under their beds. We still have to find out where they’re taking them. Don’t be so nervous. Nothing’s going to happen anytime soon. All their boats are gone. Even if they manage to drug Betty—which they won’t—they can’t take her anywhere until one returns. So sit back and enjoy the party. It may be a long night.”

  Once all the guests had been greeted, Naomi started to mingle. Everyone was desperate to suck up to her, and she basked in their admiration. I followed her as she glided across the castle. Along the way, she was stopped by a waitress who whispered in her ear. Naomi nodded and carefully chose an unappetizing drink the color of seaweed from the waitress’s tray. With the drink held out in front of her, she made a beeline to the far corner of the room, where Betty stood trapped by Thomas Vandervoort.

  “Heads up,” I told Kiki, who was casually cleaning the lenses of her binoculars. “They’re going in for the kill.”

  I shuddered as Naomi greeted Betty warmly, even planting a little kiss on her cheek. Betty flushed, but she handled herself like a professional. I could see her fawning over Naomi’s dress, and I knew she was tossing out compliments like confetti. My eyes focused on the toxic liquid sloshing about the glass in Naomi’s hand. I held my breath, waiting for the moment of truth. The offer of a drink, the spill, the transferred handbag. I knew that in a few short minutes, Betty would be swimming out to greet us, and I couldn’t wait until we were speeding away from the castle.

  Instead, a different silent movie played out before my eyes. The manicured hand clasping the green drink rose. Naomi offered the glass to Betty. Betty shook her head. And then, most unexpectedly, I saw Naomi take a prim sip from the crystal glass. A wide smile spread across her face as she looked out the window and over the dark water. Although I knew she couldn’t see us, I felt the urge to duck.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Kiki.

  “Who knows?” Kiki didn’t sound terribly concerned.

  Naomi placed a hand on Betty’s arm, smiled sweetly, and disappeared into the crowd with Jacob Harcott by her side.

  “She didn’t do it,” I mumbled, utterly confused.

  “She didn’t have to. Like I said, she’s got all night. I hope you weren’t expecting something to happen in the first thirty minutes. Stakeouts are always a lot longer and duller than you think they’ll be.” With that, Kiki sat down in the boat and began fiddling with her binoculars. “There’s something wrong with these things. Let me know if anything happens.”

  I remained standing, watching Betty.

  She was leaning against the window frame when I saw her spine stiffen in alarm. She muttered something to Thomas Vandervoort, who headed off toward the drinks table. As soon as her companion was gone, Betty faced the open window and pretended to gaze out over the river. I could see her mouth moving, but my binoculars weren’t powerful enough to let me read her lips.

  “Hey, hand me the telescope,” I said to Kiki.

  “Do you see something?” she asked.

  “Maybe,” I told her, taking the telescope from her outstretched hand.

  With the telescope to my eye, I could see Betty’s face more clearly. She was mouthing the same two words over and over. The Princess. My heart seemed to stop.

  “Is something happening?” asked Kiki.

  “Not yet,” I told her. Why did all of my adventures with Kiki seem to end with the Princess? I grabbed the binoculars and scanned the crowd in the castle, hoping that Betty was mistaken. There, in the center of the room, stood Sidonia Galatzina.

  Never one to blend into a crowd, the Princess was wearing the most stunning dress I had ever seen. It was the color of fine champagne and decorated with a million tiny crystals that captured the candlelight and surrounded the Princess with a golden aura. It hung from her shoulders by two delicate straps and stopped several inches short of her knees. Snaking about one of her thin, pale arms was a golden armlet in the shape of a serpent swallowing its tail. Surrounded by a circle of admirers, the Princess was putting on a show for the crowd— laughing, flipping her ebony hair, and making sure that all eyes were on her. As far as I could tell, only two sets of eyes were missing. Her two hulking bodyguards were nowhere to be seen.

  As I watched, Naomi and Jacob Harcott joined the Princess’s group. While the other guests rushed to say hello, the Princess met Naomi with the superior sneer she reserved for servants and scholarship students. She turned her back on her old friend, and began chatting with another girl, snubbing Naomi at her own party. Even I was shocked by the Princess’s appalling manners, but Naomi seemed untroubled. She smiled at the insult and signaled to a waitress across the room. The waitress nodded and slithered toward the Princess with a tray of drinks. The Princess chose a pink concoction garnished with a flower, and took a small sip before continuing her conversation.

  I was beginning to suspect that we had made a terrible mistake. As the Princess took a second sip of her drink, the signs began to appear. First she dropped her handbag, which Jacob Harcott gallantly retrieved. Soon, her legs began to wobble atop her stiletto heels. Finally, she stumbled, dropped her glass, and landed in Jacob’s arms. Holding her upright, he guided the Princess away from the crowd. With Naomi there to entertain them, the Princess’s friends barely noticed her departure. Only one person at the party appeared worried. Betty was trailing behind Jacob Harcott and the woozy Princess. When they disappeared through a door at the back of the castle, Betty brazenly followed behind them.

  “No!” I called out through the darkness, but there was no way for Betty to hear my warning.

  “What’s going on?” Kiki heard the alarm in my voice.

  I looked down at her sitting on the boat’s bench. Either she was a gifted actress or she had no idea that the Princess was at the party.

  “They took another girl!” I cried. “They never wanted Tyler Deitz. They were after someone else all along.”

  “Who was it? Was it anyone you recognized?”

  “You could say that,” I spat.

  “Well?”

  “It was your friend the Princess of Pokrovia. The one you swore wasn’t involved.”

  When Kiki Strike jumped to her feet, I could see every vein in her forehead.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Sidonia was at the party?” she demanded.

  I didn’t know what to
say. Should I confess that I still didn’t trust her? Should I lie?

  “Forget it. You’ve got to be wrong. Tell me exactly what you saw,” she insisted.

  “Naomi sent a waitress to give the Princess a drink … the Princess drank it … the Princess started to wobble, and then she nearly fell. Jacob Harcott practically dragged her through the party and out a door at the back of the castle. Is that convincing enough for you?”

  “Where were Sidonia’s bodyguards?”

  “I guess they were too big to fit on the boats. I didn’t see them anywhere.”

  “This isn’t good,” said Kiki.

  “You bet it’s not good. And it gets a lot worse.”

  “How could it get any worse?” asked Kiki.

  “Betty saw the whole thing happen. She followed Jacob Harcott and the Princess. I think she’s trying to rescue her.”

  “How could she be so stupid?” asked Kiki.

  “We’ve got to do something!” I was starting to panic.

  “Stay calm, and let me think,” she said. “We haven’t seen a boat come back, so we should have a few minutes to figure things out.”

  Just as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a motor roared, and a boat sped around the back of the castle, where it had been hidden from sight. It was no water taxi, but a super-powered speedboat, and it was headed straight for us.

  “They’re taking the Princess!” I shouted over the din. “Start the engine!” Kiki dropped into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and our little boat came to life. “They don’t see us! They’re going to hit us!” I screamed as the larger boat neared.

  Kiki turned hard on the boat’s wheel and we steered out of the speedboat’s path. A spray of water drenched us and soaked our surveillance equipment. Kiki pushed forward on the throttle. I grabbed the tracking device out of a pool of water on the floor of the boat. As I wiped it off, I saw something that made me feel faint. The little green blip was moving steadily southward. The kidnappers had taken Betty.

  “They’ve got Betty, too!” I shouted to Kiki. I looked up to see the speedboat vanishing in the distance.

  “Their boat’s too fast,” said Kiki. “We can’t keep up.”

  “What are we going to do?” I moaned, dropping my head into my hands.

  “Call the Irregulars,” said Kiki. “Tell them to get ready. We have to rescue Betty tonight.”

  HOW TO FOIL A KIDNAPPING

  Anyone with half a brain can recognize many of the tricks that kidnappers play. Strangers offering candy, puppies, or modeling advice should be avoided at all costs. No one’s that friendly.

  But if someday you find yourself in trouble, keep your wits about you and think mean. Forget all those lessons you learned in finishing school. When it comes to a kidnapping, the worst thing you can do is mind your manners.

  1. Run. If you’re being followed by a car, run in the opposite direction. The car won’t be able to turn around as quickly as you can. If you’re being followed on foot, duck into the nearest public place and ask for help. If you’re followed inside, pull items off the shelves, break things, and try to get yourself into as much trouble as possible.

  2. Kick, Scream, Bite, Fight. Even if the kidnapper has a weapon, try to escape. If you can’t, make as much of a racket as possible. Do your best to inflict serious damage.

  3. Disable the Kidnapper’s Vehicle. Pull a small button off your shirt and wedge it into the car’s ignition. (A piece of chewing gum will also work well.) If the vehicle won’t start, you aren’t going anywhere. If you lack the appropriate supplies, reach beneath the car’s steering wheel and pull out any wires you can grasp.

  4. Cause a Minor Accident. Step on the gas pedal when you’re at a stoplight. Turn off the headlights. Do whatever you can to get other people involved without hurting them.

  5. Take Inventory of Your Weapons. Do you have a pen or pencil? A pointed hair clip? A heavy schoolbook? A belt or umbrella? Find a weapon and use it.

  6. Call Attention to Yourself. Write help in lipstick on the rear window. Bang on the windows. If you’re in the trunk of a car, rip out any wires you can find along the sides of the car or under the carpeting. These may deactivate the taillights and even pop the trunk. Or you can kick out the brake lights and shove your fingers through the hole. A car following behind may notice and call the police.

  7. Never, Ever Do What You’re Told.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The Little Princess

  One Christmas when I was small, my great-aunt Beatrice gave me a book filled with stories of princesses in peril. Their stepmothers were determined to murder them, wicked witches cast spells on them, and frogs demanded to kiss them. The message of these stories was usually the same. If you work hard, act humble, and are kind to animals, a handsome prince will arrive to rescue you. As far as I was concerned, that approach didn’t seem like much fun. Instead, I decided that the real lesson to be learned from fairy tales is that things are rarely what they seem. Beautiful queens can be nasty villains. Beggars might be princes in disguise. Gingerbread houses may look tasty, but are best left uneaten. And if, like most people, you see only what you expect to see, you could find yourself in a great deal of trouble.

  As our boat raced toward Manhattan, I watched Kiki Strike out of the corner of my eye. If she felt my gaze, she didn’t show it. She stared straight ahead, her eyes on the water, and her white hair floating behind her in the wind. For a moment, I wondered if the real mastermind might be sitting beside me. Perhaps the robberies and the NYCMap had been a red herring—a way to draw the Irregulars’ attention away from the Princess. As the lights on top of the Empire State Building flickered into view, my stomach began to churn. I didn’t want to believe that Kiki was responsible, but either way, Betty’s life was in my hands, and I couldn’t bear to make another mistake.

  We returned to the rotting pier from which we had set sail. I tied the boat up while Kiki ran to retrieve her Vespa from its hiding place behind an overflowing Dumpster. She climbed on and revved the motor.

  “Get a cab and go meet the other girls. I’ve got to go home to get a few things.”

  “Forget it,” I told her, shaking my head. “You’re not giving the orders anymore. I’m coming with you.” There was no way I was letting her out of my sight. Kiki raised an eyebrow in surprise, and I prepared myself for an argument. Instead, she shrugged and handed me a helmet.

  “Jump on,” she sighed.

  We sped through the nighttime streets, skidding around corners and running red lights. Whenever we hit a patch of traffic, Kiki hopped the curb and steered the Vespa onto the sidewalk, scraping fire hydrants and denting mailboxes. I was just recovering from a near collision with an oil truck when Kiki turned a sharp corner onto Third Avenue and headed straight for a metal garage door set in the side of an apartment building. I was certain my time on Earth was about to come to an unpleasant end, when Kiki pulled a remote control out of her pocket. She pressed a button and the door began to rise.

  “Duck!” Kiki shouted, and we made it under the door with an inch to spare. Kiki drove the Vespa down a steep ramp and into a dark parking garage, where she slammed on the brakes and spun around to watch the door shut quickly behind us.

  We were in the basement of one of the bland apartment buildings that line the lower reaches of Third Avenue. Of all the places I had imagined Kiki’s secret lair might lie, I would never have picked this one. I swallowed my disappointment and tried to focus on the mission at hand.

  “Sorry for the fancy driving.” Kiki removed her helmet and shook out her hair. “I never know when I’m being followed, and there’s no point in making it easy for them.”

  “Followed?” I asked “Who’s following you?”

  “I don’t have time to explain,” she said. “Let’s move.”

  We rode an elevator to ground level and stepped into a lobby decorated with fanciful murals of old New York. A handsome doorman in an old-fashioned uniform was there to greet us.


  “Hello, Boris,” Kiki said to the doorman.

  “Good evening, miss,” he replied in a Russian accent. He selected a key from the hundreds that dangled from a ring on his belt, walked over to one side of the lobby, and unlocked a door that had been disguised to look like part of the mural.

  Beyond the door was a set of fire stairs. Kiki bolted up two flights and paused briefly in front of a window on the third-floor landing. Before I had the chance to catch up, she threw open the window and hopped outside.

  “Are you coming or not?” I heard her call.

  I peered out the window and saw Kiki standing on the fire escape of the building next door. Its metal railing was only a couple of feet from the window. I stepped onto the window ledge and leaped toward the fire escape. I landed with a thud and started climbing. Twenty torturous flights later, I reached the top, where a simple rope ladder dangled from the roof of the building. My muscles were burning, and I stood against the wall, catching my breath, as Kiki scaled the rope ladder and disappeared. Once I had recovered enough of my strength, I dragged myself up the side of the building and onto the roof. When I stood up, I found myself in the middle of a well-tended lawn.

  Grass sprang up around my sneakers, and the leaves of a cherry tree brushed against my hair. A rustic wooden house sat in the middle of the lawn, far enough from the edge of the building to be all but invisible from the street below. Looking out into the night, I realized I had a bird’s-eye view of the entire city. The skyscrapers of Mid-town grew like a forest of lights in the distance, and a helicopter circled the financial district like a lone vulture.

  As we walked through the grass toward the house, the front door swung open. Verushka stood in the doorway, dressed in an olive-green robe and leaning on a gnarled wooden cane. I forced a smile to hide my shock. In the two years since I had seen her, Verushka had grown old. Her hair was mostly gray, and all that was left of its once vibrant color was a single streak of red. Her left leg appeared all but useless.

  “You are back!” she called out cheerfully, but once she caught sight of Kiki’s expression, she knew the operation had not gone as planned. A flicker of disappointment passed across her face before she turned and greeted me with a heartfelt smile.