by Jude Watson
It was their only hope.
Below them was a thousand feet of air. The bridge was narrow. He wouldn’t have room to swing out to the right. He’d have to make it — or go spinning out, crash through a guardrail and leap straight into space.
Now!
Jonah pulled the wheel to the left and the car responded, going airborne for a moment as it bumped off the road, hit a rail, then landed on the uphill road. Jonah steered and downshifted all the way up the road until he was able to gently crash into a rock on the shoulder.
The car stopped. His head hit the wheel. Hamilton crashed against the dashboard.
“Oh, dawg,” Hamilton said.
“Oh, dude,” Jonah said.
“That was close. That was so close to close, it was almost over.”
“As close to a final destination as I ever want to get,” Jonah said.
With shaking hands, they dug out their cell phones and backpacks. As soon as they stepped out of the car, the cell phones began to work. Amy didn’t pick up. Neither did Dan. Attleboro hadn’t heard from them in the past thirty minutes.
“We’ve got to get to them!” Hamilton said. He slammed his fist on the car.
“Dude, it’s a rental. Do you have to dent it, too?” Jonah crouched by the car. “We just need to find the device so Attleboro can check on it. It could be a lead.” He held up a small ball. “This baby is a videocam. That’s how she knew when to blow the brakes for maximum impact.”
They grabbed their gear and half ran, half slid down to the road. It was empty.
Hamilton threw his pack on the ground and let out a howl of frustration.
“Wait. I hear something,” Jonah said.
They exchanged a glance. What if it was Cheyenne? What if she’d met up with some other Vesper bad dudes? Suddenly, the road felt isolated, and they felt exposed.
A dot appeared across the divide, taking the last turn for the bridge. The dot turned into a minibus as it crossed the bridge and headed toward them. No matter how jangled their nerves, a minibus seemed like a good sign. Jonah stepped out into the road, waving his arms. Hamilton tensed, ready to attack if he had to.
The minibus screeched to a halt. A young woman with blond braids stuck her head out the window.
“Jonah WIZARD!” she screamed.
Casper took out a large red apple. He began to peel it with the knife. It was mesmerizing, watching the bright, polished silver blade move around the apple. An impossibly thin strip of peel began to spiral downward.
“Hey, guys,” Casper said. “I missed you.”
Dread invaded Amy’s bones, and she didn’t think she could move. He was blocking the doorway, and they were trapped. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that glittering knife.
“The last time we were together, I was deep in a crevasse next to a dead guy,” Casper said. “And you didn’t even say good-bye.”
The peel slowly fell to the floor. Casper carved out a piece of apple with a few flicks of the knife. He did it so quickly and expertly that Amy shuddered.
He held out the piece of apple on the tip of the knife. “Anybody? No?” He sucked it off the knife. If he was trying to unnerve them, it was working.
“What is it, Casper?” Amy hated that her voice shook. “What do you want?”
“Oh, didn’t I say? The map. I want the map.”
“We don’t have the map. And we still have another three days to produce it.”
“But you found something. I heard you.” Casper sliced off another piece of apple, flicked it into his mouth, and crunched down on it.
“You have to allow us to follow the clues,” Amy said. “That’s the deal.”
Casper smiled. He flicked a piece of apple at Amy. It hit her in the face. She flinched. “I didn’t make any deal, sunshine.”
He took another step closer and flicked another piece of apple at Amy. It struck her on the cheek. Dan clenched his fists together.
“‘At least we found something that will lead us to it.’” Casper mimicked Amy’s soft, high voice, then snorted and tossed his apple away. “You think you two are the only smart people in the world? You said you found something that will lead you to it. So hand it over, sunshine, or else!”
“Or else what?” Dan asked. “You’ll kill us? Your boss won’t be happy.”
“I don’t have to kill both of you.” Casper smiled. “Just one will do.”
Amy’s legs were shaking so badly she was afraid she’d fall down. She reached out to hold Dan’s arm. If she couldn’t find the strength to protect herself, she knew she’d protect her brother.
“What difference does it make, Ames?” Dan asked. “He’s a Vesper. Why shouldn’t we give it to him?” He stooped down for his backpack.
Dan was reaching for his pack, but Amy had the notebook in her pocket. What was Dan planning?
“No funny business,” Casper warned.
“Dude, if you think I care which Vesper gets this, you’re crazy.”
Amy was braced for anything, but Dan’s move surprised even her. He came up with the full can of soda in his hand and hurled it straight at Casper. It slammed him in the forehead. There was an almost comical look of stunned surprise on his face before Amy gathered her nerve and followed Dan’s move with a flying martial-arts kick at the hand holding the knife.
The knife skittered along the floor. Dan whirled and kicked it into the drain.
Casper screamed a curse. Dan bashed him in the head with his backpack. They heard a thud as the soda cans connected with his skull. Casper staggered.
They shouldered past him and raced out into the tunnel.
Amy thought frantically. She knew the tunnel would eventually lead outside to the courtyard. What they needed was a crowd. But if a tour wasn’t leaving, the courtyard could be empty.
“Which way to the upstairs?” she asked Dan.
“I don’t know!” he shouted.
They heard running footsteps behind them, and they knew Casper had recovered.
“I hear something,” she gasped out. “Listen!”
“Ludwig was mad, bro
But he also was bad, bro
Was his own ‘Iliad,’ bro …”
“Jonah!” Amy breathed. Where there was Jonah, there would be a crowd.
Ahead of them, Casper suddenly appeared from around a bend. He must have found a way around them. He lifted a hand and snapped open another knife. And smiled.
They stopped. From off to the right, Amy could hear Jonah’s voice. But it was fading, not getting louder.
“Before, I was annoyed,” Casper said. “Now, I’m mad.”
Amy took a deep breath. “OMIGOSH JONAH WIZARD!” she squealed. Just like millions of girls shrieked all over the world. The sound bounced off the walls of the tunnel.
Casper looked at her as though she’d lost her mind.
It only took a moment before they heard Jonah’s voice. Coming closer. And fast.
“NEVER WORE PLAID, BRO!”
Amy almost wept in relief.
Jonah burst into the main tunnel at a run, surrounded by a crowd of giggling girls. Castle security flanked them. Hamilton hurried up to them. He followed Amy’s gaze and saw Casper. His fists tightened at his side.
Casper surveyed the crowd. His gaze lingered on Hamilton’s fists, the security officers, the way Jonah moved, pushing the crowd so that it would squeeze Casper against the wall. He stepped off to the side as the crowd rushed by, Amy and Dan safely in its midst.
As they passed him, he drew his finger across his neck in a classic “you’re dead” signal and pointed at them.
“Later,” he mouthed.
The sunset was spectacular, and they were safe in the minibus with the students from Estonia who were on their way to Salzbu
rg for the Sound of Music tour. Jonah sat up front with the girls and led a sing-along.
Who would have guessed that the hip-hop star knew all the words to “Climb Ev’ry Mountain”?
Amy, Dan, and Hamilton huddled in the back of the bus.
“Why would Casper and Cheyenne want to kill us?” Amy asked. “It doesn’t make sense. Why go to all the trouble of kidnapping Cahills and getting us to help if they’re going to kill us before we finish?”
“Maybe Vesper One doesn’t know about it,” Hamilton said. “Maybe they’re going rogue. Like they want to impress him or something. It’s the kind of thing my sisters would do,” he added sheepishly.
Amy and Dan stared at him.
“I mean, what do I know?” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “Nothing, right?”
“No, that’s brilliant,” Dan said.
Amy nodded. “The only problem is, we have no way of telling Vesper One.”
“And they’re probably counting on that,” Dan said.
“Great,” Amy said. “Now we’ve got the Wyomings as well as Interpol breathing down our necks. And time’s running out to find the map.”
“I’m going to check with Attleboro,” Hamilton said. He scooted away and took out his phone. They had already sent Jane’s notation to Massachusetts.
“You were great in there,” Amy told Dan. “When I saw Casper, I couldn’t move.”
“You kicked that knife out of his hand.”
“Only because you nailed him so hard with that can.” Amy bit her lip. “I was so scared, Dan. I couldn’t think.” She shook her head. “I feel so ashamed of myself. If it wasn’t for you, we would have been toast.”
“Whoa,” Dan said. “If you’re throwing a pity party for yourself, don’t invite me.” He poked her. “You were the one who got Jonah to find us. Awesome lung power. I thought you only used that volume to get me out of the bathroom.”
Amy smiled, but the heaviness was still in her heart. She looked out at the dark mountains. They seemed to be pressing against them. “But what if the day comes when we don’t figure it out? When — ”
“We are not going to lose.” Dan’s gaze was fierce. “I remember what Nellie looked like on that video. And Fiske, and Phoenix, and Ted, and all of them. And we are not going to lose. No matter what.”
Amy should have felt comforted. But there was something about Dan’s confidence … what was it?
It wasn’t confidence. It was more like desperation.
Hamilton slid back into the seat. “They have a lead for us. Look.”
THE V WITH KEPLER HUNG US UP FOR A BIT. IT MUST STAND FOR VESPER. IF THE WORLD-FAMOUS SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY ASTRONOMER JOHANNES KEPLER WAS A VESPER.
Amy quickly typed in a response:
WAS A MANUSCRIPT BY KEPLER STOLEN BY NAZIS?
YES. EARLY COPY OF MYSTERIUM COSMOGRAPHICUM. WAS HELD AT NEUSCHWANSTEIN CASTLE. BOOK NOW IN POSSESSION OF LIBRARY OF PHILOSOPHY AND COSMOLOGY IN PRAGUE.
“That means that Jane could have found a record of it in the castle,” Amy said. “Repatriated means ‘returned to the country of origin.’ So maybe she slipped the de Virga in with the Kepler book? I don’t know what ‘resting with teacher and victim’ means … yet. But she’s trying to tell us something.”
Dan nodded. “And that means we’re going to Prague.”
Prague, Czech Republic
The Library of Philosophy and Cosmology had existed in Prague for four hundred years. Originally attached to a monastery, it was now housed in an ultramodern building designed by a world-famous architect who was fond of using stainless steel like ribbon candy. Dan didn’t know whether to enter the library or take a bite out of it.
They walked inside a paneled foyer that held only a polished-steel umbrella stand. It was empty. “Remember, we’re Sarah and Jack Teague,” Amy murmured. “The Farleys are history.”
Glass doors swung open as they walked forward. A curved desk of dark polished wood was ahead of them. Through glass doors they could see the great reading room of the library, shelves rising to a second-level gallery. Long tables ran the width of the room. Only a few people were scattered around, heads bent over books and laptops.
The woman sitting at the desk looked up from her computer. She wore glasses with heavy black frames that somehow made her look cool instead of nerdy. Shiny black hair was scraped back in a tight ponytail.
“May I help you?”
“We’re American students,” Amy said. “We’d like to look something up in your library.” She smiled, trying to ingratiate herself.
“Do you have a letter of reference?”
“No,” Amy said.
“This is a private library,” the woman said. “For invited scholars only. I’m sorry. There are other libraries in Prague that would be able to accommodate you, I’m sure.” She turned back to her computer.
“But …” Amy started. She desperately tried to think. How could she bluff their way in? “This is the only library that can help us.”
“Can you tell me the subject of your research?”
“Uh, the early books of Johannes Kepler.”
“We have only one.”
“We know,” Dan said. “The one that was rescued from Neuschwanstein Castle at the end of the war.”
She pressed her lips together. “That is one of our most valuable books. We cannot allow just anyone to handle it.”
“Is there somebody else we can speak to? The director, perhaps?” Amy asked politely.
“I am Katja Mavel, the director of the library. I am afraid I am your last resort.”
“My sister and I are students of Dr. Mark Rosenbloom,” Dan blurted.
Amy tried not to look surprised. Mark Rosenbloom was the father of Jake and Atticus, the boys who had turned them in to Interpol. Sure, he was a world-famous archaeologist, but they’d never met him.
The woman paused. “Dr. Rosenbloom referred you?”
“Yes, but we misplaced the letter.”
“Perhaps you should e-mail Dr. Rosenbloom and then he can forward the necessary papers.”
“We can’t,” Dan said. “He’s on a dig in … Eritrea. No satellite reception.”
Amy glanced at her brother. Where had that come from? She didn’t even think he could locate Eritrea on a map. She didn’t think she could. But suddenly Dan was projecting maturity and intelligence. How did he manage it? And why couldn’t he do this at the dinner table instead of using his spoon to catapult mashed potatoes onto her plate when she asked for seconds?
The woman seemed hesitant, but her tone was firm. “I am so sorry, but we cannot make exceptions. I’ve met Dr. Rosenbloom and I know of his work. But I cannot let you in without the necessary papers.” Her voice softened. “I’m sure there is a way to contact him. Perhaps he could call in the introduction for you. We can bend the rules, but we cannot break them. Good day.”
Amy quickly scribbled a secure e-mail address on a piece of paper and the name Sarah Teague. “If we get Dr. Rosenbloom to e-mail you, can you e-mail us back that you’ll admit us?”
“I can’t make any promises.” Dr. Mavel glanced at the paper. She didn’t say yes, but she tucked it into a drawer.
There was nothing to do but leave. Amy and Dan stood on the sidewalk outside the library. It was a lovely fall day, cool and crisp. The city of Prague, with its old, graceful buildings, its hills and steeples, spread out around them. They could see the Vltava River and Prague Castle. But Amy couldn’t take it in. She could almost feel time passing, like the wind that blew her hair back and scattered the leaves at her feet.
“I don’t know what to do now,” she said. “But it was a good idea to bring up Atticus’s father.”
“It still didn’t get us in. And it’s not like we can call him. Jake probably told him that we�
��re thieves.”
Amy remembered the look on Jake’s face, the contempt when he knew what they were planning. “We’ll have to put out a Cahill alert,” she decided. “Someone will come through. In the meantime we can focus on getting a good translation of the epilogue of Il Milione. It has to tie in with everything else somehow.”
“Pliny the Younger, Marco Polo, Caravaggio, Johannes Kepler, and a Nazi,” Dan said, ticking off the names on his fingers. “They’re all centuries apart, and they’re connected?”
“They’ve got to be,” Amy said. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”
They had checked in to a small hotel tucked away on a side street upon their arrival that morning. The room hadn’t been ready, and they were carrying around their packs, which were starting to feel heavy. Jonah and Hamilton had gone to a four-star American hotel. They had agreed it would be safer to split up.
As they trudged the blocks to the hotel, Dan could feel the weight of discouragement even more than the drag of the pack on his shoulders. He pictured Hamilton and Jonah sitting around their hotel room in plush robes, nibbling at a complimentary fruit basket.
As they entered the hotel, the clerk came around the desk to speak to them. “My apologies. Your room isn’t ready,” he said. “May I suggest a snack in the kavarna — the café. Complimentary, of course.”
“Dude,” Dan said. “You just said the magic word.”
They were tired of walking. Tired of thinking. A little pastry sugar rush would do them good.
They headed for the café adjoining the lobby, where they sat down at a table and ordered hot chocolate and vdolek, a pastry with jam and whipped cream.
Dan was just about to dip his spoon into the pastry when Amy stiffened. The same hawk-nosed man who’d been on the train to Lucerne pushed through the door of the hotel.
“Dan!”
Dan licked his lips as he regarded his pastry. “This looks like a cloud of paradise.”
The man went directly to the desk.
