No normal driver could have avoided that truck. Gideon’s formula may have been a death sentence, but it had just saved all their lives.
At that moment, the Jeep suffered one tremendous jolt before the ride leveled off, becoming not only smoother but quieter as well.
Jake was instantly alert. “What happened? What did we hit?”
“Pavement,” supplied Atticus, daring to look over the side. “We must be getting close to Guatemala City.”
With the better road conditions, Ian was able to return to his research on Pony’s laptop. “The Tonle Sap water snake,” he reported. “Scientific name: Enhydris longicauda. A slightly venomous colubrid snake native to the Tonle Sap, Cambodia’s Great Lake. It’s a close relative of the sea leopard snake, the rice paddy snake, and the Kapuas mud snake.”
“‘Slightly venomous’?” Atticus repeated. “What does that mean — when it bites you, you only get a little bit dead?”
“If you think about it,” mused Amy, “the venom can’t be deadly or it wouldn’t work as part of the antidote. It’s not much of a cure if it kills everybody who takes it.”
“All the colubrid snakes are slightly venomous,” Ian continued his report. “There are nearly two thousand different species of them. And — uh-oh —”
“What is it?” asked Jake.
“The Red List of Threatened Species lists ours as vulnerable. That’s only one step better than endangered. Apparently, this part of Cambodia is big on crocodile farming, and the Tonle Sap water snake was a widely used crocodile food. The only problem is the crocs can eat them faster than the snakes can reproduce.”
Amy frowned. “Five hundred years ago, when the antidote was created, they were probably all over the place.”
“That won’t help us now,” Jake put in nervously. “We need that venom!”
“Relax.” Amy’s reply sounded more like an order. “We got whiskers from an extinct leopard; we can find venom from a threatened snake.” She glanced in the rearview mirror to find a quizzical expression on Ian’s fine features. “What’s the problem?”
“I think Pony’s computer is trying to tell me something,” Ian replied. He swiveled the screen toward Atticus. “You see that? ‘Code A’? What do you think it means?”
Atticus shrugged. He was an eleven-year-old genius, but his area of expertise was dead languages and ancient civilizations. Computer technology was several centuries too recent for him.
All at once, Amy stomped on the brake with every ounce of power in her serum-enhanced muscles. The other three were nearly pitched out of the vehicle as the Jeep lurched to a halt behind a stopped bus. Amy stared in amazement. Less than an hour ago, they had been traveling through isolated rain forest terrain. Now the buildings of Guatemala City were clearly visible in the distance, and the Cahill team was stalled in the largest traffic jam any of them had ever seen.
Thousands of screaming fans packed the broad Avenida Simón Bolívar. The mayor was in attendance, along with a gaggle of local VIPs, most of them with their young daughters in tow. Camera phones waved and flashed. So great was the demand to upload pictures that the Guatemalan servers for Facebook and Twitter crashed. The line for autographs measured in kilometers. The crowd noise was an uninterrupted roar, punctuated by applause. It was an absolute mob scene.
Or, in the life of pop star Jonah Wizard, just another day.
“Wassup, yo?” Jonah greeted the next girl in line, an adoring preteen who didn’t seem to speak a word of English. Wielding a fat Sharpie, he scribbled a quick signature on her CD, and another on her arm when she held it out to him. “Thanks for coming out. ’Preciate the support!”
Standing behind the autographing table, Broderick Wizard, Jonah’s father, wore a scowl as he texted on his BlackBerry. “I have to tell you, Jonah, I don’t get it. When you said you had to drop out of the public eye, I was okay with that. Then, six months in, when you told me to set up an appearance, I never asked why. I just made it happen. But I’m asking you now — why did it have be here?”
Jonah motioned to the legions of fans, which only made them scream louder. “Look around, Pops. Can’t you feel the love?”
His father was unconvinced. “You get love in New York. Also London, Paris, Tokyo, anywhere. But you said it had to be Guatemala and it had to be today. Why?”
Jonah had an excellent answer to this question — although not one he could give to his father. The Cahill team had to get to Jonah’s private jet, but Pierce had substantial assets hunting for them. A group of kids could stay hidden, but not a Gulfstream G6 parked on a runway. The goons would stake out the airport and open fire on anybody who approached the plane.
There was only one solution. Pierce didn’t dare attack when there were people around. And drawing a crowd happened to be Jonah’s specialty.
He surveyed the street up and down, his famous eyes coming to focus on an open Jeep stalled in the traffic snarl. He might have failed to notice the three young passengers, but the driver was something else. She fairly glowed with strength and vitality. It was natural to pick her out of a crowd of thousands. He felt a stab of dread as he remembered what it was that made his cousin Amy stand out.
He got up from his chair and took a flying leap off the stage.
“Jonah!” his father howled in dismay.
There was never any danger. Jonah knew that his sea of admirers would catch him before he hit the pavement.
Broderick Wizard was at the edge of the platform, gawking at his son. “What are you doing?”
“It’s all good, Pops!” Jonah called back at him. “But you’re going to have to fly home commercial! I need the jet!”
By that time, the Guatemala City police had reached him and were clearing a path through the throng. High-fiving and wassup-ing all the way, Jonah led them to the Jeep and swung himself aboard. “Good timing,” he approved. “The Wiz was getting writer’s cramp.”
“Real smart, Jonah,” Jake scolded. “Who knows how long we’ll be stuck here. Pierce will have time to see us on TMZ and send half his army after us.”
Jonah addressed his police escort. “Need you homeys to get us to the airport. You know, el runway-o —”
“Aeropuerto,” supplied Atticus.
Nodding their understanding, the police officers organized themselves into two lines, opening up a path for the Jeep. Just outside the throng, a cavalcade of motorcycle cops surrounded the Cahills for their ride.
“Those goons are going to have a heart attack when we drive up to the plane with half the Guatemalan police force!” Atticus crowed.
“That’s how I do,” Jonah acknowledged modestly.
His fans cheered, waved, and threw flowers as he passed among them, perched on the tailgate.
“Later, Guatemala City!” bellowed the famous voice. “Gotta hop! Adiós, yo!” He grinned down at his cowed Jeep-mates. “Anybody need a lift to Cambodia?”
Copyright © 2014 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.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013951101
e-ISBN 978-0-545-56101-3
Candice Starling © Ryan Jorgensen — Jorgo/Shutterstock;
Young Starling: © Val Lawless/Shutterstock;
Mural: Photograph “Jugadores” © Justin Kerr.
Book design and illustrations by Charice Silverman
First edition, May 2014
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