The 39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers Book 5: Trust No One

by Linda Sue Park

  “For one thing, these mesh together. None of the other circles did that. And none of them had these teeth.” Dan pointed to the edges of one of the circles.

  A row of perfect triangles rimmed each circle.

  “They’re gears!” Jake exclaimed.

  “So it’s some kind of machine?” Dan said.

  Atticus picked up the encased folio and peered at it closely. “There’s something else here,” he said slowly. “Maybe . . . pencil that somebody tried to erase.”

  He pointed to a space just above where two of the circles overlapped, then handed the folio to Amy.

  The page showed the variations in color and texture typical of ancient vellum: old crease marks, crackling, patches of uneven hues.

  Amy shifted her position so the light from the overhead lamp fell on the page more directly, and held it a little closer.

  “I see it now,” she said.

  Above the intersection of two of the circles was a very faint line leading to an even fainter figure — a simple five-pointed star.

  Amy handed the folio to Dan, who put it down on the bed and took out his phone. Using the flashlight app again, he went over the page thoroughly.

  “There’s more,” he said slowly. “Same thing — pencil that’s been erased. I think it’s . . . two words, and one of them’s pretty clear. A-N-T-I-K, antik.”

  “Maybe whoever wrote it couldn’t spell antique?” Jake guessed.

  Dan frowned. “The other word is written smaller. And kind of smudged.”

  Amy dug into her toiletries bag again. “Try this.” She handed him a magnifying mirror.

  “What do girls need all that stuff for?” Atticus asked, sounding half admiring and half mystified.

  Holding the mirror at an angle in front of the page, Dan spelled out the letters one by one. “H,” he said. “Then O — or it could be a C. And then a P — no, wait, I think it’s an R, not a P. And then A.”

  Jake grabbed a pen and pad from the nightstand. “H-O-R-A,” he repeated as he wrote the letters down.

  “Hora,” Amy said. “That means ‘hour’ in Spanish, or it could mean ‘time,’ too. Well, they’re astronomical charts, duh — of course they have something to do with time. Hora, antique — it’s not a clue, it’s just someone’s useless scribbling.” Amy knew she sounded snarky, but she couldn’t help it.

  Atticus was frowning. “H-O-R-A . . . but that’s backward!” he said. He nudged Dan.

  “You were reading from the reflection, so it’s backward. It’s really, um, let’s see —”

  He was sitting across from Jake and had to read the letters on the pad upside down. “— A-R-O-H.”

  “Which could mean anything,” Amy said crossly.

  “Wait,” Dan said. “What if it’s a C instead of an O —”

  “A-R-C-H — arch!” Jake shouted.

  Jake and Dan immediately began a game of verbal ping-pong.

  “St. Louis — the Gateway Arch.”

  “The Arc de Triomphe in Paris.”

  “Arches National Park.”

  Amy listened to their conversation without really hearing it. She knew she should be contributing, or at least trying to. But after the high from the successful use of her tweezers idea, she was coming down hard now. A strange feeling had been growing in her — since Erasmus’s death? Or Phoenix’s? She wasn’t sure when it had begun, but she had gradually become more aware of it, and now it could no longer be ignored.

  It was as if her mind was slowly dividing into two parts. One part of her was leading the boys around the planet to battle the Vespers, in a constant state of adrenaline-fueled anxiety, tension, and desperation. The other part was like a spectator, or a passenger maybe, detached, uninvolved — and uncaring.

  That part of her had begun to feel like a safe place. No Vespers. No Isabel. No menacing capoeiristas or assassins disguised as waiters. A place in her mind that was quiet because it was empty.

  As hard as she tried to fight off the impulse, Amy found herself wanting to go there more and more often.

  “Amy?” It was Dan, dragging her out of her thoughts. “Arches — what’s the first thing you think of?”

  “McDonald’s,” she said automatically.

  “Very funny,” Jake said. “Come on, we’re making progress, get in here and help.”

  He reached out and pulled her into the huddle. His hand on her arm was warm. . . .

  Unbidden, the image of Evan’s face popped into her head. Why was she thinking of him now? Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  Then Atticus made a gesture: one hand making a quick arc that ended with a snap of his fingers.

  “Snap,” he said. “I’ve got it. Arch isn’t an arch.”

  His voice was quiet, but they could all hear the certainty in it.

  “Okay,” Jake said. “So what is it, then?”

  “It’s a person. Archimedes.”

  Atticus looked at them. “Arch is Archimedes,” he repeated.

  Dan stared, his mouth half open. “You mean the Greek dude?” he said.

  “What was he, like, a mathematician?” Jake asked.

  “Yes, and a scientist and an inventor. One of the greatest who ever lived.”

  “I get that Arch could be short for Archimedes,” Dan said, “but why are you so sure it’s him?”

  “A couple of reasons,” Atticus said. “First, antik. It doesn’t mean ‘antique.’ It’s short for Antikythera.”

  “Auntie who?” Dan asked. “This is about Archimedes’ aunt?”

  “No,” Atticus said patiently. “The Antikythera has been called the world’s first computer. It was brought up from a shipwreck over a hundred years ago, and people have made replicas of it. It’s an amazing device that has all these incredibly complex gears. They think it’s an astronomical calendar and that maybe it was invented by Archimedes.”

  “I’m with you so far,” Jake said. “What else?”

  “Mali,” Atticus said. “The salt artifact — the one with the writing on it?”

  “The ‘Apology for a Great Transgression,’” Amy murmured.

  “Right,” Atticus said. “Written by a centurion, a soldier, who felt terrible about killing someone — a really great man. A man whose inventions could have changed the course of history if he’d lived.

  “It’s been bugging me, because I felt like I’d heard that story. And then just now, when you said the letters were a-r-c-h, something clicked. That’s how Archimedes died. He was killed by a soldier.”

  “Arch . . . Antik . . .” Dan muttered.

  He leaned over the folio for another close look just as Amy did the same. They cracked heads.

  “OW!” Amy clapped a hand to her forehead. Dan’s skull had crashed into hers in exactly the spot that was still tender from head-butting Sinead. Involuntary tears rolled down her cheeks, and she felt momentarily dizzy.

  It was one of those bad-timing last straws. Amy flopped onto the bed and turned to one side, her back to the rest of the room.

  “You okay?” Jake asked.

  She waved him off. “I’ll be fine,” she managed to say. “I just need . . .” She crossed her arms over her chest, drew her knees up, and huddled into herself.

  Without even realizing it, she went to that quiet place in her mind.

  How peaceful it was there.

  An awkward silence filled the room. All three boys stared at Amy’s hunched back for a moment.

  Dan cleared his throat. “Um, Amy?”

  No response.

  Dan leaned over and poked Amy in the back.

  Her shoulder twitched once, a tiny gesture, but otherwise she was still.

  Worry percolated inside Dan, like bubbles slowly rising to the surface of a thick, noisome sludge he could almost smell.

  He tried again. “Come on, you can sleep later. Places to go, people to see!”

  Now there was no response at all, even though Dan could see that she wasn’t asleep — she was blinking slowly, staring
at something he couldn’t see.

  Don’t do this, Amy. Not now. There’s too much to do, and we need you.

  I need you.

  Dan could feel his concern for Amy practically radiating out of every pore, which forced him to admit what had been terrifying him since his recovery from the blowpipe attack.

  She might crack up. Like, long-term. Or even . . . permanently.

  Dan pulled half the bedspread over his sister. The three boys left through the connecting door into the Rosenblooms’ room, with both Jake and Dan giving Amy a last concerned glance over their shoulders.

  Jake broke the silence. “What’s the plan?” he asked.

  Dan stood still a moment longer. He knew it was just his imagination, but he felt as if something had just landed on his shoulders and upper back.

  It was a shapeless, nameless mass, but at the same time, so heavy he almost staggered.

  If Amy’s in no shape to make decisions, someone else has to do it.

  Dan tried to swallow, but there was hardly any spit in his mouth.

  I guess the job’s mine.

  Dan’s first move was to contact Vesper One with a message that the folio was in their possession. He received an immediate response, which said to get to New York and await further instructions.

  Dan sent another text, asking for contact with the hostages. No reply.

  He scowled. “I should have asked that first,” he muttered.

  Jake shook his head. “The answer would have been no anyway,” he said.

  “I have an idea,” Atticus said. “What if you and Amy go to New York to make the drop, and me and Jake try to find out more about the Archimedes connection?”

  Dan hesitated. On the one hand, they needed to find out what the Vespers were up to. On the other . . .

  “No,” he said. “I need to get you back to Attleboro, where you’ll be safe from the Vespers. Or at least, safer.”

  “Listen,” Atticus said, his voice pleading. “Two people have gotten hurt because of me — first you and now Dr. Siffright. You can’t cut me out of this — can’t you see, I have to DO something? And besides, I’m the only one who knows anything about Archimedes.”

  Doubt prickled Dan’s thoughts.

  It’s funny — I never want Amy to boss me around. But now that she’s not, I’m not sure what to do. And it’s only been, like, five minutes. How has she done it for so long?

  “If you were going to research Archimedes, where would you go?” Dan asked.

  “Italy,” Atticus replied without hesitation. “Sicily, to be specific. That’s where he worked.”

  “I thought he was Greek,” Jake said.

  “He was. Sicily was part of the Greek empire back then.”

  Italy, Dan thought. That’s not too far from London. Jonah and Hamilton could be there in, like, a few hours.

  Ham and Jonah researching Archimedes? Not exactly the ideal scenario. Sheesh, how did Amy make up her mind about stuff like this?

  “It’s not like we have much choice,” Dan said aloud. “And if they try and don’t come up with anything, we won’t be any worse off, right?”

  “Who are you talking about?” Jake said.

  “Hamilton and Jonah,” Dan said. He tapped in the number on his phone.

  “Let me talk to them when you’re done,” Atticus said. “I can give them a few ideas about where to start.”

  Jonah and Hamilton, having rested up as instructed, were ready to go. Dan told them to send regular updates whether they had any news or not.

  Next Dan called the hospital. No change in Dr. Siffright’s condition, which Dan chose to see as a good thing. Then he decided to contact their Madrigal connections in Brazil to ask them to keep an eye on her. He was pleased when he thought of this.

  Dan went back to the other room. To his immense relief, Amy was up and about, packing her things. He looked at her closely and saw that his relief had been premature: She still had that exhausted, empty look in her eyes and seemed to be moving like a sleepwalker.

  “Need any help?” he asked.

  “Nope,” she said.

  “Jonah and Ham are going to Sicily.”

  “Mmm.”

  She was “responsive” — wasn’t that what TV-show doctors said? And wasn’t it always a good thing, as opposed to when a patient was “unresponsive”?

  She’ll be okay, Dan told himself.

  Please, let her be okay.

  They retraced their path: a small plane back to São Paulo, then a jet to New York. On the jet, Jake put Atticus in a middle seat, between himself and Dan. Amy sat in the row behind them.

  Jake was taking no chances. Maybe Isabel’s three attacks were just meant to frighten them. But if the third attack was supposed to be fatal, she had failed — and would surely try again.

  “When you go to the bathroom, I go with you,” Jake growled at his brother.

  He was true to his word. He went into the tiny cubicle and checked it out first; only then did he let Atticus enter. Alone, for which Atticus expressed sarcastic gratitude.

  Then Jake waited and walked with Atticus back to their seats, his eyes roving over the other passengers. It was strange how everyone over the age of about twelve looked either suspicious or suspiciously innocent.

  Atticus dozed off. Determined not to fall asleep himself, Jake asked Dan for anything he had on the Vespers.

  Dan e-mailed him a file. “Take a look at this,” he said in a low voice. “That’s the list Erasmus got from Mr. McIntyre. I’ve looked at it a few times, but I can’t figure it out.”

  It was a list of locations. Nothing more, no text or explanation.

  Kathmandu

  Sierra de Córdoba

  Pompeii

  Delhi

  Oakland

  Araucania

  Tonga

  Manila

  Kodiak

  Istanbul

  Quito

  Nyanyanu

  There were two places Jake had never heard of — Araucania and Nyanyanu — but he knew the rest.

  There’s got to be a reason that these are all listed together. Okay, start with the obvious. Pompeii — first thing I think of is the volcano eruption.

  Jake’s eyes widened.

  No way.

  It can’t be that easy.

  He took a breath to calm down and then began mentally ticking off some of the other places on the list.

  Delhi, earthquake.

  Oakland, earthquake.

  Istanbul, earthquake.

  Quito, earthquake.

  “Subduction zones,” he whispered.

  He reached across a sleeping Atticus to nudge Dan. “This list,” he said, “it’s subduction zones. Places where the earth’s crust is unstable, where there are fault lines. You know, lots of earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, things like that.” Jake stared at the list again. “I don’t know them all, but the ones I do know, it’s too many to be just a coincidence.”

  Dan looked over the back of his seat at Amy, who was staring out the window. “Can I see your phone?” he asked politely. They’d all been using a similar tone of voice when talking to her, as if she were made of glass and would shatter if they spoke too loud.

  She didn’t speak, but gave him the phone. Dan tapped at it. “This is from Ian,” he said, showing Jake an e-mail. “He sent it to me after we talked to him at Yale. He was tracking Isabel, remember? And he made a list of places she’s been to recently. Supposedly with her charity — Aid Works Wonders. But look at the two lists.”

  Alaska

  Quito

  Delhi

  Nepal

  Istanbul

  Jake glanced back and forth between the phone screen and the document on his laptop.

  “Quito, Delhi, Istanbul on both lists,” Dan said, “but what about the other two?”

  “They match, too,” Jake said. “Alaska — Kodiak. Nepal — Kathmandu.”

  “Nice,” Dan said. “But what does it mean? Ian says he’s sure that the
charity is a cover for something else.”

  “Well, if we assume that Isabel is trying to get to all the places on the Vespers’ list —”

  Jake saw Dan’s face go pale. “Isabel and the Vespers,” he whispered. “Isabel must be one.”

  Jake said, “Sorry, did I miss something? Didn’t we know that already, from the way she’s been going after Atticus?”

  Dan shook his head. “You don’t understand. I don’t just mean that she’s a Vesper. I mean she must be One — Vesper One.”

  Then a strange expression of what looked like relief seemed to cross Dan’s face. “And if she’s Vesper One, that means Dad isn’t —” He stopped abruptly.

  Jake blinked in confusion. “Dad? Whose dad?”

  “Never mind,” Dan said hastily. “I meant — um, it’s bad. Really bad.”

  Jake shivered.

  Isabel in command of the entire Vesper juggernaut was a horror beyond imagining.

  Until now, Vesper One had been a frightening, mysterious shadow. But that had changed. V-1 was a known quantity: The Cahills had had far too much experience with the extent of Isabel’s ruthlessness. They would need every tool at their disposal to fight her.

  And that included the serum.

  At least having it on hand, Dan thought for the hundredth time. Not necessarily using it. But having it, just in case . . .

  One thing Dan knew for sure. They had already lost Phoenix and Alistair. No one else was going to die on his watch. No matter what it took.

  So far, Dan had managed to procure thirty-two Clues; the thirty-third was the serum formula in his head. That meant six were missing. He had to get those and then actually create the serum. To do that, he would need a lab.

  The strategy of using Madrigal connections to watch over Dr. Siffright had given him a really good idea. Dan sent several e-mails, and the Madrigal machine kicked into action. By the time the plane landed at Kennedy Airport, Dan had replies assuring him that the remaining ingredients, a lab at Columbia University, and a postdoctoral student in the chemistry department would be at his disposal whenever he needed them.

  It was midafternoon in New York, but everyone was exhausted. “We might as well get some sleep until we hear from her again,” Dan said.