One False Note - 39 Clues 02 Page 2

  In the backseat of a sleek black limousine parked opposite the main entrance, Natalie

  Kabra peered through high-powered binoculars, watching their every move.

  "I see them," she said to her brother, Ian, seated beside her in the supple leather of

  the car's interior. She made a face. "They always look like homeless people. And

  where's their luggage? A duffel bag and backpacks. Are they really that poor?"

  "Poor excuses for Cahills," Ian replied absently, contemplating a chess move on the limo's pull-down screen. Since Paris, he had been matching wits with a Russian supercomputer outside Vladivostok. "What a stupid move," he murmured to his opponent. "I thought computers were supposed to be smart."

  Natalie was annoyed. "Ian, could you pay attention, please! Superior intelligence doesn't mean we can't still make a mess of this." Her brother was brilliant, but no one was as brilliant as Ian thought he was. Sometimes common sense was more valuable than IQ points. He had plenty of the latter. Natalie knew it was her job to add a touch of the former. She respected her brother's talents -- but he had to be watched.

  Chortling, Ian sacrificed a bishop, expertly plotting toward checkmate seven moves away.

  "We have the bottle from Paris," he reminded his sister. "None of the other teams stand a chance. Especially not those Cahill charity cases. The contest is ours to win."

  "Or lose, if we get overconfident," his sister reminded him. "Wait -- they're getting into a taxi." She tapped on the glass partition. "Driver -- follow that car."

  CHAPTER 3

  When it came to hotels, bigger didn't always mean better -- but their room at the Franz Josef was barely a closet. On the other hand, it was affordable, and Nellie pronounced it clean.

  "I still say we should have stayed at the Hotel Wiener," Dan complained.

  "It's pronounced Vee-ner"

  Nellie corrected. "And it means anyone who lives in Vienna -- like Bostonians are from Boston."

  "It's still funny," Dan insisted. "I'm going to go over there and see if I can get one of their signs for my collection."

  "We don't have time for that," Amy barked, setting Saladin down. The cat immediately began exploring the room, as if he thought there might be fresh snapper hidden somewhere. "We made it to Vienna, but we still have no idea what to do." Dan unzipped Nellie's duffel and removed his laptop computer. "You can stare at musical notes until your eyes bug out," he said, plugging in the 220 adapter and powering up. "If the answer's anywhere, it's online."

  Amy was disgusted. "You think you can Google the solution to all the world's problems."

  "No, but I can Google Mozart." His eyes widened. "Wow thirty-six million hits! Look at this one --Mozart, the most famous Wiener of all time.

  I'll bet the Oscar Mayer people would give them an argument about that."

  "I'm pretty sure it's my job to tell you to grow up," Nellie said absently, gazing out the window. "You know, Vienna is a really beautiful city. Look at the architecture -- I'll bet some of those buildings date back to the thirteenth century!" Amy pointed. "I think that's the tower of St. Stephen's cathedral. It must be as tall as an office building back in the US!"

  Everywhere, gargoyles and elaborate carvings decorated stone facades, and gold leaf accents gleamed in the sunlight. Beyond the nearest rooftops, a wide boulevard, the Ringstrasse, carried traffic and pedestrians to and fro.

  Dan noticed none of this, entirely focused on his web surfing. "Look, Amy. I copied all that dumb music over for nothing. The whole thing's on the Internet. What was that piece called again?"

  Amy rushed to his side and peered over his shoulder. "KV 617 it was one of the last things Mozart wrote before he died ... there it is!"

  Dan scanned the sheet music, his brow furrowing. "Yeah, this is it -- sort of. It's the same until here -- " He pointed. "But then -- "

  Amy took out the napkin from the train and held it next to the screen. "It's different?" "Not really," Dan mused. "See? It starts up again over here. But these three lines are missing from the Internet version. Weird, huh? It's almost like the website left something out."

  "Or," breathed Amy, eyes dancing, "Mozart added three lines to the music he sent Ben Franklin in Paris! Dan -- we could be looking at a secret message between two of the most famous people in history! These extra lines are the clue!"

  Dan was unimpressed. "What difference does that make? We still don't know what it's supposed to mean."

  Amy sighed anxiously. Her brother was immature and annoying. But perhaps his most unpleasant feature was the fact that he was usually right.

  Mozarthaus, at Domgasse 5, was a museum/library dedicated to the famous composer. Located in Mozart's only preserved Vienna home, it was a popular tourist attraction. Even at nine o'clock in the morning, visitors were queued up halfway down the block, waiting to get in.

  Dan was dismayed. "It's Mozart, not Disneyland! What are all these people doing here?"

  His sister rolled her eyes. "This is the actual apartment Mozart lived in. Maybe even the bed where he slept. The chair he sat in. The inkwell he used to write some of the greatest music ever composed."

  Dan made a face. "I'm standing in line to see a house full of old furniture?"

  "Yes, you are," she said firmly. "Until we understand the meaning of that clue, our job is to learn as much about Mozart as we possibly can. Who knows when we'll see something that might tell us what we're looking for?" "In a chair?" Dan said dubiously.

  "Maybe. Look -- we know the Holts are on our trail, and I'll bet the rest of the competition can't be too far behind them. They're older than us, smarter than us, and richer than us. We can't let up for a second."

  It took forty minutes before they actually made it inside the door. Dan hadn't appreciated the wait, but now he was ready to admit that it had been the most interesting part of the tour.

  Shoulder to shoulder with obnoxious sightseers and fawning music lovers, they shuffled through the great composer's apartment, following a trail of velvet ropes. One Australian tourist became so emotional in the presence of the Maestro that he actually wept.

  "Don't cry, buddy. It'll be over soon," Dan murmured under his breath. Now if he could only make himself believe it.

  The Cahill kids were told not to touch anything in at least six different languages. Every security guard in the building took one look at Dan and immediately knew he was capable of trashing the place.

  With every ooh and aah from the Mozart-loving crowd, Dan's shoulders sagged a little lower. Amy was just as miserable, but for a different reason. Not knowing what you were looking for made a search all but impossible. She examined every expanse of white wall for coded markings until her head pounded and her eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets. But it soon became apparent that Mozarthaus was exactly what it seemed -- a two-hundred-plus-year-old apartment that had been turned into a museum.

  What did we expect to find? she reflected glumly. A neon sign

  -- Attention Cahills: Clue behind mirror? Nothing in life came that easily. As they headed for the exit, Dan emitted a loud exhalation of relief. "Thank God that's over. At least Ben Franklin had some cool inventions. This guy sat around all day writing music. Let's get out of here. I need to breathe some nonboring air." Amy nodded reluctantly. There was nothing to be gained in this place. "I guess we should go back to the hotel. I wonder if Nellie managed to get Saladin to eat anything." Dan looked concerned. "I think we might have to sell some of Grace's jewelry so we can afford snapper again."

  All at once, Amy let out a little gasp and grabbed his arm.

  "Okay, fine," Dan began. "Keep her necklace -- " "No, look. There's a library in the basement! A Mozart library!" "Amy, don't do this to me! The antidote for boring isn't to find something even boringer!"

  But when she went down the stairs and entered the gloomy, dusty library, he was at her side. After all, some of their best leads so far had come from libraries. And besides, if they left the Mozarthaus now empty-han
ded, it would mean he had suffered for nothing.

  It wasn't a lending library. A single twenty-year-old computer held a list of library materials. Once you decided on what you wanted, you filled out a request and handed it to a librarian who looked like she could have been Mozart's grandmother. They waited their turn at the terminal, and Amy took over the keyboard. She switched the language from German to English and searched first for KV 617 and then for Ben Franklin. Finding nothing they didn't already know, she shifted her focus to Mozart's personal life. That was where she discovered Maria Anna "Nannerl" Mozart. "Mozart had an older sister!" she whispered shrilly. "He has my sympathy," yawned Dan.

  "I remember Grace mentioning her," Amy went on. "She was just as talented as Mozart, but she never got the training or the exposure because she was a girl."

  She scrolled down. "And look - Her original diary is right in this library!"

  Dan was miffed. He knew Amy had been closer with their grandmother, but even so, he didn't appreciate the reminder of how much the two had shared. "I thought we were looking for Mozart, not his sister."

  "If Mozart was a Cahill, so was Nannerl," Amy pointed out. "But there's something else, too. Look at the two of us. This whole morning was a blur to you, and I remember every detail. What if it was the same with Mozart and Nannerl?" "Great. Now you're calling Mozart stupid." He looked up in outrage. "And me!" "Not stupid. But boys' brains are wired differently. I'll bet there are things Nannerl put in her journal that Wolfgang wouldn't have noticed in a million years." She quickly scribbled a request form and handed it to the elderly librarian. The woman regarded them with surprise. "This is a handwritten diary in the German language. Do you children read German?" "W-well -- " Amy began, flustered.

  "We really need to see it," Dan piped up firmly. When the woman shuffled off in search of the volume, he whispered, "There must be something we can understand -- maybe a drawing, or hidden notes, like on Franklin's stuff." Amy nodded. Even the slightest hint was better than progress point zero.

  They waited for what seemed like a long time. Then they heard a gasp and a little cry, and the librarian came running back, her face pale, her eyes wide. With trembling hands, she dialed the telephone and began speaking in a frantic voice. They could not understand her German, but Amy and Dan were able to make out a single ominous word -- polizei.

  "That means police!" Amy whispered urgently.

  "Do you think she somehow found out we're wanted by Social Services back in Massachusetts?" Dan asked in dismay. "How could she? We didn't even tell her our names!"

  The answer came from the distraught librarian herself. "I am so sorry! This is a terrible tragedy! Nannerl's diary is missing! It has been stolen!"

  CHAPTER 4

  Nellie Gomez had never been a cat person. And that was before she'd become chief caregiver to an Egyptian Mau on a food-free diet. She switched off her iPod and regarded Saladin with concern. She had expected that the cat would be eating by now. But apparently, Saladin was tougher than he looked. She'd heard stories of Grace Cahill's monumental strength of character. Obviously, Amy and Dan's grandmother had managed to instill that trait in her pet.

  Even more worrisome, Saladin was scratching compulsively around his neck and ears. She picked him up. "What's the matter, sweetie? Have you got fleas?" She thought about fleas for a second and put the cat down swiftly. Nellie was game to put college on hold and take two kids on an around-the-world high-stakes treasure hunt. But she didn't do bugs.

  There was the sound of a key in the lock, and Amy and Dan came in, feet dragging.

  "Uh-oh," said Nellie. "Rough morning?"

  "Oh, it was a blast," Dan replied sarcastically. "Picture a million-year-old house with no video games, and when you finally find a book to look at, it's not even there. What a bunch of idiots! They practically called out the army because of a diary that was probably eaten by termites a century ago."

  "Termites eat wood, not paper," Amy reminded him, too tired and discouraged to work up a good argument. She hefted a bag. "Anyway, we brought lunch." Nellie stared. "Burger King? We're in Austria, land of schnitzel, sauerbraten, white asparagus, and the greatest pastry in the world, and you bought American fast food? I'd expect it from Dan, but you, Amy?"

  Dan took a burger, turned on the TV, and flopped on the couch. "White asparagus! Green wasn't gross enough. Soggy cigars, man."

  The monitor brightened. The image crackled and sharpened. Three jaws dropped. Larger than life at the center of the screen was an attractive teenager, resplendent in the latest hip-hop fashion. Smiling with all thirty-two gleaming white teeth, he was holding a press conference, and the gaggle of reporters and throng of adoring fans were lapping it up. The teen was completely comfortable with his fame, and why not? He had the top-rated reality TV show in the world, the number-one single on the pop charts, a bestselling clothing line, a series of popular children's books, action figures, souvenir steak knives, and even his own Pez dispenser.

  His name was Jonah Wizard: international star and mogul, Cahill cousin, rival in the search for the 39 Clues.

  "Jonah!" Amy exclaimed, her brow furrowed with worry. It unnerved her to think of their competition. The others seemed to have so much going for them -- fame, brawn, experience, training, and lots and lots of money. How could a couple of no-name orphans expect to compete with that? She squinted at the date stamp in the bottom corner of the screen. "This was recorded yesterday! What's he doing in Vienna?"

  "He's on a promotional tour," supplied Nellie. "The European DVD of Who Wants to Be a Gangsta? comes out this week."

  "That's just a cover!" Dan exclaimed. "He's here because he knows the next clue is about Mozart. Maybe he found something we missed in Paris." "Or he's working with the Holts," Nellie added. "They must have checked where our train was headed."

  Amy peered at her famous cousin on TV. Why did that street seem so familiar? Suddenly, she understood. "Dan -- it's Domgasse!"

  Dan stared. "You're right! There's the Mozarthaus a couple of doors down! And look --it's that old librarian, the one who called out the SWAT team over a missing diary!"

  Nellie frowned at the elderly Austrian woman on the stoop. "Not my idea of the classic hip-hop fan."

  Amy shrugged. "I suppose anybody would be interested to check out such a big star --" Her breath caught in her throat. "Guys, I've got it! What if it's no accident Jonah picked that spot for his press conference? What if he did it there to create a distraction so he could steal Nannerl's diary from the Mozarthaus?"

  "That would make sense," Dan mused, "except there he is on-screen, with twenty cameras on him, stealing nothing."

  Amy shook her head. "When have we ever seen Jonah without his father standing right behind him, talking into two cell phones and making business deals on his BlackBerry? So where's Daddy at this press conference?"

  Dan clued in. "Jonah held the conference to give his dad the chance to sneak into the Mozarthaus and swipe the diary! Amy, you were right -- the diary is important!" "Yeah, and now the enemy has it."

  "That stinks," Dan agreed. "We were just a day late. Still... " His eyes took on a glitter of inspiration. "They stole it from the museum; why can't we steal it from them?" "Hang on," Nellie burst in. "There's a big difference between searching for clues and robbing people. You're not crooks."

  "But Jonah and his dad are," Dan argued. "If we're going to compete with them, we have to be willing to do what they do." Nellie was unmoved. "As long as I'm your babysitter -- " "Au pair!" Dan interjected hotly.

  " -- I'm not going to stand by and let you two switch over to the dark side."

  "But then we'll lose! " Dan wailed.

  Amy spoke up, her expression solemn. "As much as I hate to agree with Dan, he's got a point. I know stealing is wrong, but this contest is too huge for us to worry about being the good guys. A chance to influence human history -- we could change the whole

  world!" "It might be a chance to change the world," Nellie amended. "That's what Mr. McI
ntyre said. He also said trust nobody -- and that includes him."

  Sudden tears filled Amy's eyes and she blinked them back stubbornly. This was too important to blur with her blubbering. "We barely knew our parents before they died. Grace was all we had, and now she's gone, too. The contest is a big deal for everybody, but for us, it's all we have. We can't do this halfway. We have to go all out. And that means looking for clues wherever they are -- even inside somebody else's hotel room." Nellie remained silent. Amy swallowed hard and went on. "You're not a Cahill, so you shouldn't have to put yourself at risk. But if you can't live with what we need to do, we'll just have to find a way to go on without you." Dan goggled at his sister. The road that lay ahead would instantly become twenty times more difficult, complicated, and dangerous without their au pair. The cover of an adult was essential to every step they took, every border they crossed, every hotel room they rented. They were already the underdogs of this contest. Alone, they would need miracles just to move from place to place, and day to day.

  Nellie regarded the Cahill kids. She was used to Dan's impulsiveness, but Amy was the most sensible fourteen-year-old she'd ever known. All at once, she was overcome by a surge of affection and pride.

  "You think you can get rid of me that easily?" she demanded. "Fat chance. This may be your show, but I still make the rules. No way am I going to let you burgle a superstar without me. Pull up a chair -- we've got a heist to plan."

  The Royal Hapsburg Hotel was located at the heart of Vienna's Landstrasse district, the center of Austria's power elite. The building had once been a royal palace in the old Austro-Hungarian Empire, and floodlights made the white marble and gold leaf gleam against the night sky.

  "How do we know this is his hotel?" Dan asked as they circled the block.

  "Simple," Amy told him. "It's the snootiest, fanciest, most expensive place in town. Where else would he be?" She pointed to the hotel's magnificent entrance, where reporters and photographers swarmed. "Proof enough?"

  "The launch party for Jonah's new DVD is at eight," Nellie put in. "He'll probably come down, talk with reporters for a few minutes, and then head over to Eurotainment TV, which is hosting the bash. In the paper, they said everybody who's anybody is going to