The Medusa Plot Page 4

  It came to him in an instant. She reminded him of Grace, their enigmatic grandmother — aviator, explorer, adventurer, and Clue hunter extraordinaire — the most influential Cahill since Gideon himself. The resemblance came not so much in Amy’s appearance as in her posture — ramrod straight, bent slightly forward, as if leaning into the next challenge. And there was no mistaking their grandmother’s unwavering singleness of purpose. It was a shock to see it emanating from his sister.

  “So it’s settled, then,” Amy concluded, her voice and image beaming around the world to dozens of computers, screens, and smartphones. “Dan and I will be on the ground in Italy, keeping Vesper One happy. But Sinead and Ian will keep you posted from here. Wish us luck.”

  Ian interrupted from monitor 4. “Is that the cat?” Saladin was marching across keyboards, tail in the air. “That cat hates me.”

  “Why should it be different from everybody else, Lucian?” growled Eisenhower.

  McIntyre appeared at Amy’s elbow. “That’s exactly the kind of infighting that could get our loved ones killed,” he warned. “We are more than merely Lucian, Janus, Ekaterina, Tomas, and Madrigal. We are all Cahills, and we are under attack.”

  Amy cut the connection.

  She sighed tremulously. “Well, I did my best. I don’t know if any of them believed me.”

  McIntyre placed a gentle hand on her slender shoulder. “You did wonderfully well, my dear. You cannot expect to erase five hundred years of mistrust and animosity in a ten-minute conversation. I don’t think anyone could have done better—and I include your grandmother in that.”

  When the ringtone sounded, four sets of eyes flashed to the strange Vesper phone in Dan’s hand. But it was dark and silent.

  “Oh, it’s mine.” Amy glanced at her own cell but made no move to answer it. “It’s Evan.”

  “Aren’t you going to pick up?” asked Sinead after the third ring.

  Amy shook her head. “He knows nothing about the Cahill side of my life, and I intend to keep it that way. I don’t want to lie to him.… ” She fell silent, looking torn.

  “Don’t you think the guy’s going to notice when you disappear off the face of the earth?” Dan put in. “You see each other every day, and the rest of the time you’re on the phone with him. When you don’t show up at school, he’s going to call the cops.”

  Amy flushed. “You know, it’s hard enough to keep a relationship going without your entire family putting their two cents in!”

  “Poor you,” Dan shot back. “I’m sure the hostages’ hearts are bleeding over your love life.”

  Amy relented. “I’ll text him,” she promised. “After we pack.”

  CHAPTER 4

  The taxi sat stalled in traffic on London’s M4, en route to Heathrow Airport.

  Ian Kabra stewed in the backseat — and not entirely because his sister had been kidnapped and he was in danger of missing his flight. Oh, how he longed for the fleet of chauffeured Bentleys his family still maintained. That kind of luxury was not for him and Natalie anymore. They were poor now — better get used to it. Their mother had disowned them, and they had only four million American dollars to their name, which translated to less than three million pounds. Chicken feed.

  If Ian didn’t take to poverty, Natalie liked it even less. Her whole life was shopping and luxury and comfort. Their reduced circumstances were probably more of a bother to Natalie than the fact that she was being held hostage.

  He felt a pang. She was his little sister and she was in danger. Wherever she was right now, it wasn’t the back of a chauffeur-driven Bentley, either.

  Once, in the Lucian stronghold in Paris, Ian’s father had shown him a Tomas who had been abducted for questioning. Ian recalled a huge bear of a man — someone who should have feared nothing and nobody. Yet when Ian had looked through the one-way glass, he’d seen raw terror in those large bloodshot eyes.

  Now it made perfect sense. How else would it feel to be in the hands of enemies, dependent on their mercy for your very life?

  If the Tomas had cracked under the pressure, what chance did poor Natalie stand? How scared she must feel. How alone.

  Ian felt pretty alone himself — about to cross an ocean to the company of former adversaries who were not quite friends.

  And their cat.

  Only for Natalie. It was funny. He didn’t even like Natalie. Not really. But now that Mum had disowned them and Father was out of the picture, Natalie was his whole family.

  He regarded the cell phone in his hand. It didn’t have to be that way; it shouldn’t be that way. There should be people to care when something bad happens to you.

  His index finger trembled as he punched in the number he had not dialed in more than two years.

  “Well, look who finally remembered that he has a mother!” came the voice on the other end of the line.

  “How are you, Mum?”

  “You don’t care how I am. What’s the purpose of this call?”

  Ian swallowed hard. “There’s bad news, Mum. Natalie’s been kidnapped.”

  There was a pause — one of shock? Alarm? Worry? And then Isabel Kabra’s cold voice spoke again: “And I should care about this because …?”

  “Because she’s your daughter!” Ian exploded.

  “Daughter? I had two children, but they both betrayed me. I confess it was difficult at first. But the reward is that now I don’t have to think about either of them.”

  “You’re a powerful woman! You could help her!”

  “AidWorksWonders is my life now. If I become involved in anything other than that, it’s a parole violation. I’m not going back to prison for the sake of a daughter I no longer have.”

  “Very well, you hate us now,” Ian pleaded. “But you loved us once. We were a real family —”

  “Oh, dear, you must be going under a bridge. What a poor connection!”

  Click.

  To Ian’s utter humiliation, he found himself in tears.

  The driver passed back a tissue. “That’s some mother you got there, mate.”

  “She’s under a lot of stress,” Ian explained, wondering why he’d bother to defend such a terrible woman.

  Amy and Dan loaded their small suitcases and backpacks into McIntyre’s Lincoln for the ride to Logan Airport.

  Amy hugged Sinead, and Dan scratched Saladin under the collar. “Later, Saladin. Take it easy on Kabra. On second thought, don’t.”

  “You two have to promise to be careful!” Sinead handed Amy a small plastic bag. “I made you a going-away present — a high-powered miniature smoke bomb. Could come in handy against the Vespers. It works with knockout gas, so I tossed in a couple of breathing filters.”

  “That’s the Cahill equivalent of a Hallmark moment,” Dan observed. “A smoke bomb. When you care enough to send the very best — explosives.”

  “I’m not a flowers-and-candy kind of girl,” Sinead informed him.

  Amy smiled warmly. “It’s sweet. Only—how are we going to get it through airport security?”

  “It’ll appear as a lollipop on the X-ray,” Sinead explained. “Just don’t break off the stick. That’s the detonator.”

  McIntyre started the car and rolled down the window. “You’ve got a plane to catch.”

  Amy took the shotgun seat, Dan climbed into the back, and they started down the driveway. Although Amy had spent most of the last two years preparing for this moment, it was hard to wrap her mind around the reality that it was starting again.

  She caught a glimpse of her brother in the side mirror. His face was expressionless, his eyes distant. He was gone again, visiting himself inside his own head. It had been like that ever since the end of the Clue hunt. He’d become such a loner. He had no friends, really — except for a strange boy named Atticus Rosenbloom. Dan had met him online. At only eleven, Atticus was two years younger. But Dan had assured Amy that his new friend was, in actuality, a total genius with a 200-plus IQ. Whatever that meant. The phrase “in actu
ality” came up around Atticus a lot. He was, in actuality, mature for his age. He’d also (in actuality) lost his mother, which was a pretty big thing for him and Dan to have in common. He lived with his father and older half brother in Boston, forty miles away. They’d only met in person a couple of times.

  Amy worried about Dan more and more often lately. What sister wouldn’t, watching her brother sink into darkness and isolation? Like today — threatening to light three gasoline-soaked men on fire. True, the move had probably saved Amy and Dan from joining the ranks of the abductees.…

  But what thirteen-year-old would even think of that?

  And if the attackers hadn’t fled, then what? Would he have lit that fire?

  Her cell phone interrupted her troubled reflections. She realized instantly who it must be.

  “You still haven’t called him?” exclaimed Dan from the backseat. “If you were my girlfriend—”

  “I’m not!” Amy interrupted savagely, fishing the handset out of her pocket.

  The gate at the edge of the property swung open automatically, and the big Lincoln roared onto the road.

  “Evan, I’m so sorry—”

  The cry came from both inside the phone and outside the car. McIntyre slammed on the brakes. The Lincoln screeched to a halt perhaps half a foot from a terrified figure frozen like a deer in headlights.

  Amy leaped out of the car. “Evan! Are you all right?”

  Evan performed a quick pat-down on his body, as if confirming that everything was still attached. It was such a cartoon gesture that she smiled in spite of herself. How cute was this guy, even when he was being a geek? It only boosted her regret at having to lie to him.

  “Why are you skulking outside my house?”

  He was outraged. “I’m worried about you! You won’t answer my calls!”

  “I was just dialing you.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, “eight hours later. This morning you fight off terrorists like you’re Jackie Chan, and then you disappear! What’s going on?”

  “We’re on our way to the airport,” Amy admitted. “It’s kind of a family emergency.”

  He was mystified. “You don’t have any family!”

  “This is more like extended family,” she explained hurriedly. “Look, I’ve got to go.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know.” She understood how lame it sounded, but there was really nothing else to say.

  “Ames” — Evan’s lip quivered for an instant — “if you’re trying to break up with me, why don’t you just come out with it?”

  “I’m not!” she exclaimed in horror. She could see Dan in the back, smirking at her through the tinted window, enjoying her discomfort. When he wasn’t lost in space, he could be as annoying as ever.

  McIntyre tooted the horn.

  She looked pleadingly at Evan. “One day I hope I can explain.…” It was all she could offer without lying.

  “Yeah, but when?”

  No fair, thought Amy. This was the guy she’d been working on since freshman year. And now — finally — everything was perfect. But there was a plane to catch and lives at stake. And Evan — awesome, wonderful Evan — had to fall to the bottom of the priority list.

  “I’ll call. This time I really will.” She jumped in the passenger door, and they squealed off, leaving Evan in a cloud of exhaust.

  “Don’t think of it as losing a boyfriend,” Dan snickered. “Think of it as gaining a stalker.”

  Amy slumped in her seat. “On top of everything else, I’m going to get dumped.”

  The car drove on. Next stop: Logan Airport, en route to Florence, Italy.

  And then what?

  CHAPTER 5

  Nellie Gomez awoke to a splitting headache. Worse, she was still hungry.

  “Where’s my croissant?” she demanded of the person leaning over her.

  “Dear child,” came a strangely familiar voice.

  “Don’t ‘dear child’ me!” she snapped. The twenty-two-year-old punk rocker ran black-polished fingernails through black-and-orange-dyed hair, which did nothing to soothe the pounding behind her black-shaded eyes. “Give me my croissant or I’ll —”

  It was then that she realized she was threatening the venerable Alistair Oh. “Alistair, what are you doing here?”

  “The same thing we all are, I fear,” came the reply. “We’ve been kidnapped.”

  That banished the headache. Nellie sat bolt upright and looked around. Fiske Cahill, Reagan Holt, and Natalie Kabra flanked Alistair. Ted Starling sat on a straight-backed wooden chair, staring at nothing with sightless eyes. All five wore baggy jumpsuits.

  “Where are we?” Nellie demanded. “What is this place?” She examined her surroundings. Sterile white walls; no windows; high air vents, well out of reach; cameras everywhere.

  “We were hoping you would know,” Fiske sighed. “Underground, perhaps. Or in some kind of bunker. We don’t see our jailers. Food comes in through that dumbwaiter in the corner.”

  “Has anybody seen Amy and Dan?” Oh, God, please don’t let them be part of this.…

  Fiske read her mind. “Thankfully, they seem to have escaped our fate.”

  “So far,” Nellie agreed grimly. She got up and began to prowl around. The main area was surrounded by small bedrooms containing bunk beds. It wasn’t luxury, but it wasn’t a dungeon, either.

  She walked over and banged on the dumbwaiter. “Hey! I want to talk to the guy in charge!”

  “I already tried that,” Reagan told her. “You never get an answer. All you get is a sore throat.” She was as restless as a jungle cat. Lack of physical activity made all the Holts that way.

  “I believe we’re in the United States somewhere,” Fiske offered. “Or possibly Mexico.”

  “How do you figure that?” asked Nellie.

  “I was in California,” he replied. “And since I arrived here first, that might indicate that my travel time was the shortest.”

  “I was second,” put in Reagan. “Puerto Rico.”

  “Harrods,” Natalie added wanly. “The new collections had just come in.”

  “The boys and I were in Tel Aviv,” Alistair added. “Ned got away, I hope.”

  “Or they killed him,” Ted said quietly.

  “And I was in Paris,” Nellie concluded. “I think I’m missing the soufflé test at the Académie.” She looked at her watch, only to find it gone.

  “No watches, no cell phones,” Fiske supplied. “Our captors don’t want us to know what time it is, or even what day.”

  “And they have a ghastly sense of style,” Natalie mourned, gesturing toward a rack of jumpsuits in varying sizes. “I hope someone pays the ransom soon.”

  “If it’s ransom they’re after,” added Ted.

  “What else could it possibly be?” demanded Natalie, a shrill edge to her voice.

  Nellie thought she might know. Synchronized kidnappings from different places around the world. An organized, coordinated operation, all the victims Cahills. Her eyes met Fiske’s.

  A buzzer went off inside the suite. It was so loud that all six captives grabbed at their ears and winced in pain. The main door whisked open and a new arrival was deposited on the floor.

  Reagan flung herself at the opening, but she was a split second too late. The panel slid shut, leaving an unbroken wall. She bounced off, shouting and nursing her shoulder.

  The buzzer ceased, and blessed quiet descended.

  Nellie rushed over and knelt beside the new arrival. “He’s just a kid!”

  Natalie frowned. “Who is he? I thought they were only kidnapping Cahills.”

  “A case of mistaken identity, perhaps?” Alistair mused.

  “I don’t think so.” Reagan pointed to the clothing rack. On one end hung a child-size jumpsuit. “They were expecting him.”

  With a groan, the boy rolled over and sat up, revealing his face in full.

  “He is a Cahill,” said Fiske in recognition. “Meet Phoenix Wi
zard, Jonah’s young cousin.”

  The boy began to blink, and Nellie put her arms around him. He reminded her of Dan back when she was first hired on as the Cahill kids’ au pair. “Phoenix—you okay, kiddo?”

  “I — I don’t know.” He surveyed the suite. “Where am I?”

  “You’re with family,” Nellie replied. It was the most comforting thing she could think of in a situation that was far from comforting.

  Amy and Dan flew first class to Florence — sleeper seats, great food, attentive service.

  It was still boring.

  It all came back to Dan. During the Clue hunt, they’d crisscrossed the globe on everything from experimental helicopters to yak-drawn carts. It was the same old story—long trips, nothing to do but twiddle your thumbs while your butt falls asleep. Right now Dan’s butt was in such a deep slumber that it felt as if it had slipped into a coma.

  “I hate this!” he mumbled aloud, hoping that Amy would wake up so he could fight with her just to pass the time.

  No such luck. Amy was out like a light. She’d become pretty good at that. She was usually a nervous wreck, but she’d developed the ability to power nap, so when it was time for action, she’d be rested and ready. It was part of the new Amy—along with martial arts, rock climbing, calisthenics with Sinead, and the comm. center in the attic. Be prepared — wasn’t that the Boy Scout motto? Well, she had been.

  Not that all the preparation in the world would have stopped those seven kidnappings.

  Dan couldn’t get over the sense that they might be overlooking a much simpler solution. The Clue hunt was history, the serum destroyed, along with the list of ingredients. But there was one copy of the recipe that could never be eliminated. Dan had a photographic memory that was one hundred percent reliable. He couldn’t forget the formula no matter how hard he tried. It was imprinted on his engrams.

  If I’m stuck with the blueprint for Gideon’s freak juice in my head, I should at least get some use out of it!

  Why not whip up a batch, bang it down with a root beer chaser, and pound the Vespers into hamburger? Problem solved.

  Amy would never let him do it. She was convinced the serum was bad news. Gideon’s discovery had touched off five centuries of backstabbing, sabotage, and murder. Actually taking the formula, she had argued many times, would be just too dangerous and unpredictable.