Chamonix, France
Against the startlingly clear blue sky, the snowy peaks of the Alps were a jagged line of majesty. Thousands of feet below, farms seemed scattered like an impatient toddler’s toys.
It could be her last sight on earth.
Amy Cahill looked down at her feet, just an inch away from the edge. She felt the cold wind against her face, and she closed her eyes for just one second to gather her nerve. Then she dove off the side of the mountain.
The roar of the wind filled her ears, and her stomach dropped. The breath seemed ripped from her body, but she found enough to scream.
Every nerve in her body was alive and tingling. She hurtled through the air, conscious that any sudden move could endanger her flight and send her crashing into the face of the mountain. There was nothing to grab on to, nothing to break her fall. Just air.
Just thin air, and she was diving through it in a bright orange wingsuit that made her look like a flying squirrel.
Turning her head slightly, she caught sight of her brother. Behind the windscreen on his helmet, Dan was grinning. Her thirteen-year-old brother definitely enjoyed adrenaline.
She angled her body to slow her descent. She was hurtling down at a velocity of about eighty miles an hour, arms bent, shoulders strong, legs straight out behind her.
In less than a minute she had to curve around the mountain. This was the tricky part. Flying consisted of thousands of microadjustments. Birds made it look easy.
She took a breath and let it out slowly, staying loose. She didn’t want to do what skydivers call “potato chipping” — keeping your muscles so tense that your body shudders its way through the descent. Any bit of instability could lead to an overcorrection. She was experienced at this sport by now, but if you weren’t aware at all times of the things that could go wrong, you were stupid.
She remembered the words of her instructor. Keep your airflow clean. Get comfortable in that suit. Wear it like your pj’s. Don’t concentrate on the valley floor. Your speed can fool you into thinking you’re higher than you are. You don’t want to end up like jam on the mountainside.
She curved around the cliff face. Her ears were filled with the rush and roar of wind and the flapping of the edges of her suit. The valley spread below her, snowy and still. She spotted the bright orange windsock that marked the meadow landing site. It had been cleared of snow. It felt amazing to know that she could hit that tiny mark and land.
Gauging her speed and direction, she angled to the right. She hated for the ride to end.
Something caught the sun over her right shoulder. A helicopter. Amy felt a jolt of alarm that she immediately tamped down. Probably some billionaire heading to his ski chalet. Nothing to worry about.
The helicopter didn’t turn.
It tilted, the sun glaring off the bubble of the windshield. Didn’t it see them?
Amy angled away again. Dan was behind her. She wished she could see him, but turning that much would send her into a spin.
She could feel the percussion of the whirling blades in her chest. The copter was awfully close. Too close! Still coming fast, angling above her now …
“DAN!” she screamed, but of course he couldn’t hear her over the wind in his ears.
She had only seconds now before she had to pull her pilot chute. Then she would be a sitting duck, vulnerable, tethered to the canopy.
She saw someone leap out of the open door of the copter. He was free falling just yards away. This wasn’t right! He was angling his body to come close to her.
Panic burst through her. She had to engage the canopy. At least she could control her descent, aim away from the attacker.
The chute deployed, and she felt the jerk and drag. The attacker was behind her now. He must have pulled his canopy, too.
They would land in the same meadow. And by the looks of that black helicopter, it would, too. This didn’t make sense. It had to be an attack.
She made a perfect landing, barely kissing the ground. She fumbled with her harness, making sure that Dan was safely down as she ripped it off and threw off her helmet. She raced toward the intruder, planning the attack as she ran. She knew from experience that thugs usually didn’t expect a sixteen-year-old girl to be a warrior. She needed to kick first, while he was still attached to his chute. Hampered by her wingsuit, Amy would never be able to get off a perfect blow to the windpipe.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.
She’d need to go airborne. She rotated, gathering speed, lifted off, her booted feet together and aiming for the only vulnerable space she could see — his neck — while he shouted and dodged.
How weird. It sounded like he was yelling AMYYYYY.
Amy clumsily connected with her attacker’s shoulder, and the impact spun her off balance. She fell on top of him and raised a fist. A strong hand gripped her wrist, blocking her.
Amy stared into familiar friendly eyes.
“Don’t kill me, dude,” her cousin Hamilton Holt said. “I come in peace.”
Dan raced awkwardly toward his sister in his wingsuit, laughing and trying to scramble out of it as he ran. “That was awesome!” he shouted over the noise of the copter as it banked and circled. “I always wondered if you could bring Ham down!”
Amy struggled to her feet. “Ham, are you crazy? I almost got killed! Who surprises someone when they’re BASE jumping?”
“I thought you’d recognize me,” Ham said, still lying on the ground.
“In midair? When you’re wearing goggles and a helmet? While I’m falling eighty miles an hour?”
“I guess we didn’t think it through,” Ham said sheepishly. “We just wanted to be sure we could talk to you. You’re not that easy to track down, you know!”
“We?” Dan felt a spurt of pleasure. He missed his friends. If Hamilton was here, Jonah couldn’t be far behind. His peeps were here!
For the past six months, ever since they’d saved the world from World War III and walked away from the Cahill family, Dan and Amy had been in happy exile. They’d changed their last name to Swift — the birds that, according to legend, never land — and set their feet on a new, aimless path. With Grace’s house in Ireland as their base, they’d wandered from country to country, to beaches and gardens and parks and cities, absorbing and looking. It had been six months of extended chill time, and it had been fun. Dan had felt the buzz of anxiety in his head slowly drain like a battery. He was the only one in the world who knew the formula for the Cahill family serum — the source of the Cahills’ power. A substance that had the potential to make someone the most powerful person in the world, if it didn’t kill him or her first. That knowledge had haunted him once. Now he still carried it, but it didn’t weigh him down any longer.
His hyperorganized sister had planned their wanderings. She hired tutors and guides so that they kept up with schoolwork. They didn’t want to be hermits — they checked in with their Uncle Fiske and their friends and family through video chats — but they didn’t want to get involved with Cahill family business.
Amy frowned. “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?” she asked. “Fiske …”
“Everyone’s okay,” Hamilton said quickly. “But something happened.”
The helicopter landed, its blades whirring. Ian scrambled out and hesitated, his hand on the door.
Dan felt his heart sink. This wasn’t going to be pals hanging out. This was official Cahill family business. He exchanged a glance with his sister. They’d always been able to say a lot without talking. He felt the same reluctance in her, the same dread.
Whatever was aboard that copter, it was bad news. And they were both reluctant to greet it. They knew exactly how seriously bad Cahill news could get.
“I’ll let Ian fill you in,” Hamilton said. “C’mon.”
The copter’s blades were spinning to a stop as Cara exited and stood next to Ian. They were exactly the same height and a study in contrasts. Ian’s dark skin and hair and elegant cashmere overc
oat made him look like he stepped off a fashion runway. Cara was dressed in a jumpsuit, a fedora crammed on her head, and her hands in the pockets of a battered leather jacket. It was only recently that she’d been folded into the Cahill inner circle, and Dan thought that having one of the world’s best computer security experts in your corner was just about the coolest thing ever.
Jonah jumped out of the copter, making it look like a dance move. He bumped fists with Dan.
“Reunited and it feels so good,” he said.
“Terribly sorry about the unconventional summons.” Ian scanned the mountains around them casually, as though he were a tourist admiring the view. “Natalie and I used to ski in Chamonix during school breaks. It was always a favorite spot of ours. A bit overrun with tourists, of course …”
Cara nudged Ian with her shoulder so hard she pushed him off balance. “We don’t need the travelogue. Go ahead, Ian, say it.”
Ian flushed. “My second-in-command likes to take matters into her own hands. She countermanded my order and contacted Ham, Nellie, and Jonah on the emergency system. Nellie is standing by in New York.”
“Good thing I sent the signal, too!” Cara exclaimed. “You were attacked, and then thrown out of the mansion!”
“What?” Amy and Dan asked together.
“Literally.” Ian winced at the memory. “Bruised my coccyx.”
“Your what?” Dan asked.
Hamilton pointed to Ian’s butt.
“Ohhh, I get it,” Dan said. “They bruised your brain?”
“Good one!” Hamilton guffawed, and gave Dan a high five.
“Can we get back to the subject?” Amy asked. She gave Dan the look he called the “sister stink eye,” meaning be quiet or else.
“Ian!” Cara said. “Say it.”
“Ah.” A great struggle seemed to take place on Ian’s face. “I need your help,” he finally blurted.
“Dude, we’re retired,” Dan said. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“We know,” Hamilton said. “That’s why it’s a complete bummer that we had to come and find you.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Dan said. “You’re my posse. Happy to see you. Looking good. Et cetera. But you promised us no family business. We are officially Cahill-free. Remember? You took an oath.”
“We didn’t take an oath,” Ian objected.
“You took a silent oath,” Dan said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Ian said. “There’s no such thing as a silent oath. We’re oath-less!”
“Will you two knock it off?” Amy said impatiently. She stared Dan down once again.
Sister stink eye to the max!
Ian gestured to the helicopter. “We rented this to take us to Jonah’s plane at the Geneva airport. We’re just asking for ten minutes of your time. We’re on the clock, and we have to decide our next step.”
Dan stifled another objection. Of course he had to listen. He got that. These were his best friends. His family. He wouldn’t turn his back on them.
And they’d shown up in a very cool helicopter. That was a bonus.
If only he didn’t have the feeling that if he climbed aboard, he’d be climbing into a big Cahill mess.
“Where are you going?” Amy asked.
“That’s the problem,” Cara said. “We don’t know yet.”
“What about Jake and Atticus?” Amy asked, referring to her boyfriend and his brother. Atticus was Dan’s best friend, and the pair had fought hard alongside the Cahills. They’d kept up with them on video conference, and they were as close as ever. “Are you going to contact them, too?”
“The Outcast said no outsiders,” Cara said.
The Outcast? It’s never good when evil dudes have a nickname.
Dan’s feet felt like lead as he climbed aboard the copter. He had to admit, though, that it was one sweet ride. Cream-colored cushy leather seats. A mini-fridge with snacks. A flat-screen TV. It was like a fancy hotel suite with rotors attached.
Dan sat gingerly on the leather seat and listened as Ian filled them in. With a glance at his sister, he could feel Amy’s laser-brain honing in on the details, but he kept losing track. It was all so awful. What kind of a slimeball would restage major disasters? Hold lives in the balance?
“Is there any chance this guy is just faking all this?” Dan asked. “Because this just sounds like he’s trying to scare us so he can get control.”
“He already has control,” Ian pointed out. “And he’s living in Grace’s mansion.”
“Wait a second,” Dan said. “What about Saladin?”
“Saladin, too,” Hamilton said. “I hope they feed him red snapper.”
“He has my cat?”
“So if we don’t prevent these disasters, innocent people will be killed,” Amy said. “Can we watch the video?”
Dan shot a glance at his sister. Amy just used the word we. She’d already made up her mind.
Cara handed over her tablet. Amy and Dan watched it play through. Dan felt a chill run through him from just the sight of the guy.
“Recognize him?” Ian asked, pointing to the Outcast.
Amy and Dan shook their heads.
“How about this guy?” Ian pointed to the man they hadn’t been able to ID. “Notice how he’s keeping his face averted? He knew where the cameras are.”
“I don’t recognize him,” Amy said.
“The first step is to find out who the Outcast is. He knew Grace. That’s clear. Did you notice the way he talked about her? So he’s a figure from her past. Remember when he quoted her?”
Dan recited the words. “‘If your best instincts are your worst enemies, take your hands off the controls. Find someone else to fly the plane.’”
“I never heard her say that,” Amy said. “Maybe it’s in some Cahill archive. An official letter, or memo, or speech … maybe we could track him that way.”
“I can’t get into the archive,” Cara said. “I’ve managed to get our personal phones and tablets hooked up and secure, but we can’t tap into the Cahill network. It’s like flying blind.”
“Keep trying,” Amy said. “If anyone can do it, you can. Considering the fact that people don’t seem to know him, but he knew Grace, it could be from pretty long ago. Has anyone talked to Uncle Fiske?”
“He’s in Mexico for three months,” Ian said. “I didn’t want to disturb him.”
“Nellie should go talk to him. In person.”
Ian frowned, and Dan realized that Amy was already snapping orders, even though she wasn’t the head of the family anymore. Casually, he nudged her with his foot.
“I mean, if you think that’s a good idea, Ian,” she added.
“Certainly,” Ian said in a chilly tone.
“Sorry, Ian,” Amy said. “It’s hard to get out of the habit of being the head of the family.”
“Indubitably,” Ian said.
Jonah held up a hand. “Don’t go all Brit-fuff-fuff on us, Kabra. You’re the family leader, no question, but we’re here looking for Amy’s expertise, am I right?”
Ian drew himself up. “I have no idea what you mean. I’ve never been Brit-fuff-fuff in my life. Whatever that means.”
“It means all superior and puffed up,” Ham explained.
“Well, that’s certainly not me,” Ian said. He adjusted the cuffs of his blazer.
Cara laughed. “Sometimes, you’re just adorable,” she said to Ian. “And sometimes you’re just insufferable. You’re going all Brit-fuff-fuff right now!”
Silence greeted that remark. No one else had ever connected the word adorable with Ian.
“Here’s the deal,” Jonah said. “We’ve got ourselves a huge problem. This guy is going to seriously hurt and kill people. Under the Cahill name, yo. And we’ve got less than five days to solve the riddle and stop him. We’re already smack in the middle of day one.”
“The riddle,” Amy said. “Let’s hear it again.” She cued it up and pressed PLAY.
Your first disaster took place
at sea
It was sad — rich and poor died in agony
Broke all records for calamity
For those still clad in pajamity
A collision caused the terrible losses
In the Maritimes you’ll find the crosses
On Mont Blanc rest the ones to blame
Oh, to maim, blind, and kill, and have no shame!
It will happen again if you can’t stop it
At least the Cahill fam will profit!
“At first we thought it was easy,” Ian said.
Dan nodded. “Hello, iceberg, meet Titanic!”
“Probably the most famous maritime disaster in history,” Amy agreed.
“Loved that movie,” Ham said. “Cried like a two-year-old.”
“But the Titanic didn’t blind anyone,” Ian said. “That’s the thing that stands out. Or maim them. People either drowned or were saved.”
“The Maritimes are in Canada,” Amy said. “Maybe that’s what he’s referring to.”
“And then there’s the Mont Blanc reference,” Ian said. “It didn’t make sense.”
“That’s weird, because it’s in the Alps, not Canada,” Dan said. “As a matter of fact,” he added, pointing to the massive mountain framed in the copter window, “it’s right there.”
Amy leaned forward. “Let’s plug all the elements that don’t make sense into a search engine chain. Canada, Mont Blanc, collision, blindness.”
Cara’s fingers flew. She raised her head, a look of astonishment on her face. “Wow. This has got to be it. It happened in Halifax, Nova Scotia, in 1917. One of the greatest disasters at sea ever. A French freighter, the Mont-Blanc, collided with another ship in the harbor. A fire detonated the cargo of the freighter, which was carrying hundreds of tons of TNT, plus other explosive materials.”
“That was during World War I, right?” Amy asked.
Cara nodded as she scrolled through the material. “The ship was heading to the front, so it was packed with explosives for weapons. It was massive. The largest man-made blast before the atomic bomb. It killed almost two thousand people, maiming and blinding thousands more, because it blew out almost every window and turned the glass into flying missiles. It happened at 8:45 in the morning.”