Dan took a tight corner too wide. With a crunch, the launch bounced off a moored skiff
and ricocheted into the middle of the canal.
Amy was terrified. "You're going to drown us both!"
"You want me to stop and give the Wizards a chance to do it?" he shot back.
Dead ahead, the passage split off in three directions. The leftmost path was skinny,
jagged, and inhospitable. Perhaps the Janus would avoid it.
Dan headed for it. "Am I ever glad those old-time Venice guys put in these canals!"
"I don't think anyone built the canals," Amy panted. "Venice is really a bunch of tiny islands so close together that the space between them forms waterways."
"Yeah, well, they rule. I just wish this dumb boat would go faster."
Amy glanced nervously astern. "Maybe we've lost them."
Her brother was skeptical. "Not for long. Listen, if Jonah catches us, those diary pages had better not be here. We've got to ditch them."
"Ditch them?" Amy echoed. "We nearly got killed breaking them out of the stronghold!"
"That's why we have to stash them in a very safe place. Then we can wait till the heat's off and come back for them."
She was nervous. "We don't know Venice! If we hide those pages, we might never find them again!"
"All the more reason we have to find a place that's impossible to forget."
"Like what?"
"Like that."
They passed under a low street-level bridge by a modest church -- Santa Luca. A small pleasure craft was moored there, partially concealed underneath the span. The name was painted on the stern:
Royal Saladin.
He cut the motor, allowing the launch to glide toward the other boat.
"Too fast -- " Amy cried.
The collision rocked both vessels, and Amy was very nearly pitched overboard. She glared at her brother. "Do you have to drive like such a maniac?" He looked hurt. "I thought I was doing great. Okay, hold us in place, will you?"
Amy grasped the Royal Saladin's safety rail, surprised at how little strength it took to keep them from drifting. Dan hopped aboard and began the search for a hiding spot.
"Make sure it's somewhere dry," Amy instructed. "If the papers get wet, they'll be ruined."
"Got it." The stern was ringed by built-in benches. Dan unzipped a waterproof seat cushion, removed the Nannerl pages from his jacket, and sealed them inside the vinyl pad. No sooner had he stepped back aboard the launch than the bray of outboard engines reached their ears. The three Janus boats raced around a bend in the canal. Jonah Wizard stood on the bow of the lead craft like a hip-hop hood ornament, pointing and shouting.
"Let's go!" urged Amy.
Dan heaved on the throttle, and the launch burst forward in a cloud of burnt oil. The Cahills had a head start, but there was no way they could outrun their faster pursuers. Their one chance was to get lost in the maze of canals. But this was not to be. Just ahead, the tight channel fed into an expansive waterway bustling with marine traffic.
"The Grand Canal," Amy said with awe. "And there's the Ponte di Rialto, one of the most famous bridges in the world."
"We don't need a guided tour! We need a place to disappear!"
The launch lumbered out into the open. Dan looked astern. Jonah and the Janus were a quarter mile back but closing.
Then he spotted it. Among the dozens of boats on the busy waterway, a gleaming high-tech yacht stood just before the Ponte di Rialto. His first assumption was that it had been moored there, but on closer inspection, he saw that it was about fifteen feet from shore, dead in the water, bobbing imperceptibly.
If we can get behind that thing ...
He pointed the bow at the empty space between yacht and seawall. Amy clued in. "You think we can hide? We'll never get there in time!" Dan leaned on the throttle. "We will." "How can you be sure?"
Dan wasn't sure of anything -- just that they were committed to this plan. All they could
do was carry it out. And pray.
CHAPTER 16
Amy's eyes were riveted astern where, she knew, Jonah and the Janus would appear any second now.
At the last possible instant, Dan let up on the gas. The launch floated into the shadow of the yacht just as Jonah's boat burst into the open.
Standing on the bow, the young star surveyed the Grand Canal in both directions. The Cahills were nowhere to be seen.
His father shut his cell phone in disgust. "I've tried all our contacts at the Venice radio stations. Nobody has a traffic copter in the air right now." "Their craft is slow," put in Ponytail. "They cannot be far." Jonah nodded. "We'll split up, yo. We'll head under the bridge and check out that direction. Tell the others to go the opposite way."
Ponytail shouted the instructions to their Janus colleagues, and the two boats raced for the bend in the waterway that led to the Bay of San Marco. Then he put their motor in gear and roared through the stone arches beneath the Rialto Bridge. An eye peered over the gunwale of the launch and watched Jonah and company disappear in the distance. "They're gone," Amy whispered. "What now?"
Dan popped up beside her. "I don't know. I honestly wasn't expecting this to work." "Let's get our diary pages and find Nellie," Amy said urgently. "The Janus won't stay away forever."
Dan reignited the motor and piloted the launch out from behind the yacht. "I think I'm getting pretty good. I haven't hit anything for, like, ten minutes."
"That's the real miracle."
The thrum of a powerful engine reached their ears, and the water astern of the luxury craft began to churn.
"They're starting up," Amy commented. "Lucky they didn't pull away when the Janus were out there."
As the small craft ventured into the center of the canal, the yacht began to move as well, falling into place behind them. The shadow of her pointed bow towered over them.
Dan leaned on the throttle. "Better speed up. Those guys could run us over and think they've hit a goldfish."
They backtracked along the broad waterway and swerved into the narrower canal that led to the moored Royal Saladin, where they'd stashed the Nannerl pages.
"Dan-look!"
The Cahills watched in bewilderment as the hightech yacht maneuvered expertly into the smaller channel.
"Why would anybody drive a big boat like that into a tiny little trickle?" asked Amy in consternation. "He could get stuck." "Only one reason," Dan said grimly. "He's following us."
"Why? He isn't one of the Janus."
"Maybe not, but he's right on our tail." Dan had the throttle at maximum, but the yacht was keeping up easily. There was no doubt that the luxury craft could overtake them at will.
The Cahills sailed past the old Church of Santa Luca and under the tiny bridge where the
Royal Saladin was moored. Amy looked astern in trepidation and was surprised to find the yacht well back, coming to a virtual stop in the water.
"What are they doing?" Dan wondered. "They had us!"
It dawned on Amy first. "They're too tall! The upper deck can't make it under the bridge!"
"Yes!" Dan made a rude gesture toward the yacht, which was now reversing up the channel. "In your face, you big doofus!"
"We can't get the diary pages now," Amy warned. "Jonah can't see us, but whoever's on the yacht might."
Dan didn't let up on the gas. "No problem. We'll just lose this guy and loop around to get our stuff." At top speed, he navigated their craft down tributaries far too narrow for a larger boat. "Out of my way, landlubbers! Captain Dan coming through!" The launch lurched as they bounced off a stone dock. "Oops." "I hope you know where we are," Amy put in nervously.
"Relax." Dan wheeled the launch along another tight channel, and there ahead of them was the Grand Canal. "Once we hit the main drag, it'll be easy to find the right turnoff for the Royal Saladin."
The engine groaned in protest, but Dan showed it no mercy. He pushed the throttle as far as it would go, demanding everything the littl
e motor would offer. The wind in his hair added to his exhilaration. In a few more seconds, they would be on the Grand Canal. "Ha!" he cheered. "It takes more than a million-dollar canoe to outsmart a Cahill!"
And suddenly, a wall of shiny metal blocked their way. Where just a second ago the sparkling open waters of the wide channel had beckoned, now the full length of the high-tech yacht moved out into their path.
Desperately, Dan threw the launch into reverse, but there was no stopping. The engine screamed and stalled out. The Cahills continued on an arrow-straight collision course. Amy heard someone screaming and recognized her own voice. Dan shut his eyes. It was his only option.
The launch rammed into the steel hull and came apart like a balsa wood model. Everything went dark.
CHAPTER 17
Amy was no longer in Venice.
She stood in a strange underground chamber hewn into the native limestone beneath a church in the Montmartre section of Paris. On the wall before her was a faded mural of four siblings named Cahill. Luke, Thomas, Jane, and Katherine -- the ancestors of the family branches, Lucian, Tomas, Janus, and Ekaterina. And in the distance, a burning house. Even then, centuries ago -- conflict, violence, tragedy.
We're still at each other's throats this time over the 39 Clues. What were they fighting about back then?
The image shifted to a different burning building. With a stab of pain, Amy recognized her own childhood home. Her poor parents, trapped inside ...
Through her anguish, she struggled for logic.
How can I remember this? I wasn't a spectator at that fire! I had to be pulled out of it!
Amy and Dan had been rescued. Mom and Dad ... The blast of grief was too powerful a gale-force wind that could not be withstood.
Make it stop
The picture changed to something she recalled all too well. The funeral -- dark clouds, dark suits, and dark veils. Tears -- so many, and yet not enough, not nearly. Somber faces four-year-old Dan, too young to comprehend the scope of the heartbreak that had befallen them; Grace, now dead and gone herself; awful Aunt Beatrice; Mr. McIntyre, friend or enemy? It was impossible to be sure....
Far beyond the grave site, indistinct in the ground fog, she could just make out another figure, dressed entirely in black.
Impossible! No way could I remember that!
But their enemy was coming into clearer focus -- his gray hair, his sharp eyes. His lips were moving. He was calling to her. What was he saying?
"Amy-"
She awoke with a start. Dan knelt over her, gently shaking her arm. His hair and clothes were wet. Her T-shirt and jeans felt cold and damp, and her toes squished inside clammy socks and sneakers. She ached all over from countless bumps and bruises. Dan's lips were swollen. A gash on his cheek looked raw.
The launch. The accident.
She sat up on a narrow bunk. "Where are we?" The room was tiny, yet oddly luxurious, with rich dark paneling and shiny brass hardware on built-in drawers and cabinets.
"Shhh," her brother whispered. "I think we're on the yacht." She got shakily to her feet. The deck pitched slightly. Water lapped below them. "Door's locked," Dan supplied, seeing her eyes travel to the closed hatch. "I've heard voices outside. I don't think Jonah's one of them, though."
Amy looked nervous. "I've got a bad feeling about this, Dan. What if we escaped from the Janus only to get caught by somebody even worse?" "Worse?" echoed Dan.
She bit her lip. "Do you think they could be the Madrigals?"
In the search for the 39 Clues, the mysterious Madrigals were the wild card. Amy and Dan had no information about them beyond William McIntyre's dire warning: "Beware the Madrigals." The lawyer had refused to provide any more detail, but his somber face
and urgent tone had spoken volumes. There was little question that the group was extraordinarily powerful and possibly deadly.
The hatch was thrown open. "What do you know about Madrigals?"
Dark hair, olive skin, handsome features. It always made Amy guilty to find him good-looking. Ian Kabra. His sister, Natalie, stepped into the compartment behind him. So it wasn't the Madrigals, but this was nearly as bad. Of all the other teams, the Kabras were the most
ruthless. Like Irina Spasky, they were Lucians -- the cold-blooded and conniving branch of the Cahill family.
Dan stuck out his jaw. "We know more about them than you!" Natalie rolled her eyes. "Nobody understands the Madrigals. No one's even sure who they are."
"No one except Grace," Dan blustered, "and she told us!" "Liar!" Ian's complexion reddened.
Dan smiled. "Touchy! I guess you don't like it when somebody knows something that you don't."
"Our parents tell us everything,"
Ian said haughtily. "Not like your precious Grace, who left you in the dark and then turned you loose to wreck the contest!"
"Calm down," Natalie said to her brother. "He's just trying to get to you -- and succeeding. For someone who's smarter than a supercomputer, sometimes you're a real idiot."
"What do you want?" Amy demanded.
"Only what you stole from the Janus stronghold," Natalie replied reasonably. "I don't know what you're talking about," Dan said stubbornly.
"Don't play dumb," Ian snapped. "Although you are a natural -- "
"We know the stronghold exits somewhere in the canal network," his sister interrupted.
"We put surveillance cameras all over Venice. But when Jonah turned up chasing you
-- well, it wasn't hard to connect the dots."
"We were in the stronghold," Amy admitted, "but we didn't take anything. It's just an
art museum down there."
"Search us if you don't believe it," Dan added.
"As if we hadn't already done that," Natalie said in bored exasperation. "You've lost weight, Amy. I don't think this contest is good for your health." Amy ignored the barb. "So you know we're telling the truth."
"The two of you make me sick," Ian spat. "You look like you crawled out of a sewer - "
"We did crawl out of a sewer!" Dan returned defensively.
"It wouldn't exactly have been a great loss if you hadn't wormed your way out of that tunnel explosion in Salzburg." "That was you!" Amy accused.
Ian snorted. "You think it was hard to fool Alistair into thinking he was our ally? We should have given the old stick insect a bigger bomb. Then we'd be rid of the lot of you."
Natalie sighed. "Forget it, Ian. They have nothing. Captain!" she called sharply. A burly sailor appeared in the companionway. "Yes, miss?" "These stowaways need to be put off the ship."
"We didn't stow away!" Dan protested. "You sunk our boat and pulled us out of the canal!"
"Good point," Ian agreed. "Return them to the canal. Roughly, please."
The captain's expression was impassive as he dragged the Cahills topside. He had an
iron grip that reminded Dan of his dealings with the Holt family.
Night had fallen, and the lights of Venice surrounded them. They were on the Grand
Canal, twenty feet offshore, moving slowly.
"Come on, mister," Dan wheedled. "Give us a break."
The man betrayed no emotion. "I have my orders." And with a single heave, Dan was
up and over the rail. He tucked in his knees and hit the water with a cannon-ball splash.
Seconds later, Amy struck the surface a few feet away, flailing and gasping.
Neither had been conscious during the wreck of the launch, so they did not remember
the feel of the water. It was freezing cold and jump-started both hearts to jackhammer
speed. Fueled by adrenaline, they struggled to the edge and scrambled up the seawall.
Dan shook himself like a wet dog. "Okay, let's get our diary pages."
"We can't." Amy hugged herself to control her shivering. "We're not going to find the
thirty-nine clues if we both have hypothermia. We need Nellie and dry clothes."
Dan glared resentfully at the retreating yac
ht in the distance. "A grenade launcher
would be nice, too."
"Never mind the Cobras. The way to get back at them is to win."
"I'm with you there," Dan told her. "But where do we look for Nellie? That music shop
feels like a hundred years ago."
"Doesn't matter," Amy said with confidence. "She's loyal. She won't leave without us. Disco Volante it was called. Hope the water-taxi drivers have heard of it." Dan reached into his soggy pocket. "Hope the water-taxi drivers don't mind wet euros." Never before had Nellie Gomez been so worried.
She slumped on the wooden bench, squinting into the dim light of the streetlamp in front of Disco Volante. The clerk she had run ragged had closed up and gone home an hour ago, never noticing that she was still there, casing the place. Where were Amy and Dan? How could two kids go into a music store and never come out? "Mrrp," was Saladin's comment from her lap.
"That's easy for you to say," Nellie quavered. "You're not in charge of those two maniacs."
It was coming up on four hours now -- four hours to ruminate on one simple dilemma: When was it time to call the police?
They had never discussed it because it had always been unthinkable. Police meant
discovery, which sooner or later would land the kids in the custody of Massachusetts Social Services.
They'd be out of the contest for good. But now it was starting to look as if police meant
rescue, which meant saving their lives, regardless of where they ended up.
"Wait here," she told Saladin, as if the cat had a choice. Even Nellie wasn't sure what she was planning to do. Heave a brick through the window, probably, and storm the place. Now she could be arrested in two European cities instead of just one.
As she approached the store, two shadowy figures rounded the corner. She ducked into a doorway, spying on the newcomers as they approached Disco Volante, trudging
slowly, wearily. A male and a female, not quite adult size --
When she recognized Amy and Dan, she raced over and swept them into her arms.
"You guys -- thank God! I was just about to -- yuck, why are you all wet?"
"It's a really long story," Amy said wearily. "We've got to get into dry clothes, and then
we need to pick something up."