Holding the strip in its Mobius shape, Amy inserted it into the slit. She tried once, twice, three times.
On the fourth try, the strip clicked perfectly into place.
There was a small pinging sound, and the lid of the box sprang open.
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CHAPTER 21
* * *
"We open it together," Amy said, her eyes gleaming. "Ready? One--two--three--"
Inside, the box was lined with silk decorated with an elaborately embroidered whale. Two objects rested on the silk: a small roll of parchment and a little pouch.
Amy unrolled the parchment carefully. The edges crackled; a few tiny pieces flaked off. The ink on the page was faded but still legible. Amy read aloud:
* * *
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, Good and ill together. Torn apart by year of greed, no tatter, shred and tangle. So, like the spider, begin anew, one web with many a tether. Our silk tho fine as strong as steel! From united threads we danngle. MC in the year of our Lord 1548
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"Can I see it?" Dan took the parchment gently from Amy's hands. He glanced at it quickly.
"WOO-HOO!" he whooped. "Finally, an easy one!"
With one hand, he made a beckoning motion with his fingers. "Go on, go on, ask me," he said.
Amy and Nellie rolled their eyes at each other.
"Okay," Nellie said, "whatcha got?"
Dan's expression was pure smugness. "I want you to beg," he said.
"Dan!" Amy said, half laughing but completely annoyed.
"Just kidding," he said. He held out the page and pointed to it. "See that? The word 'danngle.' It's misspelled. And it has to be, because without the extra 'n,' it wouldn't be an anagram for ENGLAND. That's where we go next!"
He mimed licking his finger and then touched his temple. "Sssss," he said. "Oh, yeah, I'm good. I'm so good."
More eye-rolling from the girls. In an effort to distract Dan's attention away from his self-proclaimed greatness, Amy reached for the little pouch. It was beautifully made, lined and heavily padded and closed with a drawstring. She opened it carefully and took out a small glass vial.
The vial was filled with a rusty brownish red substance, like a rough powder. Amy uncorked the vial and brought it up to her nose. She sniffed cautiously.
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"I don't know," she said, frowning a little. "You can still smell something, even after all this time, but I can't tell-"
Nellie reached for the vial. She gave it a quick sniff.
"It's mace," she said immediately. "That spice I bought. The outer covering of a nutmeg."
The three of them beamed at one another.
"A clue and the next location, both inside about thirty seconds!" Dan crowed.
The man in gray was standing behind Nellie. They had been so engrossed in the box and its contents, none of them had noticed when he rejoined them.
"Well done," he said quietly.
He sat down and took off his sunglasses. Then, to Amy's astonishment, he wiped his eyes as if they were tearing up.
He cleared his throat and picked up the box. "Made by a renegade Ekat," he said. "Most ingenious, wouldn't you say? The Ekaterinas claimed this area--the Caribbean--long ago and have been very active here. By the way, I thought you would like to know that your cat is safe in Kingston. We will collect him when we leave here."
He put the box back on the table. "I must apologize," he said. "First, for my earlier unpleasantness. As you will learn shortly, it was all part of the grand scheme.
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And second, because I've never properly introduced myself. My name is Fiske Cahill. And I would like to thank you for bringing such joy to my sister." His sister?
"Grace," he said as he sat down next to Nellie. "Grace was my sister."
Amy's jaw dropped.
Grace had one sibling--Aunt Beatrice. Neither of them had ever once mentioned a brother. It couldn't be true!
"How come we never heard of you?" Dan asked.
The man winced and slumped a little in his chair. "There is no easy answer to that question," he said, almost to himself. He paused and took a breath. "As a small child, I was painfully shy. So much so that I simply couldn't function when I was with other people. My parents allowed me to stay out of school, at home with a tutor. Perhaps that was a mistake because in the end, it made it easier for me to--to disappear altogether when I decided as a young man that I wanted nothing to do with--with the family business."
He gave them a searching look, and Amy knew what business he meant: the hunt for the 39 Clues.
The man laced his fingers together and stared at his hands. "As children, Grace and I adored each other. She was the only one I kept in touch with over the
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years, and on my terms, not hers. I would call or write once in a while, brief visits every other year or so. It was not until she became ill that I went to see her for an extended time."
He shook his head, and his already soft voice lowered to a whisper. "Of the many poor choices I made in my life, the one I most regret is not spending more time with her."
Amy felt her throat clutch a little. What would it be like if Dan disappeared from her life? Then she caught herself and frowned. If Fiske Cahill wasn't telling the truth, he was an awfully good actor. He probably wanted her to think exactly what she had been thinking. She had to stay on guard. ...
"I hope that is sufficient explanation as to why you have never heard of me," he was saying, "because there is no other. Grace, in her last days, asked me to become involved in the hunt for clues. I could not refuse her."
"Not good enough," Dan said. "You still haven't given us any real proof that you're Grace's brother."
Fiske Cahill sat in silence for a moment. Then he lifted his chin, blinked his eyes, and spoke in a nasal, high-pitched voice. "Anyone who plays this silly game is a fool. I'll take the money!"
Amy stared at him in amazement. He had just done a pitch-perfect imitation of Aunt Beatrice!
Aunt Beatrice had said something almost exactly
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like that on the day Grace's will was read. The mimicry was dead-on. It could only have been done by someone who knew her well-- very well.
"You were there?" Amy whispered.
"Yes. Hidden, and listening from another room. My oldest sister's voice can be quite irritating, as of course you know."
Amy looked at Dan. He gave her a combined nod and shrug.
She shook her head in response. "It could still be a trick," she said. "He could have, like, studied her. You know, followed her around like a stalker, or filmed her, or something like that. And practiced imitating her. Or maybe he's working on some kind of plot with her--"
"With Beatrice?" Fiske Cahill said.
"With Aunt Beatrice?" Dan said.
Not only had they spoken at the same moment, but they had identical incredulous expressions on their faces. Amy was struck by a revelation. For so long, she had heard about how much she reminded people of Grace. Miss Alice had recognized their resemblance to each other even though she hadn't seen Grace in years. Now Amy saw precisely the same kind of likeness between Dan and the man in gray!
They had to be related.
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CHAPTER 22
* * *
"I have so much to tell you, I hardly know where to start," Fiske Cahill said. "I will do my best. You already know that you are Madrigals."
"Yeah, and we know that's bad news," Dan said.
"Not necessarily," Fiske replied. "It depends on your point of view."
"Oh, great," Dan said, "now everything's much clearer."
For a split second, Amy thought Fiske might smile. But then his eyebrows drew together and he looked very serious.
"Gideon and Olivia Cahill had four children," Fiske said. He paused, waiting.
Dan and Amy looked at each other. Apparently, this was sort of a quiz.
"Katherine, Luke, Thomas, and Jane," Amy said.
>
Fiske nodded his approval. "Gideon spent a fortune and a lifetime trying to find a cure for the plague. The serum he created did indeed protect against the plague, and also had unexpected side effects.
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Although he didn't know it at the time, his serum altered the DNA of those who took it, giving them greater abilities in every area of human endeavor. Eventually, Gideon gave each of his children part of the formula. Soon afterwards, he died in a fire that destroyed his laboratory. His children suspected one another of sabotage, which sundered the family. Each child went off to spearhead a particular branch of the Cahill clan." Pause.
Dan's turn. "Ekaterina, Lucian, Tomas, Janus."
Another nod. "For centuries now, the branches have been on a relentless search, battling one another to find clues to the ingredients that will reconstruct the formula, both their own particular serum and the master serum that contains the secret to the powers of all four branches. But every time a branch comes close, they are prevented from achieving success."
"By the Madrigals," Amy whispered.
"So that's why all the other branches hate them--I mean, us," Dan said. "But how did the Madrigals get mixed up with the clue hunt in the first place?"
Fiske answered the question with one of his own. "Amy," he said, "may I see that miniature painting?"
Puzzled, Amy took the painting out of her backpack and handed it to him.
He gazed at it for a few moments, then spoke slowly. "At the time of the fire, no one knew that Gideon's wife, Olivia, was pregnant with their fifth child."
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He turned the painting around so it was facing them.
"Meet Madeleine Cahill," he said. "Founder of the Madrigal line."
Amy had looked at the little painting dozens of times before, but it was as if she were seeing it for the first time. It was incredible--no wonder the woman in the picture was a dead ringer for her mother!
"Your great-great--well, about twenty-two greats--grandmother," Fiske said.
"She's the one who wrote the poem," Dan said, gesturing at the box. "MC. Madeleine Cahill."
Fiske nodded as he put the painting down gently. He cleared his throat. "Olivia Cahill supported her husband's efforts at first," he said, "when he was trying to find a cure for the plague. But she was devastated by what the obsession with the serum's side effects did to the family. Her children scattered across the globe to begin their own schemes. She was left alone with the baby.
"Olivia was terrified of the corrupting power of the serum. She also desperately wanted to bring the family together again, and she raised Madeleine to believe that nothing was more important."
Amy made a small noise of surprise. Her face lit up, not in happiness, but in understanding.
Fiske Cahill cracked his first smile. "Why don't you go ahead, young lady?"
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"That's in the poem, too!" Amy burst out. "One web, many a tether, united--that's what the Madrigals do! They try to get the other branches to stop fighting!"
"Exactly," Fiske said.
"I don't get it," Dan said crossly. "If you ask me, they sure don't act like peacekeepers a lot of the time."
Fiske looked solemn again. "I'm afraid you're right, Dan. Preventing the branches from achieving too much power has not always been a pleasant task. And just as important, the Madrigals try to protect innocent people from becoming victims of the battle."
"Oh. Ah." Dan was momentarily struck speechless, and Amy knew he was trying to wrap his mind around the same thoughts she was having.
The Madrigals--they're the good guys? But how--
"The other branches would be most unhappy to learn that the Madrigals have equal status as Cahill heirs and even more unhappy if they knew what the Madrigal quest was," Fiske continued. "That is why the branch has always been shrouded in secrecy."
"And--and Mom and Dad?" Amy asked. "That's what they were doing, too?"
Fiske nodded. "They were among our most active members. Something else you should know: The Lucians pinned the blame for one of their own evil acts on Hope and Arthur. It happened in South Africa."
Winnie Thembeka! Amy's mind flashed back to the terrible moment when she and Dan had been told that their parents were murderers.
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"I knew it! I knew they were good all along!" Dan exulted as he held his fist out toward Amy.
Amy returned his fist bump, but inside she didn't feel quite the same triumph as her brother. They had to make hard choices, too, she thought. Being good might seem simple, but it's never easy.
"What about Austria?" Dan asked. "Was that all part of the plan, too--to blow us up? Then what, rescue us? Pretty risky if you ask me--we could have died!"
"It was Alistair Oh who triggered the explosion," Fiske said. "Believe me, we were relieved beyond words to learn that you were safe. You assumed that I was the culprit, and we decided it would be useful not to correct that assumption. It reinforced the image of Madrigal power among those in the other branches."
Now Nellie spoke up. "You two scared me to death when you said you wanted out of the hunt," she said. "I knew how much the Madrigals needed you."
Fiske nodded solemnly. "Without the Madrigals working at full strength, there would be countless people who would meet a fate like Lester's," he said gently. "Who knows how many more ..."
The fate of the world, Amy thought.
There was quiet around the table. Amy saw that some of the hurt had returned to Dan's eyes but not the empty hurt like before. Instead, she saw a kind of determination there. No one else would die like Lester had, not if Dan could help it.
She was with him on that one.
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It was Dan who broke the silence.
"There's one thing I still don't get," he said. "Why couldn't we have known all this before? Why did Mr. McIntyre tell us to beware the Madrigals? Why couldn't Grace have told us we were Madrigals and what the Madrigals do?"
Fiske sighed. "That is, perhaps, the most complicated part of the equation," he said. "Madeleine Cahill swore an oath on her mother's deathbed to do everything in her power to reunite the family. She was well aware of how difficult the Madrigals' task would be and spent years designing and implementing guidelines for the branch.
"Some of these you already know, even if you don't know you know them. The Madrigal branch is matrilineal--Madrigals often take the last name of their mothers, not their fathers. It was a symbol of Madeleine's devotion to Olivia."
"So that's why we're Cahills and not Trents," Dan said.
"Mom always told me it was a feminist thing," Amy recalled.
Dan thought for a moment. "That wasn't really a lie," he said.
"But most important," Fiske continued, "Madeleine knew that the only chance for success was if the Madrigals themselves were the best of the best. Amelia Earhart, as you discovered. Anne Bonny, Mary Read, Nanny Sharpe. All Madrigals. Many more names--Mother Teresa, Frederick Douglass, Roberto Clemente. And
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more than half of the Nobel Peace Prize winners."
"Wow." That was Amy and Dan, together.
"There's more," Fiske went on. "The Madrigal line is the only one of the Cahill branches for which active status must be earned. Simply being born into the line is not enough."
"Earned?" Dan said. "Earned how?"
"Cahills who exhibit the potential to become active Madrigals have to undergo a period of rigorous trials, without knowing they are doing so. That way, if they do not succeed, the secret of the Madrigal line remains inviolate.
"Some of the trials result from conflict with the other branches or from the hunt itself. Others are--how can I put it--designed by the Madrigals themselves. This last challenge was actually a combination. We needed the fang and hoped fervently that you could obtain it. Once you had achieved that, we decided you should be put to the test of opening the box under rather menacing conditions."
"So the Madrigals have deliberately been trying to trip us up
all along?" Dan's voice rose higher, on the edge of anger.
"They have also given you aid from time to time," Fiske shot back. "Believe me, we want all the active members we can get. We want you to succeed. But we cannot let our desires get in the way of our goal to select only the most worthy.
"The activities of potential Madrigals are tracked
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quite closely, hence, Miss Gomez's involvement. And the need for her deception."
"I'm sorry, guys," Nellie said. "I wanted to tell you about a million times, but--"
Then Nellie put her head down on the table, and a moment later, Amy could hear strange snuffling noises.
What the heck--is she--no, it can't be-- "Are you crying?" Dan asked, staring at Nellie in amazement.
Nellie raised her tear-streaked face to Amy. "It was s-so awful," she said. "H-having to lie to you, and--and then when you f-found out, you didn't trust me anymore, it was almost like you hated me--and--and I had to keep g-going somehow--" She put her head down again, shaking with sobs.
For a long moment, Amy felt almost blind with anger. Part of her wanted to hit something or someone as hard as she could--for putting the three of them through all this.
Nellie had indeed betrayed them. Many times over--to Mr. McIntyre, to the man in black, to the Madrigals.
But she had done it for the right reasons. And it couldn't have been easy.
Amy took a deep breath. She exhaled slowly, trying to blow away all of her anger.
It worked. Mostly, anyway.
When her vision cleared, she found herself staring at
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Nellie's spiky blond-and-black hair ... tough-as-nails Nellie, reduced to a puddle by the Clue hunt. ...
She reached out and put her hand on Nellie's arm. "Nellie?" she said softly. "I'm sorry, too. Really sorry. It must have been so hard for you."