CHAPTER 3

Another one of the features that was different from Grace’s original house was the communication and command center in the attic. Amy had designed it, insisting that it could serve as a kind of Cahill headquarters in an emergency.

Dan had petitioned to turn the space into an indoor paintball battlefield. Now, he reflected ruefully, it was a good thing Amy had won that argument. And, he had to admit, no paintball battlefield, or laser-tag arena, or even the greatest video arcade on the planet could come close to the amazing array of high-tech gadgetry on display here. The dome, for example. It was a working astronomical observatory keeping track of Gideon, the Cahill satellite with spy capabilities. Gideon provided near-perfect reception on the three dozen high-definition video monitors. The only interference: sunspots. Sinead was already working on solving that.

The babble of voices made Dan’s head hurt. Thirty-six screens, thirty-six agitated Cahills, and thirty-six wildly different opinions on what had to be done — immediately. Tears from Leila Wizard, Phoenix’s mother. Blind rage from the Holts, Reagan’s family. Genuine distress from Ian Kabra, Natalie’s brother, but also cold calculation.

On monitor 27 (Asia/Oceana), Jonah Wizard’s normally confident features were warped into an expression of deep concern as he pleaded with his aunt on monitor 11 (Southwestern USA).

“Leila, you can’t call the cops! Vesper One said no police, and the dude’s not playing!”

“I’m supposed to do nothing when my little boy has been abducted?” Phoenix’s mother demanded.

Amy tried to step in. “You’re supposed to leave it in our hands. We’re the ones the Vespers contacted.”

She could not have anticipated the acid of Leila’s reaction. “And who are you, exactly? A sixteen-year-old child.”

“She’s a Madrigal, that’s who she is!” Eisenhower Holt had only one volume setting — loud. “I never trusted them before, and I’m sure not about to start now! How do we know they’re not behind these kidnappings? I never heard of any Vesper!”

Ned Starling spoke up on 22 (West Asia/Middle East). “It’s happening to all the branches, not just the Tomas,” he said from Dr. Shallit’s clinic in Tel Aviv, where he’d been accepted as an inpatient. “You should have seen the guys who grabbed Alistair and Ted! They meant business —” He had more to say, but a wave of pain contorted his face and erased his train of thought.

Amy fought valiantly to control the conversation and her deepening stammer. “It’ll be better for R-Rea — it’ll be better for Reagan if we k-keep our heads —”

She’s losing it, Dan thought, leaning against the wall, a little apart from the action. Not that he could do better. Nobody could. To unite bickering Cahills was like trying to make something out of pieces from a hundred different jigsaw puzzles.

McIntyre was nuts to put him and Amy in charge of this “meeting.” Ha! A global high-tech brawl was more like it — broadcast via private satellite to this chrome-and-silicon dome so Amy and Dan could be shouted down from all continents at the same time.

True, there had been some Cahill cooperation at the end of the Clue hunt. But it had come from the younger generation — Sinead and a handful of others. For example, Hamilton Holt was trying to keep his volatile father from going completely berserk. Ned, an Ekat like his sister, was providing useful information. And without Jonah’s efforts, they could not hope to prevent Leila Wizard from bringing in the authorities.

Then there was Ian. It was impossible to set aside the awful fact that Ian’s mother, Isabel Kabra, had set the fire that had killed Amy and Dan’s parents. Ian and Natalie had been pretty much the Cahills’ archenemies during the Clue hunt. In fact, you could depend on Ian to be a total bonehead about ninety-nine percent of the time. Now, however, seemed to be one of those rare moments when he could be depended upon to act as an ally, not an adversary. His sister was in danger, and he would do anything to aid in the rescue effort.

But if the younger generation was willing to find ways to work together, the older Cahills were as stubborn as mules.

“Why give this kidnapper what he wants?” Eisenhower demanded. “We can’t let him get away with grabbing our people! That’ll just encourage him to hit us again!”

“Dad, he’s got Reagan!” his son argued.

“Hamilton’s right,” Amy put in quickly. “We’re at Vesper One’s mercy — at least until we can stage a rescue attempt. We have to figure out where he’s h-holding the h-h-hostages —”

She’s stammering like crazy now! Dan looked over to McIntyre, who was watching impassively as Amy floundered in front of the entire family.

Eisenhower’s veins bulged as he waved off any effort from Hamilton to quiet him. “I’m not putting my daughter’s life in the hands of a babbling teenybopper! You don’t even know your own plan! Make up your mind! Are you kowtowing to this Vesper or are you looking for the hostages?”

That question — a specific inquiry about strategy—jolted Amy out of her helplessness. Maybe she lacked the nerve to shout down her squabbling relatives. But when it came to what needed to happen now, she knew exactly how to respond.

“We’re going to do both!”

Her back straightened, and she peered directly into the camera that was broadcasting her around the world. “I propose a two-pronged response,” she continued, her stammer gone. “Dan and I will travel to Italy to follow Vesper One’s demands. We have no choice. The safety of our hostages depends on that. Meanwhile, Sinead will set up a Cahill command center right here in Grace’s house. Ian, will you help her?”

“I’ll be on the next flight,” Ian promised.

“The command center will have two missions. First, to figure out where the hostages are being held so we can rescue them. Second, we have to answer the biggest question of all: Who are the Vespers and what do they want? They’ve been dogging our family for centuries, yet they’re a total question mark. As horrible as these kidnappings are, they could be just the beginning. If we’re at war, we’d better learn something about our enemies. Especially since they seem to know an awful lot about us.”

Dan watched in amazement as his sister secured promises of cooperation from Cahills in every corner of the globe.

She used to hate public speaking, he marveled. She still hates public speaking.

Yet here she was, persuading the unpersuadable. She was almost scary—and somehow weirdly familiar.

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.”