The 39 Clues: Cahill Files: Silent Night (9 page)

“Someone did see me,” Rupert said. “Someone did, and it was — I know it was a Madrigal.”

Marie gasped, and Rupert thought that the major growled.

“I don’t know if he’ll be there again tonight. But you should know.”

The other two were quiet for a moment more.

“Well,” said Marie finally. “It’s three against one. I like our odds.”

The major nodded in agreement. “If the Madrigals are involved with the Ekat — we still have to go. Show the way to your sewer grate, and we’ll meet whatever comes.”

Once at the factory, they watched from the woods again and waited until the German guards made their rounds. This was their last chance — there would be no other opportunities. The soldiers here didn’t know that games and carol singing had broken out in the trenches; to them, it was still wartime. Rupert very much doubted that a “Happy Christmas” would save their lives if they were caught.

The major gave the signal. And then, they were off.

They darted across the lawn just as the snow began to fall. Marie and Rupert crouched in the ditch as the major cut through the rusty grate, revealing a long tunnel. They had to walk slowly so as not to splash in the muck that ran down to the ditch. The air was cold and damp and small around them. But ahead was another grate, which led into a room with a boiler and a great series of pipes and vents.

“There are so many rooms and hallways. We should each take a floor — we will never find him otherwise,” said Marie.

“No,” said Rupert. “We stay together. We can’t do everything alone.”

“Then where do we go first?” said Marie. She looked to the major, and Rupert did, too.

“Well,” said the major. “We start at the beginning.” And he led them out into the hall.

It was dark, with only a few overhead lights hanging every few yards. The floor was made of stones and was covered in a fine layer of damp. Rupert had a hard time remembering when he had ever been in a place so hauntingly dismal. The major motioned them on, and Rupert led them down the hall on their tiptoes.

At the end of the hall they found a door, which led to a staircase. Rupert faltered. In a stairway, there was nowhere to run or to hide. Anything that they came across, they would have to face.

The trio quietly skittered up the stairs, and Rupert, at the front, cracked the door at that level. A squad of soldiers was marching down the hall, coming at them from the left. Rupert jerked away from the light, hoping no one had noticed the crack or any quiver from the door. He held his finger to his lips as the sound of the footsteps grew closer and closer. Rupert, Marie, and the major all waited with their breaths bottled tight inside of them, their muscles tense and frozen and not trembling the slightest bit. The tiniest sigh or the softest scuffle would be their end — the end of their mission — the end of the world that they wanted to save and protect.

The uniform marching came closer and closer, until Rupert was sure they were going to come to the stairs and march right down to the basement. But they passed, and Rupert could breathe again. And he could peek out again, too.

“We’ll go right out of here,” Rupert said. “There’s a doorway you can hide in. I’ll trot ahead to the corner and take a peek around.” He didn’t know what he was looking for — an abundance of guards? A dungeon with cells and shackles? Signs that read
PRISONER’S SCIENCE LAB
? — but he thought he would know it when he saw it.

“But if they see you!” said Marie.

“You can’t risk that,” said the major.

“Cousins,” said Rupert. “What are Lucians best at? No one will catch me. I’m sure of it.” Lucians were also, it should be said, best at lying. And Rupert’s confidence was almost entirely a lie. But he firmly believed that thinking a thing made it so.

They left the stairwell and scurried like mice caught in the light toward the next doorway. There, Rupert caught his breath. And stepped back out into the hall.

His heart was beating terribly fast in his chest. Thrills ran all over him, like a spider’s footprints, beginning behind his sternum and swelling out through his body.

He edged out toward the corner, keeping as much of himself as possible pressed against the wall. Around that corner, a cluster of guards stood outside a door. They looked bored and miserable. Of course, it was Christmas Eve. And they stood there, away from their own families, in a dank factory, guarding something that probably had very little value to them individually, but that they had to kill to protect.

Guarding something. Someone? Rupert edged back along the wall toward the others.

“I think we’ve found him,” said Rupert. His heart jumped and then squeezed in upon itself. Step one was done. They were on their way to success. “There are at least a dozen guards around the corner. We need to look in that room. But how do we get past the guards?”

“Ich weiß,”
said Marie in her deep German soldier’s voice. If he weren’t so scared and on edge, Rupert might have laughed. “Soldiers listen to anything someone tells them. No offense, Major.”

“Call them to a Christmas treat,” said Rupert.

“But not all of them,” chimed in the major. “They’ll get suspicious if you call all of them away from their object.”

“How many should I leave there?” asked Marie.

“Two or three. That’ll be okay for a quick nip or snack break,” said the major.

Marie nodded. She rubbed the front of her throat and then she shouted a long string of German.
“Schnell! Schnell!”
she finished.
“Letztere bekommt kein kuchen!”

“You sound terrifying when you do that,” said Rupert.

“Merci!”
said Marie.

They hadn’t counted on which way the soldiers would march to their treat, though, and so there was a mad scramble back to the stairway where they had hidden before. The major just barely managed to get the door shut before the soldiers rounded the corner, jovial about their upcoming sweets.

As soon as the slightest hush of quiet swept back over the floor, the trio set out. They only had until the soldiers reached the kitchens and realized there were no treats. After that, they might take a moment to see who had played a joke on them, but once it all was sorted, the alarms would ring and everyone would know that something was amiss in the factory.

At the end of the hall, Rupert peeked again. They had left three guards. One of them stood outside of the door with a deadly serious look on his face. One was marching toward the other end of the hall. And one was so near that Rupert could have reached out and touched him.

The major switched places with Rupert. And in one swift motion, he’d grabbed the soldier and dragged him around the corner.

The soldier was shocked for a moment, but that one moment was all the major needed. Before the soldier could cry out or begin to truly fight back, the major had an arm around his neck and one more pressed against his mouth. In moments, the German soldier was sinking to his knees, his eyes lolling back in his head as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Marie was aghast.

“He’s not dead,” said the major. “I’m not about to kill someone on Christmas.”

The major pulled the uniform off of the soldier, leaving him in his long underwear.

“Give it to me,” said Rupert. The major shook his head.

“Give it to me,” Rupert insisted. “It won’t fit you. And they’ll be able to tell Marie’s a girl. Don’t look at me like I’m daft, Major, we don’t have time for that.”

The major passed the uniform over to Rupert. “You be careful. At the slightest hint of trouble, I’m coming around that bend.”

“You won’t,” said Rupert. “You won’t risk the mission. I’ll take a look around and give a signal when it’s time for you two to make a move. Marie, turn around.”

Marie politely covered her eyes as Rupert shimmied out of his own clothes and into the German soldier’s uniform.

Rupert steeled himself, adopted his most German posture, and stepped around the corner. He felt as if he were stepping out onstage without knowing any of his lines. But instead of booing him, his audience would kill him. Both of the German guards turned to look at him. The uniform was too big on him, and he stood there, gangling and awkward and certain that in two seconds they were about to shoot him.

But apparently the uniform did the trick. They both looked past him after a moment, and went back to their own work. Rupert hefted the soldier’s gun up onto his shoulder and watched as the other guard at the end of the hall turned and began to march toward him. Rupert waited until he passed, then followed.

In the center of the hall, right before the door, the other marching soldier put his hand out to stop Rupert. Rupert’s stomach dropped into the pit of his stomach, and his breath stopped.

“Wie spät ist es?”
asked the soldier.

Rupert panicked. He didn’t know what that meant or how to answer or how to do anything in that moment but to gape like a fish. It was the Madrigal from the grate.

“You!” Rupert blurted. He gasped, audibly, like he had just been slapped. Like all of the wind had been sucked out of him. The darkness from his dream swept over him, giving him chills and sweats at the same time, and he almost lost the grip on his gun. But the Madrigal just smiled.

“Wat?”
said the one in front of the door.

“Nein,”
said the Madrigal, gesturing back to himself. “Fritz.”

Suddenly, from around the corner came a great crash. The guard at the door jumped, but Rupert and the Madrigal kept staring at each other.

I know why you’re here
, Rupert wanted to say.
But it won’t work. We’re here. Me and Marie and the major, and it’s one against three, even if it is the army against three. And you can’t stop us, and we’re going to take the Ekat back and you can’t have him.

But instead, the guard at the door barked something to the Madrigal in German and sent him off to investigate. Rupert watched him go. Marie and the major would handle it. He waited for the sounds of a scuffle, but none came.

Rupert decided that now was as good a time as any. “Well,” said Rupert, turning to face the other guard. “It’s been quite a night.”

The German soldier opened his mouth in surprise at the sound of English, but at that moment, the major and Marie came barreling around the corner. Rupert took advantage of the surprise and swung the butt of his gun around, knocking the soldier to the ground. The major was there in a moment. He’d torn Rupert’s beautiful uniform to pieces, and with them he bound and gagged the soldier.

They burst into the room.

It was like a scene from a madman’s nightmare. Beakers and cauldrons boiled over Bunsen burners, and strange liquids and powders filled glass vials and stone mortars. The electricity was frizzing in and out, making the whole room glow in an undulating yellow and orange haze.

“Dr. Woolsey!” the major called out.

A little man in a yellow sweater jumped to his feet. He had white hair that looked as if he had tried to fix the electricity himself — and failed. It stood out at all ends and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in days.

“Very, very,” said the doctor. His hands were shaking as he took a handkerchief from his cuff and cleaned his glasses. “Visitors. Oh, my. Where is the kettle? I don’t — I can’t seem to —” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “Welcome to Oxford, lads.”

“They’ve driven him mad,” said Marie. “The poor old man.”

“Visitors, visitors. There are, erm, there is vermin. Please find the housekeeper, Jim.”

But Rupert wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He was too distracted looking around the room. The doctor must have been driven mad, but how? And by what? Great
V
s were scratched into everything — the tops of the tables, the covers of workbooks, even the walls.

“Dr. Woolsey, what are all of the
V
s for?” Rupert asked. But as soon as he did, the doctor went deathly pale and shrunk back into himself.

“Vermin!” he barked. “Vile vermin!”

Rupert touched one of the letters carved into the doctor’s wooden table, running his finger along the sharp splinters. “You can’t be this scared of mice,” said Rupert. “What does
V
mean?”

“Very. Very badly behaved,” said Dr. Woolsey. “Never seen such badly behaved students.”

“Come on,” said the major. “We don’t have a lot of time. Doctor, I’m sorry, but we’re going to ruin your hard work.” The major picked up a chair and prepared to throw it at the laboratory setup.

“Oh!” The doctor threw his hands up over his face and cowered.

“Wait!” said Rupert, grabbing the chair from the major. “You can’t just go and do that. You have to think about things first. Two of the chemicals could explode if they touch each other. Doctor, what’s here?”

“A spot of tea, I think,” said Dr. Woolsey. Rupert doubted that.

“Marie, you said they’ve started making the gas here?” said Rupert. “And before that, it was, what? A dying factory?”

“Oui,”
said Marie.

“Quickly, Davenport, quickly!” said the major.

Rupert was going to go as fast as he could. But delicate things took time. You couldn’t just crash a bunch of things together and hope they didn’t create toxic fumes, or fire, or both. And it didn’t help that he didn’t understand any of Dr. Woolsey’s notes or labels. They were scrawled in something that looked like spider tracks, and half of them were in German.