The 39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers Book 5: Trust No One (15 page)

With Amy partly mollified, the group checked in and went to their rooms. None of them had swimming gear, so the boys all put on shorts. Amy had to go to the hotel shop to find a bathing suit, her companions helpfully trailing along.

Atticus pulled a suit off the rack. “How does this even
work
?” he said, examining it in wonder. Several skinny black straps were connected in a complicated and mysterious way to a few tiny triangles of fabric.

“I believe it’s called a thong,” Jake said wisely.

Amy blushed, snatched it away from Atticus, and hung it back up on the rack. “I am
not
wearing that.”

“Amy, how about this one?” Dan held a spangly leopard-print number under his chin and sashayed a few steps, wiggling his hips.

“Oh, Dan, that’s
so
you!” Jake said in falsetto. All three boys howled with laughter.

“Would you all please just LEAVE?” Amy said, now bright pink with mortification.

“Okay, okay,” Jake said, his hands raised in mock surrender. “We’ll wait outside.”

A few minutes later, Amy joined them wearing a towel wrapped around her waist and a navy-blue striped bikini. They took the elevator down to the pool level. As they pushed through the glass doors, Atticus put one hand over his eyes and peeked through his fingers.

“Not nudist,” he announced, and Jake could hear the relief in his voice.

About a dozen other people were in the pools, with a handful more lounging in deck chairs on the extensive patio. Jake moved a little closer to Amy.

“What’s the plan?” he asked, his voice low.

He followed her gaze as she looked around. The hot tub, two big pools, the patio . . . There was a lot of ground to cover.

She didn’t answer, so he went on, “We can start with this pool, it’s the biggest. Atticus, you and Dan take the perimeter. Amy and I will search the rest of it.”

“Is that an order?” Amy said and crossed her arms over her chest. “Or just a suggestion?”

“I’m only trying to help,” Jake said. “And Atticus, you don’t go anywhere on your own. One of us always has to be next to you, understand?”

Atticus seemed about to talk back, but Jake’s expression clearly indicated zero tolerance on this. With a shrug, he cannonballed into the pool, followed immediately by Dan.

Amy was watching Dan. Her expression seemed to soften a little; Dan already appeared free of any effects from the curare.

She cleared her throat and turned to Jake. “We should try not to look like we’re searching,” she said.

“Agreed.” Jake thought for a moment. “Can you swim the butterfly stroke?”

“Yes,” she said, “not great. But why —”

“I can’t,” he said. “So you can teach me. That’ll be our cover for going back and forth across the pool a million times.”

“Good idea,” she said.

Which felt almost as good as making her laugh.

“I don’t get it,” Dan said to Atticus as they inspected the perimeter of the first pool. “If it’s a manuscript page we’re looking for, a swimming pool would be the worst place to hide it, right? If it got wet, it could be ruined forever.”

Atticus thought for a moment. “Yeah, but maybe that’s why she hid it here. Because no one would think of looking for it in a pool.”

“I don’t know,” Dan said, shaking his head. “Even if she wrapped it up really good, it seems like an awfully big risk.”

Atticus scanned the whole area carefully. “Maybe you’re right,” he said slowly. “How about this:
near
the pool, but not
in
it?”

They climbed out of the pool.

“You start here and I’ll start over there,” Dan said, pointing toward the outer edge of the patio area. “We can meet in the middle.” He headed for the fence that bordered the patio.

Atticus decided that searching the permanent structures first made the most sense. Surely Dr. Siffright wouldn’t have hidden the manuscript page under something like a lounge chair or patio table that could easily be moved.

A few yards from the pool, there was a hut for towel storage. It wasn’t much more than a wooden counter beneath a palm-frond roof. Clean folded towels were stacked on one end of the counter; at the other end, a rectangular hole had been cut into the wood, with a rolling laundry bin underneath.

Atticus walked to the hut to begin his search, then took a quick glance around. Jake and Amy were still checking out the pool. Dan was examining the wrought-iron fence. Atticus didn’t see anything suspect, but just in case . . .

He reached for a towel and began drying himself.

“Oh, that feels good!” he said loudly and wiped his legs and arms with exaggerated motions. As a final flourish, he draped the towel around his neck.
That should throw off anyone who might be spying,
he thought with satisfaction.

Atticus searched the little hut thoroughly.
I have to find the folio. Dan got hurt because of me.

He even moved the laundry bin so he could inspect the floor space underneath.

Nothing.

He rolled the laundry bin back into its place under the counter. As he straightened up, his glance fell on one of the bamboo poles supporting the roof of the hut. He followed it with his gaze to the palm fronds overhead.

What if it’s hidden up there?

Skinny bamboo poles and palm fronds. The roof would never support his weight.

A ladder . . . where am I going to get a ladder? And even if I can find one, it would look awfully strange, me climbing up to get a look at the roof. . . .

Atticus decided to consult Dan on this one. He looked toward the fence, but Dan wasn’t there.

Jake and Amy in the pool, check. Where’s Dan?

He surveyed the patio area carefully.

Still no Dan.

Atticus started to feel a little knot of panic in his stomach.
What if he’s, like, passed out because — because of the curare affecting him somehow?
He looked around one more time.

The knot loosened.
There he is!

Not far from the fence, Dan was on his hands and knees on the ground; that was why Atticus hadn’t spotted him at first. Dan seemed to be talking to a woman standing near him. She was wearing sunglasses and a floppy hat.

Something about the way she’s standing . . .
Atticus couldn’t have said exactly what it was, but the woman looked tense to him. Then he realized that, although her arms were down by her sides, her right hand was clenched around something.

She took a step toward Dan, and the object in her hand flashed in the sunlight.

Atticus gasped.

A knife!

Dan had spent only a few minutes searching the wrought-iron fence. He didn’t see how the manuscript page could be hidden there, unless it was buried at the base of one of the pilings, which were set into concrete. He decided instead to search the patio itself, which had sections of both brickwork and wood decking.

Determined to do a thorough job of it, Dan went down to his hands and knees and began to crawl around the patio. He knew it looked strange, but he could always reprise the contact-lens excuse if anyone asked.

The wood planking was solid and the bricks well mortared, but where they met, there was a seam that formed the narrowest of cracks. Dan fingered the crack experimentally.
You could fit something down there, all right,
he thought.
It would be awfully tight, but maybe the crack is wider somewhere else — if I follow it along . . .

He turned to begin tracing the path of the crack. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement and looked up.

And up, and up.

A woman was standing nearby. She was really tall — it was hard to tell from Dan’s vantage point, but she had to be at least six feet. Sunglasses, straw hat, one of those terry-cloth swim cover-ups.

“What are you doing?” she said in a voice not much louder than a whisper.

Dan glanced around quickly, then back at the woman. “Sorry — were you talking to me?” he asked. His heart was starting to beat a little harder. “I just — I’m — um —”

The woman took a small step toward him. “Get away from there,” she said in a voice so tight she was almost choking. “Just stand up and walk away. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” She made a small motion with her right hand.

Dan looked at her hand and saw part of a knife’s blade. He got to his knees slowly.

The woman glanced around, then took a couple of steps. She was now standing behind him.

“Get up,” she said.

Dan felt the chill of metal against his neck. Cold sweat broke out all over his body. It felt like even his elbows were sweating. And why did his left arm suddenly feel a lot weaker?

“Hey, Dan!”

Atticus was waving at him. The woman stayed where she was but lowered the knife out of sight. It pressed between Dan’s shoulder blades.

“Wanna go in again?” Atticus was all smiles. “Bet I can hold my breath underwater longer than you — c’mon —” He started trotting toward Dan.

“Get rid of him,” the woman croaked.

Atticus was now just steps away. Dan felt the knife twitch against his skin. Sweat was rolling down his back — or was it blood?

Could I elbow her, maybe? But she’s on my left — is my arm strong enough for that?

“Atticus, um, I want a Coke,” Dan said in desperation. “Would you go to the bar and get me one? Right now? Like, right this minute? I’m
really
thirsty.”

Atticus, LISTEN to me, go on, get away from here!

To his utter amazement, Atticus gave him a subtle, secret thumbs-up.

Then Atticus leaped to the woman’s side, grabbed the towel from around his neck, and flicked it like a whip at her hand. She cried out in pain and dropped the knife; it clattered to the ground, bounced, and ended up not far from Dan. She and Dan both dove for the knife.

Dan got there first. His fingers closed around the handle —

“HEY!”

It was Jake’s voice, followed immediately by Amy’s.

“DAN, ATTICUS! RUN!”

Atticus turned instantly to obey, but in his haste he tripped on the towel, knocked down a small table, and plowed into a lounge chair. The chair landed on its side; both Dan and the woman fell over it.

The towel ended up half draped over Dan’s head. One of Atticus’s hands was trapped in the chair’s plastic webbing. The woman’s hat had been knocked off and her sunglasses were askew.

It was her voice that emerged first from the pile.

“Atticus?” she said. “Atticus Rosenbloom?”

Atticus stared at her for a moment.

“Dr. Siffright?”

Disentanglement was followed by multiple explanations.

“Atticus isn’t a common name,” Dr. Siffright said. “And you’re the right age, and now I can see it — you look like Astrid.”

“I hope I didn’t hurt your hand,” Atticus said. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“You didn’t stay with Dan,” Jake said to Atticus. “I
told
you —”

“I forgot,” Atticus confessed. “It’s hard to remember every single minute.”

“If you forget again, I’m putting you on a leash,” Jake said. Then he relented a little. “That was really brave, what you did. Weren’t you scared?”

“Yeah,” Atticus admitted. “I
was
scared, but I was more scared for Dan.”