The 39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers Book 5: Trust No One (6 page)

Back at the car, Amy was relieved to find that while the hearing in her right ear was a little woolly, the ringing sound had faded. And the powder burn on her neck didn’t seem to be serious. She told the boys what had transpired, surprised by how calm her voice was. For now, she had to relate just the facts.
If I think about anything else, I’ll probably start crying.

“Wow,” Dan said, examining the gun. “What do you bet it was an Ekat who came up with this?”

“We found something under the dashboard,” Atticus said. He held out an electronic device. “It’s a signal blocker. She didn’t want us getting any messages.”

Silence, while each of them considered the implications of having had a mole in their midst for so long.

“She must know where the hostages are,” Amy said. The thought made her so angry that her voice shook.

“And her brother is one of them!” Atticus said. “Do you think he’s in on it?”

Amy shook her head. “He’s not. She told me.”

“But she’s letting them keep him locked up!” Atticus was incredulous. He looked at Jake. “And I thought
you
were a pain sometimes.”

“Gee, thanks, bro,” Jake said in mock gratitude.

Just then Amy’s phone beeped with a text:

I’m here at Yale — where are you?

It was from Evan.

Evan was hurrying toward them when he caught sight of Amy and stopped short, obviously aghast. For a moment, Amy was actually glad she looked so awful; she had been anxious about how he would greet her. With a hug, or even a kiss?

So what? That’s what boyfriends do, and he’s my boyfriend. Why should I care what — what Jake thinks?

“I’m fine,” she said to forestall his worry. “It was Sinead.”

Evan looked startled, then miserable. He touched her arm hesitantly. “It’s my fault,” he said. “I didn’t catch on to her fast enough. And then I kept trying to text you —”

“It was not your fault!” Amy snapped. “She almost talked us into giving up the serum formula — if it hadn’t been for you, we might have done it! The worst of it is, she got away.”

“As long as you’re okay,” Evan said. “But you had her, four against one — how did you lose her?”

“Look,” Jake said, his voice edged with annoyance. “You weren’t there — you didn’t see how it went down.”

Evan bristled. “You’re right, I wasn’t there, so I want to know —”

“Evan — I mean, um, Jake” — Amy felt the beginnings of a mild panic — “both of you — this is not helping!”

Both of the older boys had the grace to look sheepish. Amy took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Can we start over? Evan, this is Jake and Atticus. Jake and Atticus, meet Evan.”

It was Atticus who broke the tension.

“Hey, Evan, nice to finally meet you,” he said.

Amy could have hugged him. “Let’s all find somewhere to sit down,” she suggested. “And then we’ll get you caught up, Jake — I mean, Evan.”

She wanted to bite her tongue off.

Dan snickered. “Oops,” he said. “Why don’t you just call them both Jakevan — wouldn’t that be easier?”

If looks could kill, Dan would have been six feet under.

What’s eating her?

Evan wondered if it had anything to do with him. Then he felt ashamed.
Sheesh, give the girl a break.

Amy had marched off to find a restroom. When she came back, she looked more herself — face washed, hair brushed, a fresh T-shirt. Evan’s spirits rose at the sight of her.

They found a bench outside the library.

“Okay, I’ve had a chance to think about this,” Amy said. “I’m going to lay it out now, and you can let me know what you think.”

Nods all around.

“First, we’ll need to send an urgent bulletin about Sinead. That’s you, Evan. A message to the entire Cahill network to keep their eyes peeled for her.”

“What should they do if they spot her?” Evan asked.

“Keep her locked down until we can get her to reveal the location of the hostages. Otherwise, any sightings should be reported so you can coordinate the hunt.”

“Got it,” Evan said. He was impressed by her businesslike tone, which made him feel proud. He smiled at her.

She nodded, but didn’t smile back.

“Next. This one’s on me.” Amy hesitated for a moment; whatever was coming, it wasn’t pleasant. “I have to call Ian and apologize. For thinking he was the mole all this time.”

“Not your fault,” Dan said. “It was obviously Sinead feeding you bad info.”

“Garbage in, garbage out,” Atticus agreed.

“Maybe not my fault,” Amy said, “but still my responsibility.”

Now she raised her chin toward the building in front of them. “After that, we need a plan for the Voynich,” she said. “Sinead has been a major distraction. We have to get back on track.”

“We need to talk about this,” Jake said. “Do we have to steal it?”

“Of course we have to steal it,” Evan said. “Like everything else so far — why should this be any different?”
Funny how things change,
he thought.
Just a few weeks ago I’d have been asking the same question. . . .

Amy held up her hand. “We can discuss that in a minute,” she said. “Let me get through the list first.” Pause. “Once I get things straightened out with Ian, I want him to work with you, Evan, on finding the hostages. Dan and I have to keep playing Vesper One’s game — it’s too risky not to. But I don’t trust him —”

“You think?” Dan said in disgust.

“— so I want us focusing on rescue as much as on release. Whatever you need, whatever it takes.”

Evan didn’t respond right away. He made eye contact with Amy.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he said quietly.

He saw a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but then she blinked it away. She stood and walked away from the bench, around the corner of a retaining wall, where they had a little privacy.

Amy crossed her arms, looking almost defensive; Evan could tell that she was not in girlfriend mode. He wanted to touch her, but instead put a hand on the wall and leaned against it. Close to her, but not touching.

No use beating around the bush.
“I don’t want to go back to Attleboro,” he said. “I want to stay here with you.”

“Not an option,” she said immediately. “We need someone at the comm center and on the computers. You’re the only one who can do it.”

He sighed. “I knew you’d say that,” he said. “I guess — I just wanted you to know that I’d rather be with you. I miss you.”

Say it,
he begged silently,
say you miss me, too.

Amy was staring at the ground. “I know,” she whispered.

Then she straightened up and looked at him with an expression of — apology? Regret? Maybe even guilt? Why wouldn’t she tell him what she was thinking?

“Evan, I can’t . . . I’m sorry. We have work to do.” She touched his arm briefly, then walked back to the others.

As they rejoined the group, Evan saw Jake give him a long, cool stare. Evan’s stomach double-clutched.

Does he — Is Amy —

He tried to force his thoughts in a different direction.
Don’t think about it. It’s not important, not right now.

But another part of him wanted to shout,
Yes, it is! It’s important to ME!

Evan jammed his hands into his pockets. His shoulders hunched, he watched her out of the corner of his eye.

I can wait,
he thought.
Until this craziness ends. And then we can talk, and everything will be okay.

Maybe it wasn’t true. But for now, it wasn’t false, either.

He’d take those odds. She was worth it.

“Ian, it’s Amy. I’m here with Dan. And Jake and Atticus.”

A brief silence. Then, “Hello.”

Never had that word sounded less welcoming. Amy sighed — he wasn’t going to make this easy. And she had the added pressure of making this call with an audience: The phone was on speaker, so the four boys with her could hear everything.

“Evan found out — Sinead is the mole.” She could almost hear the click of a door closing on her emotions, blocking out the pain that went with those words.
Focus
,
she told herself firmly.

No response from Ian.

“Ian, I’m sorry.”

Still no response.

“Look, I know we screwed up big-time.”

Finally: “That would seem to be an understatement of laughable proportions,” he said.

Followed by silence again.

Amy gritted her teeth. “Ian, come on. I’ll say it again: I’m really, really sorry. What do you want me to do, beg?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Ian said.

Jake bristled. “Hey, where do you get off?”

Amy scowled at him. “I don’t need your help, and besides, you’re just going to make him madder.”

“You don’t even know him,” Evan protested to Jake. “He’s okay, he’s just pissed off right now. Amy, if you want, I can try —”

Amy glared at the two of them. “Would you both please shut up? Ian —” She paused, trying to figure out a way to break through to him.
Maybe if I ask a question . . .
“Is there any way I can make this right?”

Ian cleared his throat. “I would have thought you would have given me the benefit of the doubt,” he said, his accent more clipped than she had ever heard before. “After all, we do have a considerable history together.”

Amy felt her face go pink. A couple of years ago, she had had a crush on Ian, which, it turned out, had been mutual. Was that what he was referring to?
I hope not — I’m already all mixed up when it comes to boys!

The pain of Sinead’s betrayal came back in full force. Like most girls and women, Amy confided in her female friends, and just yesterday she had drafted an e-mail to Sinead about kissing Jake. She hadn’t had a chance to send it, and now she never would.

Amy forced herself to concentrate. “I know that. But think about it, Ian — the recent history with you has been — well, worrying. You left Attleboro without telling anyone where you were going, and no one could get in touch with you. Then when you got back, you wouldn’t tell Evan where you’d been. We didn’t want to think the worst, but can you see how it looked?”

Another silence, but somehow this one seemed less frosty.

“I see your point,” he said. “But the phrase
benefit of the doubt
means that one holds off doubting and gives the subject time to explain. Or whatever.”

“You’re right,” she said, “and I’m sorry. Really I am. If you’re willing to explain now, I’m ready. Late to the party is better than — than missing the boat entirely, right?”

A pause. Then, “I shall plan a party on the
Force
.”

“The
Force —
you mean, your yacht?” Amy was startled by the sudden change in subject.

He snorted. “Yes, and you can arrive late, thus rescuing you from that appalling mixed metaphor.”

Amy laughed, partly at his joke and partly from relief; her approach seemed to be working.
And now for a little ego stroking . . .

“Okay, can we talk about what you’ve been up to? The rest of you, listen up. Whatever Ian has to say, I’m sure it’s important.”

“Amy. Please. I’m going to explain everything whether or not you flatter me, so you needn’t bother.”

Amy blushed again. “Okay, you got me. But I meant it, too. Go ahead.”