The 39 Clues: Unstoppable Book 2: Breakaway (5 page)

“Duck!”

Amy dropped to her knees as a cloud of sand flew over her head and into the eyes of the two men. Jake grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her to her feet.

“Run!”

Amy and Jake took off toward the marina, right into the crowd of onlookers who had all turned toward them in varying states of shock. The men were behind them and closing the distance incredibly fast. These were definitely Pierce’s thugs. Amy caught a glint of bronze on one of the remaining merchants’ tables. She scooped up a round serving tray and spun without missing a beat, hurling the plate like a discus. She managed a smile when she heard a very satisfying “ugh” as the tray found its target. One of the men went down and the other jumped over him.

Jake raced onto the pier and leaped into a nearby powerboat. Amy barely had time to get into the seat next to him before he turned the key and gunned the engine. Amy shot a glance over her shoulder. The men were struggling to break through the unruly crowd, knocking people out of their way as they made their way toward the pier.

Jake pushed the throttle to full, throwing Amy back into her seat, lashed with sea spray. He carved a path south, straight down the coast toward Tunis. Behind them, Pierce’s men were through the crowd, and Amy watched as they commandeered a boat of their own.

“We’re going to need a new plan!” Amy said.

“It’s your turn,” Jake yelled over the roar of the engines, earning himself a glare from Amy. “I came up with stealing the boat!”

The men were now less than fifty yards behind them. One of them was leaning forward, gun in hand. As soon as they were out of sight of the crowds at the marina, he began firing. Bullets zipped past Amy and Jake, splashing into the churning water around them.

The lights of Tunis were growing brighter by the second.

“If we slow down enough to get ashore, they’ll be on us in no time,” Amy said. She pivoted in her seat, searching for anything that might help. A little bit of land. Other ships. Anything. All she saw was a vast stretch of dark sea. “Steer us out into the open water.”

“And do what? Take this thing to Italy?”

Bullets pierced the fiberglass deck behind them, slamming their way closer and closer.

“Just do it!”

Jake pulled the wheel over, aiming the boat straight out into open water ahead. The men behind overshot them and had to slow to turn around.

“Hope you’ve got a good follow-up idea!”

Me too,
Amy thought as she dropped into her seat and started stripping off her shoes.

“What are you doing!?”

“We have to jump!”

“What!? You mean in the water?”

“It’s dark,” Amy said. “They won’t see us. They’ll follow the boat while we’ll swim back to the beach.”

Jake looked behind them. “Swim? We’re a mile from shore!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yes! It’s called NOT DROWNING!”

A trio of gunshots thundered behind them. Amy stripped off her cardigan and stood by the edge of the boat. “Take off your shoes and jacket and let’s go!”

“Amy!”

Amy threw her arms over her head and dove into the rushing water. As fast as they were going, it was like hitting wet concrete. She tumbled in the water end over end, plummeting into the dark beneath the waves. For a terrifying moment Amy couldn’t even figure out which way was up, until she spotted air bubbles floating to the surface. Amy followed them, pulling with all her might until she exploded out of the water with a gasp. A second later there was a scream of engines and the other boat raced by.

“Jake!” Amy called into the dark after the boat had passed. “Jake!”

Amy searched frantically, but didn’t see him anywhere.
What if he stayed in the boat? What if he’s still out there all alone?

“Jake!” she screamed.

Amy searched the darkness, growing more and more anxious until she heard a splash nearby. The surface broke and Jake appeared, gulping back air. Amy stroked toward him, putting one arm around his back and kicking to lift them beyond the reach of the swells of black water.

“You okay?”

Jake coughed and then he nodded weakly.

“Can you swim?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

By the time they pulled themselves out of the surf and onto the beach, all they could do was collapse onto their backs. Amy lay there panting, the muscles in her arms and legs buzzing with exhaustion. Jake was sitting up, draped over his knees, breathing hard and shivering despite the warmth of the night. He looked like a half-drowned puppy. Amy couldn’t help but smile.

“You were right,” she said over the crashing waves. “I was completely lost.”

Jake looked back to her, pushing the wet hair out of his eyes. She had given him a golden opportunity to rub it in. All she could do was brace herself for it.

“You were actually only about a mile or so from the museum,” he said. “You would have gotten there.”

In the wet chill, Jake’s smile felt as warm as a bonfire.

“Come on,” Amy said. “Let’s get out of here. Maybe if we’re lucky, Dan’s found that pizza.”

Amy started to go but Jake took hold of her wrist.

“Back in the medina. Going after that guy . . .  it was one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done in my life. I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted to
do
something. You know?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

Twenty minutes after they found a taxi willing to take two sopping-wet teenagers, Jake and Amy pulled up in front of their hotel.

“Hey, look,” Amy said, pointing out the window. “It’s Dan and Atticus.”

The two of them were just coming up the sidewalk as Jake and Amy left the cab.

“Whoa!” Atticus said when he saw them. “What happened to you guys?”

“What?” Jake said, mock incredulous. “We just went for a little swim.”

Amy laughed. “Yeah, it was such a nice night we couldn’t resist. What did we miss here?”

“We found it!” Dan exclaimed. “Tunisian pizza! And you’ll never believe it. The stuff has tuna fish on it!”

“And hard-boiled eggs!” Atticus chimed in.

“At first, you think it’s a crime against the pizza gods, but then you taste it and it blows your mind.”

“We’ll have to try some,” Amy said with a doubtful look. “Att, Jake says you think we should try your father again.”

“Totally,” he said. “You guys want to change first or something?”

“Nah,” Amy said. “We’ll dry off on the way. Come on.”

The four of them set off down the streets of Tunis, Amy and Jake trailing behind while Dan and Atticus took the lead, babbling excitedly about a video arcade they found down near the medina. All around them, nightclubs and cafés were buzzing. The air was warm on Amy’s skin, and it smelled of the spicy aroma of roasting meats from the restaurants they passed.

For a wonderful moment, Amy felt like just another tourist, gliding through the town with her friends without a care in the world. She even found herself wishing Ian was there and Jonah and Nellie and Hamilton, too. Even Pony.

“It’s just up here!” Atticus said, leading them down a quaint street lit by the glow of amber streetlights. They went halfway down the block, then opened a black gate that led up to a small two-story house.

Amy knew there was something wrong immediately. The front door was hanging wide open. Even from the sidewalk, she could see a turned-over bookcase and a floor covered in papers.

“Does your dad live alone?” Amy asked.

Atticus nodded, speechless, and Amy rushed past him, up the stairs and into the house. She stood in the brightly lit front room, surveying the damage. The place had been ransacked. Coffee tables and chairs were turned on their sides and every surface was covered in papers and books and journals, all looking like they had been torn off the shelves and thrown aside randomly.

“Dr. Rosenbloom!” Amy called.

“Dad!” Jake yelled.

“I’m trying to call his cell phone, but he isn’t answering,” Atticus said.

“It’s probably nothing,” Jake said. “You know how Dad gets when he’s working on something. I bet he just —”

“They saw him talking to us. They think he’s involved.”

Everyone turned at the sound of Amy’s voice. She was staring at the floor, hating how sure she felt.

“Who did?” Jake asked. “Amy? Who saw him?”

Amy forced herself to look at Jake and Atticus. She felt something like a lump of chalk in her throat.

“Pierce’s men,” she said. “They’ve kidnapped your father.”

This is never going to work,
Nellie thought as she stood in the parking lot at Trilon Laboratories. Hundreds of her soon-to-be fellow employees were streaming out of their cars and up to the building. There were so many of them! And they all seemed so full of energy and purpose. Every scrap of conversation Nellie caught was incomprehensible, full of words like
entropy
and
metalloids
and
protonation
.

Nellie waited for the flood to pass, then steadied herself with a deep breath and trooped up the stairs. Once inside, she saw that the building was surprisingly small.
I
wonder how they get all those people in here?

As Nellie crossed the entryway, she noticed the black security cameras that hung in every corner, like nesting bats. There were guards, too, men in gray uniforms with guns on their hips and radio earpieces. It was heavy security for a little pharmaceutical plant. The place was getting more suspicious by the second.

Nellie came to a security gate that led back into the labs. Next to the card reader on the gate there was a large blue D that matched the letter on Nellie’s ID card. Nellie swiped her card and made her way through a maze of white hallways, looking for lab 237. Each lab she passed buzzed with small teams of scientists. She kept an eye out for Sammy, but she knew there was no way finding him was going to be easy.

Nellie’s stomach flipped when she finally found herself outside lab 237. A group of five scientists stood in the middle conferring with their backs to her, spouting more science gibberish.

“. . . but, Doctor, Avogadro’s law clearly states that . . .”

“Someone bring me the Eppendorf tube!!”

“— great Scott, man! Think of the neutrinos!”

Every molecule in Nellie’s body wanted retreat; she could never mix with these people. It didn’t matter that she changed her clothes and dyed her hair. She was Nellie Gomez, not —

“Dr. Gormley!”

The five scientists were staring at her. One of them, an older man with snowy hair, crossed the room with his hand out.

“I’m Dr. Wentworth! So good to have you here. We’ve heard nothing but wonderful things! It’ll be a pleasure to have someone who really knows what she’s doing take over the lab!”

Nellie’s heart skipped a beat. “Take over?”

“Yes!” Dr. Wentworth laughed. “We all heard that you came in for an assistant’s position, but George Takahashi knows talent when he sees it. He fired Dr. Carstairs and decided to give you the job!”

“Well, that’s . . .  that’s just . . . it’s
amazing
,” Nellie sputtered, feeling her head spin. “But certainly there are people who would be better suited to —”

“Nonsense!” Dr. Wentworth hustled Nellie inside and to a desk at the front of the room. “With your credentials, you’re going to be perfect. A breath of fresh air. Now, is there anything we can get you before we start? Coffee? Dr. Assad! Coffee for Dr. Gormey!”

“Yes, sir!” One of the other scientists dashed out of the room.

“All of us here are so eager to get started,” Dr. Wentworth continued.

Nellie seized on the opportunity. “Yes! You should do that! Just go ahead and get started. Great idea!”

Dr. Wentworth stared at her blankly and then turned to a woman next to him.

“Get started doing . . . what?” the woman asked.

Nellie floundered. A huge chalkboard sat at the other end of the room, covered with equations and strange symbols. “Continuing the great work you’re already doing!”

Dr. Wentworth laughed his jolly laugh. “Oh, all of Dr. Carstairs’s projects were canceled when he was fired. Best thing that could have happened, really; his approach was getting us nowhere.”

The woman chimed in. “Mr. Takahashi said now that you’re here we can expect a radical new approach in the creation of complex dihydrate benzo protein phosphates.”

“Did he!?” Nellie squeaked.

“Oh, yes! Since it was the subject of your PhD thesis.”

Nellie braced herself with her palms on her desk, fighting the light-headedness that was spreading fast. The door to the lab stood open less than ten feet away. The elevators were just fifteen feet down the hall. She could be back in her car and on the road in minutes.

No! The world is counting on you, Gomez. All you have to do is get these people off your back long enough to do some snooping. Do something!

But what? The last time she had taken a chemistry class was in the eighth grade, and she hadn’t paid the slightest bit of attention. She had just discovered cooking and couldn’t get herself to spend more than a few minutes with her nose out of Julia Child’s
Mastering the Art of French Cooking
.

But wait,
Nellie thought.
Isn’t cooking just chemistry?
Instead of a formula, you have a recipe. Instead of chemicals, you mix ingredients together in precise proportions until they combine and become something else. There’s really no difference at all.
So what’s the secret to great cooking? Think, Gomez, think!

“Uh . . . Dr. Gormey?”

Nellie pounded her palm on the tabletop. “Salt!”

She looked up at a sea of utterly blank faces.
Did I just say that out loud?
Dr. Wentworth stepped forward.

“Uh . . . what do you mean
salt
?”

Nellie decided to go for broke. She strode to the chalkboard and picked up an eraser. She wiped away all of their equations and replaced them with
SALT
in huge letters. “That’s our radical new approach, ladies and gentlemen!” she declared. “Salt! Sodium!”

“You’re saying mix sodium into the formula?”

“Yes!” Nellie said. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” one of the other scientists interrupted.

“He’s right!” cried another. “If we simply add sodium to the mixture, it will destroy the whole thing!”

“And it would be highly dangerous!”

In seconds, the scientists had her completely surrounded, screeching about salt and sodium and the accepted practices in modern chemistry. The only thing to do was run. Nellie took a step toward the door just as young Dr. Assad appeared in the doorway with her coffee, a stunned look on his face at the chaos in the room.

That’s when the idea hit her.
Ian!
Nellie swiped the coffee mug out of Dr. Assad’s hand, took one sip, then hurled it across the room. The mug hit the far wall and exploded, sending coffee and shards of pottery flying.

“YOU CALL THIS SWILL
COFFEE
!?”

The angry chatter ceased immediately, as if someone had reached in and turned the sound off in the room. The doctors turned to her, mouths agape.

“Are you trying to poison me?” Nellie shrieked. “Is that instant? And powdered creamer? What do you think I am, an animal?”

Dr. Wentworth stepped forward. “Dr. Gormey, I —”

Nellie wheeled on Wentworth. “And you! Everyone back in my lab at Harvard said the scientists at Trilon labs were a bunch of monkey-brained hacks! I said no! All they need is a few fresh new ideas and the sky’s the limit. But here I am, dropping genius at your feet, and this is how you react!? Are you all blind? Are you fools!?”

“But, Dr. Gormey —”

“Don’t ‘Dr. Gormey’ me, Dr. Wayneworth.”

“It’s Wentworth actually, but —”

“I don’t have time to hold your hands! I’ve given you the answer! Do you need me to do
all
of your work for you?”

“N-no,” Dr. Wentworth stuttered. “Of course not! It’s just that salt —”

“No excuses! I want reports by the end of the week. We’re trying to save lives here, people!”

“Of course, Dr. Gormey!”

“And
you
,” Nellie said, wheeling on a quaking Dr. Assad. “I want to see a double-caff nonfat caramel mochaccino with whipped cream on my desk in ten minutes or you’re fired!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Dr. Assad sprinted out of the room. Nellie crossed her arms and leaned against the back wall as everyone scattered to their jobs, bending over Bunsen burners. They wouldn’t look up again for hours.

Being Dr. Nadine Gormey was
awesome
.