Jude Watson - A King's Ransom

The woman paused. “Dr. Rosenbloom referred you?”

“Yes, but we misplaced the letter.”

“Perhaps you should e-mail Dr. Rosenbloom and then he can forward the necessary papers.”

“We can’t,” Dan said. “He’s on a dig in … Eritrea. No satellite reception.”

Amy glanced at her brother. Where had that come from? She didn’t even think he could locate Eritrea on a map. She didn’t think she could. But suddenly Dan was projecting maturity and intelligence. How did he manage it? And why couldn’t he do this at the dinner table instead of using his spoon to catapult mashed potatoes onto her plate when she asked for seconds?

The woman seemed hesitant, but her tone was firm. “I am so sorry, but we cannot make exceptions. I’ve met Dr. Rosenbloom and I know of his work. But I cannot let you in without the necessary papers.” Her voice softened. “I’m sure there is a way to contact him. Perhaps he could call in the introduction for you. We can bend the rules, but we cannot break them. Good day.”

Amy quickly scribbled a secure e-mail address on a piece of paper and the name Sarah Teague . “If we get Dr. Rosenbloom to e-mail you, can you e-mail us back that you’ll admit us?”

“I can’t make any promises.” Dr. Mavel glanced at the paper. She didn’t say yes, but she tucked it into a drawer.

There was nothing to do but leave. Amy and Dan stood on the sidewalk outside the library. It was a lovely fall day, cool and crisp. The city of Prague, with its old, graceful buildings, its hills and steeples, spread out around them. They could see the Vltava River and Prague Castle. But Amy couldn’t take it in. She could almost feel time passing, like the wind that blew her hair back and scattered the leaves at her feet.

“I don’t know what to do now,” she said. “But it was a good idea to bring up Atticus’s father.”

“It still didn’t get us in. And it’s not like we can call him. Jake probably told him that we’re thieves.”

Amy remembered the look on Jake’s face, the contempt when he knew what they were planning. “We’ll have to put out a Cahill alert,” she decided. “Someone will come through. In the meantime we can focus on getting a good translation of the epilogue of Il Milione . It has to tie in with everything else somehow.”

“Pliny the Younger, Marco Polo, Caravaggio, Johannes Kepler, and a Nazi,” Dan said, ticking off the names on his fingers. “They’re all centuries apart, and they’re connected?”

“They’ve got to be,” Amy said. “Let’s head back to the hotel.”

They had checked in to a small hotel tucked away on a side street upon their arrival that morning. The room hadn’t been ready, and they were carrying around their packs, which were starting to feel heavy. Jonah and Hamilton had gone to a four-star American hotel. They had agreed it would be safer to split up.

As they trudged the blocks to the hotel, Dan could feel the weight of discouragement even more than the drag of the pack on his shoulders. He pictured Hamilton and Jonah sitting around their hotel room in plush robes, nibbling at a complimentary fruit basket.

As they entered the hotel, the clerk came around the desk to speak to them. “My apologies. Your room isn’t ready,” he said. “May I suggest a snack in the kavarna – the cafe. Complimentary, of course.”

“Dude,” Dan said. “You just said the magic word.”

They were tired of walking. Tired of thinking. A little pastry sugar rush would do them good.

They headed for the cafe adjoining the lobby, where they sat down at a table and ordered hot chocolate and vdolek , a pastry with jam and whipped cream.

Dan was just about to dip his spoon into the pastry when Amy stiffened. The same hawk-nosed man who’d been on the train to Lucerne pushed through the door of the hotel.

“Dan!”

Dan licked his lips as he regarded his pastry. “This looks like a cloud of paradise.”

The man went directly to the desk.

Interpol.

Amy ducked behind the broad back of a patron enjoying a large plate of pastries.

Don’t tell him where we are. Don’t tell him don’t tell him don’t tell him.

The clerk looked at the paper the man held out. He pointed to the cafe.

“We have to get out of here.” Amy stood. “Now.”

“Wait! My vdolek !” Dan protested, reaching for it.

She yanked on his arm just as he grabbed for it. Dan went facedown in the whipped cream.

She bent over as though to pick up a purse. In the mirror over the counter she could clearly see the Interpol detective trying to peer into the cafe. All he saw was a boy with a faceful of whipped cream.

Dan reached for a napkin, but she shoved the pastry up against his face again.

“Mmff!” Dan protested around a mouthful of cream.

Keeping his back to the lobby, she steered them through the door. Outside, she pushed Dan forward until they were swallowed by a crowd of tourists.

Dan swiped at the whipped cream on his face and licked his fingers as they weaved through the crowd. “Escape was never so sweet,” he crowed.

Attleboro, Massachusetts

The package arrived that afternoon. Sinead had immediately taken it upstairs to the comm. center. Cheyenne’s phone had certainly been wiped clean, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get some information out of it. She got to work.

Ian researched the videocam Cheyenne had stuck on the car fender. It was so micro and advanced that, like the DeOssie smartphone, it had to come from military or spy agencies. If he cross-referenced with the names that were starting to come in on the DeOssie … maybe they could find a connection.

Evan and Sinead had written a program to research the jacket label they’d gotten off the video from Vesper One. It was a company in the Czech Republic with factories in China that sold throughout the US and Europe. With a new expanded search engine, the computer was now pulling up every retail outlet that carried the brand. It was a long list.

Ian checked the program over Evan’s shoulder. He stared at the store names, which blurred in front of his tired eyes.

“What is Walmart?” he asked.

“It’s the newest luxury store. Just like Harrod’s. You’d love it,” Evan assured him.

“Whoa!” Sinead suddenly leaped to her feet. “Bingo! That last text for Cheyenne? I’ve tracked down the location! You are not going to believe this!”

Amy felt her cell buzz in her pocket. She plucked it out. There was a text from Sinead.

URGENT! TRACED ORIGIN OF LAST TEXT ON CHEYENNE’S PHONE. WAS SENT FROM TOWN OF KUTNA HORA – CLOSE TO PRAGUE. CONTACT ATTLEBORO IMMEDIATELY.

It was a breakthrough. A real breakthrough.

Amy showed Dan the text. “That’s three connections to the Czech Republic – Jane’s note, the jacket label, and now the text! Maybe the hostages are being held right near here!”

They turned off the main street onto a quiet side street. Amy quickly dialed Attleboro and put Dan on three-way calling.

“There you are!” Sinead let out an explosive sigh of relief. “Did you get my text?”

“Great news! Where’s Kutna Hora?”

“It’s only about forty minutes from Prague. We’ve been able to pinpoint the exact location – it was actually sent from Sedlec, a suburb of Kutna Hora. There’s a church there called All Saints – we think it was sent from there.”