The 39 Clues: Unstoppable: Nowhere to Run (13 page)

Attleboro, Massachusetts

Nellie had discovered something about Pony: He was more docile if he was fed.

She could easily whip up a five-course French meal, but Pony preferred the basics. Her grilled cheese made him swoon. Especially when she made him her homemade potato chips, roasted with olive oil and sea salt.

“Much healthier for you, dude,” she told him.

She’d fed him dinner and snacks for days now. He didn’t seem much closer to giving her what she wanted: a secure digital network. Still, he was a genius. And it was hard to get completely annoyed at someone who had nicknamed her “goddess.”

Pony groaned as he scooped up the last bite of spaghetti carbonara. He picked up the rest of his crumbs of garlic bread with a moistened index finger. Then he leaned back, closed his eyes, and belched.

Still with his eyes closed, he said, “In some cultures, that is a compliment. Though I’m not certain that’s actually true.”

“If I had Internet access, I could look it up,” Nellie said pointedly, clearing his plate.

“Whoa. I am operating at full maximum,” he protested. “This hackitude is off the charts. It’s
April May
we’re talking about,” he added, lowering his voice the way he always did when he spoke of the hacker. “She — or he — is the supreme ghostnetting empress of all time. She’s hacked into AT&T, federal agencies, the government of Bulgaria . . . even
Disney World
! I can’t clear your network until I know it’s totally protected. You understand? It has to be a
fortress of impregnability
.”

She set out a bowl of homemade butterscotch ice cream, his favorite, but she held the spoon in the air. “I can’t keep running to random Internet cafés, and neither can Amy and Dan. We need phones!”

“Well, since I cannot disappoint my lady, I will give you a present.” Pony reached into one of his enormous pockets and brought out a pile of smartphones. “Your own personal fortress of Cahill impregnability. And, if all goes well, I’ll have a laptop for you later on tonight. Now that I know who I’m dealing with, I’ve been able to ensure that these are safe. And I’ll be totally monitoring at all times. Now can I have the spoon?”

Nellie handed it to him, then hugged the phone. “Where have you been all my life?” she crooned to it.

Pony snickered. “I’ve been playing a cat-and-mouse game with April May. Except it’s invisible cat, invisible mouse. She doesn’t know that I’ve managed a way in. I am spying on her, too. I found her back door and used it. A small breach she will never discover, but enough to tell me things. I am closer than close to making us a fortress indeed.” Pony eyed the pitcher of hot fudge sauce Nellie had placed on the table. “And if you pass that pitcher, I will reveal a nugget of information that will please you and instantly return me to your good goddess graces.”

Nellie pushed the pitcher forward. “Spill. Not the fudge sauce. The info.”

“While I have been diligently working on fortressing up your network, I have had a few minutes of downtime in which I trolled around for your other request.”

Nellie leaned forward. “You found out something about Pierce.”

“Indeed.” Pony took a heaping spoonful of ice cream. “In addition to snatching up media companies right and left, our Malevolent Malefactor, J. Rutherford Pierce, has, under a variety of shell companies, bought a pharmaceutical research lab right outside of Wilmington, Delaware —”

“Delaware!” Nellie exclaimed.

“— and fired its employees.” With the spoon in his mouth, he fished into his pocket and extracted a piece of paper. He pushed it across the table to Nellie. “Here’s the address.”

“Why would he buy . . .” Dread invaded Nellie, a slow realization that took her breath. “How big is the lab, Pony?”

“Big outfit. They used to manufacture lots of drugs. Cold remedies. And everybody gets colds!”

“So the infrastructure is there. . . .” Nellie swallowed. She chewed on her lip. “It could be . . . it really could. It makes sense.”

“Waiting for you to download on me, goddess.”

“Amy was right. Those thugs who came after them . . . their strength. Their power. It’s not just Pierce who took the serum! He took Sammy’s work and he . . . he used it to create those hyperstrong henchmen. There’s a
reason
he bought that lab.”

Pony stared at her, uncomprehending.

“He’s going to manufacture the serum! He’s planning on
mass-producing
it! Why else would he buy a lab?”

“And that would be bad?”

Nellie stood up and paced. “It would be
catastrophic.
He could do anything! Create an army of supermen. Squads of tactical leaders. All under his control. Because he’d be controlling the serum. Don’t you see? He can make the most powerful army in the world! If he’s the one to decide, if he’s the one to control who gets it . . . he could create a whole network of Piercers. People strong enough and clever enough to do anything. With no scruples. People who would kill kids without even blinking an eye. Terror would be part of daily life. The rest of us would just be . . .”

“His sock puppets,” Pony finished.

“Sammy is there,” Nellie declared. “I know it. Pierce wouldn’t get rid of him. He’d
use
him. Sammy is the one who laid the groundwork. Now he has to finish what he started.”

Nellie whirled around. “I’ve got to pack . . . find surveillance equipment . . .”

“Nellie? One more thing.” Pony stood up. “In the course of tricking April May, I made a discovery. WALDO has hacked into the CCTV system in London. You know, the closed-circuit TV system that Scotland Yard uses? And Amy and Dan are on their way there.”

“London? Are you saying that Pierce could track them through the CCTV?”

“It’s tough, but possibly doable, with the right program. But basically? Yeah.”

She looked down at the new smartphones on the table, thinking hard. “We have to get these to them,” she declared. “But I can’t ship them. I don’t trust anything anymore.”

“You could hop a flight, get them to the kids personally,” Pony said with a shrug.

She looked up at Pony. “Or you could.”

“Me?”

“You. I can’t leave now, Pony. And you could check out the Rosenbloom brothers’ phones, too. You have to make sure the whole system is secure.”

“I can’t just pick up and go,” Pony said. “I have a cat.”

“You can bring the cat here. I have a cat-sitter. The best in the world — my mom. She loves cats.”

“I can’t fly. I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“I made you peanut butter cookies on Monday because you said they were your favorite.”

“I don’t have a suitcase.”

“I’ll loan you one. Pony, I
need
you,” Nellie said. “The
world
needs you.”

“Me? No. You don’t understand, Nellie.” Pony’s soft brown eyes were full of a new expression — fear. “I’ve never
been
anywhere. I mean, aside from virtually.”

Nellie snapped her fingers. “Wait a second— I finally got through to Jonah Wizard. You can fly with him on his private plane.”

“J-Jonah Wizard?” Pony stammered. “The
star
?”

“He’s also a Cahill. Amy and Dan’s cousin.” Nellie finally noticed the look of absolute terror on Pony’s face at the thought of meeting a world-famous hip-hop artist. She smiled. Jonah had all the trappings of a star — the private plane, the bling, the ’tude — but underneath it all, he was a nice guy.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured Pony. “He’s nice. He’s due into Logan in” — Nellie checked her watch — “two hours. Then you can both fly to London. You can do this, Pony.”

“I guess . . .”

She put a hand on his sleeve. “Here’s the thing. If you’ve never been anywhere, isn’t it time to start?”

He gulped. “If you say so.”

Twenty minutes later, Pony arrived at her house with a paper bag full of clothes and his cat in a carrier. Nellie gave him a backpack. She had already packed him a sandwich, cookies, and an apple. Pony felt like a kindergartner, but he was grateful that Nellie had agreed to walk him through the terror.

And then he’d have to be alone with the fantastic Jonah Wizard. For
hours.
He was sure he’d say something idiotic.

Nellie ducked into the security room to set the code. Pony stood outside, shifting from one foot to another. Did private planes have security lines? Would he have to take off his shoes? He couldn’t remember if he had a hole in his sock. He felt like a total loser. This was exactly why he didn’t participate in real life! It was too real!

He reached over and lifted the mailbox flap. There was some junk mail, but there was also a small manila envelope addressed to Amy Cahill. He stuffed it into his bag. He was probably going to botch everything. Whenever he participated in real life, things went wrong. But the least he could do was bring Amy Cahill her mail.

London, England

The trouble with the United States of America was, it had never had a dictator. All those pesky senators, the courts, the judges, the
people
— by them, for them . . . It just mucked up the works.

Pierce turned, irritated, as Debi Ann came into the room. She still looked tired from jet lag. She didn’t have his stamina. Early on, he had made the decision not to give her the serum adaptations. After all, each serum was calibrated according to the desired result. He, of course, got the most powerful dose. As for Debi Ann, America needed a member of his family to identify with: someone non-fabulous, unlike himself and his kids. Debi Ann’s very ordinariness was going to help sweep him into the White House.

Still . . .

He glanced at himself in the mirror, then at her. It was undeniable that he was looking younger, and she was looking older.

She peered into the mirror behind him, adjusting the sweep of her blond hair so that it hit her chin at the right angle. “I’m going to do some shopping this morning, dear,” she said.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Sometimes I think the British appreciate teddy bears more than we do, I am sad to say. . . .”

Pierce tried to stifle his annoyance, but he couldn’t help himself. “If all goes the way it should, Debi Ann — and it will
—
you really have to find another cause. I mean, really.
Teddy bears?
Can’t you find an interest that’s more . . . first ladyish?”

Debi Ann stiffened. “They aren’t teddy bears, they are
icons.
Symbols of the innocence of childhood. Quality toys for quality kids,” she said, repeating the slogan of her Save the Teddies group. “It’s about conserving our cultural toy heritage. And our children’s
health
, dear. Don’t get me started on polyfill.”

No, he did not want to get her started on polyfill.

Debi Ann kept on talking, but Pierce lost the thread of her conversation. What he did not foresee after he boosted his Lucian quotient was how boring he’d suddenly find his wife. Too late to change now, though.

Pierce looked at himself in the mirror again.
Actually . . .

Once he was in office . . . a little sympathy for a grieving widower went a long way, didn’t it?

As soon as they landed and were taxiing to the terminal, Jake’s phone rang. An unfamiliar number came up in caller ID.

Amy answered it nervously. To her great relief, it was Nellie.

“Amy, is that you? Why are you on Jake’s phone?”

“He took Ian’s phone by mistake. Nellie, I’m afraid they’re being tracked!” Amy said frantically.

“Are you in London?”

“We just landed.”

“Listen, I don’t have much time. I sent Pony with Jonah — they’ll meet you at the Greensward Hotel, King’s Cross, at three
P.M
. They’ll be delivering new secure phones. I’m driving to Delaware.”

“Delaware? What’s there?”

“Long story. Sammy is missing, and I’m going to find him. Kiddo, I’m afraid this plan is even bigger than we thought. You were right about his security guys. I think he gave them a special Tomas boost. But I think they’re just a test case. He’s going to mass-produce it.”

Amy felt sick. “Mass-produce it . . . the serum? Are you sure?”

“He just bought a major pharmaceutical lab. That’s where I’m headed.”

“Alone? You can’t . . .”

“Better this way.”

“No!”

“I have to go. Stay in touch.”

Nellie hung up. Amy quickly filled in Ian and Dan.

“Mass-produce the serum . . .” Ian said. “That can’t . . .”

“. . . happen,” Dan finished. “It would be . . .”

“Unthinkable,” Amy said. “He could make an
army
of those guys.”

“An invincible force,” Ian said. “Undefeatable.”

“And now they could be after Atticus and Jake.” Amy tried to call Ian’s number again, praying that Jake would pick up.

Please pick up, Jake. Please . . .

When she heard his voice, she collapsed back against the seat. “Jake, it’s Amy.”

“Amy, what is it?” Jake’s tone was frosty.

“Listen fast, because I think there’s a GPS tracker on your phone. You have Ian’s phone and he has yours. Where are you now?”

“Heading for our hotel. We couldn’t get a flight out until tomorrow morning.”

“Did you pay for the hotel with a credit card?”

“Yes . . .”

“Don’t go there. They could be waiting. They could be following you now. There’s a hotel near King’s Cross station called the Greensward. Stay with crowds, walk around, and meet us there in a half hour.”

“I don’t understand —”

“Ditch the phone after we hang up. We can’t be sure, Pierce might want to take out our friends, too. And that means you and Atticus.
Just make sure you’re not followed
.” Amy hung up before Jake could protest.

Amy, Dan, and Ian hurried off the plane and into the terminal. They passed a newsstand on the way to the escalator. The headline screamed at them.

It was splashed over a picture of Amy and Dan.

“Oh, no,” Amy breathed, stopping short. “Not here, too!”

Another paper shouted:

THEY NEED A NANNY.

And, the worst one: a picture of Ian, looking handsome in a blazer and tie.

JUST ANOTHER HOTTIE, OR IS IT TRUE LOVE AT LAST FOR AMY?

Amy groaned.

“I hate that photo,” Ian said. “It was my school picture. The fit of that blazer is simply horrendous.”

A woman eyed her, then whispered to her companion, who stared. “Let’s get out of here,” Amy muttered. “It’ll be even easier for Pierce to find us if the paparazzi are after us!”

Ian looked at his watch. “I hate to succumb to public transport, but the Tube will be faster. Follow me.”

They dashed through the terminal, up escalators, and into people movers until they got to the platform. Amy gazed down it, her nerves screaming.

If anything happens to them, I’ll . . .

I don’t know what I’ll do . . .

Ian touched her arm. “I’m sorry. I made the most elementary, stupid mistake a Cahill could make. I trusted a stranger.”

Amy gazed at him without seeing him. Was that what being a Cahill was? Being afraid to trust a helpful stranger? Always paranoid, always watchful, never trusting? Always looking for the bad, not the good?

If that’s true, I don’t want to be a Cahill anymore, either
, she thought suddenly, looking over at Dan. He was gazing down the tunnel and then at his watch, his foot tapping nervously.

“No, Ian,” she said. “It wasn’t your fault. We’re not superheroes. We’re just kids, Ian. Just kids.”

Jake stared down at Ian’s phone. It felt like it was burning his fingers. He wanted to drop it in the nearest trash can, but that impulse wouldn’t help them.

“Was that Amy, Jake? Did she change her mind?” Atticus hopped on one foot, then the other.

“No . . .” Jake said.

He didn’t want to scare his younger brother. They were now on a busy commercial street with lots of shops with plate-glass windows. Like mirrors. They could help him. Jake stopped at a shop window. Behind him he could see the steady stream of pedestrians. Just people strolling, or hurrying to an appointment. Tourists ambling, looking for souvenirs to take back home.

“I took Ian’s phone by mistake,” Jake said. “She wanted to let me know.”

“Oh,” Atticus said in a small voice. “Does she want to see us?”

“We’re supposed to meet them at their hotel.”

“Woo-hoo!” Atticus said. “Maybe she
did
change her mind!”

Jake was now hyperaware of his surroundings. Every time he passed a window, he used it to check behind them. He needed to stop and see if that would flush out anyone.

Ahead of them, several fashionable women walked, holding shopping bags and chatting.

Jake tugged on Atticus’s arm. “Look, it’s a bookshop up ahead.” It was the only diversion that would halt Atticus. “Let’s check it out.” He quickly swiveled toward the shop, brushing by the women. As he did, he dropped the phone into one of their shopping bags.

“They have old books!” Atticus jogged toward the entrance.

A man in jeans and a black jacket walked past them, then paused outside a pub and checked his watch, as if he were waiting for someone.

“Can we go in? Do we have time?” Atticus asked.

“Sure,” Jake said.

They pushed through the door and Atticus headed to the shelves marked
CLASSICAL LITERATURE
. Jake stood by the window. From this angle he could see the man still standing in front of the pub. The man wore an earpiece, the wire sneaking inside his jacket, and Jake saw his mouth moving.

Could be just a guy, talking on the phone.

But something about the coiled assurance of how he stood . . .

Jake scanned the sidewalk across the street. With a sinking feeling, he saw another man across the street. A man in dark clothes, waiting for a bus. Except the bus just left, and he didn’t get on.

Jake drifted toward Atticus. “Att? We’ve got to split. Out the back door. And then we have to run. Some very large men are right outside, looking for us.”

Atticus’s eyes were wide. “We’re being followed?”

Jake nodded. “We’ve got to lose these guys. We can’t lead them to Amy and Dan. Come on.”

Atticus and Jake walked toward the rear of the shop, surprising a clerk with a stack of books.

“Excuse me, gentlemen? This is a private area —”

“My brother is sick. Does this door go outside —”

Atticus made a convincing gagging sound.

The clerk took a step back. “The alley. Oh, my, yes, go right ahead.”

“Where does it go?”

“It will bring you to Oxford Street —”

Jake pushed the door open, shielding Atticus. The alley was empty.

The alley ran past the shops, then turned right. Jake and Atticus jogged down it. After the turn they could see Oxford Street ahead, the busiest street in London. Jake thought fast. There would be even more people there, and buses. Lots of buses.

They had almost reached the end when Jake heard the sound of running footsteps. He turned and saw the man from outside the pub. He’d already covered half the distance of the alley. He was
fast.

“Run,” Jake said.

They burst onto Oxford Street. Jake saw a bus just pulling up across the street.

“Stay with me, buddy.” He darted into the traffic, holding up his hand to stop the cars. Horns blared.

“Sorry!” Jake shouted. “Stupid American tourist!”

He and Atticus weaved through the traffic. “Hold the bus!” Jake shouted.

Someone yelled, “Are you daft, you two?”

They landed safely on the opposite sidewalk. Behind him, Jake could see two men trying to weave through traffic. One vaulted over a car.

Over a car?

Jake didn’t have time to think. The bus was just taking off as he lifted his skinny brother and placed him on the step, then jumped aboard, grabbing the rail and pulling himself up.

Atticus hung on to the rail, panting, but grinning in relief. Jake looked behind. The man was running along the sidewalk, trying to keep up with the bus, but he ran into a crowd of tourists and the bus turned the corner. Safe.

Not for long. Because now they were a target, too.