Chapter 1

INTO THE GAUNTLET by MARGARET PETERSON HADDIX

CHAPTER 1 Amy and Dan Cahill forgot to look for bugs in London. They knew the drill. Arriving at a new hotel, they always had to scour their room for any listening devices or other top secret spy gear their enemies might have planted. They always checked for all possible exit routes and anything that could serve as a weapon, as well. Amy and Dan were only fourteen and eleven. But they'd developed the instincts of CIA pros. Arriving in London, though, Amy stumbled three steps into the hotel room and collapsed onto the bed. Dan wobbled past her to sprawl on the couch. He sat, then slipped backward, weighed down by his backpack. He looked like he'd been flattened. He has, Amy thought. We both have. Now that we know the truth. Now that we know how many lies we've been told all along, how many secrets

were being kept from us, how much is expected of us… Only the kids' wild-haired au pair, Nellie Gomez, seemed to have enough energy left to keep standing. She even had enough energy to sway slightly to whatever crazy music she was listening to on her iPod as she tugged their duffel bag and cat carrier into the room. Dimly, Amy thought that she or Dan should have offered to help. But even carrying a duffel bag seemed beyond Amy right now. Nellie turned to shut the door. Then she, too, seemed to collapse. Did she faint? Amy wondered. Before Amy had time to do anything, Nellie was standing again. She hadn't fainted. She'd just dipped down to the floor to pick up something Amy and Dan must have walked right over: a plain manila envelope. Nellie held the envelope in the air like a prize. "What do you think, kiddos?" she asked. "Wanna bet this is your next lead?" They'd been warned to expect one— coded, of

course, in case any of their enemies intercepted it. Normally, the two siblings would have dashed to grab the envelope, raced to open it, scrambled to break the latest code. At the very least, they would have told Nellie that at their ages— and with the fate of the world depending upon them— they were way too old to be called "kiddos." Now Amy just shrugged. Dan tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "Kiddos?" Nellie said in a puzzled voice. She popped out her iPod earbuds. "Didn't you hear me?" Nellie flipped the envelope over. "Yep, addressed to Amy and Dan Cahill," she said. "And Nellie Gomez. Wow. Now I really feel official. This must have been slipped under the door, waiting for us." She held out the envelope toward the two siblings. "Who wants to do the honors?" Neither kid moved. Nellie shook the envelope at Amy and Dan. "Come on, guys," she said. "It's a lead." She

acted like they were as simple as Saladin the cat, always easily distracted with his favorite red snapper. "Don't you want to see what this says? Somebody's trying to help us!" "If somebody wanted to help us," Amy retorted, "they would have just given us all the answers back in Jamaica." She knew why they hadn't, but it was too much to think about right now. "Or way back at the beginning," Dan added. "At the funeral." Just over a month ago, Amy and Dan had gotten a huge surprise after the death of their beloved grandmother Grace. They'd been among a select group of relatives given an odd offer in Grace's will: They could have a million dollars apiece or a single Clue. Amy and Dan had picked the Clue. Since then, they'd been traipsing around the globe, scrambling to outsmart or outrun or simply avoid some of their least-charming relatives in the race to the final prize. They'd lost count of how many times someone had tried to kill them.

When Amy wasn't completely terrified, there had also been moments she'd absolutely loved. Learning that she was brave enough to jump off that roof in Vienna. Being the only team to figure out the Clue in Cairo. Flying to the top of Mount Everest. But only the day before, in Jamaica, Amy and Dan and Nellie had learned what the Clue hunt was really all about. Then the cruelty of it had sunk in on their long flight over the Atlantic. Before yesterday, they'd thought they were no different from the other teams— if you didn't count being younger, poorer, orphaned, and less informed. They'd thought their goal, at least, was the same: Win. Beat everyone else to the final prize. But no, Amy thought bitterly. We're younger, poorer, and more ignorant—and it's not enough for us just to beat everyone else to the prize. For us to win, we also have to make everyone else forgive and forget five hundred years of backstabbing, in fighting, double-crossing and… murder. How could anyone forgive or forget that?