Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13 Amy and Dan dove out of the elevator and ducked behind the only available cover — a bronze statue by Rodin. They peeked out through the crook of the figure's arm. This room was larger than the tunnel-like corridors they'd seen so far. Hanging banners depicted prominent Janus throughout history. She gawked at the famous faces: Walt Disney, Beethoven, Mark Twain, Elvis, Dr. Seuss, Charlie Chaplin, Snoop Dogg — the list went on and on. A crowd of about thirty milled around, focusing not on the banners but on three stages that ringed the space. There was a performance of Japanese Kabuki theater on one. Another featured a group of artists in splattered smocks squirting paint from spray bottles at a canvas on a spinning wheel. On still another, sword fighters in fire-retardant jumpsuits dueled with flaming foils.

Dan appeared at his sister's elbow. "What planet is this?" "It's amazing," she replied in a hoarse whisper. "A whole society celebrating art and creativity. I hope we turn out to be Janus. The problem is how do we get past all these people?" Dan thought it over. "When you go to a movie, what do you pay attention to, the audience or the screen?" She frowned. "What are you talking about?" "Maybe we can melt into the swarm and slip out the other side." Amy wasn't a fan of crowds even when she was totally welcome. The idea of putting herself in the middle of thirty enemies made her nauseous. On the other hand, it was a plan — their only plan. Waiting around was risky, too. It was merely a matter of time before somebody realized they were intruders. "Let's try it." They stepped briskly out from behind the statue, not quite running, trying to project an air of belonging. Dan sidled up to the fire-sword

audience. Amy joined the throng around the squirt painters, who were removing their latest creation from the wheel — a sunburst of reds and yellows. Her timing was perfect. The spectators burst into a rousing ovation, and she applauded along with them. Nervousness turned to exhilaration. She'd done it! She was one of them! A cheering man clapped her on the shoulder and nearly knocked her over. She was inching away from the overenthusiastic fan when she saw the sign: IBSEN HOUDINI KUROSAWA MOZART BASQUIAT Mozart! Of course the Janus branch would have a section devoted to its most famous musical member. She caught Dan's eye, inclining her head ever so slightly in the direction of the placard. He nodded. As usual, Mozart would be the key.

With everyone focused on the performances, it was easy for them to sneak out of the atrium and down another art-lined corridor. They passed a couple of side galleries dedicated to prominent Janus Cahills before reaching a doorway marked MOZART: WOLFGANG, MARIA ANNA, LEOPOLD. "Who's Leopold?" Dan wanted to know. "Their father," Amy supplied. "He was a famous musician in his own right. He devoted his life to bringing out his kids' talents — especially Wolfgang's." The room was smaller, but it could have been in one of the museums they had visited, with elegant eighteenth-century musical instruments and furniture. "These guys could out-Mozart the Mozart houses," Dan observed, examining a wall that was floor-to-ceiling glass cases displaying handwritten sheet music. He frowned at a thick volume on the bottom shelf. "What's this? Looks like a book by Mozart's dad." "Violin Method. Back in the seventeen

hundreds, it was the number one violin textbook in the world." She drew in a sharp breath. "Dan — it's the harpsichord Mozart played when he was three! Think about it: You were still in diapers at that age, and here's this tiny toddler pressing keys, listening for 'notes that like each other.'" "Maybe Mozart was in diapers, too," her brother said defensively. "Just because you're a genius doesn't mean you can use a chamber pot." Amy's eyes panned the many objects on exhibit, coming to focus on a glass case in the center of the room. Propped up in the display were three yellowed papers covered with elaborate handwriting. Very familiar handwriting … "The missing pages! The ones that were torn out of Nannerl's diary!" Dan appeared at her elbow. "What do they say?" She regarded him with exasperation. "They're in German, dweeb. We have to get them out of here and show them to Nellie." "That'll be a neat trick," her brother commented

ruefully. He indicated a strange device connected to the display case. A small white porcelain tray was mounted beneath a bright light source. "I've seen pictures of these. It's a retinal scanner. You stick your chin in the holder, and the light reads your eyeball." Amy digested this. "Maybe our eyeballs will pass. Four branches of the family — there's a one-in-four chance we've got Janus retinas." "And a three-in-four chance that we're toast. Amy, these guys have zillion-dollar paintings just hanging off nails in the wall, and we're going after the one thing they put under tight security. I don't understand it, but it's pretty clear that if we try to jack those pages and get caught, payback is going to be a monster." Amy stepped away from the scanner. There was no question that Cahills played for keeps. With ultimate power at stake, did taking a risk mean laying their lives on the line? Her anxious thoughts were interrupted by a famous voice in the hall outside the Mozart room: "This place is off the hook, yo! Mom never told