Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10 "This way," whispered Reagan Holt, "stay low or they'll see us coming." Against all his natural tendencies, Eisenhower Holt crept along as quietly as a mouse. His huge frame was much more suited to tackling someone from behind and beating the tar out of him. "Do you see anyone?" he asked. "No. I think they went this way." Reagan was peering around the corner of an aqua concrete building that hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint in fifty years. She and her father were tracking two people down a potholed street lined with decaying buildings. "Where did they go?" boomed Eisenhower Holt. "They're like cats, those two!" "Dad, will you please keep it down? Don't you know the meaning of the word whisper?" Eisenhower Holt was about to retort when he

and Reagan were jumped from behind. The bigger of the two attackers landed on Eisenhower's back, put an arm around his neck, and wouldn't let go. Reagan and a smaller assailant rolled around in the dirt while Eisenhower spun in a great circle, his captor's legs swinging in the air behind him. "Sneak attack! I told you to zip it!" yelled Reagan. She was in a serious fight, punching and kicking from below a girl her exact same size. "I'll save you!" said Eisenhower. "Too late," said the person on his back. "I got it!" "And that's the game!" said Mary-Todd, throwing her hands up as she appeared from out of nowhere. "This round goes to Hamilton and Madison. Nice job on the switchback." Mary-Todd Holt pulled out a well-worn pocket- size journal and made a notation. "You're falling behind in the standings, sugar maple. You can do better." Eisenhower had flopped down on all fours, his usual move when he'd lost the flag. Hamilton, Reagan, and Madison jumped on board. When Eisenhower stood up again, he shook with all his might until his children fell off in a pile at his feet.

"I keep telling you," fumed Reagan, "you need to be quieter. We'll never catch up if you can't learn to stalk like a cat." "Look at the size of these guns!" yelled Eisenhower, pointing to his preposterously bulging biceps. "It ain't easy keeping these guys still. They like to fight." "My dad is a dork," said Reagan. "Someone help me, please." Eisenhower pulled Hamilton aside, threw an arm around him, and began walking. The father and son were like two buildings, big and solid. "Did you hear from them yet?" asked Eisenhower. He knew it was past time for a father-son chat, but somehow they never went quite as planned. "Just a few minutes ago," said Hamilton. Already the boy was looking defensive. "They told me where to go. I think we're getting close." "We're putting an awful lot of trust in you on this deal. It would be a monumental disappointment if they were tricking us." "No way, Dad. This is the real deal. I'm sure of it."

"You better be. You fail, the whole family fails. And you know how I feel about failure." They walked a little farther and Eisenhower slapped his son on the back. "You do realize we'll have to double-cross them in the end. We can't risk falling behind here. If a clue comes our way, we need to keep it for ourselves. And don't think for a second they won't do the same to us given the chance. They're no better than their parents were in that department." "Dad… I was thinking. We've got a lot more stuff to find before this is over," said Hamilton, tension visible in his shoulders. "Maybe a partnership makes sense?" "You going soft on me?" asked Eisenhower. "This is a competition, not a playdate. When the time comes, we cut the cord and leave them behind. End of discussion." "But, Dad—" "I said END OF DISCUSSION! Don't overstep your pay grade, young man. Just get the job done and leave the rest to me." Hamilton's shoulders slumped, and deep in

Eisenhower's chest, his heart squeezed. But there was a chain of command that had to be followed. Or else people got hurt. Even killed. "My dad was bigger than me," said Eisenhower, his eyes on his own family. "A mountain of a man." Eisenhower fell silent as they walked back toward the twins, thinking about his father. Eisenhower's mother had died really young and it had been just the two guys living together. A lot of sports. Not a lot of anything else. And that had been fine. Just fine. "Fall in, team!" cried Eisenhower. "New orders!" "We can't seem to shake those Kabras," said Mary-Todd, thumbing her hand behind her. A black Land Rover had pulled into an alley, where it sat idling, spewing exhaust. "We'll deal with them soon enough," said Eisenhower. He looked at his son with a mix of admiration and concern, which was the closest thing to praise he knew how to give. "Tell us where we're going, Ham. And make it snappy!"

"I have a hunch about something else," said Amy. "Do you want to hear it?" They were sitting in the St. Petersburg airport, awaiting instructions, and Dan was itching to hit the magazine stand for some junk food. "Can it wait until I refill the backpack with provisions?" Amy rolled her eyes. As they walked, Amy laid out her idea. "Everything we've found has been carved or sculpted, right? First it was the little room in the paperweight, then the Rasputin figurine, then the coat of arms carved into wood and painted, and finally the stone with the broken bones. They're all intricately made pieces of art." They entered the store and Dan started perusing the shelves. "And we keep getting this recurring color— orange, like honey," said Amy. "The paperweight was a murky orange. Rasputin's model, it's the same. The snake was orange, the stone is orange. At first I thought it was just a Russian thing, but I'm starting to think it means something else." "Uh-huh," said Dan, barely paying attention as