Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11 Ian Kabra couldn't decide what was worse: being stranded on a road of bones, or having to put up with his little sister. "Look at me! This is a disaster!" she howled. Ian quirked his lip at that. Natalie's leggings were torn, her Prada shoes were scuffed beyond repair, and her normally sleek hair looked like it had been gone over with an eggbeater. Ian knew he hadn't fared much better, bruised and battered after an all-out rumble with the Holts. "This clue hunt is stupid. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" Natalie said, her voice particularly shrill in the small backseat of the busted-up Land Rover. The driver was on the phone trying to reach a tow company and gingerly feeling his broken nose. "The big guy is quicker than he looks," said Ian, trying to lighten the mood. "I'd hate to take him

on when his back is working properly." "Face it, Ian, we've hit bottom. They trashed the car. We're sitting on a road of peasant bones, and we're stuck in Siberia. It's a nightmare. I WANT TO GO HOME!" That was it. Ian couldn't take one more second confined in a small space with Natalie. He stepped out of the car and paced, dialing his phone. Five rings later, he hung up, unable to reach his father. As usual. He dialed again. This time, after three rings, Irina Spasky answered. "I'm busy," she snapped. "Our day isn't going as well as I'd expected. I hope you have better news for me." "Couldn't handle the Holts? Why am I not surprised?" Ian refused to be distracted by the sniping. He gathered himself, took a very deep breath, and put in the order. "You have to get rid of them. They're working with the Holts, and I'm pretty certain they've relayed another message. Dan and Amy are too close." For some reason, Amy's face and her stupid

stutter flashed into his mind. He paused. "Get them out of Russia." He had chosen his words carefully. It was not officially a kill order. And yet he knew Irina would go to any extreme to remove the risk. "Agreed," Irina finally answered. "Relay the details when you've accomplished your task." Irina clicked off her phone. It was done. The one-hour flight from St. Petersburg to Moscow gave Amy and Dan the time they needed to decipher the riddle and formulate a plan. They were back in their disguises, and this time they decided to leave them on until they were finished exploring the Kremlin. It didn't seem like a good idea to visit the Russian center of power looking like two kids who'd gotten separated from their parents. Lenin, Amy had immediately assumed, was a reference to the Kremlin, where the preserved body of the leader of the Russian Revolution was still on display, decades after his death.

This time, the rest of the riddle required the skills of both Dan and Amy. Amy was quick to put the first part together: SKP, she was sure, stood for State Kremlin Palace, a prestigious concert hall on the sprawling grounds of the Kremlin. Dan was first to suggest the meaning of the rest of the numbers and letters. "BAL BOX4 R3 must be a row of seats. Balcony Box Four, third row, to be exact," Dan said. Amy nodded approvingly. "I don't always think you were switched at birth with my real brother. The rest of the numbers must be some sort of combination or code. I bet we can figure it out when we get there." A dash through the airport and a quick cab ride later, Dan and Amy stood squarely in front of the State Kremlin Palace, the guidebook open. They were down to a couple of hours, and a sense of heightened urgency crackled in their voices. "We'll need to get to the upper section," said Amy. They were looking at a seating chart for the State Kremlin Palace, where Amy had circled Row 3 in one of the balcony boxes. Amy checked her watch again.

"Two hours and counting. I don't think we're going to make it." "We'll make it," said Dan, heading for the entrance of the looming white theater. There was a hallway outside the main seating area, with doors leading inside and lots of ornate artwork on the walls. Tourists were perusing the space, waiting for a chance to get inside and look around. The next tour didn't start for another twenty minutes. "This is our chance," whispered Amy. "Come on, we'll sneak in while everyone is milling around." Somewhere in the deep recesses of the very building in which Dan and Amy searched, a person tracked their every move. Very resourceful, these two, NRR thought. They might make the deadline after all. NRR dialed a phone and let it ring several times before the call was picked up. "Is this a secure line?" "I will not dignify that with an answer," NRR answered.

"Okay, okay. Just make it quick." "I will be seeing them shortly. Do you still want me to go through with it?" A pause ensued on the line. NRR was used to this. The contact was a thinker who liked to weigh every option. "They are extraordinary, aren't they? No one can say they haven't proven themselves." "They understood from the start it could not be done alone," NRR responded. "And recruiting a team like the Holts? Simply remarkable. I didn't think it was possible." "So we go ahead, then?" asked NRR. "We're a go. If they make it to your desk, take them to the room. I think they're ready." The line went dead and NRR turned back to the bank of video screens.