Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13 "This place gives me the serious creeps," Dan whispered. "You're not k-k-kidding," stammered Amy. No one was waiting for them. They'd entered a small, round room with an elaborate painting that covered all the walls and the domed ceiling. There were no doors except the one that had closed behind them. "Where'd she go?" asked Dan. "And how the heck are we getting out of here?" Amy shrugged her shoulders nervously, gazing at the intricately painted walls around her. "It looks like something Michelangelo would have done." "Hey!" said Dan. "I know some of these people. That's Ben Franklin!" Sure enough, the bespectacled figure was towering over their heads, holding the string for a

kite and smiling into the sky. "And I'm pretty sure that's Napoleon. He's definitely small enough," said Amy. "That's gotta be Churchill," said Dan, spying a round man making the V sign. "Dan," said Amy, her eyes huge in her face. "They're all Lucians. Every one of them." Dan's stomach sank. It could only mean one thing. "We're in a Lucian stronghold," he whispered. "Bad," said Amy. "Very bad! Let's get out of here!" She ran her hands frantically over the great surface of the door, searching for a latch or a dial that would set them free. "Come on, Dan!" There was a fast sliding sound from one of the walls, and Dan turned around to see that a panel on the far wall had opened. The painted form of Sir Isaac Newton stood next to the door and seemed to beckon them forward. The voice returned, confident and smooth as silk. "There is no need to be afraid. Follow the lights.

Quickly now, before you're caught!" A runway of lights directed them down an endless hall, just as they had upstairs. These lights were orange, not white as the others had been, and they seemed to go on forever. "Follow the lights until you reach the twelfth door on the left. And hurry! These halls never stay empty for long." "The voice must be coming from a speaker in this room," said Amy. "She's not in here." Dan and Amy took one last look at each other and nodded. They had no choice. Not two steps in, the panel slid shut and it was more dark than light. "How many doors is that?" said Dan, trying to figure out just how imprisoned they'd become. "We're never getting out of here." They counted the doors until at last they came to the twelfth. They stood for a long, silent moment. A door opened somewhere in the distance and they stood perfectly still. Dan turned his head and saw a figure seven or eight doors back walking away. The panel opened just long enough for the person to slip through and then it

closed again. "An agent of some k-k-kind, no doubt," whispered Amy. "Let's do this," said Dan. He lifted his hand to the knob, then hesitated. "Are you absolutely sure we went twelve doors on the left side?" asked Dan. "It would be a real bummer if we were knocking on the wrong door." The last thing Dan wanted to do was barge in on a meeting between dark-suited secret agents. Amy hesitated. Dan could tell she wanted to go back and recount, just to be sure, but the panel at the far end of the hall opened again. Dan turned the knob and the two of them darted inside the room, slamming the door behind them. They were in what appeared to be a rather run-ofthe mill office. There was a big oak desk, a rug over a wooden floor, and a freestanding globe of the world. A long white coat hung on an equally white coatrack, and the Lucian crest filled one entire wall. The only thing at all remarkable about the room was the person sitting behind the desk.

She wore a suit of white, which was all the more striking against her black hair. And she was, in a word, ageless. Dan couldn't have said whether she was forty or sixty, for there was something very old about her eyes, and yet her face was unlined. She was beautiful in a classic Russian way. Amy stared at her as if the woman were a queen. "You do make things interesting. I like that about you. Please, come, sit down," the woman said. There were two chairs before her desk, and Dan and Amy promptly did what they were told. "You may dispense with the disguises. They do you no good here." Dan had set the backpack on the floor. He was happy to tear the mustache and goatee off his face and drop them in the backpack, glancing at his watch as he did. We made it! he thought. Only minutes to spare, but Amy and I did it! Amy's hair tumbled down as she took off the black wig and dropped it in the backpack. "You're very pretty, young lady," said the woman in white. "I hope Grace was kind enough

to tell you that when she was alive." "You knew Grace?" The woman nodded, her eyes brimming with secrets. "You might say our families go way back. I never met Grace Cahill personally. My mother did. They were both remarkable women— my mother and your grandmother. Remarkable women have a way of finding one another." I hope this remarkable woman doesn't kill us, thought Dan. Amy seemed to have no reservations. Her cheeks turned pink and she asked, "Are you the grand duchess Anastasia?" The moment Amy said the words, NRR burst out laughing. A light flashed on her desk and she resumed her air of dignity. "If you'll excuse me a moment," she said. "Very bad timing, but I'm afraid it can't be helped." She turned in her chair, away from Dan and Amy, and drew open the doors on a wooden credenza to reveal a bank of monitors. One of them was receiving a feed from the painted room