Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 Ian Kabra had been in the back of a limousine hundreds of times but never when covered in meat pies. "The Holts are barbarians," he said disgustedly. He was sitting in the backseat, wiping beef stains off his five-thousand-dollar Armani suit. "Here comes Hamilton!" said Natalie. She had fared better in the parking lot fight, retreating into the car at the first sign of flying food. She was never one to risk her Gucci. "Driver, follow that piece of junk," said Ian. He pointed to the beat-up white van that Hamilton Holt had just dove into. The van rumbled to life and tore out of the lot. Ian dialed his cell phone. The mere mention of the competition heading into Russia at such a sensitive juncture had sent his father into a panic. Now was not the time to take chances.

"What do you want?" The voice on the other end of the line belonged to Irina Spasky, the only Russian citizen on any of the teams. She, like Ian, was part of the Lucian branch. One rung under Ian and Natalie's parents, a fact that had long infuriated her. "I don't know how you managed to let everyone into your country," said Ian. "But it's making my father nervous. And when he's nervous, I'm nervous. My father will have both our heads if we let another team capture one of our clues." "They will not get anything!" snapped Irina. "It will be for them a wild geese chase." Ian smirked. He could picture her eye twitching, as it always did when she was angry. "I don't like all this activity so close to some very important secrets. It's your country. Deal with it." "I suggest you hold your tongue. The line is not secure," said Irina. "You follow Dan and Amy Cahill. I think they're on to something," Ian ordered. "We'll stay with the Holts." "Agreed. You babysit the idiots. I will get the

real work done." Irina clicked off her cell phone and brooded in the backseat of a dingy Volkswagen van, the very one Dan and Amy had ridden from the airport. The bearded Russian was on the Lucian payroll, like hundreds of other informants spread across the homeland. Who's helping Dan and Amy Cahill? she wondered. Could there be a double agent within the ranks of the Lucians? The idea had crossed her mind before, but with the death of Grace Cahill, her suspicions had grown. There were secrets in Russia— secrets that had to be protected at all cost. Dan and Amy had stumbled into a hornet's nest. "They're on the move," said the bearded Russian in the front seat. "Follow them," ordered Irina. The driver merged into traffic and tracked a blinking dot on his screen. "He's pretty good on that bike," said the driver, laughing despite the ultraserious agent sitting in the backseat of his van.

"I do not pay you for small talk," Irina fired back. The bearded driver clammed up, and not another word was spoken during the drive through Volgograd. Irina felt the twitch in her eye return, soft at first but growing more violent. Twenty minutes passed before the driver spoke again. "They've stopped. We're near the train station." "Let me out," said Irina. A wad of bills rolled past the driver and landed at his feet. "I may need you again," said Irina as she opened the door. "Keep your phone on and don't leave the city." The driver nodded. He leaned down and picked the roll of bills off the floor. When he turned around again, Irina Spasky was gone. "Are you positive we're going to the right place?" asked Amy. "Yup," said Dan. Amy sighed, still not convinced they should have boarded the high- speed train. But Dan had been adamant about keeping the lead he'd found hidden until they were safely out of town. He was learning to be

careful about who might be watching. "Let's have a look at it," said Amy. "You've been holding out on me long enough." Dan pulled the object he'd found in The Motherland Calls out of his front pocket. He glanced both ways down the center aisle of the train, then held it out to Amy. "You can do the honors," said Dan. "I'm too tired to open it up." Instead, he fished around in the backpack for some chips and pulled out Amy's Russian guidebook. "This thing is crushing my snacks." He set the book between them, cracked open a bag of pulverized Doritos, and disgusted his sister by tipping his head back and pouring the broken chips into his mouth. Amy rolled her eyes and got back to the cylinder. It was wrapped in a tremendous amount of twine, so it was awhile before she finally parted the paper and held the secret object in her hand. It was a tiny statue intricately carved out of a hard orange substance, showing a bearded monk with wild eyes, standing with his arms folded in front of

him. Amy brightened. "I think I know who this is!" "It's that dude who got us the motorcycle!" said Dan, peering over. He frowned. "Or maybe it's his brother." Amy wasn't sure what to do with the precious carving. She was itching to refer to a certain page in the guidebook, but if she gave the carved monk to Dan, she worried he might drop it. "Hold this," she said, succumbing to her desire for information. "And be careful. It's fragile." "Got it covered," said Dan, snatching the carving from her and holding it up to the light. "It's almost see-through," he said as Amy riffled through the book. "And there's something hidden inside." "What?" asked Amy, reaching out for the carving. "Whoa, there! Take it easy. This thing is fragile, remember?" "What's in there? What do you see?" "It's one of those pop-top games. I'm good at these. There's a little shoe, then two letters, a V and an A, then a heart."