Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16 Murderers? Thieves? This has got to be a mistake. The names on the passports had seemed a little odd to Amy, but not familiar. Maybe Dad had chosen a South African crook's name by mistake. Amy glanced at Dan, but he was staring at the photo. "I— I don't think—" he stammered. "Honestly, I can't imagine how this passport ended up on the airport floor," Mrs. Thembeka said as she opened a file cabinet. "The Nudelmans were Aussies, I believe, but they went all over the world on their spree. India, Indonesia, South Africa…" India, Indonesia, South Africa… Arthur and Hope's route in pursuit of Amelia Earhart. "What did they do?" Nellie insisted. "Without using graphic details," Mrs. Thembeka

said, "suffice it to say, brutal crimes with no motives. Ransacking buildings and leaving no one alive. Happily, they haven't been seen in years. I assumed they'd died, but… ah, here we are!" She lifted a document from the file and put it on the desk. "You may copy it, if you promise to keep it to yourselves." "But— about the—" Dan began. Amy cut him off with a strong glare. A mistake. That was it. Pure and simple. "Thank you," Amy said. "We'll make a copy." Dan ran out of the building. He was trembling. "Wait up!" Amy said, clutching a manila envelope. Nellie followed close behind. "Dude, you're shaking," she said, putting a hand on Dan's shoulder. "Sorry!" Dan took a deep breath. "It's just… she called them… murderers." "She's old. Bad eyesight," Nellie said reassuringly.

"Wouldn't Mrs. Thembeka know what Dad looked like if she and Grace were good friends?" Dan asked. "Like I said, old," Nellie said. "Grandparent-old. People like that don't show off pictures of their grownup children. That's, like, for parents of little kids." "So… Dad chose to use the name of a famous bad guy on his passport?" Dan asked. "Why?" "Maybe he didn't know who Nudelman was," Amy said." 'Roger Nudelman'— that's the kind of goofy name Dad would always make up. Remember Oscar Schmutz, the dirty-fingernail wizard?" Dan shook his head sadly. "No." Amy fixed her eyes on Dan's. "What do you remember about them, Dan— Mom and Dad?" "Practically nothing," Dan said, his eyes welling up. "Dan, think," Amy said. "You told me you didn't remember them in your mind, but you did everyplace else. What were those memories?" Dan was breathing hard. "Silly stories. Hot

chocolate on the white kitchen table. Songs at night. This clean-laundry smell. Big arms around me…" "When you were about two," Amy said, "I heard Dad say to Mom, 'I just want to reach forty- three. Then he'll be eight, and if I die, at least he'll remember who I am.' I wasn't supposed to hear it, and it scared me. Mom told him he was being morbid. I'll never forget what she said next. 'Babies remember souls, Arthur.' So for a year or so I tried to put you near Dad's shoes. I thought she was saying soles. Okay, I figured out what she meant— but it wasn't until now that I really understood. Those things you remember? That's what Mom meant." "People like your mom and dad," Nellie said gently, "are not capable of such bad things." "Irina turned out to have a good soul," Dan said. "And she was capable of very bad things." Amy put her hand on Dan's shoulder. "Irina found her goodness late. Mom and Dad already had it." "Right," Dan said. "That's true. Can we go

now?" As he walked to the car, he unfolded the copy of the Churchill letter. Amy linked arms with Nellie. She hoped Dan could let go of this. She hoped she could, too. In the parking lot, Dan laid out the copied letter on the backseat. "Check this out…" he said in awe.

FROM THE DESK OF WINSTON LEONARD SPENCER-CHURCHILL 11 May 1900 MY Darling M_ O_ Tho' my loyalty to Britain & este for tumult may have drawn rae to the Anglo-Bo r conflict eventually, I commend you for urging that my war reporting begin here now. My loss in the election, as you say, was a scar to be borne bravely & is surely meant to strengthen me, as will our arrn"s troubles with the mighty Boers strengthen it. Yes, I did escape imprisonment from Pretoria's State Model School, to where they'd taken me (fort nately!) from H. Hill. One cannot sum on words fop that filthy pit in Johannesburg, a place far more miserable than my fetid hidey hole in Witbank's mines, post-escape (where I was able indeed to discover a realization, given hereinl). This I send you, With all my heart, Your Winnie The unbroken e shall deliver thy desire to th letter, if thou proceedc+uh do ward ever, in single steps. "This is a big help," Dan said disgustedly. "H. Hill," Amy said, flipping through her Churchill biography. "That must mean Hospital Hill. That's what they used to call Constitution Hill back then." "Right. And Churchill hated it." Nellie shrugged. "No big shocker there." "It says here that Churchill was taken from the prison here and transferred to a place called the