Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11 Never before had the famous Jonah Wizard felt so lost at sea. He could usually charm his way out of any situation. But his patented hip-hop charisma didn't work on Shaolin monks. Dan scanned the temple for the nearest exit. They were badly outnumbered by trained martial arts masters. Escape would be their sole option if this got ugly. The head monk went on. "You have many admirers among our order, Jonah Wizard. We find similarities between our ritual chants and your— I believe the term is 'hip-hop groove'? We consider you to be, as you might say, 'all that.'" Jonah laughed with pure relief. "Thanks, yo. Nice to be kickin' it in— you know— wherever we are." "I am Li Wu Chen, Chief Abbot of the Shaolin

Order," the man introduced himself. "Please honor us by coming this way." The procession of monks led them farther into the temple. Jonah walked beside the abbot, with Broderick and Dan bringing up the rear. They passed through room after room of Chinese art treasures that rivaled the Palace Museum in the Forbidden City. Farther on, the library hall featured countless shelves of ancient manuscripts. At last, they stepped through an elaborately carved archway. Dan felt the temperature drop, and he understood that they were no longer in the building on the mountainside but inside the mountain itself. There were no tourists here, no souvenir stands, no signs in a dozen languages. This was the heart of the Shaolin Temple, a secret place reserved for only a handful of chosen visitors. Dan peered into a huge chamber where several monks— obviously the top fighters— were engaged in a spectacular battle. The movements were so fast, yet so perfectly fluid and natural, that at first glance, the lightning combat seemed almost like dance. But this was no ballet. The punches

and kicks cut the air like bullets, leaving whispers of sound. Bodies soared, as if gravity did not exist. Watching it, Dan realized that all the martial arts he had seen in the fields of Shaolin had been child's play by comparison. It took him several seconds to find his voice. Still, it was in a hushed whisper that he said, "This is the coolest kung fu I've ever seen in my life!" Li Wu Chen smiled tolerantly. "We prefer to call it wushu here. The word kung fu can mean any skill mastered through long practice. Wushu refers specifically to martial arts. Would the young man care for a lesson?" Dan's heart very nearly blasted through his rib cage and leaped out of his chest. "Me? With these guys? You're kidding!" "There is no kidding in the Shaolin order," the abbot deadpanned. "But if you wish, we will show you a few of the fine points." "Oh, I wish!" Dan exclaimed fervently. "I wish!" The bus ride to the Great Wall was scheduled for seventy minutes, but that obviously didn't include

Beijing traffic. At the seventy-minute mark of their trip, Amy and Nellie were still gridlocked on the freeway, and they were having a hard time restraining Saladin. The Egyptian Mau was expressing more than average interest in the plump hen in the arms of a peasant farmer in the next row. "I feel sorry for that chicken," Nellie commented. "Her options are lousy— the tender mercies of Saladin, or the stew pot of that family. Either way, the end of her day is going to be a bummer." Amy was deep in the pages of Puyi: The Last Son of Heaven, a thick paperback she had picked up at the bus station bookshop. But her mind was never far from her brother. "Is anybody wearing a Jonah Wizard T-shirt?" she asked, scanning the aisle. "If we find a real fan, maybe we can follow him to Jonah— and Dan." "I don't think this is the fan bus," Nellie observed glumly. "More like the poultry bus." In fact, Nellie had been checking for T-shirts— and hats, belt buckles, Pez dispensers, and

authentic Wizard Enterprises Bling. ever since the Beijing terminal. She had even been sidling up to random teenagers in hip-hop clothing, hoping to pick up snippets of Jonah's music on their iPods. No luck. How could they have lost Dan? If Amy was frantic about finding her brother, Nellie was doubly so. She was outwardly calm— no point in making Amy even more distraught. But these were her kids— in her care— and one of them was missing! Well, not missing, technically. Dan was with Jonah, which was better than him vanishing completely or landing in the clutches of Isabel Kabra. Jonah wasn't the worst of those Cahill vipers, but that was like saying it was preferable to be attacked by a tiger shark than a great white. Especially since Jonah was up to something. Why else would he lie to them about Dan? Nellie's instructions were clear: "Finding Dan is important," the voice on the other end of the crackly line had told her. "But nothing takes precedence over the clue hunt."

"You're talking about an eleven-year-old kid!" Nellie had shouted into the pay phone. "Who happens to be Grace Cahill's grandson," the voice had added. "He has shown himself to be quite a resourceful young man. We have every reason to believe he can take care of himself." Big talk from someone sitting in a paneled office thousands of miles away. Suddenly, the pressure of keeping her real mission a secret seemed nearly as exhausting as the Clue hunt. Nellie slumped in her seat, hugging Saladin to her chest. The guilt gave her no respite. These poor kids had been deceived practically from birth— first by their parents, who had hid their Cahill identity, then by Grace, who had withheld the truth about the fire. Next, the Clue hunt— practically a double-crossers' convention. Who knew what lies Jonah was telling Dan right now? And on top of it all, there's me— someone they trust. Someone who's supposed to protect them… If it ever came down to a choice between the