Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 Natalie Kabra had been having nightmares for more than a week. The same dream every night, in perfect clarity and detail: Amy Cahill— her hair looking like it had never been styled in her entire life— and her brother, Dan, (ditto) in an airplane hangar, tied to chairs, helpless as the propeller of a plane came closer and closer. But there was no noise. Their mouths were wide open, screaming, and the propeller was whirling at top speed. Yet the silence was complete, as if someone had hit the MUTE button on a TV remote. In the dream, Natalie was standing right next to them. She wasn't tied to a chair, but she couldn't move, either; she was frozen where she stood. She could see Ian beside her mother, his face ashen with dread. The propeller would hit Dan first,

then Amy, and then— The volume came back on again, full blast. But still no propeller noise, no screaming. Just one sound. Laughter. That sound always jerked Natalie out of sleep. Instantly, she was heart–thumpingly, sweat– drenchingly awake. She would turn on her bedside lamp immediately. She had to reassure herself that she was in her own room, every inch of it designed by the same decorator who worked for the British royal family. The familiar paintings on the walls (originals, of course), her custom– made desk and chair in their usual positions, her perfect couture outfit for the next day hanging on the closet door. Despite these reassurances, it always took her a long time to fall asleep again. And every morning, the dream seemed foolish, as bad dreams so often do. The horror faded, and Natalie imagined that she had remembered it wrong, that she wasn't standing next to Dan and Amy but in her proper place, alongside her mother and brother.

Yes. She was, after all, a Kabra. The very best kind of Cahill. None of the others even came close, most especially Dan and Amy. The thought would have been laughable if it weren't so pathetic. EAST END OF ISLAND. CAVE. Amy and Dan stared at the decoded message scrawled in the sand. "Not again," Amy said in alarm. Dan snapped his fingers. "Maybe there are cats living in the cave!" "Well, if there are, I bet they aren't nice fuzzy house pets," Amy pointed out. "Tigers and— and panthers, those are the kinds of cats that live in caves." "Tigers don't live in the Caribbean," Dan said. "And stray cats might live in caves." Amy glanced around quickly. "Stamp it out," she said. Dan complied, and the water did its part by washing away some of the letters.

They walked back to where Nellie was sunbathing to pick up their backpacks. "Where are you going?" she asked, raising herself on one elbow. "To a c—" Dan started to say. "For a walk," Amy said loudly, cutting him off. "I'll go with you," Nellie said, sitting up. "No, thanks," Amy said. Nellie pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head. "Amy, come on," she said. "Whatever you might think of me now, you gotta give me one thing: I've always done my best to keep you guys safe." Amy hesitated. Caves could be dangerous. If anything happened… Potential danger or potential traitor, which was worse? Once again, the hunt was forcing Amy to make choices she had never dreamed she'd face. "You can come with us," she said to Nellie. "We're going to a cave. But once we get there, we go in by ourselves, got it?" That way, if they found something there, they

could keep it a secret from Nellie. Nellie looked hurt for just a moment, then lowered her sunglasses. "Got it," she said in a neutral voice. They began walking east. As they passed the first mate, Nellie asked if she could borrow a coil of rope. "No problem," the mate said. "What do you need it for?" "Uh, we thought we'd play tug–of–war," Dan said. The man laughed and handed Nellie the rope. She slung it over her shoulder. "Cave. Rope. Good idea," Amy muttered, not quite loud enough for Nellie to hear. The island was a tiny one; it took them only about ten minutes to reach the eastern end. They left the curve of golden sand behind and walked along rocky outcrops that jutted into the sea. The azturpealean sea, Amy thought. Very poetic. "The rocks end, so the cave must be around there somewhere," Dan said, pointing to the area in front of them. They walked back and forth for a

while but found nothing that looked like a cave entrance. "We'll have to wade," Dan said. "The entrance must face the ocean." He pulled off his T–shirt and dropped it and his backpack on the sand. He took a flashlight out of the pack; experience had taught both Cahills that a flashlight often came in handy while Clue hunting. Then he picked his way through the rocks and sat down on the edge of one. After donning the mask and snorkel, he splashed into the water. Amy and Nellie followed more cautiously. The water was only hip deep and as warm as a nice bath, but there were rocks protruding from the sandy bottom. Their sole purpose in life seemed to be to cause sprained ankles. "Here!" Dan called out. He was standing in front of a group of larger rock formations that blocked their view of the beach they had seen earlier. The cave was in a natural depression. From the shore, the rocks looked no taller than Dan, but the seabed sloped lower here. The rocks were taller than Nellie, and