The 39 Clues: Book 8 (5 page)

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no Chinese money, no clothes to change into, no place to sleep --he doesn't even have his laptop, and you know how much he loves that. I have to admit I'm worried."

"Animals have a good sense of smell," Amy suggested. "Maybe Saladin can be like a bloodhound." She took the belt from her jeans and looped it through the cat's collar, forming a makeshift leash. Then she took out the silk that had been inside Dan's shirt and held it to the cat's nose. "Come on, Saladin. Find Dan."

Nellie sat Saladin on the pavement, and the Egyptian Mau took off across the square. He was moving so fast that the girls had to run to keep up with him.

"Good boy!" Amy urged. "He's on the scent!"

They drew a lot of curious glances -- two Westerners scrambling (behind) a cat on a leash. The threesome left Tiananmen Square and headed east on Dong Chang'an Jie. That was where Saladin's destination became clear. He led them straight to a sidewalk food vendor selling dumplings. There, he took his place in line behind the current customer, waiting his turn.

Nellie clucked disapprovingly. "For a cat, you're a pretty big pig."

"Mrrp!"

At last, Amy was able to step back from her short-term irritation and see the big picture.

Something's happened to Dan.

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CHAPTER 7

The headache came first, and it was awful -- a pounding behind his right eye that would not quit. The whole room seemed to thrum in rhythm with his pain --or, wait! Maybe it was his pain thrumming with the room. What was that noise?

And why was his bed
moving?

He sat up with a start and very nearly toppled off the conveyor belt to the factory floor forty feet below.

What the -

It all came back to him --being kidnapped, interrogated, and chloroformed by the Kabras. They must have dumped him here --in one of the factories that made China the industrial engine of the entire world!

He took stock of the situation. Behind him and in front of him on the belt were large sheets of multicolored plastic. About ten yards ahead, the pieces were being dropped into a hopper that fed a gigantic stamping machine beneath it. The closer he got, the louder the noise, until it threatened to jar loose his molars.

All remaining grogginess disappeared in a heartbeat.

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I'm going to get stamped into the door-crasher special at Walmart!

The only way off the conveyor belt was a four-story drop. And there was no point in yelling for help. No one could possibly hear him over the general din. He had to find a way to stop this belt!

He jumped up and ran against the direction of the conveyor. Every time he came to a sheet of plastic, he crammed it under the belt, hoping to disrupt its operation. There was no result at first, but he refused to despair. This giant machine was never going to run out of plastic. And he was never going to run out of energy to use it to jam the conveyor.

Not unless I want a one-way trip through the guts of that machine!

When he felt the first wobble, he was so encouraged that he found the strength to speed up his efforts. The burning rubber smell came next, and soon he had to watch his footing on the pitching belt. Smoke began to surround him, and the automatic sprinkler system came on. A moment later, the conveyor ground to a halt, and the stamping machine fell silent.

A hooray died in Dan's throat as dozens of factory workers began scaling a system of catwalks toward his position.

Now that the belt had stopped, he could see that the only other way down was on the stamping machine itself. A system of grips and ladders for maintenance workers traced a route up its steel flank. He ran to the end

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of the belt and swung himself down to a metal ring. From there, it was like the rock wall at the community center back in Massachusetts--a simple matter of finding the right handholds and footholds.

As he jumped to the floor, he nearly tripped over a pallet piled high with the factory's finished product-- a mechanical lollipop holder with a figure as its base. All this equipment, all these workers, this giant manufacturing complex, for lollipops. Sheesh.

He picked one up and almost swallowed his tongue. The figure was none other than his Cahill cousin Jonah Wizard, reality TV star, hip-hop mogul, and rival in the Clue hunt. Jonah's smirking face routinely appeared on posters, magazines, action figures, Pez dispensers, lunch boxes, and now motorized lollipop holders. There was no escaping the guy.

He pressed a small button on the base. The candy twirled, and Jonah's tinny voice announced,
"What's happening, yo?"

Those recorded words turned out to be Dan's undoing. A very agitated foreman grabbed him by the arm. In a few seconds, he was surrounded by a small army of irate factory workers, all yelling at him in Chinese.

He took a lick of the lollipop and tried to look like a passing tourist.
"Mmm --
grape. My favorite."

The foreman switched to heavily accented English. "What you do, boy? You break (everything)!"

"Check out the conveyor up top," Dan advised(.) "The belt got a little jammed. Happens a lot, right?"

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"Never
happens!" thundered the foreman. "You spoil perfect record on day of very important visitor!"

"What's happening, yo?" came Jonah Wizard's voice again.

Dan stared at the lollipop holder in his hand. He hadn't pressed the button....

The angry crowd melted away and went to surround the newcomer.

Dan goggled. It was the real Jonah Wizard, live and in person, touring the factory where his lollipops were made. No wonder the Kabras had dumped Dan here. It was a message not just to Dan, but to Jonah, too. He recalled Natalie's words:
We're everywhere....

The hip-hop star's eyes widened when he spotted Dan. A half step behind him, his ever-present father began composing an e-mail on his BlackBerry.

"Mr. Wizard!" the foreman exclaimed. "Thousand apologies! Worthless boy break machine--"

"Chill, man." Jonah somehow managed to imbue his street lingo with an easygoing, almost folksy simplicity. The world's first down-home hip-hop star. "The kid's my cousin. I told him to meet me here. My fault."

Dan's eyes narrowed even as he sighed with relief. The last time he and Amy had seen Jonah, the creep had marooned them on a crocodile-infested island in the middle of the Nile.

"Where's your sis and the nanny?" Jonah asked.

"Au pair," Dan corrected. "We got--separated."

Jonah shrugged. "It's all good. Chinese TV gave us a

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limo to use while we're in town. I'll have the driver give you a ride back to your hotel." He noted the anxious flush on Dan's cheeks. "I get it. You're lost, and you don't know where to find them."

"I can take care of myself," Dan said.

"Word," Jonah agreed. "But why should you have to? We're family. I got you."

"Like you had my back in Egypt?" Dan retorted.

The star looked sheepish. "I feel bad about that. It wasn't cool, but, seriously, I wasn't trying to kill you. I was just slowing you down a little."

"More like trying to turn us into Purina Crocodile Chow."

"Not true, yo. I knew you and your sis could handle yourselves around a few crocs." Jonah took in the wary expression on Dan's face, then turned to his father. "Pops, have our people call every hotel and see if (They) can track down Amy Cahill and --and--"

"Nellie Gomez," Dan supplied.

"Don't stress, cuz," Jonah soothed. "We'll find them. In the meantime, you can kick it with us."

Dan thought it over. He doubted Amy and Nellie would still be in Tiananmen Square, and he had no idea where they were staying.
Right now, Mr. Wizard has a better chance of finding them than I do....

By then, the sprinklers had been shut off, and the workers were repairing the conveyor belt. Dan allowed himself to be taken on the factory tour with Jonah, the two of them licking at motorized lollipops.

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After the factory, they boarded Jonah's stretch Hummer and traveled to the mammoth Lufthansa Friendship Shopping Center.

When the staff saw the international reality TV star in their establishment, the store shut down and turned into an autograph session. Customers and employees alike lined up for the privilege of shaking Jonah's hand and having their pictures taken with the icon. Some even tried to get their tongues around his rap riffs.

At last, Jonah pulled the plug on the celebrity meet-and-greet. "Thanks! 'Predate the love. But right now, I'm in the market for the flyest jeans in China. Shirts, too. Show me some mad fashion love." He turned to Dan. "What's your size, cuz?"

Dan was astonished. "I can't afford to buy anything in a place like this!"

"I got you covered," Jonah assured him. "When you roll with the Wiz, you've got to look like you roll with the Wiz."

Dan hesitated. Was he being bribed? "I don't know when I'll be able to pay you back," he said cautiously.

"It's all good. Let me do you a solid to make up for the crocs. And when we find your sis, we'll be straight."

When they left the Friendship Shopping Center, Dan was resplendent in designer jeans that cost more than a plasma TV, basketball shoes autographed by Yao Ming, and a limited edition silk-screen T-shirt that the salesman insisted read
rock da house
in Chinese.

As they climbed back into the limo, a young girl on

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the street asked Dan for his autograph. He was a little ashamed at feeling so pleased.

Jonah grinned like a proud parent. "Now you're getting it," he approved as they drove away. "We'll have you partying like a rock star in no time."

Dan turned to Jonah's father. "Any luck finding Amy and Nellie?"

"They aren't in the major hotels," Broderick Wizard reported. "But don't worry. There are hundreds of smaller inns and guesthouses in and around Beijing. We'll track them down."

Dan gazed out the Hummer's window. Night was falling. He wondered what Amy was doing right now. Was she worried about him? Or did she consider it
his
problem to get back to her, since he'd been the one to storm away?

She's probably still mad. I almost took her head off in Tiananmen Square... maybe I should have.

And what about Nellie? Surely the au pair handbook had a rule against leaving one of your charges to wander a Chinese megacity alone.

* * *

No one felt like going out for dinner, so the Wizard entourage hired the head chef of the hotel restaurant to come to their penthouse suite and cook for them.

Afterward, they watched pay-per-view movies in the private home theater while Jonah autographed a stack of "Wassup, Yo" publicity photographs.

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Dan imagined ecstatic kids all around the world receiving a letter from their hero. "It's really cool that you answer every single fan letter."

Jonah was the image of modesty. "Used to be a time when my concerts didn't sell out in eight minutes, and my show was on basic cable. Paparazzi are the worst, but not half as bad as when nobody wants to take your picture. You do it--for the fans. They gave you what you've got; they can take it away." He tossed a game controller into Dan's hands. "Do you Xbox, cuz?"

"Bring it!" Dan challenged. He hadn't p(lay)ed video games since before Grace's funeral.

Many wounded GIs, slain dragons, vaporized spacecraft, and demolished police cars later, Dan and Jonah hunched over their controllers in the midst of a one-on-one all-night gaming marathon.

Weird,
Dan reflected--Jonah Wizard was practically Dan's opposite. Jonah was rich; Dan was flat broke. Jonah was famous; Dan was nobody. Jonah had powerful parents; Dan was an orphan. Jonah was supported by TV and record companies and, from a distance, the entire Janus branch. Dan? He'd never been so completely alone.

And yet playing video games with Jonah was the most normal thing Dan had done since the contest had begun.

"Looks like you're bunking with us tonight," Jonah said, clicking off the Xbox. "We'll find your sis tomorrow."

It brought Dan back to earth with a discordant clunk. "Your dad came up empty?"

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"So far," Jonah admitted. "Computers here are all based on Chinese characters. It's tough to know how a hotel clerk is going to spell a name like Cahill or Gomez. The cell phone thing's a killer, man."

"We could still leave a message," Dan suggested hopefully. "They might be able to call in from a pay phone or something."

"Already done," Jonah confirmed. "If your sis is looking for you, she'll know where to track you down."

Dan looked up in surprise. "You don't think she's looking for me?"

"Of course she's looking for you, cuz! That's a definite! You know, probably." The famous eyes scrutinized Dan. "Yo, Pops!" Jonah called to his father. "Hook my man up with a room. Nothing cheap, either. I want a def crib, got it?"

Later, Dan lay in the silk sheets of his very own suite, savoring the taste of the mint he had found on his pillow. Def really was the word for it --five-star hotel, designer decoration, sixty-inch plasma screen. It must have cost a fortune, not that Jonah was hurting for money. The one thing it didn't have --

He missed the sound of Amy's breathing. Always just a touch too fast, fueled by the nervous dreams of a world-champion worrywart. Quiet, barely audible. But to her brother, as unmistakable as a police siren.

Amy--was she okay?