The Maze of Bones (The 39 Clues #1)(27)

Alistair kept walking, thinking hard. A gendarme was standing by a security checkpoint up ahead -- about twenty meters. If Alistair could create a distraction...

"The 1908 explosion in Siberia," he said to Ian. "Yes, that was impressive. But we have more at stake this time."

"Exactly," Ian agreed. "So hand over the book, old man, before we have to hurt you."

Natalie laughed. "If you could hear yourself, Ian. Honestly."

Her brother frowned. "Excuse me?"

Five meters to the gendarme,

Alistair thought.

Stay calm.

"Oh, nothing," Natalie told her brother airily. "Just that you're a terrible bore. Without me, you couldn't even frighten this pathetic old man."

Ian's expression hardened. "I most certainly could, you useless little -- "

Natalie stepped in front of Alistair, intent on confronting her brother, and Alistair saw his chance. He stepped backwards, then sideways, and before the Kabras could regroup, Alistair was standing next to the gendarme, talking as loudly as he could in French.

"Merci, niece and nephew!" he shouted at the Kabras. "But your parents will be worried. Run along now, and tell them I'll be out in a few moments. I have some questions for this officer. I may have forgotten to declare my fresh fruits in customs!"

"Fresh fruits?" the officer said. "Sir, that's very important. Come with me, please!"

Alistair shrugged apologetically to the Kabras. "You must excuse me."

Ian's eyes were so angry they looked like they might catch fire, but he managed a stiff smile. "Of course, Uncle. Don't worry. We will definitely catch you later. Come, Natalie." He said her name through clenched teeth. "We have to talk."

"Ow!" She yelped as he gripped her arm, but he herded her down the hallway and out of sight.

Alistair sighed with relief. He followed the gendarme gratefully back to customs, where after twenty minutes of questions and searching bags, Alistair realized -- quelle surprise! -- he did not have any fresh fruit in his luggage after all. He pretended to be a confused old man, and the irritated customs official let him go.

Back in the terminal, Alistair allowed himself a smile. Ian and Natalie Kabra may have been deadly opponents, but they were still children. Alistair would never let himself be outfoxed by youngsters like them -- not when his own future and the future of his branch were at stake.

He patted the Poor Richard's Almanack, still safe in his jacket pocket. Alistair doubted any other team knew more about the thirty-nine clues than he did. After all, he'd been spying on Grace for years, learning her purpose. There was still a lot he didn't understand -- secrets he hoped Grace had given to her grandchildren. But soon he would find out.

He was off to an excellent start. He now understood the true meaning of the first clue:

Richard S___'s RESOLUTION. He had to chuckle about that. Even Amy and Dan had failed to see what it really meant.

He made his way through the terminal, keeping his eyes open for the Kabras, but they seemed to have vanished. He got outside and was dragging his bags toward the taxi stand when a purple van pulled up to the curb.

The side door rolled open. A cheerful male voice said, "Hey, there!"

The last thing Alistair Oh saw was a large fist hurtling toward his face.

CHAPTER 11

After getting through customs at Charles de Gaulle Airport, Amy felt like she'd just lost a fight with a tornado.

She'd endured eight hours on the plane, wedged between Dan and Nellie, who both kept their headphone volume too loud. Dan watched movies. Nellie listened to music and flipped through French cookbooks with full-color pictures of snails and goose livers. Meanwhile, Amy tried to make herself small and read her own books. She'd picked up six new ones in Philadelphia, but she'd only managed to finish one Benjamin Franklin biography and two Paris guidebooks. For her, that was terrible. Every muscle in her body ached. Her hair was a rat's nest. Her clothes smelled like airplane lasagna, which Dan had spilled on her mid-flight. Worst of all, she hadn't gotten any sleep, because the more she read, the more an idea had started to form in her head about Franklin and Paris -- and the idea scared her.

In the customs line, she was sure she was going to lose it when the official asked about her parents, but

she muttered the lie Dan and she had rehearsed -- that their parents were coming over on a later flight. Nellie's presence seemed to reassure the official, especially when Nellie started answering his questions in French. The official nodded, stamped their passports, and let them through.

"Nellie!" Dan said. "You speak French?"

"Duh. My mom taught French. She was, like, French."

"I thought your family was from Mexico City."

"That's my dad. I grew up trilingual."

"That's amazing," Amy said. She was really jealous. She wished she knew other languages, but she was hopeless at learning them. She couldn't even remember the colors and numbers from kindergarten Spanish.

"It's no big deal," Nellie assured them. "Once you know two languages, learning three or four or five is easy."

Amy wasn't sure if she was serious, but they kept going through customs. They reclaimed their bags, changed their dollars into euros at a kiosk, and straggled onto the main concourse.