The 39 Clues: Cahills vs. Vespers Book 2: A King's Ransom Read Free

to be approached?
    They’d been played. By a
tuba
!
    Amy grabbed her backpack. “Come on. We’ve got to get off this train.”

Location Unknown
    “It hurts,” Nellie said.
    “I know,” Reagan said. “No pain, no gain.”
    “Do you think they made that expression up for
bullet wounds
?”
    If Nellie expected Reagan Holt, Olympic-level triathlete, to lighten up on her, she was dreaming. Nellie and Reagan were two hostages standing in a bare concrete bunker, but they might have been in an expensive health club for all the focus Reagan was bringing to the session. She’d refused to acknowledge that Nellie’s bullet wound was any big deal (“Oh, please, it was more like a graze.”), refused to concede that without proper equipment they couldn’t train (“We’ve got a wall and a floor, don’t we?”), and dismissed the idea that Nellie could be too weak to try (“There is no
try
. Only
do
. Yoda said that, and he was awesome.”).
    “Pain is pain,” Reagan said. “Gain is gain. If you don’t rotate that shoulder, it will freeze up, and you’ll be no help to anybody.”
    Nellie wanted to rotate it into Reagan’s chin for a nice, satisfying sucker punch, but she knew her tormentor was right. She rolled her shoulder, letting out a hiss of pain.
    Fiske Cahill winced and looked over at her sympathetically. In his jumpsuit he looked so pale and thin. She was used to seeing him in black jeans and sweaters, an elegant bohemian. Natalie Kabra stared vacantly at the same spot on the wall she’d been looking at for the past twenty minutes. Nellie was still waiting for Natalie’s natural gifts as a schemer and a fighter to kick in. So far, no such luck. Alistair Oh lay back on the sofa, his eyes closed. In some ways, Nellie thought, the isolation and deprivation were hardest on Alistair.
    No … they were hardest on Phoenix Wizard. Phoenix sat on the floor cross-legged, only a few feet away. He stayed close to Nellie now. He was only twelve years old and he missed his mother. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Nellie could see every bit of the sorrow and fear he was experiencing in his liquid brown eyes. She winked at him, then made a face behind Reagan’s back. He grinned.
    “You’re doing great, Gomez!” Ted Starling cheered her on. He couldn’t see her, but he could hear her grunts and hisses, Nellie knew. Ted had developed phenomenal hearing since he’d lost his sight. He always sat in a chair near the door, just in case he could pick up noises from outside. It was Ted who had determined that they must be underground.
    “That’s it. Gently now,” Reagan said to Nellie. “We’ll move on to the hard stuff tomorrow.”
    “This … isn’t … the hard stuff?” Nellie spit out through gritted teeth.
    Reagan grinned. “You really hate me right now, don’t you?”
    “Immeasurably.”
    “Good. Give me ten.”
    Nellie sighed. Her shoulder felt stiff. It ached. Her stomach felt empty. Whoever was preparing meals for the hostages had a rudimentary grasp of cooking. Peel potatoes. Boil. Serve. Nellie’d been enrolled in a cooking course in Paris when she got seized. She’d been about to enjoy a crisp, buttery croissant and a café au lait at her neighborhood café …
    Do. Not. Think. About. Food.
    Nellie pushed against the wall. She straightened her arms, then went forward again in a modified push-up.
    “Excellent,” Reagan said.
    “Ow,” Nellie grunted.
    “Only nine more and you’re done.”
    Reagan had dropped to the floor and was doing push-ups.
    “Five … nine … ten!” Nellie said. She sank down against the wall, resting her head against it.
    “I think,” Reagan said as she moved up and down like a piston, “we should
all
have a plan to keep in shape.” She jumped up and clapped her hands. “Okay, listen up, people. It’s time we set up an organized schedule for exercise.”
    Alistair opened his eyes. “My dear, I haven’t exerted myself in years.”
    “Then it’s way past time to