Authors: Cacey Hopper
I’m even less thrilled when I realize the picture has been altered. It’s me, just with shorter, darker hair. I guess this means I’m going undercover. Disguising myself seems like a great idea, with the Things now hot on my trail.
Suddenly I can’t help but wonder, in his planning of all this, if Jason had known just how much would be at stake. I don’t think he had counted on being kidnapped, and I certainly hope he would have never wanted me caught up in all of this if had he known how dangerous it would be.
But why all the mysterious clues? Why go to so much trouble to safeguard some stupid jewels? Would it have really been so horrible if Mr. V bought them from Mr. Barron to sell on the black market? I myself could care less if Mr. V got the jewels in the end. Jason’s life is far more valuable to me than a stupid necklace or whatever these missing jewels actually are. Jason, who apparently now considers himself a modern day Indiana Jones, might put a higher value on things like that, but I don’t.
In one hand I hold the fake ID, a clear reminder of what awaits me. But in the other hand I still clutch the photo of Jason and me, a solid link to my past. A reminder of us when were together, both safe. It is no coincidence he had hidden the ID in the frame, hoping it would catch my attention. Knowing it would remind me of everything we had together, of everything that is at stake now. Maybe he
had
known he would end up kidnapped, or at least known it was a strong possibility. My pulse quickens at the thought that he had willingly put himself in a dangerous position. Not only that, he’s relying on me, of all people, to get him out of it. But why?
I only have to look at the picture to answer my own question. Because he knew I cared enough to come after him. His parents, even his father, who knew how high the stakes were, had done nothing. He must have known they wouldn’t be the ones to help him.
For the first time the fear I might not be able to save him threatens to overwhelm me, but I try hard to shake it off. Looking at the ID in my hand I know I have work to do. There’s not much I can do now, the bank has already closed for the day. The best I can do now is go ahead and prepare for tomorrow.
I head out of the hotel one last time. Stopping by a clothing store I buy a pair of black trousers, a deep purple blouse and a black purse. As an afterthought I pick up a pair of black flats and a fake pearl necklace. After a quick trip inside a drugstore for some hair color and a pair of scissors I’m done for the night.
I’m still feeling quite paranoid on the streets so I head straight back to my hotel. After ordering up some dinner I try Alexa one more time, but she’s still not answering. For the first time since this all began I’m starting to feel really alone. I have been afraid—make that terrified—for the past four days straight. I’ve been afraid for my own safety plenty of times, but the same thing has kept me going time and again. The knowledge I am doing this all for a reason: to find Jason. Not just because he’s my best friend, though that is certainly part of it. And I’d do the same for Alexa any day. If I’m being totally honest with myself I know he’s more than that. He always has been. I can’t imagine my world with out him. He means so much to me that I am willing to risk anything and everything to get him back.
This realization causes a different kind of fear to flood through me. Fear from the power these emotions hold over me, when the thought of possibly losing that person seems unbearable. I can’t help but wonder what it must have done to my dad when my mom left. I guess that explains his reluctance to ever even speak her name. It must hurt him more than I could ever imagine.
But that isn’t going to happen to me. I will find a way to get Jason back safely. Tomorrow morning I will go back to the bank and get the safety deposit box. With any luck the jewels will be inside. After that it’s just a matter of finding Mr. V and making a bargain with him; the jewels, for Jason.
It seems simple enough.
9. JUBILEE
A
fter just six hours of fitful sleep I wake up early the next morning and hit the ground running. I dress in my old clothes and check out of the hotel before the sun rises.
My first goal is to find a safe place where I can hide out and begin my transformation into my new alter-ego. This will involve dying and chopping off most of my long red hair, so I know I have to leave my room. They probably frown on doing that sort of thing inside a hotel bathroom. I have no choice but to go back to Jason’s apartment. I know I’m probably taking a huge risk by going there, but my whole day is about to be one huge risk.
Just in case the Things are watching the front of the apartment, I scale the ladder on the side of the building yet again. It’s not the most fun experience, but it is getting easier every time.
The window is still open from when Thing One chased me down, so I’m able to climb right in. Closing it behind me I go straight to the bathroom and take out my supplies. Hair color is first. I’ve never dyed my hair before and I’m praying it’s not permanent, or I’ll have to kill Jason the next time I see him. I pace the apartment nervously while I wait the fifteen minutes for it to process. When the time is up I rinse my hair out and then take the scissors to it. The cutting bothers me less than the coloring did, since I’ve been considering chopping my hair off this summer anyway. I make a huge mess in his bathroom, but the place is already trashed, so I don’t feel bad. When I’m finished with my self-imposed makeover my hair isn’t long and red anymore, but dark brown and shoulder-length.
I dress in my new clothes quickly, knowing I can’t linger too long here, and turn to survey my appearance in the mirror. I hardly recognize myself. The only thing I still recognize are my green eyes. Even the shape of my face seems to have changed with the haircut. Hopefully I look like Marion Ravenwood, twenty-two, from New Jersey, instead of Katherine Hawthorn, seventeen, of Connecticut.
I take my phone, Jason’s car keys, and my journal and cram them into the purse. The rest of my things, including my beloved green Converse, I stuff into my backpack which I leave under Jason’s bed. I’m hoping I’ll be able to come back for them, but right now I’m not certain of anything except my next step.
The sun is now shining brightly through the windows of the living room. I pause beside the window for a moment to survey the street below. There’s a suspicious looking black car parked across the street, which I can only assume contains the two men I am most eager to avoid. I have no choice but to take the fire escape one more time. I fly down the ladder, hoping no one sees me. It doesn’t even faze me I’m so singularly focused now.
I walk briskly down the sidewalk, not pausing to look around me for Thing One and Thing Two. After all, that is the point of my disguise. They shouldn’t be able to recognize me.
I make it to the bank in record time. This time I look as though I might actually belong there and the feeling gives me confidence. However, as I wait in line I have to force myself not to fidget and remain calm. The rude, balding man from yesterday is no where to be seen. This calms my nerves a little more.
Eventually I step up to the teller and say, in what I hope is a cool, confident voice, “Yes, I’d like to access my safety deposit box, please.”
“Your ID please?” The woman behind the counter, who is much more pleasant than the man from yesterday, doesn’t seem the least bit suspicious of me.
I slide the fake ID across the counter, hoping and praying. I watch her face as she takes it and types my name into the computer. She scans the screen with her eyes for a moment and then they flicker to meet mine. I hold my breath.
“Do you have your key, Ms. Ravenwood?” she asks politely.
I nearly collapse with relief, but I manage a stiff nod and slide the key across the marble counter. After examining the key she hands it back to me and then leads me through a set of doors into a private office.
“Wait here, please,” she tells me and leaves.
A few moments later she returns with an industrial-looking box about the size of a shoebox. It’s locked by a tiny golden padlock. The key burns in my hand as she places it on the table and leaves without a word. My fingers twitch a little, but I make no move to open the box. Instead I just stare at it, breathing deeply. This is it, all or nothing. Inside this box is either the next clue, or what I have been searching for: the missing jewels. If the box does contain the jewels, then it is my key to getting Jason back. If it contains another clue, well, then I just hoped I could figure it out before Mr. V and his goons get more information out of Jason. Or worse, decide they don’t need him any longer.
Without another moment of hesitation I unlock the box and throw back the lid. Inside is the black velvet bag I saw Jason put in his backpack weeks ago. My fingers tremble more than a little as I reach for it and untie the strings. Tipping it upside down I slide the contents into my open palm. What I see inside takes my breath away.
It’s a necklace. The chain is heavily wrought, with diamond-encrusted pearls and there is a single pendant with a large tear-drop pearl dangling down from the center. The necklace obviously old, an antique and assuming the pearls and diamonds are real, it’s certainly valuable, but not priceless. Jason has gone to so much trouble to keep it safe from black market dealers, but it can’t possibly be worth all that.
Still, it is pretty. I turn it over in my hand and examine it a little closer. On the back of pendant there is a lightly etched “VR”. A thousand questions rush to my mind about why Mr. V and Jason have both gone to so much trouble to get their hands on this necklace.
I have to remind myself there’s no time to figure it all out now. Once I get Jason back, we would have time to talk and he could explain it all to me. I stuff the necklace back into its bag and into my purse. Hurriedly I exit the office. I nod my thanks at the teller who helped me and make a beeline for the front door. Just as I step into the revolving door I’m passed by two tall brothers that are far too familiar. Thankfully they don’t notice Marion Ravenwood exiting the bank.
Once out on the street I quicken my pace, never looking back. I know now they must have found a way to force Jason to tell them about the safety deposit box, how they intended on breaking into it I’ll never know. Nothing else matters to me anymore, I have the jewels in my possession, which means I hold all the cards.
I hurry back to Jason’s apartment, knowing I can only be moments ahead of Thing One and Thing Two. If they are able to find out the box has already been emptied, they will be after me next. Good thing for me I already have a plan for what is going to happen next. Quickly I change back into my own clothes, gather my backpack and then head out.
After a quick glance at my watch I know where to go next. I’m back at the café in moments, feeling anxious. I try to slow my racing heart with the knowledge they haven’t caught me here before. As far as I know this place is still safe. It’s hard for me to believe it was just twenty-four hours ago when I sat at the very same table and deciphered the anagram. The last few days have flown by, despite my need for more time. I’m trying hard to keep my thoughts focused on what I must do next, get Jason free. It’s not difficult; especially when I remind myself he no longer has any information that can help V get his hands on the jewels, which makes him completely expendable.
There is no time for me to stop and worry now. Anxiously I glance around the crowded café for a familiar face. My heart rate picks up a little as the bell on the door jingles and familiar cap comes into view. My fingers are drumming on the table nervously when he sits down opposite me.
I’m in no mood to chat or play games at this point. So I level my gaze and ask, “How do I know I can trust you?”
Peter smiles slightly at this. “You’ll just have to take my word that I have your best interests at heart.”
Suddenly I’m not feeling at all like the trusting seventeen-year-old girl I used to be. “I need more than that.”
His smile slips from his face. Looking at down his folded hands he says, “How much do you know about your mother, Kit?”
This is the last thing I expect, so I don’t even know how to answer. I shrug. “She left when I was nine.”
“She left?” He looks at me sharply over the top of his glasses. “Is that what your father told you?”
“Yes, what are you getting at?” This really is not what I need to hear right now. For once I need my mind to be completely focused on the present, not caught up in my past.
He rubs his bearded chin for a moment before speaking quietly. “I knew your mother a long time ago, before you were born. You look remarkably like her, you know.”
I nod stupidly, his implications shaking me to the core.
“Well, not so much any more.” He nods in the direction of my newly-dark hair, and then adds, “Your mother trusted me once, and now you’re going to have to do the same.”
It’s not exactly what I had been hoping for, but for now it will have to be enough. My spidey sense isn’t alerting me to any deception, which means he has to be telling the truth about knowing my mom. Besides, Peter hasn’t let me down yet.
Taking my phone out of my bag I bring up the pictures I had taken of the necklace and show it to him. “Do you recognize this?” I ask cautiously.
He frowns for a moment as he examines the screen. I reach over and scroll to the next photo, showing the inscribed “VR” on the back.
“My dear,” he says in a tone of wonder, “where did you get this?”
“Do you recognize it?” I ask again, my voice firmer this time.
“Can you access the internet on this?” He waves the phone.
I nod.
“Good, look up Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.”
I frown but do as he says. I find an image of Queen Victoria taken on her Golden Jubilee, the 50
th
anniversary of her being the Queen of England. I have to zoom in several times, but when I do I recognize the necklace immediately. It is the very same one I had found in the safety deposit box. I clasp my hand over my mouth in surprise.