Flashpoint

  Soon the glassy expanse of the Tonle Sap appeared to the west. As always, Atticus provided the details.

  “It’s a unique lake, because it swells to almost six times its usual size during the monsoon season. Right now, it’s dry season, so it’s not very deep — maybe three feet at the most. Another odd feature is that the flow changes direction —”

  “Can you tell us anything we actually need to know?” Dan interrupted. “Like, is there a Snakes ‘R’ Us anywhere around here?”

  Between Atticus’s Khmer and the driver’s English, they were able to agree on a drop-off point, a reedy, deserted beach area where the man swore he had seen “many snakes.” This was encouraging until Atticus admitted that he wasn’t sure of the difference between the words for “many snakes” and “many worms.”

  “Fine.” Amy heaved a sigh. “If we can’t complete the antidote, at least we can open a bait shop.”

  Leaving the tuk-tuk driver with instructions to wait for them, they carried their nets down the marshy path to the water’s edge. The closer they got, the more the mud sucked at their shoes. Finally, Amy stepped out of her sneakers and continued barefoot.

  “Really?” asked Ian as his Gucci loafers sank into the slime. He tried in vain to roll up the pressed cuffs of his designer slacks. “Oh, this is going to be unpleasant.”

  “Man up, cuz,” Jonah called. “If I’m doing it, you’re doing it.”

  They’d crossed the Tonle Sap on their initial journey to Siem Reap, but nothing could have prepared them for the experience of wading into Cambodia’s famous Great Lake. It was like a swamp set on simmer. The water was as warm as a Jacuzzi, and teeming with life — insects, and minnows, and algae. The reeds were thick, and as sharp as knives. Every time they dipped their nets into the soup, they came up with at least one catfish, hideous and fighting for its life.

  A little downstream, two water buffalo eyed them blandly.

  “Yo, bros,” Jonah intoned, “don’t you dare poop in my lake!”

  “How lovely.” Ian whimpered.

  “Come on, you guys.” Amy waded in until she was up to her waist.

  There was some resistance, but soon they all fanned out across the murky water, dragging their nets.

  “This reminds me of fishing with my family,” Hamilton said nostalgically. “It was a lot of fun until Dad punched that manatee and got banned from the national park system.”

  Atticus ducked himself completely under to avoid a swarm of mosquitoes. In the cloudy water, he saw minnows; floating weeds; several tadpoles; and a long, dark undulating body. He squinted for a better view, comparing the creature to the images of Enhydris longicauda they’d seen online. Dark eyes ringing eerily pale pupils . . .

  He broke the surface sputtering and gasping for breath. “Sna-a-a-ke!”

  The response was pandemonium. Everyone converged on Atticus, nets swooping like diving seagulls.

  “Where’d he go?” cried Dan.

  Ian pointed toward shore. “That way!”

  For several minutes, the lake boiled as they scooped, ran, dove, grabbed, and struggled, bumping into each other in an effort to get hold of the phantom snake. Ian butt-ended Hamilton with the net handle, and Jonah took an elbow from Jake. At one point, Dan ducked underwater for a better view and saw nothing but foam as the wild frenzy raged on.

  “All right, all right!” Dan shouted, and the activity slowly subsided. “We lost him.”

  “But it proves something,” Jake said excitedly. “That snake is still here somewhere. And if there’s one, there must be others.” He looked around, earning nods of soggy, panting agreement from his brother, Jonah, Ian, Hamilton, Dan, and — “Where’s Amy?”

  They did a head count and came up one short. The panic was total. They looked to shore, and then farther out in the lake. Nothing.

  Hamilton spied a hint of color breaking the monotonous browns and grays of the Tonle Sap. Orange, the same color as Amy’s T-shirt . . .

  Chapter 14

  With a cry of dismay, Hamilton reached down and pulled Amy’s unmoving form out of the water. “Over here!” he bellowed, tossing her across his shoulder and making for shore.

  If there was a speed record for running through waist-deep water and muddy silt carrying a sixteen-year-old girl on your back, Hamilton Holt shattered it.

  “Does anybody know CPR?” Dan asked frantically.

  “Don’t need it!” Hamilton said briskly. In an instant, he had Amy’s limp body turned upside down, holding her by the ankles and shaking her.

  “Stop that!” Jake almost screamed. “She’s weak! You’ll kill her!” He began pounding on Hamilton’s back. The big Tomas kept on shaking, and didn’t even flinch.

  All at once, Amy gurgled and coughed up what looked like a quart of Tonle Sap sludge.

  Hamilton flipped her over and stood her on her feet. Amy looked over to where her brother stood, frozen with dread, and flashed him a brave thumbs-up.

  Jake was nearly hysterical. “Amy, what happened?”

  She shrugged. “One minute we were going after the snake, and the next thing I knew, Hamilton had me by the ankles. No big deal.”

  “No big deal?!” Jake echoed. “The tremors and hallucinations were bad enough, but this time you blacked out completely! You almost drowned!”

  Even the tuk-tuk driver was out of his vehicle and looking on in concern. “I take to hospital?” he called.

  “Definitely!” Jake confirmed.

  “Oh, sure!” Amy retorted. “I’m going to go to a Cambodian doctor and try to explain about a five-hundred-year-old serum!” Her voice broke, and she struggled to regain her composure. She’d nearly died, but that didn’t change the fact that she’d die for real if this mission failed. They couldn’t let this incident distract them. They simply didn’t have the time. “And even if we make him understand, he can’t do anything about it because there’s no antidote — at least, not till we find that snake!”

  Jake was not convinced. “All the antidote in the world won’t help you if you’re already dead.”

  “That’s why we have to get back out there,” Dan said, battling to remain all business. “The snake solves everything — the antidote, Amy’s health, and J. Rutherford Pierce.”

  They waved the driver back to his tuk-tuk.

  This time there was no complaining as the group fanned out across the Tonle Sap and began to dip their nets. The only difference was that now there were three water buffalo wading and watching. The sun continued its climb in the sky, and the temperature rose to the usual afternoon high of “unbearable.”

  They’d been out there for hours when Dan was startled to hear the tuk-tuk’s sputtering engine cough to life. He looked over just in time to see someone handing a wad of US dollars to the driver. A second later, the vehicle made a tight U-turn on the dirt road, and was off and gone.

  That was when Dan recognized the burly blond newcomer. He called a warning to the others. “Galt!”

  Ian was horrified. “Our tuk-tuk! How are we going to get back to Siem Reap?”

  “That’s the least of our problems, yo!” Jonah chimed in. “Look!”

  They watched as Pierce’s son was joined by his five goons.

  “I’m really disappointed in the Cambodian justice system,” Hamilton observed with a shake of his crew cut. “How can you practically blow up Ta Keo and be back on the street the very next day?”

  “You talking about them or us?” quipped Jonah. The comment carried little of his famous hip-hop attitude.

  “What are they going to do to us?” Atticus asked fearfully.

  He soon had his answer, although he might have preferred to be kept in suspense. Their expressions menacing, Galt and his henchmen waded into the Tonle Sap after their prey.

  The Cahills had a seven to six advantage in numbers, but their enemies were all e
nhanced by the serum, five of them adults. Amy’s Lucian boost instantly took stock of their situation. “I’ll fight three of them. The rest of you team up and protect each other.”

  “Amy, you’re in no condition for this,” Jake warned.

  “Are you kidding?” she snapped back. “This is the only thing I am in condition for!”

  The Rosenbloom brothers hunkered together, so Dan sidled over to Jonah and Ian for safety. His primary attention, though, was on Amy. She had been more aggressive since the serum, but never had she looked so dangerous. Her eyes, little more than slits, locked on Galt with the deadly concentration of a cheetah about to pounce.

  Galt didn’t notice any of this. He was harboring very hard feelings over yesterday’s events on the river, in Ta Keo, and later at the police station. There he had been grilled for eight hours before his father had wired over a sizable bribe to buy his freedom. He was beyond rage.

  “You must think you’re pretty hot stuff,” he sneered, staring straight at Amy. “Like, ‘No one can touch us. We’re the Cahills. We’re special.’ Well, let me tell you something —”

  That was as far as he got. Amy sprang at him with astonishing suddenness, flattening him with an elbow to the face. He went down with a splash, disappearing below the surface. She put a knee on the top of his head, holding him under. It took all his strength to fight his way back to the surface.

  At that point, the other five attacked, and the battle was on. Two of them rushed to Galt’s defense. Amy knocked one back with a kick to the ribs, and held the other at bay with a stiff-arm.

  Hamilton traded blows with his serum-enhanced opponent, giving as good as he got. But Ian was in trouble. He had learned boxing in his English boarding school, and his style was all about rules and fair play. The trained henchman landed a vicious kick in the center of Ian’s chest that knocked the air out of the teenager’s lungs and left him flat on the muddy lake bottom. Jonah threw himself around the man’s neck, and was shrugged off as easily as a grasshopper. Dan broke his fishing net over the goon’s head, which didn’t even slow him down.

  Ian rose from the water, determined to fight in a more Lucian style. In his hands, he grasped one of the large, slow-moving Mekong catfish. Clutching the fish like a cricket bat, he took a mighty swing and landed a low blow across the man’s kidneys. Their opponent did not go down, but as he lurched forward, all three Cahills jumped on his back and held on for dear life.

  Clamped on and hanging there, Dan caught a glimpse of his sister in a boxing match with Galt and two others. He allowed himself to consider the possibility, just for a fleeting second, that they might actually get through this.

  “Sto-o-op!”

  There was something in the desperation, the sheer panic in the voice that made everyone freeze, even in the midst of battle.

  There stood Jake, his face streaming with blood and mud. “Don’t fight! We can’t! He’ll kill Att!”

  Behind him, the last of the goons was holding something underwater. For the purpose of illustration, the man raised his arm so they could all see. The “object” in his fist was Atticus’s dreadlocks. The terrified boy choked and gasped for air.

  “I’ll do it, you know!” the man roared. He forced Atticus under again in a brutal demand for their surrender. “You’ve got five seconds to give it up, or you’ll never see your freaky little friend alive again!”

  With one hand, Amy grabbed a fistful of Galt’s shirt, heaved him away from his defenders, and forced him under. “I don’t see any gills on Junior!” It was a spectacular feat of strength, one that could only have come from Gideon Cahill’s original creation.

  The goon holding Atticus didn’t flinch. Bubbles began to rise from the water in front of him.

  The cry from Jake was barely human. “Amy, please don’t do this!”

  It took Dan’s voice to penetrate the shell of cold purpose that had Amy in its grip. “Amy, stop it! I order you to give it up!”

  It was the first time Dan had ever used those exact words — I order you. It felt wrong, but there was an instant result. He was the head of the Cahill family, issuing a direct command. Amy pulled the sputtering Galt out of the water and released him. Hamilton stopped resisting, and held up his hands in surrender. One by one, Jonah, Ian, and Dan jumped off their goon. Then and only then did Atticus’s captor free the half-drowned boy. Sobbing and spitting, Atticus staggered forward, wheezing in gulps of air. His brown skin, smeared with mud, had turned an almost bluish color. It was obvious that he could not have held out much longer.

  The fight was over, the battle lost.

  As soon as Galt was back on his feet, he threw a punch at Amy, who took it square on the chin and didn’t even blink.

  “You’re going to pay for what you did to us!” he growled. To his henchmen, he called, “Let’s get out of this cesspool. But watch them. They’re tricky.”

  Galt and his men rounded up the Cahills in the waist-deep water and began to push them toward the shore. Jonah took a rough shove and swallowed an angry yo watch it! There was no point in resisting now. Their enemies had proved they had the weapon that was always supreme — not just the ability to kill, but also the willingness to do it.

  Then he saw the log floating in the reeds, and realized that he might have a weapon, too. He had seen many logs like that the previous day — and none of them had been logs.

  The international pop star probed the silty bottom with his foot until he found a stone slightly larger than a golf ball. Digging with his toes, he lifted it out of the water and transferred it to his right hand. Taking careful aim — he was an artist, not a baller — he reared back and let fly. The rock bounced off the log with a dull thud, and plopped into the lake.

  The goon shoved him again. “Whoa! What do you think you’re doing?”

  Jonah didn’t answer. With a mixture of satisfaction and dread, he noted that the “log” was no longer floating there.

  A shriek was torn from Galt’s throat as the twelve-foot crocodile rose in front of him in a violent shower.

  Instantly, they were transformed from captors and captives to thirteen people running for their lives. Amy took advantage of the chaos to smash Galt in the chin with the open heel of her hand. The blow sent him sprawling in the opposite direction of the shore. He went down in white water churned up by snapping jaws. As the Pierce henchmen scrambled to rescue him, the Cahills fled for the beach. The seven pounded onto dry land, scooped up their shoes, and sprinted for the road.

  “How are we going to get away from here?” Ian wailed. “Our tuk-tuk is gone!”

  At that very moment, a black Humvee roared up the road, its driver masked by a balaclava. A single motion invited them to jump in.

  “Who are you?” Amy challenged.

  The driver repeated the hand gesture, with increased urgency. This time, all seven began to clamber aboard, no questions asked. The Pierce team was very close now. Galt’s fist slammed down on the hood of the Humvee. One of the henchmen stepped around him and reached for Atticus. Hamilton got a hand under the eleven-year-old’s arm just as the driver stomped on the gas. The Humvee reversed up the dirt road, its spinning wheels spitting mud and stones in all directions. Hamilton dragged Atticus inside and dumped him into his brother’s lap.

  At top speed, the military jeep backed into a small clearing and spun around. As they roared down the road in the direction of Siem Reap, they passed a boxy van that must have been Galt’s transportation. It sat low on its axles. All four tires had been slashed.

  “You’re very thorough,” Amy commented, still suspicious.

  The driver pulled off the balaclava and tossed it out into the jungle. Long blond hair tumbled about her shoulders.

  “Now do you trust me?” asked Cara Pierce.

  Chapter 15

  “Cara!” Ian exclaimed.

  The revelation was nearly as mind-bogglin
g as the other events of the day. Amy blinked to assure herself this wasn’t another of her serum-induced hallucinations.

  “Whoa!” breathed Jonah. “This is messed up, yo!”

  “But thanks,” put in Jake. “You probably saved all our lives.”

  “Especially mine,” added Atticus in a small voice. “I think your brother’s figured out that I’m the weakest link.”

  Dan had been right, Amy reflected. Ian, too. At some point, all the others had been willing to entertain the idea that not all of Cara’s loyalties lay with her father and brother. Amy had been the lone holdout.

  And I’ll hold out still, she raged inwardly. Just because Cara isn’t 100 percent pro-Pierce doesn’t put her on our side!

  “Galt’s not the real problem,” Cara informed them.

  “He was a pretty big problem five minutes ago,” said Amy coldly.

  “What I’m trying to say,” Cara persisted, “is that if we stop my dad, everything else will fall into place. Galt’s just an insecure kid trying to please a father who can’t be pleased. The others are hired muscle. They’ll go away as soon as the paychecks stop coming. And when we complete that antidote, the serum won’t be an issue anymore.”

  Amy’s eyes narrowed. “Unless I miss my guess, you’re pretty juiced up yourself.”

  “Guilty,” Cara admitted. “But I quit. I’ll never touch that stuff again.” She glanced sideways at Amy. “And I recommend you do the same. I doubt those muscles are from lifting weights.”