Amy tapped the cover of the book she'd found in the locker. "These things are full of answers. You just have to open one up once in a while."
When Dan saw Russia for the first time, he choked on a corn chip and coughed it up onto the airport sidewalk."Ew! Seriously, you will never have a girlfriend," said Amy."Like I'd want one!"Dan considered a sneak attack on his sister, but just then all his senses fired. Every sign was a collection of strange and swirly letters, impossible to read. The air was thick with flavors yet to be tried, red-and-yellow buses lumbered by, and everywhere Dan heard the sound of a new, exotic language.
They glanced back and forth outside the Volgograd airport terminal looking at the jumbled lines of dirty taxicabs. Neither one of them was sure someone else could be trusted driving them, especially after the GPS snafu in Cairo."What about that guy?" Dan asked through a mouthful of Kit Kat.
It was his third candy bar in as many hours, and his voice was coming out a little jittery."Don't let him catch your eye," said Amy. "He'll never leave us alone."But it was too late. The driver was already blasting across four lanes toward them. Dan had a feeling about the bearded Russian with the Volkswagen van.
It suited his beatnik style to ride around in a vintage 1960s peacemobile."No worries. I speak this guy's language.""Is wearing that mustache making you dumber or something?" Amy asked.The van veered wildly across the road and skidded to a stop in front of Dan and Amy."We want to rent our own ride," said Dan. "Can you help us out?"What?! Amy mouthed. Rent a car? Who was going to drive it?
"You want car of your own? I know guy. Best deal in Volgograd."Dan had never driven a car, but he was pretty good on a dirt bike.
He flashed the Visa gold card, then slid it back into his pocket."Can you get us a motorcycle? We like the open air."The bearded Russian winked, and less than an hour later, Dan was pulling out of a back alley with Amy jammed into a sidecar beside him. It was a vintage Russian military bike, army green with a kick start.
"Are you sure you can handle this thing?" asked Amy, clutching her guidebook."Hold on! This is going to be a bumpy ride," said Dan.
The grill of a delivery truck blasted by, then Dan veered out of the alley and gunned it."Slow down, you maniac!" Amy howled, but Dan was having the time of his life. It took him several tries to get out of first gear and the engine redlined. Horns honked and pedestrians glared as the bike swerved all over the road.
Dan finally got ahold of second gear and headed into oncoming traffic, nearly letting go of the handlebars as the bike careened out of control."D-D-D-D-Da ..." spluttered Amy, pointing to an oncoming slew of honking traffic. Dan slammed into third gear and raced back into his own lane.
"I'm really getting the hang of this," he yelled, zipping along in traffic with a grin as wide as a monster truck. Amy tore off her wig and red glasses, stowing them in the backpack."You're going to get us killed is more like it!"
"Don't worry about a thing. I got this!"Amy pulled on a beat-up old helmet she'd found rolling around on the floor of the sidecar. Then she grabbed the guidebook and turned to the back page, where the bearded Russian had scribbled directions."We take the third left," she yelled, glancing up in search of directions.
Every sign she saw was written in Russian, and they were just about to pass the turn they needed."Right here!" Amy screamed, white-knuckling the sidecar as Dan slammed on the brakes and swung the bike into a hard left."This is awesome!" howled Dan, leaving a black streak of burned rubber behind the bike.
"Eat your heart out, Hamilton Holt!"
It was twenty hair-raising minutes until the bike came to a stop in a football-field-size parking lot.Dan tore off his helmet, mustache, and goatee and gazed up over the sprawling grassy knoll.
On the far end there stood a massive statue of a woman holding a sword over her head, rising like a skyscraper into the cloudy horizon. They'd seen it in the distance as they raced across the city, but up close it was a frightening spectacle."The Motherland Calls," said Amy. "It's twice as tall as the Statue of Liberty.
Do you know what it commemorates?""Don't have a clue, but I'm sure you're going to tell me."
"The Battle of Stalingrad in World War Two, and it's nothing to make jokes about. Over a million people died right here."Parents had died here, leaving children to grieve in the care of others. Dan knew how awful that felt.
All the unanswered questions, the frustration, the terrible sense that you'd lost your place in the world. Amy reached for her jade necklace, the one from Grace, and rubbed the pendant."Better get the show on the road. Never know who might be following us,"
Dan said, starting up the pathway toward The Motherland Calls.There were people everywhere -- families, old couples with canes, sightseers galore, and uniformed guards.
"I was hoping we wouldn't run into anyone here," said Amy. "This place is crawling with police and tourists. Take it slow and easy, okay, Dan?
Better safe than sorry."Dan nodded and suggested they split up to cover more ground. Amy had figured out that the mother sitting in a chair in the little glass paperweight was a reference to the enormous statue. One of the walls in the tiny room also had an eye on it, and this is
where things got a little scary. If Amy was right about this being a reference to one of the eyes on the face of The Motherland Calls, it would mean climbing all the way to the top of a statue that was almost as tall as a mountain.Dan looked up. And up, and up. How are we going to get up there? And what are we going to find?
CHAPTER 4
Hamilton Holt was the first to hit the pavement, followed by his sisters, who tumbled out in big-time wrestling mode, beating the tar out of each other. The Holts had tracked Dan and Amy all the way from Cairo in search of Clues, hotwiring a 1970s Eastern European van the moment they touched down in Russia.
Landing at the Volgograd airport, they'd had no idea where to turn next, but the Holts were nothing if not conspicuously American.
The same Russian who had picked up Amy and Dan smelled money and moved in for the kill. It didn't take long to put two and two together. Ten minutes later, the Russian was a hundred dollars richer and the Holts knew right where to go.Gazing up at The Motherland Calls, Hamilton could tell that he'd finally arrived in a foreign land that might actually appreciate his size and strength.
"Gather round, troops!" howled Eisenhower Holt, the kingpin of the sweat-suited band of Neanderthals."Hamilton, front and center!"
Hamilton, the biggest and brawniest of the three Holt kids, darted to within three inches of his father's face and screamed, "SIR, YES SIR!""Son, you've got protein-bar breath and you're spraying spit again. Get it under control!"Hamilton's face fell.
It was hard to scream those Ss without showering someone."Won't happen again, SIR!"Eisenhower nodded in stern approval."You're on point. It's our most important task. Figure out what those nitwits are up to and report back. Drag 'em back to the van if you have to. Got your two-way?"Hamilton pulled a two-way radio out of his pocket, hit the call button, and screamed into it.
"SIR, YES SIR!"Eisenhower pulled out his own radio and screamed right back.
"GO GET 'EM, BOY!"Hamilton bolted toward the towering statue, proud to be at the center of the action.
glanced back at his family. His younger sisters, Reagan and Madison, were already duct-taping a GPS under the sidecar on Dan's motorbike. They complained bitterly about being hungry, and then Madison punched Reagan in the shoulder, which seemed to make her feel a little better. Mary-Todd, their mom, was on surveillance in the van, keeping an eye out for other teams.
Must eat!" bellowed Eisenhower. The last thing Hamilton heard was his dad yelling something about spying a food cart loaded down with Russian meat pies.It didn't take Hamilton long to spot Amy lurking around the front of The Motherland Calls. She was running her fingers along the stone, peering carefully at every seam and corner.