“It’s not going to be over,” Kate said firmly, “until we say so.”
When the train pulled into the station, a well-dressed man carrying a briefcase stood in the shadows, waiting. He watched the passengers deboard, keeping an eye out for a blonde girl with a bucket. No such girl appeared. The man’s face darkened, and he stepped out of the shadows and boarded the train. Passing methodically through the cars, he checked every seat, every compartment, until he reached the last one. The train was empty. Turning on his well-polished heel, the man strode quickly back to the front, where he found the conductor telling jokes to one of the porters. The conductor saw the look in the man’s eye and stopped talking, his smile frozen upon his face. A minute later the man exited the train with the information he needed.
The children had gotten off in Naansemegen.
At that very moment, the children in question were sailing down the streets of Naansemegen on bicycles. They had been looking for the bus stop outside the station when Sticky noticed a sign advertising bicycles for rent. There had been no need for debate, nor even any hesitation. The sun was shining; they had enough money; they rented the bicycles.
Constance rode in a metal basket on the front of Sticky’s bike, her legs dangling over the basket edge. The metal pinched her and she felt considerably squashed, but she wasn’t complaining. She’d never ridden on a bicycle before and was experiencing, for the very first time, that rare and wonderful sensation of soaring that can occur — especially on a cool, sunny day, and especially when no pedaling is required. For Constance the ride was like coasting down one long, gentle hill, with the breeze fluttering in her ears. She even rather liked her helmet, a sparkly red dome that made her look like a lollipop.
It was impossible not to smile.
Reynie, Sticky, and Kate were smiling, too. They couldn’t help themselves. As their bicycles picked up speed, the worries and fears that had burdened them for days seemed to lift away, rising like vapor into the blue sky. However brief their ride might prove to be, it was a reprieve, an escape from their serious concerns, and it was perfectly glorious.
There was a great deal of bicycle traffic in Naansemegen — more so even than automobile traffic — and so whenever possible the children cut through parks, alleys, and side streets. Kate, naturally, was in the lead, and from time to time she would whip her bike around to face the others, beaming at them as she rode backward, then whip it forward again and speed ahead.
“That’s why I’m riding with you,” Constance said to Sticky, who had already guessed as much. If he were Constance, he wouldn’t have wanted to ride with Kate, either. But it wasn’t lost on Sticky that Constance had insisted on riding with him specifically. He’d taken her demand as a gesture of friendship, a sort of peace offering, and so despite the extra effort it required of him, he had agreed without complaint.
Riding behind them, Reynie could hear Sticky and Constance talking, and he felt encouraged. The last thing those two needed was friction between them — more friction than usual, at any rate. Not when the hardest part of their journey still lay ahead. For Reynie had a strong suspicion that things were about to get extremely difficult indeed, not to mention more dangerous. Jackson and Jillson obviously had been posted at the castle to look out for something, which suggested still more sentries would be posted along the trail of clues.
Reynie frowned. Just like that, the old dread had settled back down upon him. Not ten seconds ago he’d been enjoying the bike ride and feeling pleased to see Sticky and Constance getting along. Now he was thinking about the Ten Men again. The reprieve had been very brief indeed.
“Left!” called Sticky.
Ahead of them, Kate turned left. They had used the borrowed map to determine their route and were relying on Sticky’s memory to account for detours. And now that path led them over a canal bridge, out of Naansemegen and into Thernbaakagen. There was no obvious distinction between the two places — Naansemegen being little more than an extension of the larger town — but as the children passed down yet another street of tall, narrow houses, they found that their moods had changed even if the landscape had not.
In Naansemegen they had been going somewhere that might prove dangerous. In Thernbaakagen, they had arrived.
The science museum in Thernbaakagen was an old, narrow, elegant brick building, four stories high, and set off the street by a little stone courtyard. On a bench in the courtyard a bald man sat smoking a pipe and reading a newspaper. A white bandage covered the crown of the man’s head — it looked as if he were wearing a doll’s cap — and a badge on the breast of his tweed jacket indicated he was a museum employee. When the children pushed their bicycles through the gate, he looked over his paper at them, raised his eyebrows skeptically — no doubt he thought they should be in school — and returned to his reading.
In the museum lobby, the children passed an anxious-looking security guard on their way to the information desk, which was staffed by a dour woman with a recently stitched cut on her cheek and a cast on her left arm. (Reynie wondered if she and the man outside had been in an accident together.) The woman gave the children a brochure and asked them a question in Dutch. Sticky had prepared for this; he handed the woman a note that said they were American exchange students on a field trip. With a grunt, the woman took the first brochure back and gave them one written in English. The museum was free and open to the public, the brochure said. Its exhibits occupied the first three floors, and its library was on the top floor. The children followed a sign to the elevator.
Reynie’s heart gave a lurch when he entered the library. He loved it instantly, as he did all libraries, but more than this the room — with its dark wooden tables and creaking floorboards — reminded him of the old public library back home, where he and Miss Perumal had spent many an hour walking the aisles. Until now Reynie had tried hard not to think about Miss Perumal. She must be so worried about him . . .
Reynie felt Constance squeeze his hand. It was very quick — she let go almost at once — but it was a kind gesture, and one that reminded him that Constance noticed a great deal more than might be supposed. Especially with me, Reynie thought. He must remember to be careful what he said, and even what he allowed himself to think. Constance relied on him. He knew that now.
The museum library’s collection was entirely for reference — nothing could be checked out — and except for a few dictionaries and encyclopedias, all the books and other materials were stored in back rooms, to be retrieved by librarians upon request. The children approached the librarian’s desk and Sticky handed a note to the librarian, who had been watching them with interest. They were the only people in the library, and no doubt she rarely saw children here, especially on a school day and without a chaperone. A cheerful-looking young woman with lustrous blond hair and hazel eyes, the librarian read Sticky’s note with an expression of growing wonder.
“Did you write this yourself?” she asked Sticky in English. She looked extraordinarily impressed. “Your Dutch is excellent. But you do not speak it well? You would prefer to speak English?”
“Yes, please,” Sticky said.
“Good, then,” said the librarian with a friendly smile. “Most Dutch people speak English, you know.”
Sticky hastened to say that he certainly did know this and that he had written the note merely as a precaution — after all, recent surveys indicated that around fifteen percent of Dutch citizens did not speak English, and . . .
Constance rolled her eyes. “Recent surveys,” she muttered, loud enough for Sticky to hear.