A King's Ransom

the Madrigals had protected over the centuries. They’d gone to Switzerland with Fiske to pick up the ring from Grace’s Swiss bank. There, the Vespers had stalked them. One of them, Casper Wyoming, had almost killed them. She never wanted to look into his cold eyes again.

She touched the black-faced Swiss watch on her wrist. The watch face now contained the ring. Hidden in plain sight. At least she could keep that safe.

“I remember,” she said. “Lawrence Malley. He was an expert in security systems.”

“Aka Lightfinger Larry.” Dan grinned. “He was also wanted in five states.”

“Great,” Amy groaned. “I sent you to a tutorial with a crook.”

“It got us in here, didn’t it?”

“I guess I’m grateful to him, then,” Amy said doubtfully.

“Don’t be,” Dan said. “The first lock I opened was on your diary. Don’t worry, I read two pages and fell asleep.”

Suddenly, they heard voices outside. Amy and Dan froze. A voice spoke in rapid Italian. The doorknob rattled. Amy looked around frantically, but there was no time to hide.

More Italian. Amy heard the word chiave – key.

A smack against the door, as if someone had slapped it in frustration. Then footsteps heading away rapidly.

“We’d better get out of here!” Amy whispered.

“Sure, but they can do the heavy lifting.” Dan pointed to the large leather trunk of the fashionable Italian lady they’d seen at the station. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I hope not,” Amy said. “Because that would be a huge problem for me.”

Dan was already using his metal device on the lock. It sprang open, and he lifted the lid. He began to toss out piles of ski clothes, shoes, dresses, and sweaters.

“What are you doing?” Amy asked. “This place looks like the mall during prom week.”

Dan dug into his pack and came up with a multi-tool gadget. It had a hammer/pliers device on the top and a variety of knives and cutters concealed in the handle. “I bought this baby while you were looking for a charger for the DeOssie phone,” he said. He began to use a tool to drill discreet holes in the trunk. “Nice trunk, but it’ll be better with breathing holes.”

“Both of us are going to fit in there?” Amy asked. “I don’t think so.”

“No, you’re going in that,” Dan said. He indicated a long nylon bag. Amy unzipped it and saw a snowboard.

“In here?”

“It’s just until we get on a luggage cart. Then we’ll get out. It’s the only way. Look.” He shook the luggage tag with the printed destination at her. “‘Engelberg.’ These are both getting unloaded at the next stop.” Amy swallowed. Suddenly, the long black bag looked like a coffin.

Just then they felt it: the smooth deceleration of the train. There was no time to think of something else. Quickly, they stuffed the clothes behind a pile of suitcases. Dan climbed into the trunk.

Amy stuffed her pack and Dan’s in the bottom of the bag, then quickly slipped into it.

She felt the snowboard digging into her back.

“But what if – ”

He shook his head. “We don’t have time for what ifs. We haven’t for a long time.”

She looked into his intent green eyes. He was right. They had burst through all their what ifs long ago, starting with the worst one of all.

What if Grace dies?

What if we can’t find the clues?

What if we get caught?

What if we get killed?

Either things happened or they didn’t. All you could do was deal with it.

Dan closed the trunk lid and Amy wiggled one hand out and latched it, then zipped herself into the bag. She closed her eyes and breathed. The air felt stuffy and she placed her mouth as close to the hole as she could. She felt the train come to a smooth stop. Footsteps approached in the corridor outside. She heard the door open.

She heard someone enter the car and circle it. Even the footsteps sounded careful … like the person would miss nothing… .

“Niente,” someone else said impatiently.

Niente … nothing. She was relieved to hear the train conductor argue something about the schedule. She could pick out random words in Italian, that was all.

She felt herself being lifted and tossed onto the luggage cart. The impact shuddered through every bone. Suddenly, she realized that other suitcases might be tossed on top of her. Maybe even the trunk! She panicked and reached for the zipper just as the cart began to move.

Her heartbeat tripped double-time. She was rolling now, and a bump told her she was off the train. She felt the rumble of the wheels. Then the cart stopped.

She eased down the zipper and tried to peer out. All she saw was hard blue sky. She felt the chill of mountain air. She eased the zipper down a bit more.

The train attendant was stepping back onto the train. A porter exited the Engelberg station, hurrying to meet the fashionable older woman surrounded by her suitcases. A young guy in a bright nylon jacket jumped off the train behind her – the snowboarder, Amy guessed.

The inspector stood on the step of the train, coolly surveying the station. Waiting to see if they’d dis-embark, she guessed. Any moment the porter would head this way to collect the bags.

Amy dared to unzip the bag a bit more. She could feel the sharp gaze and the stillness of the man just standing, looking … waiting.

Some late-arriving passengers hurried to board the train. The fashionable lady pulled out her cell phone and then pointed to the luggage cart, signaling to the porter that the large trunk was hers.

The train whistle blew. Go. Go. Go …

The train began to pull out, its speed way too slow for Amy.

She lifted her head slightly so that her eye was just above the zipper. The inspector still gazed out at the platform. At last he turned away and slipped back inside the train. With trembling fingers she unzipped the rest of the bag and wriggled out, then grabbed the packs and quickly zipped it back up. She was shielded from the porter by the stack of suitcases. She eased over to where the leather trunk lay and flipped the latches.

The trunk didn’t open.

The lock in the middle had been clicked. The porter must have done it on the train.

“Dan!” she whispered frantically. “Can you hear me?”

“Open it!” She heard a thump as he kicked the top.

“I can’t! It’s locked!”

“Stick it!”

“Stick it?”

“Not stick it! Pick it!”

Amy glanced over quickly. The lady in the hat gestured for the porter to hurry. The young man had stopped at a vendor and was paying for a sausage roll. She had seconds before the porter would come for the trunk.

She dove for Dan’s backpack. The slender piece of metal lay right on top of his rolled-up T-shirts. She stuck it in the lock and wiggled it. Nothing happened.

“It’s not working!”

“Wiggle it!”

“I’m wiggling!”

Desperately, she reached for Dan’s multi-tool. She shoved the metal pick between the lock and the trunk. She held it steady, then brought down the hammer with all her strength.

The lock blew. Springs rolled along the platform. The lock pinged as it hit the concrete.

Dan peeked out. “That’s one way to do it.”

“Come on!” Amy yanked on his arm, pulling him out, and slammed the lid shut. In another ten seconds, the