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December 10, 2010 / milesandhisfavorites

Brazilian Interception

Note: The following is a fan fiction documenting my adventures in the universe of the 39 Clues.  The Cahills (the branches are Ekaterina, Tomas, Janus, and Lucian) are a family made up of the world’s greatest people, from Austrian composers to Zulu leaders.  Now, they are hunting for 39 clues that, when combined, have the power to give you global control.  Naturally, all four branches are locked in a vicious competition, and the winners could either save the world-or destroy it.



I paced in front of the courthouse.  How could Agent Riordan just pass off all of our secrets like that?  They weren’t toys!  And plus (though only sentimentally), he had left out hundreds of important players in the clue hunt!  Sure, he wrote about some people, like the Holts and the Kabras, but what about people like Jaque Linnia, master thief and direct descendant of Luke Cahill!  And it wasn’t only him, either!  I had read the latest book, The Black Circle, and so far, it looked like he had an entire network of Cahill agents working on this project!

Of course, I didn’t downright despise Agent Riordan like I did other fellow Janus (Jonah Wizard, ugh!).  We were both members of the Janus branch, so we both were artistically talented.  Of course, we were still very different, and it wasn’t limited to age, either.  Agent “Rick” Riordan was a bestselling author and toxin expert, which gave us an edge over (or at least against) the poison-loving Lucians.  I myself was a web writer (still am) and expert on advanced computer hacking.  But that’s not the point yet.  The point is I was annoyed.  My contact was late, but that was actually to be expected of her.  Then again, I also expected that there was a fifty percent chance of me getting killed on this mission.

Finally, she arrived, two hours late.  Being a Tomas, she didn’t exactly arrive secretly.  Actually, a small helicopter the size of a Mini Cooper landed, dropped her off, and flew away.  Reagan Holt, master tough woman and all around someone you wouldn’t want to meet at a wrestling convention.  Surprisingly, she was actually kind of cute.  Shut up, I told myself.  You can’t think of someone’s physical appearance at a time like this.  It’s what’s inside that-oh, now I’m getting sappy! Reagan walked up to me and started chatting.  “Sorry I’m a little late,” she said innocently.  I rolled my eyes.  There was no time for this.  “If your definition of a little late is two hours!” I shouted at her.  “Sorry,” she said.  “Dad got the new Rocky DVD set, and I just HAD to watch the first one again!”  I rolled my eyes again.

“So,” I said.  “You got the same briefing I did?”  I had gotten a USB in the mail and discovered a mission.  According to my contact, a Tomas Clue had been stolen from Venezuela’s National Pantheon.  The clue was already known by both the Tomas and the Janus-lead-but it had been pilfered by a few of Ekaterina (history’s geniuses) agents.  Despite being the most brutal people this side of the Mexican/American border (or anywhere, actually), the Tomas were also the most confident, and for once, trusted a different branch for help.  In exchange for a partner agent to retrieve the Clue, they would withhold any Janus spying for a month-a worthy cost to rescue a Clue.  And according to my contact, the Ekats (the Ekaterina’s global nickname) were flying it to one of their Egyptian strongholds, either in Cairo or Luxor.  Either way, they were flying it over northern Brazil in the process, and me and Reagan’s job was to intercept it.

“Yeah,” Reagan replied.  “My dad was all ‘You should be honored’ and stuff like that.  Ugh!  I got in the helicopter as soon as I could.”  Since the Supreme Federal Court building was just our rendezvous point, we set out for the airport at once.  Janus computer hackers discovered that the agents were transferring planes at the local airport, in order to stop any tailing competition.  Once they had boarded their flight, we had lost our one chance.  So we went to the Brazilian National Airport.  When we got there, the flight from Venezuela had just arrived.  “How do we tell apart the Ekat agents,” Reagan asked me in a whisper.  “After all, they’re certainly in disguise, right?”  I replied.  “Luggage locks,” I said.  “It’s a Clue, so check for paranoid-level security.”  Sure enough, a family of three, all blonde, walked right by us.  They had more luggage locks than Fort Knox had grams of gold.

“The Chernova family,” I whispered to Reagan, in case she didn’t know the trio.  “Three of the highest ranking Ekats in the world.  Russian.  The teenager is their daughter, Lilya.  The mom and dad are Helga and Edgar.”  Reagan donned a red wig and Secret Service-style sunglasses, then halted the Chernovas.  “What is this,” Lilya questioned.  “We have, uh, very important family members to meet in, uh, Belem!”  I grabbed a collapsible sai from my rucksack and joined Reagan.  “Not so fast, Ekats!” I intervened.  If Reagan goofed this, I was so not getting that promotion from Cora Wizard.

The Chernovas realized who we were, and tried to make a run for it, but I quickly unfolded my sai.  I tossed it in Lilya’s direction, and the handle whacked her in the head.  She stumbled, dazed from the hit.  But that didn’t stop her from catching up to her parents.  “Great shot,” said Reagan sarcastically.  “Next time you can even try to make her FALL, for once!”  It was true, I was a lousy shot.  But still, they were distracted at the very least.  Helga rushed to make sure her daughter was okay, which was just enough time to toss a piece of silverware at their suitcase.  The quickly passed through the security checkpoint, but the metal detector caught them with a spoon caught in their wheels.  Security quickly surrounded them, which gave me the chance to whistle the first few bars of Waltzing Matilda, our cue for backup.

A Janus agent dressed completely in black slid down from the roof, grabbed the suitcase, and slid back up, and the Chernovas were none the wiser until a few minutes later, when they had cleared everything up with the burly security men.  Edgar automatically glared at us, and dragged his wife and daughter into a chase.  Me and Reagan thought fast, and we jumped into the middle of the escalator that led down to the second floor-the terminal itself.  The busy travelers barely noticed, aside from a slightly panicked three-year-old.  The Chernovas grabbed a giant wheeled suitcase from a rapidly cussing salesman.  They rode the suitcase down the escalator like expert surfers, calculating all of the angles mentally until they reached the bottom.  That’s when things got really chaotic.

The terminal was a crowd of baggage-claiming, bored-and-whining, downright-cesspool-style travelers.  Me and Reagan nearly got trampled by a family running wild.  I thought I saw a kid trying to follow his dad, but wound up mistaking someone else for the father.  I looked behind us and saw the Chernovas trying to get past the family, but there were just too many of them.  The last I saw of them, they were trying to get the youngest kid’s crushed Coke cans off of them.  Two Janus agents smashed the nearby skylight, scattering the crowd.  A much larger helicopter, this one a giant emerald RAF Westland Sea King, hovered above us.  The copilot dropped down two cables through the open space, and we grabbed them.  We were automatically pulled up into the cabin.  Just as I was getting my headphones on, Reagan drew a taser with the Tomas crest on it-the snarling head of a polar bear.  “I’m sorry,” she said with obvious relish.  “But I’m going to have to hurt you now.  Very badly.”

Luckily, I had anticipated a betrayal.  I drew a small cutlass from my rucksack and tossed it in the air, grabbing it by the handle again when it came back down.  We charged each other, and the battle royal began.  I swiped at her, but she parried with the taser.  The blade of my sword crackled with electricity, but that only made it more dangerous.  What’s more, I knew something Reagan didn’t-the sword blade also drained the energy from her taser.  She swiped at me, but I parried, completely sapping the taser’s power.  She gave the taser a funny look, than dropped it.  I waved the sword like it was an extension of my finger-no, no, no, little girl.  I gave her a quick swipe across the side of her cheek, not even half a centimeter deep, but still almost deadly.  Her face turned pale and skeletal, and I opened the cabin doors.  While holding on myself, I shoved her out into the open air.

Her transport helicopter showed up and caught her right before she splattered all over an alley, but then it crashed into the side of an apartment.  I had the helicopter hover for a bit to see what happened.  Ten minutes after the crash, the police showed up, and Reagan Holt was dragged out onto the fire escape, wearing handcuffs around her wrists.  Ah, I thought.  Satisfaction at last.  Seeing a Holt getting arrested.  Though, frankly, it wouldn’t be the first time.



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