Century #4: Dragon of Seas by Pierdomenico Baccalario Read Free Book Online Page A

she’s holding a copy of the professor’s keys. And a mountain of newspapers he ordered.
    Play.
    “Go straight down Boulevard de Magenta, toward Place de la République. Stop at number eighty-nine. To get inside, you need to type seven-one-four-five into the entry phone.”
    Pause.
    The time to reach the address, find the entry phone, punch in the access code and step into the courtyard.
    Play.
    “Go to the door all the way at the back. Use the small key to unlock it. Then go upstairs. The big key opens the door on the top floor. No, I’m sorry … there’s no elevator.”
    Pause.
    Mistral and her mom walk across the courtyard, find the door already open and start climbing the narrow spiral staircase. The handrail and steps are worn from use.
    Play.
    “You must be wondering why I left you this message. That’s a good question. Don’t expect just as good an answer, though. All I can tell you is that I probably should’ve been there, in Paris, but the situation got out of our control. I had to go elsewhere. Not trusting the mail system, I entrusted an old friend of ours.”
    Mistral climbs up past the second and third floors.
    “The truth is, it’s very difficult to help you kids without telling you anything. They instructed us that we can only leave you clues and hope you follow them … and get further than we did.”
    Mistral climbs up past the fourth and fifth floors.
    “Just like you, there were four of us. Who are we? That’s easy: we’re the ones who faced the Pact before you did, in 1907. Yes, you heard me right: 1907.”
    Mistral climbs up past the sixth floor and reaches the seventh floor.
    There’s a closed door.
    “Today, the Pact is called Century. That isn’t its real name. It’s the name we gave it … when the problems began.”
    Mistral pulls the keys out of her pocket.
    “The four of us knew nothing about the existence of the Pactwhen we started out. But, like Alfred always used to say, anything can be learned.”
    Mistral slides the big key into the lock.
    “Be careful around your house, Mistral. Don’t trust anyone.”
    The girl turns the key. One, two, three times.
    “And don’t stop singing, ever.”
    She opens the door a crack and sees a small apartment with parquet floors. Inside, the air is stale. The windows are barred.
    “Keep going, Mistral,” Vladimir’s voice continues. “Because in 1907, we didn’t.”

N EW Y ORK .
    Mrs. Miller isn’t used to the house being so empty. With her husband out of town, Harvey out of town, too, and Dwaine gone for years now, she feels like the last person on Earth. It’s nighttime now, the night Harvey left, and the restaurants in the Village in New York have switched on their first lights. She’s going to eat in. She would be embarrassed to eat at a restaurant all alone. Besides, it would make her even sadder.
    There are two messages on the answering machine. The first is just a strange noise. The second is from Harvey’s boxing trainer.
    “Ma’am, this is Olympia MacMahon. I’m sorry I’m calling at this hour, but I thought I should warn you about a possible danger. Watch out for an old guy named Egon Nose. I repeat: Egon Nose. He might do something nasty to your place. If you use a security service, call them. Or check into a hotel for a while. Believe me, this isn’t a joke. If you want to talk to me, my number is 212-234 …”
    Strange message
, Mrs. Miller thinks.
Disturbing, to say the least
.
    She tries the number Olympia left, but it’s busy, so she goesupstairs to her son’s bedroom to look for the gym’s number. When she’s in Harvey’s room, she hears a strange noise coming from the attic but thinks nothing of it.
    The number isn’t on his bed.
    Mrs. Miller opens his desk drawers. She’s surprised to notice the corner of a passport sticking out of a padded envelope addressed to Harvey. She opens it.
    “Heavens!” she exclaims.
    It’s a photocopy of a fake passport with Harvey’s face and the name James