Oh, terrific," Dan muttered. "Just what we need. Another code! Why can't people just say what they mean? Why can't they say THE MAP IS IN THE DESK?

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.

When was the last time we slept?""Day before yesterday?" Amy asked with a frown. "I know what you mean. This is some jet lag. Let's get a coffee while we make a plan.""Oh, yeah. Jet lag. That must be it," Dan agreed as he trailed after her to the espresso bar. "Not the fact that we pulled off a museum heist, went without sleep and food, and oh, yeah—did I mention this—almost got killed? Jet lag. That's why we're tired.""Well, if you want to get technical.

McIntyre hesitated, and for a moment the tall, gray-haired man looked almost boyish. "After all this time...don't you think you could call me William?"Amy and Dan exchanged glances. As fond as they were of him, they couldn't imagine calling their lawyer by his first name.He saw the hesitation on their faces. "Will?"Amy cleared her throat. Dan fiddled with the new GPS."How about 'Mac'?""Mac," Dan said, trying out the name.Mr. McIntyre looked wistful. "I always wanted to be a Mac.

I'm so hungry," Amy said sleepily."Hey, you stole my line," Dan said.

Hamilton awkwardly folded himself into the passenger seat. "Couldn't you get something bigger?" he asked as he banged his knee against the dashboard."We're supposed to be a diversion," Jonah said. "Got to make an entrance. Can't do that in a minivan, Giganto Boy. Can't do much in a minivan except look about as uncool as it gets.""Hey! My dad drives a minivan.""Snap.

They'd been played. By a tuba!

Amy sighed. Just when she started to almost like Ian again—after all, he'd flown across the ocean and had been working around the clock to help—his snob quotient went through the roof.

Ticket and passport. We're crossing the border.""Oh. Sorry." Dan handed the conductor his ticket."Grazie.""De nada," Dan said."That's Spanish," Amy whispered."No, it's whatever," Dan said. "I'm too tired to think.