CHAPTER 18

“What, may I ask, is that chirping?” inquired Larissa.

“Papa Bird,” said Mom excitedly.

Tommy and I shuffled down to the other side of our cell so we could be closer to Mom, Beck, and Storm.

“Good thing they didn’t confiscate your watch,” Beck whispered to Mom.

Mom nodded. “Yes. I wondered about that. Very lax security.”

“Chya,” said Tommy. “Especially given all that junk Larissa was telling us about Russian prisons and how awful they are—”

“What are you Kidds blabbing about down there?” called Larissa, because we were all speaking so softly she couldn’t make out a word we were saying. “I am the designated blabbermouth. What do you speak of in such hushed tones?”

“Um, this bird,” I said. “It must’ve flown in through a window or something.”

“Impossible,” said Larissa. “This prison has no windows. It is a bleak and soulless place without light or a shred of hope.”

“Um, maybe it’s a pet of one of the guards.”

“This is possible,” said Larissa. “Is it a parrot?”

“Uh, yeah,” I said, shrugging to everybody who was staring at me while I fibbed my head off. “A parrot.”

Finally, Storm helped me out. “Polli khochet kryeker?” she squawked in her best Russian-parrot voice.

“A very smart bird,” said Larissa because, in the darkness of the prison cells, she didn’t realize the parrot was actually our big sister saying “Polly wants a cracker” in Russian.

Our tour guide/tutor launched into another fact-filled, boring monologue. “Many Russians enjoy spending time with domesticated animals. Parrots, cats, dogs, ferrets, mini-pigs, chinchillas, hedgehogs, decorative fish…”

Her blathering gave us the cover we needed for Mom to tell us what was up with her fancy spy-watch/communicator bit.

“I’m sure none of you think your father would steal the art and then leave us here,” said Mom, looking at each of us in turn.

I didn’t say anything, even though I had been wondering that.

“But in case you do, Dad was nowhere near the museum last night,” whispered Mom as we all stared at the screen of her superwatch. “His tracking app just updated his status. He departed Russian airspace thirty minutes after he left our hotel room. He is now in Washington, DC.”

“So why would Inspector Gorky and that billionaire kid Zolin say Dad stole all that stuff?” I asked, feeling guilty that I’d doubted him, even for a second.

“So the real thieves could get away,” said Mom with a determined look in her eye.

“The Enlightened Ones!” blurted out Storm.

“Shh!” said everybody else, because we didn’t want Larissa to stop her pet lecture at the far end of the cell block.

“We know the E-Ones have minions here in Saint Petersburg,” whispered Mom.

“The little dudes from the movies?” asked Tommy. “I love them!”

Storm rolled her eyes. “Minions means ‘henchmen.’”

“Chya, I knew that.”

“Guys, remember who picked the clue up off the floor?” said Beck.

“Yes,” said Storm, because, like I said, she remembers everything. “Viktor Zolin’s bodyguard.”

“Zolin is an Enlightened One!” I exclaimed as quietly as I could.

“But why would he pick up his own gang’s clue?” asked Tommy.

Mom looked thoughtful. “Maybe he is trying to earn membership in their private club by helping to orchestrate the theft of four priceless paintings that they can add to their already impressive collection.”

“Wait a second,” said Beck. “He’d steal paintings from a museum he donates a ton of money to?”

“He might,” said Mom. “Especially if he wanted access to the most exclusive art museum in the world: the secret society’s treasure trove!”