The girl from the cathedral and the bald man from the prison tore down the sidewalk, getting closer with every step. A whole furious mob ran behind them — the skinny blond man and the sumo wrestler from the Louvre and at least a dozen more thugs who probably had snake tattoos on every limb.

In the middle of the pack — Henry knew his face the second he saw it — was the leader of the Serpentine Princes himself, Vincent Goosen. His mouth twisted in a ferocious scowl.

“They’re coming!” Henry yelled, and put on a new burst of speed. “A whole mess of them! Come on!”

He raced over the bridge and turned along the river, gulping big breaths of city air and sneaking glances over his shoulder. His dad was half a step behind him, with Anna and José and everybody right on their heels. Henry strained to see past them to Goosen and his men, but his father pointed forward.

Henry knew he was right. No sense in watching doom catch up with you. Their best hope was to keep going and hope for a miracle. But even as Henry pumped his legs, he imagined the end-of-game music getting louder. They couldn’t run forever. Henry had barely slept or eaten in two days, and his dad and the others had been locked up in that awful, cold-stone place. How long could they last?

Henry stopped short — he’d almost crashed into a bicyclist — and in the instant before he took off again, he stole a quick look at his dad, whose face was sweaty and determined. Henry couldn’t let his dad down now. He needed a plan. He had to get them someplace safe.

Henry looked around frantically. They could cross the other street and head away from the river toward — was that huge building the Louvre? But then what? They couldn’t just barge inside, and they sure couldn’t count on museum security to help — not after the Serpentine Prince infiltration that had allowed the huge heist in the first place.

So Henry kept running. He didn’t know how far they’d gone or how long it had been since they burst out of the Conciergerie. He was starting to feel like this would all never end — like they’d go on running through the streets of Paris forever — when a car horn blasted. Henry felt his dad’s hand close hard on his elbow and yank him back from the street.

Traffic was so thick here, so rushed and chaotic, there was no way they could cross against the light. Henry whirled around. Goosen and the girl and the rest of them were mired in a mob of tourists half a block away, but they were shoving and elbowing, fighting their way through the crowd. There wasn’t time to wait for the light, and the only other option was a set of stairs that led away from the street, away from the honking, clogged-up traffic, and down to the riverbank.

“Down here!” Henry turned and raced down the steps before his dad or anyone else could question it. At the bottom of the steps, one of the Batobus tour workers was untying a boat from the dock.

Henry thought fast — they were way past the Louvre, so this had to be the next stop, which was … José would remember. “Hey!” he screamed over the traffic noise. “Remember that Batobus poster we saw? Where does this stop after the Louvre?”

José’s face was all red and sweaty, but he didn’t hesitate. “Champs-Élysées and then the Eiffel Tower!” he called.

“And there’s nothing in between those two? You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Hem answered. “But why —”

“Nevermind — just come!” Hem could follow him for once. Because the Eiffel Tower might be their only hope now. “Wait!” Henry screamed, waving like mad to the guy at the boat’s control panel as it started to pull away from shore.

But the man shook his head, and a crew member closer to Henry shouted, “Sorry! Ze next boat is loading now. You can catch zat one!” He pointed to another boat down the river. A long line of tourists shuffled along, waiting to get on board.

Henry wanted to scream. If they waited for that line — he glanced up to the top of the steps and saw the girl from Notre-Dame. She pointed and then started thundering down the stairs with Goosen and the rest of them behind her.

“Come on — we can make this! Don’t stop!” Henry took off like a track star at the gun, running straight for the riverbank just ahead of the moving Batobus. He tried to imagine the hope in his heart giving him a boost. He needed to make this jump. He needed his dad and the others to follow him and make it, too. And then, he needed to find what he hoped they’d find when the boat arrived at the Eiffel Tower.

It was only a dozen steps to the concrete edge of the riverbank — not far enough to get up half the speed Henry had hoped for — but his sneaker gave the pavement one last thump and then he threw himself forward, leaping for the open part of the boat’s deck.

He made it by more than he’d expected and scrambled away from the edge, into the crowd of gasping families and tour groups, hoping as hard as he could.

Something knocked Henry on his side, and for a few seconds, all he could see was the boat’s scratched up canopy roof. He heard his dad calling to the others, “Keep coming!”

Henry rolled over and pushed up on his elbows in time to see Aunt Lucinda leap from the riverbank, arms flailing as she jumped for the edge of the boat.

She looked like she’d make it, but her foot slipped off the edge of the boat. Henry could see her arms clutching the boat’s lowest railing. His dad dove through the crowd, reached down, and heaved a huffing, puffing, dripping Aunt Lucinda over the railing onto the boat. Anna, José, and Hem stood with their mouths hanging open. All the parents rushed to Aunt Lucinda’s side, and José’s dad took off a jacket to wrap around her soggy shoulders.

Henry breathed a sigh of relief, but not for long.

The friendly crew member was at their side in seconds, looking a lot less friendly. “I told you zat you would have to take anozzer boat. But do you listen? No! You jump and —” He flailed his arms around in what Henry thought was a pretty good imitation of Aunt Lucinda leaping. “Ze next boat was right zere!” He pointed.

The second Batobus had already pulled away from the dock, not even two boat lengths behind them. It was packed with Serpentine Princes. Goosen was at the very front, leaning into the railing, staring at their boat with a hungry smile.

“Dad, listen,” Henry said, scrambling to his father’s side. “These boats go to the Eiffel Tower next. I was there earlier today and there’s this protest with lots of police. There were Interpol guys, and you said —”

“We need a phone,” Anna’s mom interrupted. She stepped right up to the not-friendly-anymore crew member. “Is there a cell phone on this boat? Ours were taken from us, and it’s an emergency.”

The crew member’s mouth dropped open. “Who do you sink you are, madame? You leap onto ze boat and —”

“Excuse me.” Anna’s mom pushed past the crew member and hurried up to a bunch of passengers on the bench. “Does anyone have a phone we can borrow? It’s urgent.”

Everyone looked at her as if she were nuts and maybe dangerous. But then Henry heard a familiar voice.

“Bertha, look who’s here!” Henry turned and saw the old lady with the huge sunglasses waving from a bench.

He hurried over. “Does one of you have a cell phone we could borrow? Please?”

“Certainly.” Bertha pulled a phone from her purple fanny pack and handed it to Henry. “Don’t give it to the wet one. It’ll short out if she drips on it.”

“Thanks.” He passed the phone to Anna’s mom, who crouched in a corner of the deck and started dialing. Henry went back to his dad, who was trying to keep the crew member busy.

Henry’s stomach was all scrunched in a knot. This was their last shot. He hoped — prayed to Joan of Arc and everybody else — that he’d find the help he was counting on when they got to the Eiffel Tower.

“How long do we have before the stop?” Anna’s mom was back, phone pressed to her ear, demanding answers from the crew member as if she were his boss and not some rogue boat-jumper. She glanced down at the schedule on a brochure she’d picked up from the bench. “This says ten minutes. Is that correct? Is there any chance one of the boats might make a stop before that?”

“No, zere is not.” The man’s mouth was pulled together so tightly it looked like someone had stitched it. “Ze boat operates on a very strict schedule and stops only at ze official Batobus terminals.” He looked at his watch. “Ze next stop is in eight and a half minutes.”

“Got that?” Anna’s mom said into the phone. “About eight minutes. Great.” And she ended her call.

“You, madame, will not be going anywhere when we arrive. You have broken ze law and ze captain has called ze proper authorities. Zey will be waiting at ze Eiffel Tower.”

“Thank you very much,” Anna’s mom said politely. “That will be absolutely perfect.”