(Author's Note: Hullo, all, I apologize for the long time gap between updates. Please read and review! Also, I will have a question at the bottom of the page I'd like everyone who reviews to answer in their review. More of a vote, really. Disclaimer: I do not own the 39 Clues.. do you? If so, please PM about legal copyright exchanges :B)
Chapter 7
Hidden Headset
"Not bad, but we've seen better. We've owned better." Sinead Starling drawled as she and her brothers stepped out of their limousine. Ned and Ted chuckled darkly as the trio marched towards the late Grace Cahill's mansion.
"The Starling triplets have arrived," a deep voice spoke into a headset. The man talking into the headset was well hidden, high in a tree near the mansion's entrance. His completely black attire aided him in his "invisible" effect.
"Has anyone seen you?" a voice came from the headset.
"No," the black-clad man replied.
"Let's keep it that way," the voice tested. The man in the tree scowled and disconnected. Through his binoculars, he could see Grace Cahill's lawyer, William McIntyre, lead Grace's grandchildren toward the procession in the back of the mansion. The girl kept her head down while her brother's head whirled at the slightest of sounds. And there was old Beatrice Cahill, as batty as ever. Old witch. The hidden man scolded himself. His mother had told him never to degrade a family member.
The man turned to look again at the driveway of the mansion. He flicked on his headset again.
"The Wizards are here," he whispered into it.
"Ah, young Mr. Wizard, the famous son of Mrs. Cora Wizard, are we? How is dear Cora?" the old lawyer greeted the young superstar.
"Well if ya wanna get all fancy about it. Please, bro, just call me Jonah," the superstar replied. The crowd of girls clustered around him sighed loudly in admiration. "Oh, and Mom is good, I guess," he added.
"Of course… dude…?" Mr. McIntyre tried again at addressing Jonah. Jonah shook his head disapprovingly at the old man's meager attempt, but offered a fist to show that they were still "tight". Mr. McIntyre awkwardly gripped Jonah's fist and shook it, as if it was a handshake.
"Meet you at the smash later, 'ight?" Jonah gently removed his hand from Mr. McIntyre's grip.
Old man's got a tight grip. Jonah thought to himself absently, shoving his hand in his deep pocket.
Mr. McIntyre just nodded, not understanding at all what Jonah had just said. Jonah's father remained silent, except for the continuous clacking of his fingers on his BlackBerry. Mr. McIntyre ushered the Wizards into the yard so he could greet more funeral guests.
"Ah, Mademoiselle Adela, Monsieur Tristan, welcome!" Jonah heard Mr. McIntyre say as he and his father scanned the yard for a good place to start the autographing. Jonah's father found a shady spot near the forest and handed his son a couple hundred photographs of Jonah from various concerts. Mr. Wizard did this all very quickly, while simultaneously texting a mile a minute.
One of Jonah's bodyguards somehow came forth with a table and chair so Jonah could start signing. A small crowd, most consisting of teenage girls, soon gathered around Jonah's table.
"Yo, yo, yo, ladies, guys, a line, please?" Jonah called out, his voice in superstar mode.
"Is someone selling Prada bags?" a caramel-skinned girl with a British accent pushed through the crowd. The girl might have been beautiful, but she seemed too young. The pretty, yet non-beautiful, girl's smirk broadened when she saw who was at the center of attention now.
"Peeps, gots some family biz to attend to, yo. Be back in a sec," Jonah addressed his fans. To Jonah's embarrassment, and discomfort, the girls of the crowd were making flirty-faces at someone other than him.
"Ian," the caramel-skinned girl called to the mob of girls," don't let the ladies bite."
Ian Kabra emerged from the cluster of teenage girls, looking slightly shaken. He regained his bravado when he saw Jonah's distaste.
"No matter, Natalie. I wasn't planning on staying long enough for that." Ian smoothed his collar importantly. Girls around him gushed at his perfect British accent. Jonah and the Kabra siblings stepped away from the autograph signing table to talk in private. Mr. Wizard raised a brow at the three, but stayed put by the threes all the while clack-clack-clacking on his BlackBerry.
Jonah dropped his professional swagger the second he was out of earshot from his fans.
"Well if it isn't the American- ah, British Girl Doll and a tanned Ken, too!" he spat. He pulled out a silver coin from his pocket and began flipping it absently. Natalie stepped forward and slapped Jonah across the face. A fake gold tooth went flying.
"That is not how you treat Kabras," she snarled. Jonah rubbed his cheek and struggled to keep a poker face.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"I'd call you a git, but even that isn't quite fitting, don't you think? More like imbecile, fool," Natalie taunted. As small as she was, she was dangerous. Jonah's cheek began to sting.
Does Natalie put poison in her nails like Irina Spasky? He wondered.
"What do you want?" he repeated.
"What do you know about the Clues?" both Ian and Natalie hissed.
"What clues?" Jonah asked. His poker face was going strong.
"Not 'clues', like this Where is Waldo nonsense! Clues! 39 of them to be exact!" Natalie pulled out her favorite silver dart gun from her belt.
"Clues, like hints?" Jonah played dumb.
"You clueless boy!" Natalie growled. Ian snickered.
"Did you just snicker at our predicament, Ian!" Natalie turned on her brother.
"Nope, he Twix'd," Sinead Starling appeared, flanked by her brother. Ned and Ted laughed stupidly at their sister's bad pun. Sinead silenced them with a hand. Jonah instantly pulled an extra fake gold tooth from his pocket and stuck it over one of his front teeth. He folded his arms and tried to look as cool as possible. Only the Kabras knew he didn't use slang in every sentence.
"Jonah." Ted muttered in greeting.
"Natalie." Ned said coldly.
"Ian." Sinead risked a smile and a wink. She scowled when she saw he hadn't been paying attention to her. Both Sinead and Natalie followed his gaze to Amy Cahill and her brother, Daniel.
"She's not your type, Ian" Sinead said pointedly.
"She's penniless," Natalie scathed.
"She reads too much," Ned put it.
"She has mediocre education." Ted crossed his arms.
"She's hot!" whispered Jonah so only Ian could hear. Ian frowned at that.
"They don't know anything." Ian mumbled.
"What about those Tomas?" Sinead asked.
"Eisenhower, yes, Mary-Todd, possibly. The Tomas offspring were never too bright. We were told years ago by our parents." Natalie answered.
"So the Holt brats are Clueless, right down to their mutt," Ted summarized.
Natalie spoke slowly. "Sinead-worthy pun intended or not, yes the Holt children do not know anything, at least, from what we know." Sinead laughed darkly. And, of course, her brothers followed suit. She held up another hand to silence them.
"Our families are pretty much set in stone for the Hunt." Ian pointed out.
"So what other Cahills are most eligible?" Ned asked.
"The burrito guy, fo' sho. Mom says he's an Ekat," Jonah informed the group, his swagger impeccable.
"'Burrito guy'?" Natalie asked, both confused and slightly disgusted.
"Alistair Oh," Sinead supplied.
"We'll need to watch out for Spasky," Ian murmured.
"Irina, of course! How could I forget?" Natalie flipped her silky hair.
"What about the other Tomas…" Ted struggled to remember the last name," the Royers? And they're sneaky cousin?"
"Ted, we haven't seen them for years! They never even come in from Iowa for the family reunions every Christmas anymore!" Sinead replied. Ted looked away, but wasn't so sure.
"And the Cahill brats?" Ned inquired.
"Ned, put your head on straight! They are Grace's grandchildren! What do you think?" Sinead snapped, rapping her Ned smartly on the head.
"Oh is doin' his Ekat thing, the Holts are buffed out, Spazz is an evil mastermind, so what are Amy and Dan?" Jonah asked.
"No one knows, but that's the least of our problems." With a final sneer from Natalie, the group departed.
"Interesting. Very interesting." The man in the tree chuckled after he was done listening to one of his headset's many hidden speakers. "Hey boss, I've got some info for you," he said. He told of the conversation he had heard to the speaker.
"Nice work, Fiske. Nice work." The voice replied.
(Author's Note: Votin' time! Okay, so in the next few chapters, Mr. McIntyre will be mentioned alot. So, would you guys prefer continous "Mr. McIntyre," or "William McIntyre," or "the old lawyer,"... etc. etc. Please write whichever you prefer and others if you come up with some! Thanks for reading; please review! -WIB)