In his research, Theo had discovered that such doubles were considered ill omens in some cultures. And he felt ill enough, overwhelmed with the possibility the photograph had presented. He believed that the people in that old photograph really were him and Tess, and he also couldn’t believe it at all. A picture of people born in the twenty-first century wearing nineteenth-century dress, taken with a camera invented in the twentieth century? What kind of nonsense was that? It could have been doctored. Or staged. Double-goers posing for a photographer, the date scrawled later, meant to throw them off the scent.
But that didn’t make sense, either. All the clues led to this picture.
Theo’s scalp ached; he’d been tugging his hair so hard that his fingers were laced with dark strands. He forced his hand to grip the banister instead as he walked upstairs to where Tess and Nine were crouched over all the contents of the Junk Trunk. Another doppelgänger, this time of Tess’s own trunk, The Magix.
“Is this the kind of stuff you keep?”
Tess’s head snapped up. “What?”
“In The Magix? Is it stuff like this? Postcards and statues and articles?”
“Yes,” Tess said, but she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she got up and went to their desk, opened up the laptop. She banged on the keys. Scrolled. Banged, scrolled. Banged some more.
“What are you looking for now?”
“Trench and Snook.”
“Oh, them,” said Theo.
Another snap of the head. “You know them?”
“No, I’m waiting for you to tell me what you’re talking about,” Theo said.
Tess turned her attention back to the screen. “I found a business card in the Junk Trunk, a calling card, I guess, with those names on it.”
“Okay,” said Theo. “So?”
“So, the names are funny.”
“Yeah?”
“In the photograph, we—I mean, they are laughing.”
“And?”
“Like I said, the names are funny. Don’t you think they’re funny?”
“I don’t think anything is funny anymore,” Theo said.
“Well, I think they’re funny,” she said, her expression deadly serious. “It turns out Trench and Snook was an architecture firm active in the middle of the nineteenth century. They built a lot of stuff in Manhattan, mostly in Soho. I think this is the next clue.”
“Of all the stuff we found in the trunk, this is what you think is the next clue? Because the names are funny?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds silly,” Tess said.
“That’s because it is silly,” Theo said. “Profoundly.”
“Well,” said Tess, “it’s no sillier than any of the other clues. And you, yourself, have been arguing all along how strange it’s been that we have managed to solve clues that have stumped some of the smartest people in the world for centuries, and that we’ve done it almost instantly. That our gut feelings have proven to be right a lot of the time, almost like we were meant to solve it. I don’t know how to explain that photograph, but I think the only way we’ll figure it all out is by solving this Cipher. We’ve been going with our guts all along, so I’m going with my gut now.”
“Your gut isn’t where your brain is,” Theo said.
“My gut is where my second brain is. The gut has as many neurons as the brain in your head does. Dad told me that.”
“Double brain,” said Theo, wondering what the word brain was in German.
“So, let’s go.”
“Wait, go where?”
“To Trench and Snook! This address”—Tess waved the business card in Theo’s face—“is near Tompkins Square Park. The clue might be in the building where their offices were.”
“You want to go now?”
“No, in 2025. Of course now!” Tess was turning an alarming shade of pink.
“I think you need to take some yoga breaths,” Theo told her.
“You sound like Jaime.”
Theo didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say about Jaime—he didn’t know what to say to Jaime.
“Let’s go get him,” Tess said.
“Who?”
“Jaime!”
“He might not want to see us,” Theo said.
“True, but we have to keep trying anyway,” Tess said. “And it doesn’t seem right to look for the next clue without him. As a matter of fact, I think . . .” She trailed off.
“You think?” Theo prodded.
“I don’t think we can solve the Cipher without him. I think we’re meant to work together.”
“That’s the second time you’ve said ‘meant.’ What do you mean by it?” Theo said.
Tess stared at him. “You’re expecting it to make sense?”
“Yes. No. Never mind.”
“Come on, Mr. YesNoNevermind,” said Tess. “We’ve got places to go.”
They headed downstairs. Their mother was standing in the middle of the living room, watching the TV. Her new partner, Detective Clarkson, was standing there, too. He grinned when he saw Nine padding behind Theo and Tess.
“Hello there, Kit Kat,” he said, scratching Nine on the ears. “Glad to see you’re safe and sound. Where in the hot chocolate did your stripes go?”
“Dye,” said Theo’s mom absently. “Are you watching this? They’re reporting that Lora Yoshida stole something from her ex-husband.”
“Which ex-husband?” said Clarkson.
“She only has the one,” said Theo’s mom. “Darnell Slant.”
“She stole something from the same person who’s been bent on destroying everything the Morningstarrs built?” Tess said. “Good for her.”
“What did she steal?” Theo asked.
“We don’t know that she stole anything, we only know that Slant is saying she did,” said his mom.
On the screen, a beautiful Asian woman with long black hair and giant sunglasses ignored a bunch of reporters thrusting microphones in her face as she sauntered down the steps outside a police station and into a waiting limo.
“What does Slant say she stole?” Tess said.
“I’ll find out when I get to work,” said their mom. “I might have to handle the interview.”
Tess jerked her head at the screen. “Are you going to arrest him, finally?”
“I don’t have anything to arrest him for,” said their mother.
As if on cue, the news cut to Darnell Slant himself, his hair slicked back, his knife slash of a mouth red in his white face. He waved away the reporters’ questions about whatever Lora Yoshida had stolen. “I’ll let New York’s finest handle that. What I’d like to talk about is the future of this city. For too long we’ve been stuck in the past. Relying on outdated, outmoded technology, outdated and outmoded architecture. That’s why I purchased the last remaining Morningstarr buildings. The Morningstarr tech was marvelous for its time, but its time is up. It’s our time now.”
“Arrest him for being a jerk,” Tess said.
“If I could do that, I would arrest half the people New York City,” said her mother.