So, this is my first 39 clues fic, set after the ninth book, despite the ninth book not being out yet. Here, Amy and Dan and Nellie, a Madrigal agent, have discovered that the next clue is salt, and are going to San Francisco to look at Alcatraz. I will be switching PoV's, and this is going to be rated T because it involves a lot of Amy/Ian, and tell me if you have any interesting plot points. I'll be posting this story as I write it, so some chapters will be shorter than others, and keep in mind that I like cliffhangers.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the various authors of the 39 clues books, and I only own the plot.

I hate crowds, Amy Cahill thought. Most of all, I hate crowds from different countries. Amy and her brother, Dan, and their Au Pair slash secret Madrigal agent, Nellie, were in a Haitian airport. They were looking for tickets to the United States, the small plane that they had come on not being able to travel that far over water. They had finally gotten three seats on Koulev Airlines, a local airline that wasn't very much in the U. S.

"Uh, guys?" Nellie asked. "I think that you should see–"

She was cut off by the loudspeaker announcing that their flight was boarding.

"C'mon, Nellie!" Dan was already halfway to the airplane. "We can't miss this flight!"

"But–"

Nellie was cut off again by Amy. "He's right, we should go."

Nellie sighed in defeat.

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Only when the free meal included with the flight was arriving did Dan say, "Oh, yeah, Nellie, what were you trying to say, at the terminal?"

Nellie sighed impatiently. "Well, it won't matter now, but we shouldn't be here."

"Did we board the wrong plane? Is someone else here?" Amy asked, taking a sip of her water, as Nellie drank her coke and Dan was digging in to some chicken.

"No. Much worse. Much, much worse. Do you know what 'Koulev' means in Haitian?"

Amy shook her head.

"Snake. Koulev means Snake."

Snake? Amy thought impatiently, feeling sleepy. Why does snake matter? As she looked over to her brother, she saw him snoring, and Nellie as well. The puzzle pieces clicked together. Snake…Cobra. Kabra.

She looked at a flight attendant, wearing a familiar smirk. She had one coherent thought before the sleeping drug overcame her system.

Isabel.

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Isabel smirked. Her plan had worked perfectly. Halfway through the flight, the lights would go out, and some attendants would carry Amy into the back of the plane while erasing all evidence that she had been on the flight. She had only needed Amy, not Dan, because ever since the incident with the helicopter and the poison, Ian had been quiet, and it was all too apparent that next time, he would openly defy her to save the Cahill girl. Now, with the root of the problem hostage, Isabel could threaten her and make sure that Ian behaved. His little "crush" had flourished since Mount Everest. He had almost defied her at the airport, and he had openly defied her with their plans in the Caribbean – she had had to have her bodyguards restrain him. More recently, he had been quiet and sulky, and Isabel had only gotten a response from him when she said that their next mission would be against the Cahills. Of course, she hadn't said what the mission was, or whether she was bringing him or not. She had taken a lot of effort to get Ian to obey until now, but now, Amy was captured, and her other measures against a revolt from Ian were hardly necessary.

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Amy woke with a groan. How long had she been out? Where was she? Why wasn't Dan here? Where was Nellie?

She blinked. She was staring up at a silvery ceiling, possibly made of titanium. She was in what looked like a sleek, shiny jail cell, one wall being composed of vertical and horizontal bars. Outside, there was a long corridor, devoid of any decoration except for a tiny window, which a small shaft of sunlight peeked through. Perfect, she thought. Captured by the Kabras. I wonder what Isabel wants this time? Her query was quickly answered by the sound of approaching footsteps. Isabel herself strode down the corridor, looking very pleased with herself. Calm down, Amy cautioned herself. Don't let her get you mad.

"So. You're awake."

Duh. "Obviously." Amy replied, doing her best impression of Professor Snape.

Isabel seemed slightly taken aback, but then recovered. "Well then. How do you like your new… room?" her lip curled upwards. "I hope you find it Comfortable."

Amy glanced back. Lucian crest on the bed. Threadbare titanium walls. Bars. "Am I… supposed to like it?" she drawled, still imitating the imaginary potions teacher. "I suppose I am in your little hidey-hole in Paris?"

"America, actually. Not that it matters. You are here because I see fit for you to be here, and because you will be of help sorting out a small… problem I have. Actually, two. The first relates to you and your brother's participation in the games. I will shortly be filming a message to take to your brother, including a short message from you to him. I will, naturally, be editing out any classified material, especially our location and your other purpose."

"Which is?"

"Your other purpose… I have been having some trouble making someone behave. You, Amy, are my insurance that that someone doesn't disobey me."

"And the person's identity?"

"Ian says hello."

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Closer examination of the cell proved that it was foolproof. Even though Nellie had schooled her in the fine art of lock picking and her picks were secure in her retainer, there were no locks to pick. All of Amy's knives had been removed, except her small, plastic throwing knives, carefully hidden in her, ah, unmentionables. They had even taken Grace's necklace, along with the tiny metal knife she concealed in it. Luckily, since they had discovered Nellie's secret job, and the fact that Nellie herself was actually a Cahill, she and Dan had taught Amy about Wushu and other martial arts. She had also learned Morse code and how to throw small knives, like her plastic ones. They were less detectable than metal knives, and just as sharp. Unfortunately, the knives wouldn't be useful yet, as she had no way of getting out of her cell. The only thing she could do would be to wait, exercise, and practice throwing knives with the makeshift ones she could make from the plastic fork and spoon she got to eat with.

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Ian Kabra had been sleeping when the doorbell rang. His mother had restricted him to his rooms in Washington, DC, after she discovered that he had actually gone on a date with Amy Cahill in Jamaica and not captured, killed, or squeezed her for information. She was even more livid when she discovered that he had allowed Nellie Gomez, the Madrigal's top spy, to supervise them. So when he opened his door to his smirking mother, he knew that there couldn't be any good news.

"Hello, Ian."

"What do you want, mother?" he asked tiredly. "I know that you've a reason to be here, so just get to the point."

"Well, if you insist," Isabel's voice was abrupt. "I'll get straight to the point. We have Amy."

"What? Ian felt like he had just had the wind knocked out of him. "That's impossible."

"I'd suggest you reconsider what's impossible and what's not, young man. And I recommend that you think your options through before you act on them." With that, she pressed something cool into Ian's hand and walked away, leaving him speechless.

Ian glanced down into his hand, and groaned. It was all true. Even though Amy wasn't sure if she returned his affections and had proclaimed as much, they had her. She would never take off what he had in his hands.

Unless forced, she would never take off Grace's Necklace.

Please, review! Should I continue?