The Spanish Kidnapping Disaster by Mary Downing Hahn Page A

that Grace would keep us in the cave, Orlando left. Charles murmured something before following, but Grace didn't answer. Head down, she stood near the entrance, the gun in her hand.
    From outside, we heard an engine start, first the tinny sound of the Citroen, then the rumble of the Volkswagen.
    Grace stood still for a few seconds longer, listening to the car and the bus chug down the mountain. Then she looked at us, her gaze moving slowly from me to Amy to Phillip and then back again to me.
    "Can we go outside for a while?" I asked, forcing myself to speak politely. "I don't think the air in here is good for us. It's cold and damp."
    "Yes," Phillip agreed. "It's making me feel sick."
    Grace frowned and shook her head. "You must stay in the cave," she said. "Orlando is strict about that."
    "But it's so dark," Phillip argued, "and I have to go to the bathroom."
    "There is a place for that." Grace pointed to a corner at the back of the cave. "Over there, a bucket behind the curtain."
    As Phillip disappeared behind the curtain, Grace looked at Amy and me. "Today Orlando and Charles mail the letter with our demands," she told us. "Perhaps the money will come quickly and you will not have long to stay here."
    "Suppose you don't get the ransom?" I asked. "What will happen to us?"
    "No harm will come to you," Grace said, but she didn't look at me as she spoke. She sat down cross-legged and laid the gun carefully beside her.
    "You'll just let us go, money or no money?" I stared at Grace, wanting to believe her.
    Bending her head, she gave her attention to the raveling edge of the hole in her jeans. As she picked at the threads
with her long fingernails, she frowned. "We will get the money. Children are important in your country. There will be great demands for your safety."
    After Phillip returned from the "bathroom," Grace smiled at the three of us. "You are good children," she said softly. "Please behave, especially when Orlando is here. I swear to you that I will let nothing happen to you."
    Picking up the revolver, she got to her feet and we watched her walk away. As she helped Señora Perez with the fire, I sighed. What was I to believe?
    Beside me Phillip snuffled and coughed. His eyes were rimmed in red, and his hair stood up in wisps like straw.
    Moving closer to Amy, I whispered, "Is Phillip sick?"
    She shook her head. "It's his allergies," she said. "Probably the dust and mold in here are making them worse."
    "Suppose we tell them he has asthma," I said, "and the cave is bad for him."
    "Why?" Amy looked at me suspiciously.
    "He could pretend he's having an attack and scare them into letting us go."
    "Absolutely not," Amy said. "If you want to get killed,
you
have the asthma attack. Just leave my brother out of it."
    Phillip's head swiveled toward us. "Leave me out of what?"
    Ignoring Amy, I leaned toward Phillip. "If I tell them you have asthma, can you fake it?" I asked him.
    "You mean cough and choke and act like I can't breathe?"
    I nodded.
    "I guess so," Phillip said. "A boy in my class has asthma, and I know what happens when he gets sick."
    "Don't do it," Amy said, but neither Phillip nor I paid any attention to her.
    "Should I try it now?" Phillip coughed a couple of times.
    "Not now and not ever," Amy said. "I mean it, Phillip."
    "No," I said. "Not yet. Let's see what Orlando and Charles say when they come back. Maybe they'll have good news. Or maybe the police will follow them, even."
    While Amy tried to convince Phillip not to risk his life, I lay on my blanket and stared at the rocky ceiling, trying to work out a foolproof plan. The trouble was, I had never been any good at thinking ahead. In fact, that was why we were here. It hadn't occurred to me that Amy could possibly be right about Grace. In my eagerness to be with Grace, I hadn't thought ahead. No, I'd trusted her and never once suspected she might not be the person I thought she was.
    Now, trying to devise a timetable for our escape, I could imagine