Spyforce Revealed (7 page)

They both smiled and sat there again, waiting for what would happen next.

‘We should say our pact,' Linden suggested.

Max cringed. She was hoping to get through this part of their mission without having to go through any soppy stuff. ‘I think it's better we stay quiet in case we miss anything.'

‘You know I'm not going until we do it. I think it's important.'

Why did Linden do this? thought Max. Mostly he was pretty easygoing but there were times he
had this look on his face that told her he was going to get what he wanted.

‘Okay.' She sighed. ‘How does it go again?'

Linden held out his hands and closed his eyes.

‘Oh that's right,' Max wilted. ‘The holding hands bit. My favourite part.'

‘If Max should come to harm or get lost or be in danger in any way, I, Linden M. Franklin, will do everything I can to help her and bring her to safety.'

Max squinted through half-closed eyes for something that would interrupt this overly sentimental moment. Nothing happened so she tried to remember the pact.

‘If Linden should get into trouble …'

‘… come to harm,' he corrected.

‘… come to harm,' Max struggled to remember. ‘Or get lost or be in danger in any way, I, Max Remy, will um, will um, help him out …'

‘… do everything I can …'

‘… do everything I can to help him and bring him to safety.'

‘Now that wasn't too hard, was it?' Linden smiled and let go of Max's hands.

Pleased now that it was over, Max looked at her watch again for what felt like the hundredth time.

‘It's almost nine o'clock,' she said frowning.
‘Maybe they've forgotten about us.'

‘I don't think that's possible. You're a pretty hard person to forget.'

‘Is that right?' Max replied. She was about to let fly with something witty when they felt the ground beneath them start to vibrate.

‘Can you feel that?' she asked.

‘Either I've developed a bad twitch or we're about to find out what the email from Spyforce meant.' Linden put his hands on the ground and looked around.

The vibrating became more intense, like a gigantic steamroller was coming towards them.

‘What do you think it is?' Max strained her eyes to see through the dark.

‘Not sure, but it's something big.'

‘What should we do?'

‘I don't think we've got much choice but sit here and shake.'

Just as Linden finished saying this, a mighty thump shook the ground. They closed their eyes as a powerful gust of wind swept around them, encircling them in dust and almost lifting them into the air.

‘Aaahhh!' Max and Linden held onto each.

After a few minutes, the vibrations decreased
and the wind dropped down like someone had switched off a huge propeller.

And then, nothing.

Max and Linden looked around them. Their hair was plastered upwards and their teeth were gleaming white against their dirt-covered skin. Apart from that, everything seemed as it was before until they realised one horrible thing.

They had their arms around each other.

‘Errrrrrrr!' they screamed and pulled away, quickly wiping their hands against their clothes to brush away the hug as much as the dirt that had caked itself to them.

‘What happened?' Linden wiped his eyes so that he left two dirtless stripes like he was wearing a bank robber's mask.

‘I can't see anything.' Then Max remembered. ‘Maybe it was that windstorm Larry predicted.'

‘He's got a good nose for weather that pig.' Linden smiled proudly.

Max was getting annoyed. ‘Where are they? They said they'd be here,' she said huffily. ‘We've been waiting over an hour and —'

Before she could say any more, a mechanical hum began to whir in front of them from the inky night blackness. Max and Linden squinted
hard to see what it was and couldn't keep their mouths from falling open when they saw what happened next. A large metal hatch was being slowly lowered to the ground. Nothing else. Just a large metal hatch.

‘Maybe it's the alien theory after all.' Linden gasped, not sure he was ready to have his first extra-terrestrial encounter.

A silhouetted figure stepped carefully forward as if between two walls of light, leaving behind a solid glow that poured out of the hatch in a blinding flood.

Max and Linden sat wide-eyed and frozen like two rabbits caught in headlights as the mysterious figure loomed before them.

‘I guess it's too late to make a run for it?' joked Linden, hoping to ease the tension.

It didn't. Before Max could answer, the figure removed a long, solid object from its pocket, stepped down the hatch and headed straight towards them. They nervously imagined what the object could be. A gun. A knife. A Spectral Atom Pulveriser (this was Linden's thought, not Max's).

Whatever it was, Max and Linden watched the figure getting closer and closer, knowing they could be facing the final, terrible moments of their lives.

‘Max?'

‘Yeah.'

‘If you survive and I don't, could you make sure my goldfish Henry gets fed?'

‘You'll survive,' said Max, trying to work out what their next move should be.

‘And could you let my dad know he's the best?'

‘Linden, nothing is going to happen to you,' she shot back, his questions pestering her like a small yapping dog.

The figure got closer. The long object in his hand dangled like a slow pendulum with each step, like it was counting down the last minutes of their lives.

‘I've also got a subscription to
Spy Monthly
that will need to be cancelled. And I have —'

Max had had enough. ‘Linden. If you keep going, the only person you'll have to be worried about is me.'

He took her point and was quiet.

The silhouette stopped a few metres before them. The light from the hatch formed an angelic halo all around him. Max and Linden huddled together, desperately thinking what to do. Then slowly, menacingly, the figure raised the long, slender object so that it was pointing straight at them.

‘What are we going to do?' Max whispered as her brief life flashed before her eyes like a video clip on fast forward.

Then something happened to answer her. The figure moved the object even closer towards them and muttered one, short word.

‘Mint?'

Both of them frowned.

‘Did you say “mint”?' asked Linden, double checking that he'd heard right.

‘Yep. They're the chewy kind. My favourite,' said the figure.

There seemed nothing much else to do but accept.

‘Thanks,' said Linden, relieved to be alive as the figure dropped mints into their hands.

‘No matter how many times I do it I can never quite get used to the effect this whole travel thing has on me. Leaves me sort of light-headed. Takes me a good few minutes to get my mouth working again. I guess it has something to do with the speed. Not quite as fast as light yet but they're working on that. Even though some scientists think it's impossible, what with the infinite amount of energy needed to push an object through space at that speed. But I guess people thought we'd never
walk on the moon until Armstrong put on a spacesuit one day and up and did it.'

The strange man who was getting stranger by the second, paused long enough to realise he hadn't told them his name.

‘Oh! How rude of me. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Steinberger. R.L. Steinberger. Administration Manager of Spyforce. And you are Max Remy and Linden Franklin. Pleased to meet you both.'

He held out his hand.

It was hard to believe the person who had sent Max such brief and formal emails could turn out to be this man with a mouth like a running tap.

Max and Linden held out their hands but before they could make contact, they heard a beeping sound.

‘Oh.' Steinberger looked down at a pager, disappointed to have to end the conversation so quickly. ‘Looks like the jet's ready for take-off.'

This was too much.

‘The jet? What jet?' Max wondered if perhaps this Steinberger person had lost a few rungs on the ladder when it came to the brain department.

‘Oh, I haven't mentioned that yet?' He
laughed. ‘Silly me. The superfast, deluxe TXR-5 Invisible Jet that's behind us.'

He flung his arms out like he was a game show host introducing the grand prize.

‘An invisible jet?' asked Linden, looking at nothing but a well-lit hatch.

‘Yep. Only one of its kind. Except for the TXJ-7, but we don't like to mention that one because it tends to get Frond upset over the issue of fuel consumption. A little guzzler it was, but we soon fixed that so that now this one runs on a purely plant-based formula that creates no pollution whatsoever. In fact —'

Beep, beep, beep, beep!

Steinberger was again interrupted by the pager.

‘It's Sleek. He tends to get upset if we don't keep to schedule and after that unfortunate incident with the weather balloon on the way here, we're already a bit behind. Shall we?' He took a notepad out of his pocket and moved towards the hatch.

Max and Linden stood up and cautiously followed him, wondering if taking this strange man's lead was a very wise thing to do, while a million questions crash-landed in their heads. Who was Frond? What was a ‘Sleek'? How is it possible
to have an invisible jet? And why did this guy talk so much?

As they approached the hatch, Steinberger stood aside and invited them in.

‘Welcome to your superfast ride to London in the world's most luxurious, high-tech mode of transport to ever —'

‘Steinberger! We've got a schedule to try and keep,' said an agitated voice from nowhere.

‘Right you are, Sleek,' he replied, and ushered them quickly in.

The entrance to the hatch was blocked by two glowing balloon-like walls. Max and Linden looked at each other and shrugged before pushing their way in. Once inside, they found themselves in a small, white, rubber room. They could hear ticking.

‘What's going on?' But just as Linden asked this, an alarm bell sounded and a blast of vacuum like air lifted them off their feet. It sucked at their hair and clothes, whisking them round in circles and bouncing them off the soft walls.

‘Aaahhh!' they screamed.

May felt dizzy and hoped she wasn't getting her brain sucked out.

They were bounced and twirled and jostled in a fierce vacuum frenzy. Then suddenly the suction
stopped and they were spat out of the balloon chamber and left toppling about, trying to find their balance.

Max was starting to get annoyed at how they were being treated but before she let Steinberger have it, she took a good look around at where they'd landed.

They really were inside a jet! And it was enormous. There were fluffy, lined seats and carpets, digital screens that folded out from the armrests, giant beanbags, a glass cabinet filled with every drink imaginable, a spa and even a small pool.

Steinberger looked very apologetic.

‘I'm sorry about that. I should have warned you about our Automatic People Sanitiser. When a passenger steps into the jet, the sanitiser detects if there is any material on them that may interfere with the smooth running of the machine — dirt and dust, for example — and it turns itself on if it thinks a good clean is needed. Very efficient for getting rid of any pesky bugs or cleaning up after a particularly messy mission, and I can tell you there have been plenty of —'

‘This is your captain speaking,' interrupted a stern message on the intercom. ‘Would all cabin crew and passengers get ready for take-off. Make
sure your tray tables are stowed correctly and your seatbelts are firmly fastened. Take-off will be in approximately thirty seconds.'

Max and Linden were shown to their fluffy seats by a tall, unsmiling, uniformed man who asked if they were comfortable and without waiting for a reply, went to the back of the jet and strapped himself into a seat.

‘We're a little pushed for time,' Steinberger explained the apparent rudeness as he took a seat opposite them.

The jet silently rose a few metres into the air, rotated so that it faced the opposite direction and took off into the night at a powerful speed. Max and Linden were pressed into their seats by the force of the take-off and could only just manage to look out the windows as the jet flew high above the ground.

‘Well, here we are,' Steinberger announced, smoothing down his notepad that had been mangled in the sanitiser. ‘If there are any questions you'd like to ask about the plane or Spyforce, fire away. I'm here to be your personal guide. In fact, you might even want to know a little about me. I'd be flattered to help you out there, it's a fascinating —'

‘What are these things for?' Linden interrupted, fearing another long-winded yabberfest and
pointing to the digital screens that materialised in front of them.

‘Those are some of technology's finest,' Steinberger declared proudly. ‘They are Digital Think Amajigs with Triple Megapixel Microdrive and integrated audio with Hyper Blaster Sound compatibility. You can do all sorts of things with these, including ordering food, which you might like to do now. Just tell the computer what you'd like and Roger, our friendly cabin assistant, will bring it to you.'

Max and Linden typed in their requests on the touch screens. Chocolate ice cream with caramel sauce and hundreds and thousands for Linden and a banana smoothie with yoghurt and honey for Max.

‘Your request will be here directly,' announced the computers.

‘I knew there was something missing in my home.' Linden pictured himself with a brand new computer in his room. Then he remembered there was something else he wanted to know as well. ‘How can you make a jet invisible?'

‘Ah, terrific question,' beamed Steinberger, leaning forward and almost falling off his seat. ‘A few years ago Irene was in the middle of one of her experiments, mixing all sorts of concoctions
together, when she added a special liquid that was to be the finishing touch and all of a sudden what she was working on just disappeared. At first she thought it was her eyes playing tricks on her — she's not as young as she used to be, as she'll probably tell you when you meet her — but when she realised she could see everything else perfectly, she knew she had hit upon something remarkable. After a few more adjustments in the lab, Spyforce perfected and patented it. All rights belong to us and, I'm sure I don't have to tell you, the formula is top secret.'

Max and Linden were impressed.

‘Is Irene one of your scientists?' asked Max.

‘No. She works in the kitchen. Does a mean sponge cake.'

Steinberger's eyes went droopy just thinking about it.

The jet sped silently and smoothly through the night sky like a stingray gliding through the ocean.

‘What can you tell us about the meeting?' asked Max, eager to know more about what they could expect.

‘Ah, that is the one thing I've been asked to keep quiet about until your arrival in London. I
can
say it's for something very important, but until we get to Spyforce, I'm afraid I can't say anymore.'
Steinberger turned his fingers in front of his mouth like he was locking his lips shut.

‘What can you tell us about Spyforce?' Max probed further.

‘There's lots to tell there.' Steinberger folded his hands in front of him and sat back in his pink fluffy chair. ‘It was created in the early 1960s by Harrison Junior, the father of the current Chief of Spyforce who is also called Harrison. Harrison Junior and his father, Harrison Senior, were top chefs at one of the finest restaurants in London, which was called Harrison's, naturally enough. Anyway, one day, the two decided they needed a career change and putting their heads together, came up with an international agency for fighting crime everywhere, which they called Spyforce, or the Security Protection Unit For Ousting Rotten Crime Everywhere. That spells Spyforce when you work it out.'

Max and Linden ran it through their heads.

‘No it doesn't. It spells Spu-force,' Linden advised quietly.

Steinberger shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘Well, the err, Marketing Department thought having an international spy agency called Spu-force might be bad for business. You know. Sounds like
spew-force. People might joke and call it Vomit Force. So they decided just to fudge it a little.'

Just then, the steward arrived with their orders. Linden's tastebuds turned over themselves as he tucked into the best, creamiest ice cream he'd ever had in his life.

‘Homemade. You can't take the chef out of the chief,' Steinberger mused dreamily.

‘How long does the jet take to get to London?' queried Max, slowly sipping her smoothie to savour each taste-tickling mouthful.

Steinberger looked at his watch.

‘Should be there … about … now,' he declared.

In a flash, the steward reappeared, grabbed their plates and glasses mid slurp and disappeared towards the back of the jet.

‘This is your captain speaking,' said the voice on the intercom.

‘He loves saying that,' whispered Steinberger excitedly, putting his notepad in his pocket.

‘We will shortly be arriving in London. Remember what I said about the tray tables and seatbelts and get ready for a smooth landing.'

Max and Linden tightened their belts and looked out at the city of London below. The jet's windows were jammed with the bumpy spread of
old buildings, towers, palaces, churches and cathedrals. Roads wound through like ant trails swarming with cars, trucks, motorbikes, pedestrians and lurching black cabs, while the Thames River snaked its way under bridges that crisscrossed over it like antique matchsticks.

Max looked down at the city and took a deep gulp of air as she tried to take in what was about to happen. In just a little while, she and Linden would be face to face with the world's top spies.