Mission In Malta (4 page)

The Time and Space Machine sucked Max and Linden out of Ben and Eleanor's underground lab in Mindawarra and, fifteen seconds later, had transported them to Spyforce HQ, London. In a flash of fluorescent light, they hovered momentarily in the air before floating gently to the floor of the VART – the Vehicular All-Response Tower.

Max slowly breathed in the air of the hangar. It was filled with some of the world's most technologically advanced spy vehicles, specially engineered for manoeuvring through any climate and terrain. Max looked at the place where the Invisible Jet would be if she could see it. She turned towards the Sleek Machine, which was a combination of a motorcycle and a glider that became invisible when it reached a certain oscillation frequency. She felt a quiver of excitement when her eyes landed on a shelf that held the range of foldaway inflatable vehicles they'd used to escape Blue's thugs deep within the heart of the Amazon Jungle
⁴
.

And when she turned further, she saw Linden only centimetres from her face.

Until he leant in and came even closer.

Max lunged backwards. ‘What are you doing?'

‘There's a ladybeetle in your hair.' Linden took the bug gently in his hands and set it free. ‘Must have hitched a ride.'

‘Of course.' Max laughed nervously as she slipped the machine into its belt. ‘A ladybeetle. What else could it have been? It's not like you were trying to kiss me or anything.' Max's eyes widened in horror. Please tell me I didn't actually say that, she hoped.

But the confused look on Linden's face told her she had.

‘Oh look, there's Steinberger.' Max straightened up and turned away, but before she could take one step she heard, ‘Wait! Don't walk there.'

Max froze with her foot suspended in midair while Steinberger faced her with outstretched hands, bulging eyes and toes clenched in his over-polished shoes.

‘Sorry to startle you.' He quickly approached. ‘I should have warned you. We've laid new soundproof, shock-absorbing, vibration-detecting flooring. It needs more time to settle, so we need everyone to keep to the temporary walkways.'

Steinberger pointed to a higgledy line of wooden planks that stretched into a kind of
miniature highway throughout the VART.

‘Vibration-detecting flooring. Like the Vibratron?' Linden asked as Max placed her foot back on the ground.

‘Yes.' Steinberger beamed. ‘CRISP decided we needed a complete update of our security systems, and part of that update includes adding Vibratron cells to each square metre of the VART's floor.'

CRISP stood for Central Response Investigative Safety Patrol and were responsible for the internal security of Spyforce.

‘Will it still give us that tingling feeling while identifying our vibrations?' Linden was a big fan of the Vibratron and its fizz frenzy ID process.

Steinberger leant in conspiratorially. ‘I've been told that with the upgrade it'll be even frenzier.'

‘Frenzier?' Max raised an eyebrow as Linden and Steinberger's faces collapsed into blissed-out swoons.

‘I know it's not a word, but it suits the feeling perfectly,' Steinberg shrugged.

‘Shouldn't we go and meet Harrison so he can tell us about the new mission?' Max had had enough talk of frenzied floors.

‘Yes, yes.' Steinberger quivered. ‘You two are going to love this one. I can't wait until –'

‘Max! Linden!' Professor Quimby, the head inventor of the Force, skipped across the wooden planks in her bright purple trainers and flowing white lab coat.

‘Welcome back to Spyforce.' She pushed a wild strand of hair beneath a red scarf, only to have it fall straight back out. ‘I was hoping to catch you before the briefing to take your packs. We service them every few months or 3000 flying metres, whichever comes first, and yours are both due.'

Linden and Max took off their packs, otherwise known as Personal Flying Devices or PFDs. ‘Thanks, Quimby.' Max handed hers over. ‘Will they be ready in time for the mission?'

‘Oh, most definitely.' Quimby hugged the packs to her chest. ‘And I know I can't say anything about the mission yet, but the location is one of the most romantic places in the world.'

‘Romantic?' Max almost choked. ‘Why would we want romantic? There's going to be nothing romantic happening there. In fact, the last thing Linden or I want is anything romantic.'

Quimby, Steinberger and Linden stared at Max. Whole seconds of embarrassed silence passed between them, which was finally broken by Quimby. ‘I'll be down at the lab.'

‘And we'd better be going.' Steinberger turned and strode along the planks as Max berated herself for having such an over-active mouth.

‘Chief Harrison is so looking forward to seeing you again.'

‘I bet he's glad to be back.' Linden's guess caused Steinberger to stop abruptly and blaze with happiness.

‘Oooph!' Max hadn't seen them stop and ran into Linden. ‘Sorry.' She promptly rebounded away.

A glint of a joyful tear sparkled in Steinberger's eye. ‘Nothing could make him happier.' He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. ‘You'll have to excuse me. It's been so emotional not having him here.'

Max and Linden winced as he blew loud and long into the hanky.

‘Let's go and see him, then.' Max was keen not to witness any more nose-blowing.

‘Yes, yes.' Steinberger sniffed and stuffed his hanky back into his pocket. ‘The car's over here.'

‘The car?' Linden asked. ‘I thought we were going to Mr Harrison's office.'

‘Oh, the briefing won't be in his office.' Steinberger kept up a brisk pace. ‘The International Union of Spies wanted him to have more time off,
but Mr Harrison was getting rather bored thinking up new ways to amuse his cat, Muffy, so he and the union came to a compromise that allows him to work from home instead. Here we are.'

‘Um … where?' Max looked up at a black, unremarkable wall.

‘The Secret Garage,' Steinberger said, whispering unnecessarily.

‘The Secret Garage?'

‘Yes,' Steinberger breathed. ‘Wait until you see what's inside.'

He pulled a remote control from his jacket pocket and aimed it at the wall, which opened like a giant, spinning eye to reveal a range of luxury cars, including a gleaming, silver Aston Martin.

‘Is that your car?' Linden followed Steinberger's excited steps.

‘No, it belongs to the Force. It's much more incognito for getting around London than our other spy vehicles. Aston Martin had it specially made for us and customised to suit our needs, like …' He pressed a button on his keychain and two seats folded out from the back. ‘Rear passenger seats. It's also bulletproof and has spy features installed such as anti-tailing oil licks and steel spikes, as well as built-in rocket thrusters and
invisibility shields.' He breathed a jittery, I'm-in-love sigh. ‘Jump in.'

The doors opened by remote.

‘Are you sure you can drive this thing?' Max looked sceptically at Steinberger, who looked more like a kindly uncle who should be behind the wheel of nothing more powerful than a shopping trolley.

He laughed. ‘I was born to drive this baby.'

Linden slipped eagerly into the back while Max carefully stepped into the front and buckled up.

Steinberger started the engine. ‘Listen to that purr.' He slowly drove along the internal passageways of the secret garage, past an array of other cars, from small, inconspicuous sedans to a Porsche and a Ferrari.

‘This car can accelerate from zero to one hundred kilometres per hour in just over four seconds.'

‘Which we won't need because we're going to be incognito. Right?' Max reminded him.

‘Oh, yes. Definitely incognito. Don't worry, Max, I am a very safe driver.'

After having their palms scanned by two CRISP agents in a small booth, Steinberger drove onto a large metal platform. A lift flicked into action, carrying the car upwards. When it stopped,
a garage door opened automatically and Steinberger inched the car forward into a dismal back alleyway lined with garbage bins, abandoned TVs and washing machines and closed in by looming brick walls covered in graffiti. He adjusted his rearview mirror and carefully checked both ways before tearing into the alley in a scream of speeding rubber.

‘All right!' Linden cried out from the back as Max's head hit against her seat and she clung on even more tightly to her arm rest.

Steinberger's face transformed from calm, in-control manager to world-class Formula One driver. Shops and crowds of people blurred past as Steinberger swept in and out of lanes, caught the end of red lights and sped down cramped, car-lined streets before coming to a sudden stop in front of an expensive-looking block of flats.

‘Ten minutes.' Steinberger looked at his watch. ‘Fastest yet.'

Max said nothing as she carefully peeled herself from the seat and stepped onto solid ground. After gaining clearance at the entrance of the building and again at Harrison's door, they found themselves inside a plush yet messy apartment filled with terracotta pots and facing the wide smile
and generously bandaged hand of Mr Harrison.

‘Hello and welcome to my home.' Harrison held out his arms and ushered his guests in.

‘What happened to your hand?' Linden asked.

‘Oh, this?' Harrison waved his non-injured hand flippantly. ‘It's nothing, just a simple accident with my rather bad-tempered axolotl. He's in pet anger management at the moment. But you're not here to talk about fleas … I mean …
me
. Have a seat.' He pointed to a large, comfy lounge and coffee table filled with bowls of strawberries and red lolly snakes. ‘Help yourself. Steinberger?'

Linden did just that as Steinberger picked up what looked like a snow dome of New York with a flag attached to the side. He opened a false bottom to reveal a miniature control panel and used the flag to enter a code. The wall Max and Linden were facing slowly spun round. It took with it the plasma TV and a bookshelf and replaced it with a world map dotted with red lights lit up at various points around the globe.

‘This is a map of the locations of current Spyforce missions,' Harrison explained. ‘Alex Crane is in Jamaica following a gang of suspected smugglers of rare birds. Toby is in Paris looking for information on a plot to flood the famous
underground Metro system with cement, and Suave is in Russia investigating the criminal activities of a suspected hacker group working on a virulent and dangerous computer virus.'

Max's face filled with a shimmering smile at what their mission would be.

‘And this is the location of your next mission.' Harrison nodded at Steinberger, who again used the flag to enter information into the bottom of the snow dome and a small red light beamed from the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.

‘The beautiful and ancient island of Malta.'

‘Malta?' Max's face brightened. ‘My dad's worked on films there.'

‘Yes,' Steinberger added. ‘It's been the location for some very famous films, like
Gladiator
,
The Count of Monte Cristo
and
Troy
. So very beautiful. The serene countryside, the rocky interior, the sandstone forts and ancient cities, the majestic plunging cliffs and crystalline blue sea, the …'

‘Why do I feel like I'm watching a travel documentary?' Linden threw a strawberry into his mouth.

‘Sorry.' Steinberger lowered his head. ‘I have a soft spot for Malta. Please continue, Mr Harrison.'

‘There's a very important conference that's going
to be held on the island, and there's someone we want you to grind … oh my, of course, I mean,
mind
.'

A conference? Max's mind filled with what it could be about: nano technology, artificial intelligence, black holes.

‘The person's name is Alfonzo Martina. He's a dear friend of mine and one of the world's most celebrated experts on breeches … heavens … I mean …
leeches
.'

Max felt as if she'd been dropped into a bad dream. ‘Leeches?'

‘Yes, fascinating little things once you get to know them, apparently,' Harrison added. ‘We need you to keep a close eye on Alfonzo. We'll have agents on alert in Malta, but what we want you to do is interact with him up close and find out as much as you can about anyone who may have something against him.'

‘Is he in danger?' Linden asked.

‘We believe so.' Harrison's brightness faded. ‘He has been involved in a series of rather unpleasant incidents recently that we suspect aren't simple accidents.'

‘Incidents?' Max asked.

Steinberger filled them in. ‘Trucks losing control as they pass him on the street, cranes
dropping pianos on the footpath where he is about to walk, that kind of thing.'

‘Yep, I'd call that, “in danger”,' Linden agreed.

‘Quite.' Harrison darkened. He nodded at Steinberger, who pressed more buttons so that the lens of a data projector appeared from inside a vase and a screen slid down from beneath the map, revealing five photos.

‘Alfonzo once belonged to a group of highly intelligent scientists called Futura, who were working on new ways for the world to have a sustainable rooster.' Harrison sighed. ‘Make that,
butcher
. Oh bother, I mean,
future
. Most of these men were vegetarians, so working with butchers wasn't quite what they had in mind.'

‘They
were
vegetarians? Linden asked.

‘Yes.' Harrison's voice buckled. ‘Two are missing, one is in hospital and another left a note saying he was going on a dogsled expedition in Antarctica.'

‘Dogsledding can be fun,' Linden suggested. ‘I've read about it.'

‘Trouble was,' Steinberger added, ‘when we searched his house, his sled was still in his garage.'