Undercover Page 2

  ‘All clear,’ the man declared as the convoy of wailing fire engines pulled up to the gate.

  Several firemen leapt out and ran to the front steps, where they were greeted by the headmaster.

  ‘Sorry, chaps,’ Mr MacGregor said. ‘One of the children tried to burn down the Science lab, though, fortunately, she didn’t succeed.’ He looked at Kensy and gave her a wink, but the girl wasn’t smiling.

  Her brain was in overdrive. Seriously, she needed to get her head back in the game or there was no way she’d be passing her first Pharos review nor her fifth-grade exams.

  Cordelia Spencer ended the call and stared vacantly at the opposite wall. When, finally, her eyes refocused, they fell upon the framed photograph on her desk of her late husband, Dominic. Cordelia still missed him every single day and could well do with a dose of his wisdom right now.

  Faye Chalmers, Cordelia’s oldest and dearest friend in the world, had just delivered some troubling news. The two had known each other since Kindergarten, having grown up a street apart in a leafy suburb of Sydney’s lower north shore. It was only when it came time to go to university that the pair went their separate ways. Cordelia took a scholarship at Oxford, and Faye attended Sydney University before completing a PhD at Harvard. It was fair to say that both women were trailblazers, far ahead of their time. Cordelia had gone on to run the Beacon and, of course, Pharos, which Faye knew nothing about; while Faye and her husband, Conrad, went from opening a small pharmacy in South Carolina to establishing one of the world’s largest and most respected pharmaceutical companies, The Chalmers Corporation.

  Despite being separated by the North Atlantic, Faye and Cordelia had kept in regular contact over the years, doing their best to catch up as often as their busy schedules allowed. Mostly, it was an odd birthday, anniversary or untimely funeral. Without fail, though, they spoke every fortnight, and during the previous two calls it was clear that Faye’s son, Dash, and his wife, Tinsley, were having problems. Things had apparently worsened considerably, with Dash confiding in his parents that he thought Tinsley was planning to leave him and take the children with her – quite possibly overseas. Cordelia had always thought Tinsley a very level-headed woman and had been shocked by the news. It was a horrible situation and she felt desperately sorry for the poor children caught up in their parents’ drama.

  Faye and Conrad were stuck in the United States, unable to travel due to ill health while their son and his family lived in Sydney. Cordelia worried a family break-up might just push her friends over the edge. The pair had suffered enough with the sudden death of their daughter, Abigail. It had changed the course of all their lives, not least Cordelia’s son Rupert, who had just become engaged to the young woman when tragedy struck.

  Cordelia realised the eyes on the brass monkey paperweight on her desk had begun to glow. She’d been hoping to leave work early this afternoon, but apparently there was something that couldn’t wait. She stood up and walked to the bookcase, pulling out her favourite copy of Pride and Prejudice. Silently, the cabinetry slid apart to reveal an elevator. Cordelia stepped inside, her thoughts still very much on Faye. If only she could keep an eye on things for her – but using Pharos resources for family affairs wasn’t something she’d ever permitted and it wouldn’t be appropriate now, not even for her best friend in the world.

  ‘I’ll meet you at the front gate,’ Max called.

  Kensy slammed her locker door and stalked down the corridor, her face a storm cloud.

  ‘Yikes. Is she okay?’ Carlos asked.

  Max checked which books he needed to take home for the weekend and arranged them neatly in his bag. ‘I haven’t talked to her since she had her meeting with Mrs VB, but I’m sure she’ll be fine. There’s just been a lot going on. See you tomorrow?’

  ‘Yep, and maybe we can go to the Natural History Museum afterwards,’ Carlos said excitedly, hitching his backpack higher on one shoulder. ‘I hear they have a new “Life in the Dark” exhibit with all these cool biolumine-scent sea creatures and nocturnal beasts – it might help with our Science project.’

  Max relished having a friend who shared his love of facts. He’d never had that before. ‘Sounds good,’ he said, grinning. ‘See you then.’ Max hurried out of the school and looked around, but Kensy was nowhere to be seen. It was only when he crossed the street that he saw her perched on the low brick wall in front of a block of flats.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, making sure to keep his distance.

  Kensy jumped to the ground. ‘Hey yourself.’

  ‘That bad, huh?’

  Kensy shrugged. ‘At least Mrs Vanden Boom didn’t attempt to kill me like somebody else is clearly trying to do.’

  ‘You still think someone’s out to get us?’ Max asked.

  ‘Yes … no … oh, I don’t know.’ Kensy kicked at a pebble on the ground. ‘I just wish things would go back to the way they were before, but then I don’t really want that at all because we wouldn’t know Granny and Uncle Rupert and Song and everyone else.’

  Max gave her a reassuring smile. ‘I suppose being part of the world’s most powerful spy agency has to come with a certain amount of risk attached. Kens, try not to worry so much. We couldn’t be in safer hands.’

  ‘Don’t be so sure, Max. Plus, aside from the whole life-threatening situation, I don’t want to fail my first review – what would Granny and Fitz think? It’d be mortifying. How could I show my face at school again? It was almost easier before we spoke to Mum and Dad.’ Kensy stopped and looked at him. Max was struck by the emotion on her face. ‘Does that make me a bad person?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Max said gently. ‘At least we now know for sure that they’re alive and why they disappeared. Imagine if they find Mum’s parents. How incredible would that be after all this time, after everything our family has been through?’

  The twins resumed walking down the street, their schoolbag zippers jingling in the silence.

  ‘Do you ever think about what they’re like?’ Kensy asked after a while. ‘Or what we’d call them? They’re French, so probably grand-mère and grand-père, right?’

  ‘I guess,’ Max said. ‘Remember those pictures of them in the newspaper we saw in the family crypt? I have that photograph of them imprinted on my mind – except, of course, they’ll be older now.’

  The pair turned the corner and were surprised to see the shutters were up on Mrs Grigsby’s newsagency. The place had been boarded up as tight as Fort Knox ever since Wanda Grigsby and her son, Derek – along with two other elderly ladies, Esme Brightside and Ivy Daggett – had been arrested for stealing the Graff Peacock brooch, estimated to be worth eighty million pounds, from the Tate Gallery. Kensy and Max had been instrumental in the gang’s apprehension, but it was MI6 who took the credit. The sting had also led to the capture of the women’s husbands, who had pulled off the largest diamond heist in British history a year before and were in hiding overseas.

  ‘They couldn’t be out of prison already, could they?’ Max said.

  ‘No way, it’s been less than two months,’ Kensy said. ‘Someone else must have bought the shop. That’s good. We can get lollies on the way home again. I’ve got five pounds – what do you want?’

  Kensy dumped her bag at the front door and Max followed her in. The place looked exactly the same but for a thick layer of dust and cobwebs spun into the corners. There was an acrid tang in the air too. The twins headed straight for the confectionary aisle. Max chose a chocolate-and-nut bar while Kensy grabbed a bag of red frogs for Song and a small bag of mixed sweets for herself. They walked to the counter, which was presently unattended. Kensy tapped the little bell.

  ‘Comin’!’ a familiar voice rang out from the back room.

  The twins looked at one another. ‘Derek?’ they whispered in unison, and turned to find the fellow ambling towards them. He was wearing a grey beanie, Rolling Stones T-shirt and jeans that were riding lower than ever. His ‘jenius’ tattoo was on full display on his left forearm.r />
  ‘Hiya kids,’ he said, a broad grin sweeping across his face. His gold tooth glinted under the fluorescent lights. ‘I can’t tell you how good it is to see you two.’

  ‘We thought you were on holiday in the Caribbean,’ Max said, finding his voice.

  ‘Oh.’ Derek frowned. ‘Yeah, that didn’t quite work out.’

  ‘Did your mum go?’ Kensy asked, glancing around the shop. There was no sign of the wretched woman and she couldn’t hear any noises coming from the flat upstairs.

  ‘You kids don’t read the papers, do you?’ Derek said, resting his elbows on the counter-top and leaning in towards them.

  ‘Not much,’ Max mumbled, which wasn’t true at all. He read the Beacon from cover to cover each morning before school. He’d always kept up with current affairs, but he particularly made an effort now that he was a Pharos agent-in-training and especially because one of the agency’s primary methods of communication across the globe was through meticulously plotted advertisements, notices, puzzles and stories that were planted in the paper.

  ‘That’s good. It’s just a load of old rubbish most of the time.’ Derek unwrapped a chocolate bar from the front counter and bit into it. ‘Me mum won’t be back for ages. I’m gonna run the shop while she’s away.’

  Kensy suppressed the smirk that was tickling her lips and offered him the five-pound note from her uniform pocket.

  ‘Ay, maybe Song could drop by with some of those dumplin’s of ’is sometime,’ Derek said, passing her the change. ‘I’m not very good at cookin’ for meself. It’s been baked beans on toast for the past few days.’

  That explained the shop’s fuggy smell, Max thought. ‘Sure, we’ll let him know when we get home,’ he said. ‘Bye, Derek, and, er, welcome back.’

  The twins hurried out of the shop and into the crisp evening. Kensy snatched up her bag and charged down the footpath. ‘Well, that was a surprise,’ she said, whipping off a glove to open the bag of lollies. She shook the packet and picked out a green one. ‘I wonder why Derek was released. Do you think he made a deal to testify against the others? Or maybe he didn’t know much about what was going on. He’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but he’s got a kind heart.’

  ‘Song’ll know,’ Max said as the pair pulled their coats around their necks and hurried along the chilly street towards 13 Ponsonby Terrace.

  Kensy burst into the entrance hall, where she was greeted by the wagging tails of Wellie and Mac, her grandmother’s West Highland terriers. She threw her bag and coat on the parquet floor, then knelt down to give the two a pat and was rewarded with a lick on both cheeks.

  Max closed the door and hung their coats on the brass hooks by the door. ‘We’re home!’ he called.

  Footsteps thudded up the staircase from the kitchen and Fitz appeared, wearing his gym clothes and covered in a sheen of sweat. ‘Hiya kids. How was school?’ he panted, unfurling the black tape wrapped around his knuckles. ‘I heard about the fire.’

  ‘Ugh, not you too,’ Kensy grouched. She grabbed her bag and took off up the stairs, slamming her bedroom door when she reached the top.

  Fitz turned to Max with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Good news travels fast,’ Max said, ruffling Wellie’s ears. ‘Who told you?’

  ‘I had to call Magoo about something and he mentioned it. He also told me that Kensy’s had a few hiccups lately. Were you planning to share any of this?’

  Max grimaced. ‘Sorry, Fitz. I didn’t want to dob, and a part of me was hoping it was just a passing phase, like the time in Year One when she decided to call all the teachers at our school in Banff by their first names. I am worried about her, though. It’s as if she’s pushing everyone away, me included, and she can’t get it out of her head that someone’s after us. You know she’s like a dog with a bone when it comes to her theory du jour.’

  Kensy’s bedroom door opened. ‘I heard that, Max!’ the girl yelled, before slamming it again.

  ‘Well, you shouldn’t have been listening! We were talking about you, not to you,’ Max called up the stairs. He took a second to collect himself, then turned back to Fitz. ‘Any news from Mum and Dad?’ he asked. There had only been three brief messages since Rome.

  The man shook his head. ‘Not a word. I suspect they’re planning to continue communicating via your watches for the time being. It’s the safest way. Although I must say I had been enjoying your mother’s cryptic notices in the newspaper.’

  Max nodded and hurried up the stairs, with Wellie and Mac following at his heels. He paused on the landing. ‘Do you really think Mum’s parents are alive?’ he asked, looking around at Fitz. ‘I mean, they’ve been gone so long. Could it actually be possible?’

  After several months now with limited information as to their parents’ whereabouts, Fitz had recently informed the twins that Anna and Ed were searching for Anna’s parents, Hector and Marisol Clement. They were certain that the foul play the Clements had supposedly encountered in their Paris home had been staged. While their house and laboratory had been burned to the ground, with two bodies found inside, Anna and Ed now had evidence that confirmed they weren’t the Clements.

  ‘You know as well as I do that anything’s possible,’ Fitz said. ‘Your parents and I were supposed to be dead too – and, obviously, we’re not.’

  Kensy’s door opened again. ‘Can you two speak up?’ she yelled. ‘Who’s dead?’

  Fitz and Max grinned at one another, but before they could respond, the high-pitched whine of a performance-car engine coupled with the screech of brakes brought their conversation to an abrupt end. Max and Kensy ran to her bedroom window and were shocked to see their Uncle Rupert standing in the middle of the road, hunched over the bonnet of a silver Porsche. He was looking uncharacteristically dishevelled, as if he’d literally been kicked out of the vehicle. A woman was behind the wheel, revving the engine and screaming something incoherent.

  ‘Whoa,’ Kensy sighed, her breath fogging the windowpane. She wondered which evil organisation the woman worked for and did a quick scan of the rooftops opposite in case there might be a black-clad operative pointing a rocket-launcher at him or some such thing. Kensy was surprised to feel a mixture of disappointment and relief to see that the coast was clear of any present danger.

  Max unlatched the window and leaned out to get a better look. The wheels of the Porsche spun wildly, smoke billowing behind it. The woman released the handbrake and sped forward. Rupert, executing a textbook sideways roll, dove between two parked cars and escaped the bonnet by a whisker. The car roared to the end of the street and turned left towards the city, the horn blaring in its wake. Rupert stood and dusted himself off. He smoothed his hair, straightened his tie and said hello to an old lady walking by with a puzzled expression on her face.

  ‘Uncle Rupert!’ Max called, waving wildly.

  Kensy batted her brother’s hand out of the way and shoved him aside. ‘Uncle Rupert!’ she yelled, leaning out so far that Max had to grab her by the ankles to stop her from tipping into the street.

  The man looked up and smiled. ‘Oh, hello kids. Fancy seeing you here,’ he said, squinting at them. He jogged across the road and was met by Fitz on the footpath.

  The twins ran down to meet their uncle. They hadn’t seen him since his brief appearance in Rome. Kensy flung herself around his middle, hugging him tightly. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked.

  ‘Darling Kensington, I’m fine. Not a scratch, see?’ Rupert said, amused by the girl’s concern. He nodded at Fitz. ‘Good to see you, old man. I was hoping we’d catch up in Rome, but you disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘Yes, it was lucky we were both there, wasn’t it?’ Fitz said, his eyes narrowing.

  Max didn’t miss the look and wondered what it was about.

  ‘Who was that in the car?’ Kensington asked. ‘She could have killed you.’

  ‘She’s not the first woman who’s tried to see me off and I dare say she won’t be the last,’ Rupert said with a grin. ‘Sh
e was supposed to drop me at the Beacon, but we had a little disagreement on the way back from lunch and I was ditched en route.’

  ‘That was your girlfriend?’ Kensy asked. She wasn’t sure if she was horrified or impressed.

  Rupert shrugged. ‘I don’t imagine so – not anymore, anyway. Now, who do I have to bribe around here to get a cup of tea? Where’s that uptight butler of yours?’

  ‘Song’s out,’ Kensy said. ‘But I can make you one.’

  Max and Fitz looked at the girl in surprise. Never in their lives had they heard her utter anything remotely resembling that arrangement of words before.

  ‘Consider yourself lucky, Rupert,’ Fitz said in a slightly wounded tone. ‘Kensy doesn’t make tea for everyone.’

  Max scoffed. ‘Kensy doesn’t make tea for anyone.’

  ‘Well, aren’t I the favourite uncle then?’ Rupert said with a smile. ‘Lead the way, Kensington.’

  The group filed into 13 Ponsonby Terrace and followed the aroma of a freshly baked chocolate cake to the kitchen downstairs. Kensy set about filling the kettle while Max cut everyone a slice of cake. To Fitz and Max’s amazement, for the next twenty minutes Kensy barely drew a breath, gabbling on about her theory that someone was out to get them and going into great detail about what had happened when the twins helped capture the Brightside gang before they were properly admitted to Pharos. She even asked Rupert if he knew how Derek could possibly be out of prison already, but her uncle said he had no idea. Instead, it was Song who answered the question on his way down the stairs with the groceries.

  ‘Ah, Miss Kensington, Derek pleaded that he had no idea what Esme Brightside and his mother and Ivy were up to and the judge surprisingly believed him. Then again, we know he is not exactly a genius, despite his tattoo that would proclaim otherwise,’ Song said as Wellie and Mac danced around his feet. ‘I hope you are enjoying the cake. It’s one of Mrs Thornthwaite’s secret …’ Song stopped on the bottom step and blinked in surprise. Wellie and Mac bundled into the man’s legs. ‘Oh, good afternoon, sir. I didn’t realise we were expecting you.’