Disappearing Act Read online

  ‘What did you think of Uncle Rupert?’ Kensy asked.

  Max shrugged. ‘I think I should reserve my judgement until we’ve spent some more time together.’

  ‘He was only kidding around – what he said about me being the fun twin,’ Kensy said, giving Max a jovial elbow to the ribs.

  ‘He doesn’t even know us,’ Max said indignantly. ‘And I can be as much fun as you when I want to be.’

  Outside, an eerie mist had settled over the courtyard.

  ‘Do you think anyone would notice if we slept in the house tonight?’ Kensy said. She wasn’t keen to trek back to the stables in the gloomy weather. The thought of her queen-sized bed and feather-down quilt – not to mention that enormous claw-foot bathtub – was far more tempting than the narrow bunk alotted to each agent-in-training, the shared bathroom and incessant snoring. Then again, there had been the promise of Harper’s leftover birthday treats.

  Max didn’t have time to answer as Song appeared from behind a potted palm, where he had just reclaimed Wellie and Mac’s latest bone stash.

  ‘Good evening, Miss Kensington, Master Maxim,’ the butler greeted them, a huge bone dangling from his left hand. ‘I would strongly suggest that you return to your colleagues this evening. You are on an official training camp and it would not do your service history any favours to skive off, especially on the last night.’ His face softened and he pushed his glasses back from the tip of his nose. ‘Besides, I thought you were enjoying the company of your peers.’

  ‘We are,’ Max said, and looked at Kensy. ‘At least, I am.’

  Kensy nodded. ‘I am too. It’s just miserable out there and I left my coat in the classroom.’

  ‘I can show you another way,’ Song said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘It is much warmer.’

  The twins were suddenly wide awake. ‘Is it a secret tunnel?’ Kensy asked. The girl was certain Alexandria had only given up a fraction of its secrets to date. Every day there were new discoveries to be made – extra rooms, endless passageways and subterranean lairs.

  ‘It is my favourite secret tunnel,’ Song said.

  Although Kensy and Max now had their own beautiful bedrooms on the first floor of the house, for the duration of the training camp they were bunking in with everyone else in the stables. Located to the left-hand rear of the mansion, the magnificent Victorian structure had once housed an exquisite collection of steeds but had been converted into accommodation many years ago now. It provided sleeping quarters for the entire Pharos student body and at least six of their teachers, who stayed in the private suites at either end of the long corridors. While the estate still retained working stables and an equestrian centre, they were situated on the other side of the village.

  The girls’ dormitory was at one end of the building and the boys’ was at the other, separated by a large sitting room in the middle with comfy couches, a cinema, pool and table tennis tables, a sumo boxing ring complete with suits that had the children hysterical with laughter anytime it was used, an electronic dart board as well as an array of board games and books. It reminded Kensy of the games room in the cellar where Song had entertained them for hours during their first visit – except there was no bowling alley here. There was, however, a flying fox, which launched from the gallery above and sent the children pummelling towards a pit of foam bricks at the other end.

  Rows of bunk beds lined the walls of the dorm rooms, with large bathrooms in the corners containing six showers and toilets. They also had a pulley system, which former students had rigged up years ago, allowing them to trade midnight snacks, not only in their own dorms but between rooms as well. These days they used a drone, which was far more efficient as long as someone remembered to open the doors. Kensy was sleeping on the top bunk right by the entrance with Autumn below. Yasmina and Harper were beside them.

  Song led the children through to the back of the kitchen and yet more rooms they’d never seen before – there were larders and pantries and a huge door that looked like the access to a bank vault.

  Kensy’s eyes lit up. ‘Is this where Granny keeps her real treasures as opposed to all the junk upstairs?’

  Song frowned and arched his left eyebrow. He turned the small device in the centre of the door this way and that, listening for the clicks, then spun the giant wheel. Kensy and Max peered into the darkness. The butler flicked a switch and beckoned for the children to follow him. Then he stopped and the twins realised that the floor beneath them had started moving.

  ‘Whoa.’ Kensy grabbed hold of her brother in an effort to steady herself. They were on something akin to a travelator you might find at an airport.

  Max laughed with incredulity when he saw what else the passage contained. Concealed lighting illuminated an array of artworks. ‘It’s a gallery!’ the lad exclaimed.

  ‘These are the most valuable works in Dame Spencer’s collection,’ Song replied with a nod.

  Kensy peered at a three-dimensional study in coloured pasta. ‘That’s my name on there,’ she said, having no recollection at all of making it. They glided towards the next masterpiece.

  ‘I remember painting that in second grade in Banff.’ Max shook his head. ‘Thank goodness we’re going to be spies because, if Granny ever thought we were potential artists, she must be sorely disappointed.’

  The children marvelled at the display and noticed that there were plenty of their father’s and uncle’s endeavours too. Rupert’s were actually quite good – particularly a self-portrait Song told them he’d created for his A levels.

  ‘It’s lovely that Granny thinks these are worthy of being framed,’ Kensy said. ‘Most parents throw them out after they’ve been on the fridge for six months.’

  Song clasped his hands behind his back and nodded. ‘Your grandmother has kept everything.’

  ‘I don’t know if that’s cute or creepy,’ Max said with a smile.

  A set of six intermittently spaced spiral staircases appeared in the distance.

  ‘Now, I just need to remember which is which,’ Song said. He tapped his fingers on his forehead for a second then clapped his hands, bringing the travelator to a standstill. ‘This is your exit, Master Maxim,’ he said, pointing to the second set of stairs. ‘It will take you up to your dorm room. Once you are inside, it will be impossible to release the hatch from above, so do not get any ideas about exploring with your friends after lights out.’

  Max said goodnight and scurried away. As he stepped on the fourth tread from the top, a panel opened above his head. The boy emerged from the middle of the floor and narrowly missed being clobbered by a football Alfie had kicked across the room. The boys were stunned to see him. Just like Song said, as soon as Max was through, the hatch closed and was completely invisible to the naked eye.

  ‘Okay, so which one’s mine?’ Kensy said.

  Song scratched his head. He always got this wrong, although he wasn’t about to admit that now. It was bad enough that, one night many years ago, he had accidentally directed a young agent-in-training into the headmaster’s quarters. The man was in the middle of his evening yoga session, mid headstand, when the hatch lifted and catapulted him against the wall. The headmaster had leapt to his feet and thwacked the unsuspecting girl with a karate kick to the torso before he realised his mistake. ‘There,’ Song said, pointing to the second staircase from the end and clapped his hands to make the footway move again.

  As they drew close, Kensy leapt off and rushed to the top, hoping the girls hadn’t eaten all of Harper’s treats already. She scrambled up and out, ready to be the centre of attention. As the trapdoor closed, however, it dawned on Kensy that this wasn’t her dorm room at all. She took in the smaller space with its canopied double bed and roll-top desk. The decor was more in keeping with the main house and there were several lamps and a cosy-looking armchair in the corner too.

  ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have waited for me,’ a woman whined over the sound of a running tap. ‘I would have loved to escape for the nigh
t.’

  Kensy recognised the voice and gasped. She raced towards the door, wincing at the sound of the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. The bathroom tap stopped and she heard the doorknob turning. Panicking, Kensy dove under the four-poster bed and held her breath.

  Willow Witherbee walked out of the bathroom and looked around. Kensy could see her feet and the hem of her dressing-gown coming closer and closer until she could have reached out and touched the woman’s painted toes.

  ‘Sorry, I thought I heard something,’ Willow said. ‘Honestly, if any of those kids come banging at my door in the middle of the night, I am going to pretend to be dead.’ She paused. ‘It’s okay. Shugs is on it. First thing.’

  At the mention of that name, a shiver ran down Kensy’s spine. Despite Fitz assuring her that it couldn’t have been Shugs who had abducted her and Max in London, she was convinced he was wrong. She just had to find a way to prove it.

  Annoyingly, Kensy was stuck under the bed for almost an hour. Willow Witherbee was in and out of the bathroom another four times before she finally hopped under the covers – except, not a minute later, she sighed and was up again. When the symphonic explosions rang out from the bathroom, Kensy was seized by an equally violent fit of giggles she was sure would blow her cover. The girl clamped her hands over her mouth and tried to think zen thoughts. If there was any accompanying smell, she was done for.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Willow said out loud as she climbed back into the bedroom. ‘No baked beans for you tomorrow morning, young lady.’

  With commendable effort, Kensy managed to regain her composure and waited an eternity until the woman finally switched off the lamp and began to snore. She then slid out from her hiding spot, crawled across the floor and turned the doorhandle, only daring to breathe once she was safely on the other side.

  For the third morning in a row, Kensy was awake well before dawn. She surveyed the room, where everyone else was still fast asleep. Harper let out a little grunt and rolled over, but within seconds her breathing was deep and even. Kensy peered over the edge of the bunk at Autumn. She didn’t want to wake the girl, but she needed to go for a run to clear her head. She had dreamt about her parents last night and, while she couldn’t remember the details, it had left her feeling as if a cage full of guinea pigs was gnawing away at her stomach lining.

  Kensy slipped silently from the top bunk, grabbed her tracksuit and trainers and tiptoed into the bathroom. She scribbled a note and placed it on her pillow in case anyone woke up and wondered where she’d gone. The girl then tiptoed to the door, opening and closing it with the gentlest of clicks. She was feeling quite proud of herself when a clock chimed, sending her skywards. As if it wasn’t bad enough having a zillion noisy timepieces inside the house, there was a huge grandfather clock in the hallway of the stables too. It had just gone six. Kensy reached the main door and was surprised to see her brother emerge via the sitting room. He was also dressed and had a torch in his hand.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he whispered. Kensy wasn’t usually up at this hour.

  ‘Going for a run,’ she whispered back. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said. ‘Fancy some company?’

  Kensy nodded. She was glad of the chance to talk with him, away from everyone else.

  The twins exited through the main stable door, the cold winter air chilling their noses and cheeks as they made their way towards the walled garden and around to the back of the building. The moon cast an eerie glow.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ Max asked.

  ‘Anywhere,’ Kensy said, breaking into a jog.

  The pair soon fell into a rhythm, their footsteps crunching on the gravel path. They ran past the maze and through an open field towards the jagged cliffs. There was a path that hugged the coastline. A way off in the distance, perched on the most easterly point, was a lighthouse. Every fifteen seconds, a beam of light illuminated the inky sea.

  ‘Do you want to run out there?’ Kensy suggested, barely panting.

  ‘Better not,’ Max said. ‘It’s a long way, and we have to be back in time for breakfast. Let’s look at that place instead.’ He flashed his torch across the field, the beam connecting with a building he’d noticed yesterday when they were training.

  They diverted off the trail and ran side by side in silence, their pace quickening. Somewhere in the distance they could hear the clattering of an engine and saw the flickering of headlights, but were too far away to get a proper look at the vehicle. Seconds later, it was gone.

  ‘Do you sometimes feel like we went to sleep on our last night in Australia and we still haven’t woken up yet and all of this is some kind of crazy dream?’ Kensy said.

  ‘Every day,’ Max replied. ‘But then I remember it’s real and this is our life and we’d better get used to it. Even if . . .’ He paused and swallowed his words. ‘Even when Mum and Dad come back, I can’t imagine we’ll just up and leave. Can you?’

  Kensy stopped, her chest heaving. She shook her head, struggling to catch her breath. ‘I don’t want to.’

  Max halted a few paces ahead and turned to face her. He was surprised to see his sister was close to tears.

  ‘We’ve only just met Granny and Mim and Song and everyone else. I don’t want to lose them,’ she said.

  ‘Me neither.’ Max shook his head. ‘And we don’t really know Uncle Rupert at all. He intrigues me.’

  Kensy grinned, brushing at her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Intrigues or annoys?’

  ‘Not sure yet,’ Max said. ‘Come on, I’ll race you to the wall over there.’

  ‘Okay, but prepare to lose, little brother.’ Kensy began to count down from five but sprinted on two.

  ‘Hey!’ Max shouted, and sped after her.

  The twins galloped across the field, reaching the wall that encircled the building at almost exactly the same time.

  ‘You cheated,’ Max panted, his breaths punctuating the still air.

  Kensy scoffed. ‘I just gave myself a head start, that’s all.’

  Even in the pre-dawn light, the children could see that it was an impressive structure with a domed roof and Doric columns. They jogged around the wall until they found a set of steps.

  ‘What do you think it is?’ Kensy asked, bounding up two flights.

  ‘Maybe it’s a chapel or something,’ Max said, ever the pragmatist.

  ‘Or the world’s fanciest garden shed, more like. Hey, there’s a door!’ Kensy raced towards it. Finding it locked, Kensy reached up and pulled out her new hairclip. She’d forgotten to wear it yesterday and had been in big trouble with Mrs Vanden Boom.

  Max wandered around the terrace, trying to find another way in, but seconds later, Kensy pushed the door open.

  ‘Are you coming or not?’ she called.

  Max ran back to join his sister. ‘That was quick even for you.’

  ‘It helps when you have the Swiss Army knife of hairclips,’ she replied, returning it to the maelstrom of her unruly locks.

  Max’s eyebrows jumped up. He was still getting used to the amazing gadgets available to them since joining Pharos and thought the girls’ hairclips, with their array of tools and weapons, were spectacular. He almost wished he could wear one too.

  They walked inside and Max flashed his torch about. There were carved niches in the walls with polished brass plaques above.

  Kensy frowned. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘I believe it’s a guesthouse of sorts,’ Max replied, smiling to himself.

  ‘But there’s nothing in here – where are the beds?’ Kensy took the torch and pointed it at one of the inscriptions. Their grandfather’s name was written on it and there was a short spiel about him underneath.

  Kensy’s eyes widened when she realised that this was the type of guesthouse where everyone was staying permanently. ‘Um, I think we’re in the family crypt.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘But where are they?’ Kensy whispered, as if she might wake someone up
.

  ‘I’d say they’re down below – or in the walls. There was another level, remember? We had to come up two flights of steps to get here.’

  Kensy shuddered. ‘Eww, gross. Let’s go.’

  ‘Throw me the torch,’ Max said.

  Kensy tossed it as she reached the door.

  Max read several more plaques before something on the floor caught his attention. In the centre of the marble surface was a perfect circle and within it were the numbers zero to one hundred and forty-four. It was jibberish to most people, but not to Max. He mumbled the numbers and some variations then stepped on them in an order that seemed to make sense. First zero then one, one again, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, thirty-four, fifty-five, eighty-nine and, finally, one hundred and forty-four.

  ‘Come on, Max,’ Kensy hissed from the doorway. ‘This place gives me the creeps. It’s full of dea–’

  There was a loud grating sound as the marble slab slid away to reveal a spiral staircase rising up from the floor. Without a backwards glance, Max disappeared. Kensy was at a loss for words. This wasn’t like her brother at all. He was always the careful one – she practically had to drag him along on any adventure. Not to be outdone, Kensy scampered after him. ‘If we come across one skeleton, I will never forgive you,’ she called, her threat bouncing around the walls.

  Max was just about to step off the last tread when he halted and hung back. Kensy crashed into him, sending her brother flying forward. He gripped the banister and spun around, pulling himself back onto the step before his feet could touch the ground below.