Disappearing Act Read online

  ‘Why did you stop?’ Kensy demanded.

  ‘Because I think I might have ended up like that guy.’ Max exhaled and shone the torch onto the marble floor. There, in front of them, was a mouse that had been sliced right through the middle.

  Kensy gasped. ‘Oh.’

  Max fished around in his hoodie pocket and pulled out a chocolate bar he’d squirrelled away the day before. He threw it onto the floor and waited but nothing happened. Maybe he was wrong. He leaned forward just as a chequerboard of razor-sharp guillotines thrust upwards, cutting the chocolate bar clean in half.

  ‘Whoa,’ Kensy breathed. ‘That could have been us. Whatever’s down here must be important.’

  Max could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

  ‘There’s got to be a way to turn it off,’ Kensy reasoned.

  Max felt under the metal railing of the banister and bobbed down to take a closer look. There was a small switch. He pushed it and the steel blades retracted.

  ‘Are you sure it’s safe?’ Kensy asked.

  ‘There’s only one way to find out.’ Max leapt off the last step and into the circular room.

  It was much bigger than the level upstairs. A bench ran all the way round and above, and below it were literally hundreds of drawers, each bearing a number.

  Max opened a drawer marked ‘1967’, hoping it wasn’t booby trapped. It was crammed full of papers. He lifted one out and found it was a front page from the Beacon, but, rifling through, there were other newspapers too. The first headline read ‘74 dead in Russian Train Derailment’. He pulled out another: ‘Australian Prime Minister Lost Off Cheviot Beach.’

  ‘That’s a bit careless,’ Max mumbled to himself.

  ‘It’s an archive,’ Kensy called from the other side of the room. ‘Like the one in the tower except that was mostly all about us.’ When she and Max had first arrived at Alexandria, they had discovered the tower and its contents but hadn’t realised it was where their grand mother kept all of their cast-off clothes and copies of their school awards and reports and such.

  ‘Yes,’ Max agreed. ‘The number on the drawer is the year. But I’ve only found front pages over here. Not just from the Beacon either. There are lots of different papers.’

  Kensy had discovered the same thing. Coincidentally, she was searching through the year she and Max were born. There was a headline about an avalanche in France and another about an oil spill off the coast of Alaska, but it was the third one she read that caused the girl to check herself. ‘Max, come here,’ she shouted. ‘Now!’

  He quickly returned the papers to the drawer and hurried to his sister. She was holding a page from the Times. Emblazoned in large letters were the words ‘Newspaper Heir Killed in Plane Crash’.

  Max scanned the text. According to the story, his parents and Fitz had perished in a plane crash in the Andes. They were on holiday in Peru and their father was flying the private jet when the plane disappeared in mountainous terrain. Wreckage had been spotted and, once they could access it, bodies were likely to be recovered. Max read to the end of the report, then looked up. ‘Did you see this bit?’ he said, pointing at the page. ‘Sadly, Anna Spencer’s own parents, prominent medical scientists, Hector and Marisol Clement, were murdered in a botched robbery last spring in their Paris home. A representative for Dame Cordelia Spencer has asked that the media respect the family’s privacy at this terrible time.’

  Kensy’s eyes widened. ‘Our grandparents were murdered? Mum never mentioned that. Come to think of it, she’s never really told us much about them.’

  ‘How do we even know it’s true?’ Max said. ‘After all, Mum and Dad and Fitz didn’t die in a plane crash.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got to go,’ he said, and returned the page to the drawer. ‘We’re going to have to sprint back. If we’re late, Vanden Boom will be having us for breakfast!’

  The children made sure that nothing was out of place, then ran up the stairs. Max paused at the top, wondering how to reset the whole thing. As if sensing there was no one inside, the staircase retracted and the stone rumbled back into place of its own accord. Problem solved.

  The twins ran through the back door of the house and darted down the hall to the conservatory, where breakfast was being served. Several clocks chimed the half-hour as they entered the room, red-faced and puffing.

  ‘Good morning, Maxim, Kensington,’ Romilly Vanden Boom greeted the pair. ‘Working on your fitness, were you? One hour and thirty minutes of exercise is impressive. Perhaps you could inspire others to be similarly motivated.’ The Science teacher and gadgets expert eyeballed Alfie as he walked past. The lad’s plate was piled high with scrambled eggs, bacon and a mountain of hash browns.

  ‘Morning, mith,’ he mumbled, a rasher of bacon hanging from his mouth.

  ‘Good heavens, Alfie. Your manners had better improve before Christmas dinner or Dame Spencer will banish you to eat in the piggery.’ Mrs Vanden Boom shook her head. ‘Although the pigs might not appreciate your penchant for bacon,’ she added with a snigger.

  ‘Thorry.’ Alfie grinned and carried on to his table.

  Kensy cast her eyes around the room, hoping their uncle might join them, but there was no sign of him. She spotted Autumn, who already had her breakfast and was sitting at a table in the far corner with Carlos. She waved at the pair, then quickly helped herself to poached eggs on toast before making a beeline for their friends. Max waited, tray in hand, for Song to replenish the bain-marie of hash browns that Alfie had just emptied.

  The butler hummed a country ditty as he worked. ‘You were out early this morning, Master Maxim,’ he commented.

  The boy looked at Song, trying not to appear alarmed. ‘Kensy and I went for a run,’ he said, which wasn’t exactly a lie. Clearly, from what Mrs Vanden Boom said, some one had been monitoring their whereabouts.

  ‘Did you see anything interesting?’ Song asked.

  ‘Not really,’ Max replied, dishing two hash browns onto his plate. ‘Just sheep and fields.’

  He couldn’t tell if it was his nerves, but Song’s gaze seemed to linger on him for an extra beat longer than usual. Did the butler know more than he was letting on? If so, he’d likely tell their grandmother what they’d been up to. The last thing Max had intended to do when he woke up that morning was to get into trouble. The fact that they hadn’t been sliced and diced either was a bonus, although now that Max thought about it, he’d forgotten to flick that switch back on again.

  ‘Do not worry, Master Maxim,’ Song said with a smile. ‘I have taken care of things and your secret is safe with me.’

  Max looked at the man in astonishment. ‘Thanks,’ he whispered.

  Unbeknown to the boy, he was the object of someone else’s close scrutiny. Autumn was eyeing Max from across the room. It was fast becoming a habit, despite her best efforts to conceal her feelings. ‘Where did you go this morning?’ she asked as Kensy sat down.

  ‘I bumped into Max in the hall and we decided to run along the cliffs,’ Kensy replied, chomping on her sourdough toast. The twins had agreed to keep this morning’s discovery to themselves until they could learn more.

  ‘Did you get to the lighthouse?’ Carlos asked.

  Kensy nodded. ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘We’ll have to show you the cave off the beach next time,’ Autumn said, exchanging a knowing grin with Carlos.

  ‘Have you seen your uncle this morning?’ Carlos inquired.

  Kensy shook her head. ‘No, we only met him for five minutes last night and then he disappeared by the time we’d finished the debriefing.’

  ‘So, what did you think?’ Autumn said, resting her spoon in her bowl of porridge.

  Kensy scratched her nose. ‘He certainly looks a lot like Dad and Max.’

  ‘Gorgeous, you mean,’ Autumn said dreamily. She turned bright red when she realised she’d said the words out loud.

  Carlos made a gagging noise and Kensy almost choked. ‘Should I tell Uncle Rupert you’ve got a thin
g for him?’ she teased. ‘Or Max?’

  ‘What?’ Autumn said, panicking. ‘No, I don’t . . . They’re just nice to look at, that’s all.’

  Max slid into the seat across from his sister, wondering why Carlos and Kensy were grinning at him like mad hatters, and why Autumn’s face resembled a tomato.

  Carlos reached across and plucked a hash brown from Max’s plate. ‘Thanks for saving me the trip.’

  ‘Good morning, children,’ Romilly Vanden Boom said over the chinking of cutlery. She waited for the din to die down. ‘This morning, each of you will be working on specific skills that your teachers have identified as areas requiring improvement.’ She pressed a button on the side of her watch and an image appeared against the white wall above the buffet.

  Kensy scanned it for her name. ‘Max, we’re learning to drive!’ She clenched her fists with excitement.

  ‘Great,’ Max said absently.

  Carlos looked at the boy. ‘What’s the matter with you? Last night you were practically begging me to take you to the racetrack and now Mrs Vanden Boom might as well have said you were going to spend the morning massaging her bunions.’

  ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ Max said, but in truth, his mind was still on the crypt and that article about his parents and grandparents. ‘Can’t wait.’

  The previous evening, he had asked Carlos about their uncle’s challenge to him and what it all meant. The lad had told him the estate had its own racetrack – a road circuit beyond the woods – concealed in an ingenious way, but had refused to tell him how. Max would have to see it for himself. When Carlos said they raced Formula Ford cars, Max had been over the moon.

  ‘What have you been assigned?’ Max asked.

  ‘I’m on the archery range,’ Carlos griped. ‘Seriously, I can’t believe my aim with a bow and arrow is even worse than with a gun.’

  Autumn had been assigned to high diving, which didn’t thrill her terribly much either. She’d recently admitted to Kensy that she was crippled by a morbid fear of heights. The girl had tried her best to hide it from her teachers, but perhaps she hadn’t concealed it as well as she’d thought.

  The children were told to meet their instructors at the back door in fifteen minutes as their lessons were to be finished by lunch-time to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

  ‘Well, I know who’ll be having the most fun this morning,’ Autumn said with a smile. ‘And guaranteed it won’t be me or Carlos.’

  The twins had driven to the racetrack with Mrs Vanden Boom in one of the estate’s numerous khaki Land Rovers. They were the only students undertaking driver training, as apparently the rest of them were all experts. The twins had both noticed that since arriving at Alexandria their Science teacher had swapped her usual school attire of a white lab coat over an array of peasant skirts and floral blouses for sturdier outfits of jeans, wellington boots and a Barbour jacket. She was looking far more relaxed than at school, where she was always rushing about.

  ‘Mrs Vanden Boom, can’t people see the racetrack from the air?’ Max asked. ‘And the noise must drive the neighbours mad. I remember we once went to Portugal and Estoril was just over the hill from where we were staying. Anytime you set foot outside, it sounded like millions of mosquitoes were about to attack.’

  Romilly smiled to herself. ‘Pharos has ways to make sure there are no prying eyes,’ the woman replied.

  Kensy frowned. ‘The track’s not covered by a roof or something, is it? Because that would be ridiculous and impossible.’

  Romilly’s eyes flickered up to the rear-vision mirror and she grinned at the girl in the back seat. Kensy reminded her of herself as a child – constantly curious and always pulling things apart. Except that by her age Romilly had already built her first engine, right down to machining the parts. Her father had been in charge of all gadgets and technology for Pharos and was keen for Romilly to follow in his footsteps, but she loved teaching too. Perhaps one day she’d make the change to full-time research and development, but for the moment life was just fine as it was. ‘You do know that everyone in the village and for miles surrounding us is part of Pharos, don’t you?’ Romilly said. ‘And your peers at school – their entire families as well, even if some are too young to understand it yet.’

  This was news to the twins although it made sense as Song had told them all the workers from the estate lived close by. About a mile from the ornate front gates of Alexandria was a gorgeous village of the same name. There were at least a dozen cottages, a pub called the The Lamp and Lantern and a general store built around a village green. Several farmhouses bordered the enclave on the road to the main house. Max had seen some of the residents when they’d arrived, but he’d had no idea that it all belonged to his grandmother.

  As they crested the top of the hill, Romilly stopped the car. Even after many years, she still thought the racetrack was one of the most brilliant things she’d ever seen. ‘There it is,’ she said.

  Kensy leaned forward between the front seats. ‘Um, where?’

  Max couldn’t see anything other than a green field. ‘Is it a hologram?’ he asked.

  Romilly Vanden Boom smiled. ‘Largest one we’ve ever created.’

  ‘Mind officially blown,’ Kensy said, shaking her head as she sat back in her seat.

  The Land Rover lurched forward and clattered along the road until they reached the track a half-mile further on. Carlos was right – it was a proper road circuit and the facilities wouldn’t have looked out of place at Silverstone or Daytona.

  The pit lane was deserted, and the row of garages seemed to be locked up tight. Perched in the middle of the squat row of sheds was a small tower that would have served as a commentary box at a commercial facility.

  Max eyed the dented hatchback that was sitting on the edge of the roadway. ‘I thought we’d be driving Formula Ford cars.’

  ‘Yeah, so much for our race car lessons,’ Kensy grumbled.

  Romilly Vanden Boom slapped her skinny thigh. ‘Has Rodriguez been filling your head with fanciful notions, Maxim?’

  Max nodded. Learning to drive in a beaten-up yellow Fiesta wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind.

  Romilly directed the children to some changing rooms in the bottom of the tower. ‘You’ll find your driving suits hanging up inside,’ the woman said.

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ Kensy asked. Puttering around the track would hardly require a special outfit.

  Romilly Vanden Boom grinned. ‘I think you’ll appreciate the need for your clothing once we get started.’

  Kensy and Max exchanged quizzical glances before disappearing into their respective change rooms. They returned ten minutes later in fire-retardant racing suits, helmets, special leather boots and gloves. Kensy was decked out in blue and Max was in red.

  Mrs Vanden Boom was nowhere to be seen.

  Suddenly, a voice bellowed from a loudspeaker and the children looked up to find their teacher inside the tower. She was wearing a headset and held a pair of binoculars in her left hand. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘Maxim, you’re up first. Kensington, I want you in the passenger seat.’

  The children eyed the car on the edge of the track.

  ‘Well, don’t just stand there,’ the woman tutted. ‘Do you want to learn to drive or would you rather play tiddlywinks?’

  The children made their way to the car and buckled their harnesses while Max checked if the key was in the ignition. Images popped up on the windscreen, forming an instruction guide on how to start the car.

  ‘You’ll notice it’s a manual transmission, so you’ll have to learn how to change gears. There’s a clutch on the left and next to it is the brake. The accelerator is on the right,’ Mrs Vanden Boom’s voice crackled through the headsets that were built into the twins’ helmets. ‘Left leg for the clutch. Right leg for the other two. Have a little play with it. And, Max, adjust the seats and mirrors accordingly. Now, I want you to listen to Esmerelda – she’s going to talk you through everything.’
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br />   ‘Who’s Esmerelda?’ the twins asked in unison.

  ‘Good morning, Master Maxim, Miss Kensington,’ a cheery voice spoke. ‘It’s lovely to make your acquaintance and I do apologise for my appearance. I’m afraid I’ve had a rather rough time of it the past few years.’

  Kensy looked around the vehicle. ‘Esmerelda,’ she said slowly, ‘are you . . . the car?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Kensington, I am indeed. In the next hour, you and your brother are going to become expert drivers. Guaranteed! I never thought I’d see the day that I got to teach the two of you. I taught your father a long time ago and Agent Williams. I’ve had an update since then, but between you and me, I think I’m long overdue for another one – I’ve had a slew of overly enthusiastic learners of late, somewhat lacking in skills. Now, shall we begin?’

  Max couldn’t believe his ears. Since when were talking cars a thing? Then again, when did self-tying shoelaces with the ability to fly out of your shoes and turn into a lasso exist either?

  Esmeralda gave Max blow-by-blow instructions on how to start the car, put it into gear, accelerate, change gears, steer and brake. He completed his first lap of the track with hardly a crunch.

  ‘This is amazing!’ The boy grinned. ‘I’m driving.’

  Kensy yawned theatrically. ‘Woohoo,’ she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ‘Great job, except I think I just saw Mrs Thornthwaite overtake us with her shopping trolley.’

  ‘Ouch, Kens. There’s no need to be mean.’ Max pushed his foot down a little further on the accelerator.

  ‘Miss Kensington, your brother is doing very well,’ Esmerelda said. After a pause, she added, ‘But, Master Maxim, I will advise that you step on it. I need you to do the next lap at sixty.’

  Max gulped. ‘Sixty kilometres an hour?’

  ‘No, sixty miles per hour, Master Maxim,’ Esmerelda replied politely.

  Max did the conversion in his head. ‘But that’s one hundred kilometres an hour!’