‘Of course not.’
‘Like in the middle of the night?’
Child-Catcher’s eyes remained focused on his papers. ‘“Spies” is such a vulgar word. They were civil servants. One was most intrigued by your wide range of reading material. Very promising. A good mix. Non-fiction as well as fantasy fiction. You clearly posses a fertile imagination. Always a good sign in this business. However, your musical tastes leave something to be desired.’ There was still no hint of a smile.
‘So I was right. There was a bogey man on the prowl in my room, after all.’ Max even felt relief that it hadn’t been a robber waking him in the early hours. ‘Anyway, what’s wrong with my musical tastes? Just because I’m not into Bach!’
The man looked up and removed his glasses. His wonky eyebrow rose at one end. ‘Bright lad, eh? But not too smart, I hope. There’s nothing worse than impudent children who get above themselves. Too wise you be…’
‘That’s what Gran wrote in my autograph book. YY U B.’
‘So I gather. We prefer more subtle and cryptic codes in our business. I’ll leave this one for you to solve.’ He took a piece of paper from his pocket, and wrote a string of letters on it:
BCDFHIJKLMOPQRSUVWXYZ x 2
While Max tried to make sense of it, Dad carefully read the documents marked ‘Top Secret’ before signing the last sheet. ‘Right, if you’ve really got the power to lift my driving ban, I’m very grateful, but what’s the catch? What do you want from me?’
‘There’s no catch, I assure you, Mr Hunter. All I need from you is another signature to give your permission. Nothing more.’
‘Permission for what?’
‘Permission for Maxwell here to be employed by my department on a certain matter affecting national security.’
Max screwed up his face. ‘Whatever does that mean? I’m sure I can’t be any use. By the way, my name is Max.’
‘Be that as it may,’ Child-Catcher said, ‘I still need you to sign before I ask you to make your decision.’
Max signed the paper, sat back and asked, ‘So what do you want me to do?’
Without saying a word, Child-Catcher collected the signed papers, put the top back on his fountain pen and returned it to his jacket pocket.
‘I have chosen you for a number of reasons, Max. Firstly, it has to do with your school and in particular a boy in your class. I want you to find some confidential information. What you might call “top secret”. You are sensible and intelligent and I believe you won’t let us down. We’ve been watching you closely for the last few weeks. I was also impressed by the way you asked for your ball back – seeing as you hadn’t kicked it over. It was I who placed it on my lawn. And you didn’t make a fuss about grazing your leg on my step – the first thing I saw when I opened my door to you earlier. All good signs. I can’t stand children who make a fuss.’
‘You mean that football was a test? If I’d known, I’d have been less polite!’
Child-Catcher ignored Max’s remark. ‘How well do you know a boy called Jay in your class?’
‘I thought you knew everything about me.’ Max grinned. ‘He’s okay. He’s cool.’
‘Have you ever been to his house?’
‘Not inside, no. I’ve called round for him a couple of times.’
‘Splendid. Under no circumstances must you tell Jay of our suspicions. He has an uncle, his mother’s brother, who has just entered the country…’
‘Yes, I know,’ Max said. ‘His Uncle Kurt has been staying in their spare room for a week. He’s got a daughter, Miya, about my age.’
‘We need to know a great deal more about him. We are working with the CIA and Interpol who believe he is a major player in a terrorist organisation. We need to know what he is planning so that we can round up all his contacts, preferably catching them red-handed with all evidence against them intact. We therefore need someone like you to become a trusted member of the family circle.’
‘Hold on a minute,’ Max’s dad stood up. ‘You want my son to infiltrate a gang of terrorists? How dangerous is this?’
Child-Catcher thought for a few seconds. ‘I would be lying if I said there was no risk whatsoever. But Max will not be working alone. He will have the complete back-up of British Intelligence. And of course, with a successful conclusion to the operation, I needn’t tell you of the financial reward on offer. Enough, shall we say, to pay off your mortgage and guarantee a healthy future for Max.’
‘I’m more concerned about the welfare and safety of my son. What if he gets hurt?’
Child-Catcher paused while he wiped his forehead with a crisp white handkerchief. ‘Then I’m afraid we will deny all knowledge of his – and our – involvement. But I assure you I foresee no likely problems. All Max has to do is listen carefully, take a careful note of details and report back. Mission accomplished.’
‘You’re asking a lot, you know.’ Max’s dad sat down again, looking flustered.
‘I realise this will have little effect on your decision but it would assist the national interest, indeed the safety, of the entire country. Possibly world peace. Such service is rewarded in all kinds of ways. Max’s prospects for the future, in whatever career he chooses to follow, would be significantly enhanced…’
It was Max’s turn to stand up. He stretched out his arm ready for a handshake. ‘I’ll do it,’ he said proudly. ‘I’m your man!’
Dad touched his arm. ‘Steady, Max. Let’s just think about this.’
‘It’s okay, Dad. I want to. If I can get you driving again and make you happy, that’s good enough for me. And if I can stop Jay getting hurt by all this stuff, I want to help. Anyway, I think I could do a good job – it sounds exciting.’
‘I need to make clear a few more points,’ Child-Catcher said. ‘Firstly, there must be no communication between us as neighbours. You must not contact me directly next door. I shall make contact with you if I need to. I will return here shortly for an official briefing. Secondly, whilst my department will be on call at any time, there are strict procedures. You have to abide by firm rules and use the correct channels. From now on you must only refer to me as Delta.’
Dad laughed. ‘I’ve always thought of you as just plain “Mr Nettles from next door”. It’s all a bit James Bond for my liking.’
Max jumped to his feet, whistling the Bond theme tune and posing with his hands shaped like a gun. Delta clearly didn’t approve. ‘Let’s just keep this in perspective, Max. This isn’t glamorous or clever. It will need skill on your part. Cunning and courage. After all, this case is a serious nut we’ve got to crack.’
‘So are you telling me I’m no more than a nut case?’
There was almost a glimmer of a smile on Delta’s face. He wiped his left palm on his handkerchief, folded it precisely and returned it to his breast pocket.
‘So far the case has only been given a letter. Operation C. We’ll have to think of a suitable name beginning with C at some point. Something snappy.’
‘Can I choose?’ Max asked.
‘I don’t see why not. Any suggestions?’
‘How about “Operation Child-Catcher”?’
Dad stifled a laugh.
‘Any particular reason?’ Delta asked, snootily.
Max looked at Dad with a cheeky snigger. ‘Not particularly. It just sounds cool.’
‘I beg to differ,’ Delta sneered, writing the title on his file. He was left-handed and the writing was tiny and precise. ‘I don’t approve of such a name. Think again.’ He crossed out ‘Child-Catcher’ and printed something above it. ‘Do you have any other questions to ask me, Max?’
‘Now you come to mention it, there is just one thing.’
‘What is it?’
Max took a deep breath. ‘Any chance of having my football back, please?’
Delta looked up, expressionless, before he finally smiled.
‘I’ll pop round tomorrow to give final instructions and I’ll return it. I’ll see then if you’ve worke
d out that puzzle.’ He pointed to the weird message on the paper. ‘In fact, I might bring you another brain-teaser. Then we’ll see if you’re really as bright as they say.’
‘I wrote this in code,’ Max said. He showed him:
MY TRUANDER ROOM.
‘Rather simple,’ Delta sneered again. ‘AN in TRUDER…in MY ROOM. “AN INTRUDER IN MY ROOM”. Easy. You’ll have to do better than that. Codes and cryptic anagrams are my business. My I SPY AT LICE. That’s an anagram of SPECIALITY.’
He scribbled on a blank sheet of paper and studied it for a few seconds before smiling and writing vigorously. ‘An anagram of OPERATION CHILD-CATCHER,’ he said smugly, ‘is TOP CHILDREN ARE CHAOTIC. That will never do. Besides, given our interest in word puzzles, we ought to call this “Operation Code-Cracker” instead. It has a better ring to it and I shall find it less offensive.’ He stared at Max knowingly. There was an embarrassed silence.
Delta stood to offer his hand and as they all secretively shook hands, they repeated the name of their mission with great seriousness and in hushed whispers.
‘Operation Code-Cracker.’
Max said no more. He wasn’t so sure now. He’d much preferred his first title and he already knew this mission was unlikely to go all his own way. Things seemed beyond his control from the very start.
Chapter 4
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At exactly one minute past eight the following evening, Delta returned. Once again dressed in a dark suit and silk tie and clutching his attaché case, he entered the sitting room and sat opposite Max, shuffling his feet to ensure his black shiny shoes were aligned and the toes exactly level with each other.
‘No second thoughts, I trust?’ he asked matter-of-factly, while rummaging through his papers.
‘We’ve discussed this fully,’ Dad butted in. ‘Max seems more than happy to be your ears and eyes. I’ve got no reason to doubt his decision so yes, we’re still up for this.’
‘I’ve even had a few words with Jay.’ Max smiled, as Delta’s eyebrow rose nervously. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve not given anything away. He’s coming here for a sleepover next Saturday night. Dad said he could come with us to football and back here for a take-away and DVD. Then I might get invited back to his house.’
Delta looked at Dad for confirmation. Dad smiled as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He’d been in a far better mood since his threat of a driving ban had been magically lifted. ‘A small price to pay for a clean driving licence! Can I get you a drink, Mr... er... Delta?’
‘Not for me. Regarding your licence, the paperwork is already being processed. Your penalties have been erased from the records as I promised. I’m glad to hear Max is already forming bonds with Jay but I have to warn you that his uncle is a different kettle of fish. You will soon find what a slippery character he is.’
‘All very fishy!’ Max joked.
‘What if your intelligence about this man is wrong?’ Dad asked.
‘It isn’t,’ Delta snapped. ‘We’re professional. The Government never deals in shoddy intelligence. So just make sure this man doesn’t fool you with any false charm. He’s planning something sinister and we need to find out exactly what as soon as possible. I shall also give you a list of things I want you to look for around the house and garden. Any likely bomb-making equipment must be reported to us immediately.’
‘Bombs?’ Max looked shocked. ‘That sounds a bit scary.’
‘This isn’t a jolly little adventure, Max. This is ugly terrorism in the raw and it’s a cruel business. Innocent people get hurt. He’s bound to have weapons of some sort. Your job is to find details, clues and evidence.’
‘Why don’t you just send round your people to check things out?’ Dad asked.
‘With respect, Mr Hunter, you had no idea that we’d been round this house with a fine-tooth comb simply because you’re not a professional terrorist. He’ll be prepared. He’ll have counter-surveillance equipment and if he gets wind that we’re on to him, he’ll go to ground and we’ll risk losing him. No, by far the best intelligence will be gathered by someone on site while he’s actually in the house and off his guard. Someone who isn’t seen as a threat. That’s why Max must know just what to do and what he can safely use. That’s essential and that’s why I’m here now.’ He looked down at his shoes again, before taking a small package from his case and placing it carefully on the coffee table.
‘These are the tools of your trade, Max. I will now explain how and when to use them. Any chance of that drink, Mr Hunter? Earl Grey tea, if you have it.’
‘Er…might have… I think we’ve got some bags somewhere.’
‘No milk or sugar. Just a slice of lemon. In a cup, no mug. Bone china preferred.’
Dad pulled a face and left the room, leaving Max with a smile and a lot of questions.
‘How will I pass on any information to you?’ he asked enthusiastically.
‘Not me,’ Delta snapped. ‘You communicate with Department 42. After today, all communication between you and me terminates once and for all. The name of your contact at Department 42 is Tango. He’s head of the team for Operation Code-Cracker.’
Delta leaned forward slowly. Thinking he was about to examine the state of his shoes again, Max sat back to wait. Instead, Delta spoke in a whisper so Max had to strain to hear.
‘I’ve told you before about saying nothing to anyone else about what you hear and see. That also means keeping everything secret from your father as well. As they used to say in the Second World War, “Even the walls have ears. Careless talk costs lives.” If your cover is ever blown by careless talk, you will be in great danger. I needn’t tell you that the Silver Scorpion stops at nothing to dispose of enemies, or anyone who upsets them.’
‘Silver Scorpion?’
‘Jay’s Uncle Kurt is a dangerous member of this poisonous organisation that aims to strike at the heart of world governments. Just like a real scorpion’s venom, their attacks destroy the very nervous system of civilised society.’
‘One Earl Grey with lemon,’ Dad announced triumphantly as he entered with a tray of cups and slices of Gran’s coffee and walnut sponge. ‘Anyone for cake?’
Delta eyed the cake as if it were laced with Silver Scorpion venom. ‘I think not.’ He pushed the package on the table to Max, who took out the contents.
‘It looks like a sort of screwdriver,’ Max said, unimpressed.
‘It’s an electric pick-gun that runs on batteries. It can pick most locks in a matter of seconds, should you need to investigate behind normal household locked doors. It’s a clever piece of kit and works on standard padlocks as well.’
‘Cool!’ Max looked at the next object. ‘My own phone. Brilliant!’
‘It will only work when you key in your code and fingerprint recognition as it’s essential no one else uses it or gets access to your files. You can text, email or phone Tango as well as send image information. Its camera also records flash-free infra-red images for use in total blackout, plus video and sound; and it has internet access. We can send you images of suspects, instructions or coded messages if necessary. A most helpful piece of equipment. Just be warned, Silver Scorpion is a highly organised network with sophisticated technology as well as ruthless operators. At all times be on your guard. I’ll give you a couple of these just in case.’ He placed two small devices on the table, each with a neckband attached. ‘These look like any computer memory sticks that can be worn round the neck. In fact, each is a small distress flare – a mini firework, if you like. It only burns for a matter of seconds but it emits great heat and light so never ignite within ten metres of your face. By pulling out this pin, you have ten seconds before it explodes with a bright flash, sufficient to signal or alert rescue services in the dark.’
Max picked one up to examine. ‘Wow – wicked!’
Delta frowned disapprovingly. ‘These should only be used in extreme emergencies, never for cheap tricks.’
An awkward silence followed, with Max being lo
st for words. He glanced down at a scrap of paper on the coffee table. Delta leaned forward and asked, ‘I don’t suppose you got anywhere solving my puzzle? But there again, I don’t suppose a boy your age would have the maturity or skill – ’
‘Actually,’ Max grinned, ‘I reckon it’s quite easy. I’m really into dingbats.’
Delta’s frown deepened.
‘Dingbats are special word puzzles,’ Dad said. ‘My mother gave Max a dingbat game for Christmas. He beats me every time!’
Max fetched the paper with Delta’s puzzle written on it:
BCDFHIJKLMOPQRSUVWXYZ x 2
‘The missing letters from the alphabet spell A GENT. At first I thought that meant something about a man gone missing. Then I realised it’s more likely to do with spies so it probably means MISSING AGENT. Could the “x 2” mean DOUBLE? Maybe MISSING DOUBLE AGENT. To be honest, I’m not really sure what a double agent is!’
‘Spot on,’ Delta nodded thoughtfully. ‘Most encouraging. A double agent is no more than a traitor – someone who pretends to work for one side while really serving the other. We don’t tolerate that sort.’
Max sat back smugly. ‘Yay, I cracked it! Now I’ve got one for you. What saying is this?’ He held up some paper with a single word on it:
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‘I would imagine it has nothing to do with Christmas,’ Delta said. ‘Nor anyone called Cara. Apart from being an anagram of “A Max Scar”, I think it is safe to say...’
Suddenly he looked up. His icy eyes darted in all directions and his wispy eyebrow quivered.
‘Is something the matter?’ Dad asked. ‘Something wrong with the tea?’
‘I think my dingbat has stumped him!’ Max laughed.
‘Sssh. Is there anyone else in the house? A new pet, perhaps?’
‘Just Dad and me.’
But Delta’s next words were like something from a spy film. At first Max thought he was trying to be funny – but Delta didn’t do humour.
‘We’re not alone. Someone’s there.’
There was a moment’s silence while everyone listened intently. They all jumped at a rattle from the kitchen.
Operation Code-Cracker Page 2