‘Can you believe it’s Christmas the day after tomorrow?’ Autumn said wistfully. She hooked her arm through Kensy’s and gave the girl a squeeze. ‘I’m forecasting snow.’
Kensy cast her eyes upwards and frowned. There was a bite to the night air, but there wasn’t so much as a hint of frost on the ground. ‘Really? It doesn’t seem cold enough.’
‘Trust me,’ Autumn said with a wink.
Kensy rolled her eyes. ‘Sure – of course there will be snow. I mean, after everything else that’s happened in the past month, why wouldn’t there be snow at Christmas, right on cue?’
Autumn turned to her friend with a quizzical look.
‘It’s just that one minute you think you’re an ordinary kid with regular parents, whose dad tells the worst jokes and then . . .’ Kensy paused, afraid that the trembling in her throat would make its way into her voice.
Autumn pulled the girl into a hug. ‘We’ll find them,’ she said softly. ‘Don’t ask me how I know it – I’ve got a good feeling, and my good feelings are usually right.’
Kensy nodded and looked across at her brother. The thing was, the twins knew their parents were alive – they just didn’t know where they were or why they’d suddenly gone to ground or, worse, if they’d been abducted. When the twins had first travelled to London, they’d received a couple of cryptic messages and then the confirmation, including an instruction to tell no one and to only trust Fitz. Not even Dame Cordelia Spencer – their extraordinary, and until recently top-secret grandmother, who also happened to be the head of Pharos – had any idea about the contact. Cordelia had, however, authorised a full-scale operation that involved agents all over the world searching for her son and daughter-in-law. Ed and Anna had been in touch with the twins each week since their first contact, but with no more than a few words to let the kids know they were alive. While Kensy and Max felt guilty keeping this information to themselves, for the moment it simply had to stay that way.
Thankfully, the past month had been so busy they’d had little time to dwell on the situation. On the day they learned the truth about the organisation and their grandmother they had been presented with two leather-bound books by Song and Sidney, Cordelia’s twin butlers. These had now been studied from cover to cover, revealing much about Pharos and its workings. A spy agency above all others, Pharos had been founded in the ancient lighthouse of the same name in Alexandria, Egypt, by a group of concerned citizens committed to keeping their city safe from crime and evildoing. Over the centuries, its secrets had been passed down through generations until the leadership was bestowed upon their grandfather, Dominic Spencer. His wife, Cordelia, somewhat reluctantly took over as head of the organisation following Dominic’s untimely death.
Pharos transcended governments, working for the greater good across all countries and cultures. By comparison, the likes of MI6, ASIS and the FBI seemed little more than parochial PR companies, although there was no denying they did some good work on occasion. Pharos had remained under the radar since its inception and it was Dame Spencer’s responsibility to see that it stayed that way. She had spent much of her adult life running the Beacon, a well-respected broadsheet in England. It was a huge business in itself as well as a perfect cover for the agency’s clandestine operations. Despite being bombarded with information, Kensy and Max both knew there was still so much to learn.
Carlos looked across and noticed that, even though he was on the winning team tonight, Max hadn’t said a word for the past five minutes. Everyone else was chattering excitedly, but he seemed far away. Carlos nudged the lad. ‘What’s up?’
Max offered a weak smile. ‘It’s going to be strange having Christmas without them.’
‘Well,’ Carlos said, ‘if past years are anything to go by, it will still be a celebration you’ll never forget – especially if my dad and Mr MacGregor hit the dance floor again.’
Max raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ll see.’ Carlos grimaced. ‘Embarrassing doesn’t even begin to cover it.’
Max grinned. ‘Sounds like something to look forward to.’
The past few days had been hectic, to say the least. When school had broken up for the two-week Christmas vacation, Kensy and Max, along with the rest of the junior Pharos agents at Central London Free School, had been left in pairs at various train stations around London. They were each handed twenty pounds to find their own way to Dame Spencer’s country estate in North Yorkshire. That was something of a challenge given the rail fare was twice that amount.
Since their arrival, the children had undertaken a variety of intensive training sessions. Unbeknown to the twins during their first visit, Alexandria was not just Dame Spencer’s rural idyll, it was also the countryside headquarters of Pharos, boasting so much more than beautiful gardens and a stunning fountain. The incredibly well-concealed state-of-the-art facilities included an indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool that was housed in what looked from the outside to be a barn, albeit with an entire wall of glass. It featured a hydraulic diving board that could automatically sense the height at which the diver was willing to leap, but was programmed to then rise twenty per cent higher. There was also an archery field complete with straw dummies that reacted when hit, the maze where the children would practice their marksmanship, and an enormous blast-proof bunker beneath the stables. Who knew what else they were yet to discover, but one thing was for certain – there were bound to be more surprises in store.
A number of their teachers had accompanied the group on their specialist activities. Despite being part of Pharos for over a month now, Kensy and Max were still getting their heads around how everything worked. To the outside world, Central London Free School was just a regular school. Eighty per cent of the students were ordinary kids, but the remaining twenty per cent and every single staff member – from Mrs Potts in the office, to Mrs Trimm, the dinner lady; Mr Reffell, their slightly unhinged History teacher, right the way up to Mr MacGregor, the headmaster – were Pharos agents and agents-in-training.
The rest of the school staff were due to arrive in time for Christmas, along with the children’s families and other agents, whose cover ranged from black cab drivers to journalists and many things between. It was to be a huge celebration. According to the program, training would last until midday on Christmas Eve, followed by a party that night. There would be a formal lunch on Christmas Day before guests returned home and some of the children departed for Rome on Mr Reffell’s History tour. It was straight back to school after that. Kensy and Max were looking forward to the trip. At the moment, being busy was a very good thing.
Gordon Nutting and Willow Witherbee intercepted the children as they reached the storage shed – although this wasn’t your average farm building. The twins’ jaws had almost hit the ground the first time they’d stepped inside. For thirty seconds it appeared exactly as one might expect, with various pieces of gardening equipment neatly organised along the stone walls. Then Miss Witherbee pulled on a hook and the interior transformed into something else entirely. Gun racks flipped out of the walls, hanging rails containing bulletproof body armour rose up from the floor, and various other weapons ranging from handguns to crossbows descended from the ceiling.
‘Well done, everyone – except for you, Dante.’ Gordon Nutting tut-tutted. ‘How you lasted as long as you did is a complete mystery. You do know, if you stick your head up, it’s going to be a target.’
Dante grinned. ‘Must be the luck of the Irish.’
‘You’re Italian, Moretti,’ Harper quipped. ‘Which is a good thing because I need a translator on our trip.’
‘I have an Irish grandmother,’ the boy replied. ‘And I will be happy to lend my services as an interpreter, although I haven’t decided how much to charge yet.’
Harper flicked her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. ‘I’ll buy you a gelato, but that’s it.’
‘Ah, frozen dessert treats.’ Dante sighed happily. ‘You do know the way to a young man�
�s language skills.’
The teachers and a couple of students remained behind to lock everything away while the rest of the children exited through a door in a high stone wall into the rear garden nearest to the house. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees and hedges though not in the heavens tonight. The patchy afternoon clouds had knitted together like a snug grey blanket, but at least it wasn’t quite as cold as it had been.
Max gazed up into the darkness and did a double take. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if he was imagining things. ‘Hey, look over there,’ he said, pointing at the sky beyond the roof of the mansion.
‘What is it?’ Kensy asked, squinting into the distance.
‘Someone is up there,’ Max said, breaking into a run. ‘They’re going to crash!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Kensy was beginning to think her brother must have taken a hit to the head during the exercise. He was making no sense at all.
But Sachin’s eyes had tracked it too. ‘Oh my gosh. There’s a parachute – a roman candle. Whoever it is, is going to hit the ground!’
The children charged after Max, who ran around the side of the house and down the driveway to the field beyond the Atlas fountain. All eyes were glued to the figure in the sky, silently praying for their chute to open.
‘Did anyone hear a plane?’ Kensy puffed, and was met with a volley of negatives. ‘Well, how did whoever that is get up there in the first place?’
‘Good question,’ Autumn panted.
‘Does anyone from . . . outside know about this place?’ Kensy couldn’t help wondering if there were suddenly going to be hundreds of jumpers raining from the sky, armed with some form of deadly weapon. She was prone to letting her imagination get the better of her.
Max leapt off the ha-ha wall into the field below, sending Dame Spencer’s sheep scattering and bleating at the tops of their lungs. Alfie was following close behind but miscued and hooked his foot on a loose stone. He landed flat on his face and half a dozen of the children thudded down on top of him. Fortunately, the hulking lad was a seasoned rugby player and simply shook them off, scrambled to his feet and hurtled over to join Max. The group soon caught up to them and all eyes stared into the sky.
The speed of the parachutist was enthralling, though the likely outcome was absolutely sickening. Yasmina covered her eyes.
‘This is going to be messy,’ Dante murmured, unable to look away.
Moments before impact, a chute opened. It was a giant of a thing, at least three times bigger than usual, which stopped the jumper in their tracks with a sharp jolt. The children watched as the figure floated to the ground like a feather and landed deftly on their feet. At that second, the clouds parted to reveal a full moon, the light glinting off the jumper’s silver suit. The interloper removed their helmet and goggles and realised that they had drawn quite a different audience to the flock of sheep they’d been expecting.
‘Good grief, what are you lot doing here?’ the man said. ‘I rather fancied a surprise arrival, but my stealth clearly leaves a lot to be desired.’
At the sound of the man’s voice, Carlos broke into a grin. ‘Agent Spencer, is that you?’
‘At your service. Whoever’s asking?’ the man replied.
‘It’s Rodriguez, sir,’ the boy said, stepping forward.
Kensy and Max looked at one another and then at the man, their eyes wide. They’d never even met their dad’s brother before and now here he was. Rupert Spencer was clearly a man of action and intrigue given his choice of transport.
‘Oh, hello Carlos. I hope you’re up for a spin around the track. If I recall, I still owe you a walloping after you cheated last year,’ Rupert said. He fiddled with the sleeve of his suit and, in the blink of an eye, the voluminous silk parachute shot towards him while simultaneously folding itself neatly into the pack he was wearing.
Carlos folded his arms across his chest. ‘Except that I didn’t cheat.’
Max nudged his sister. ‘Rupert?’ he mouthed.
‘Where did you come from?’ Alfie asked. ‘We didn’t hear a plane.’
Agent Spencer betrayed a hint of a smile. ‘Good – that was the plan,’ he replied and, with his helmet tucked under one arm, he leapt onto the ha-ha wall and strode off towards the house.
While the others descended into a raft of speculation, Kensy and Max were at a complete loss. That was their Uncle Rupert?
‘Do you think he saw us?’ Kensy asked as they made their way back to the house.
‘It’s hard to tell,’ Max replied, deep in thought. Perhaps their uncle hadn’t realised they were there. Max wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, because if Rupert was aware, it seemed pretty clear that he didn’t care to know them at all.
Cordelia Spencer looked up from the open newspaper on her desk. She’d been marvelling at the ingenuity of a real-estate advertisement that had been placed by one of her agents. They were trialling a new form of photographic coding and it seemed to be working brilliantly. A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She glanced over at the wall of screens and was surprised to see her younger son charge through the front door. She hadn’t been expecting him – at least not this evening – and, considering he’d been off-grid for the past month or so, she was keen to find out exactly what he’d been working on. By the looks of his face, it was probably his tan more than anything. Sometimes she wondered at the wisdom of having promoted him to Agent X status. He was still prodding her to take over Ed’s Y ranking, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
She’d sent Rupert several messages about the twins, receiving a single-word response: Brilliant. Given she’d also told him that his brother and sister-in-law were missing and there were few leads at this stage, despite having deployed a huge number of resources to try to track them down, it seemed a rather odd and unsatisfying reply. But that was Rupert. Of her two children, he had always been the more difficult to read.
Cordelia opened the top drawer of her mahogany desk and pulled out two velvet jewellery cases – one long and slim, the other smaller and rectangular. They contained Maxim and Kensington’s Christmas gifts. She had all but resigned herself that this day would never come – although it was bittersweet. If only Anna and Ed had been found. She knew full well that the chances of them being properly dead this time were higher than ever, especially the longer they were gone.
There was a rap on the door. Cordelia’s two West Highland terriers, Wellington and Mackintosh, looked up from the rug in front of the fire and thumped their tails.
‘Come in,’ Cordelia called, returning the boxes to the drawer.
Fitz strode into the room and shut the door behind him. ‘I thought I’d find you hiding here. The place is a bit of a madhouse. I see the dogs have got the right idea – keeping out of everyone’s way.’
Cordelia smiled at her nephew. Having him back after all these years was wonderful. From the time he was a toddler, Fitz had been one of her favourite people in the world. ‘Did you know Rupert has arrived?’ she asked.
Fitz looked at her in surprise. ‘No, he’s one person I haven’t bumped into,’ he said, sinking into the chair opposite Cordelia. ‘Do you have any idea where he’s been?’
‘I imagine I’ll find out soon enough,’ she replied, absently fiddling with the rings on her left hand.
‘I’m afraid I need to head off first thing in the morning,’ Fitz said firmly.
Cordelia frowned. ‘But what about the children? It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. They’ll be so disappointed. They’re going to find it hard enough, let alone with you gone too.’
Fitz rubbed his head. Ever since he came to terms with the fact he was going bald, he’d found the feel of it rather soothing. ‘They’ll understand.’
‘I doubt it.’ Cordelia stood up and smoothed her navy skirt, then strode over to the table beneath the window. She poured herself a whisky from the crystal decanter. ‘Unless the three of you know something you’re not telling me.’
She offered Fitz a drink, which he politely declined.
‘I’ve got a lead,’ he said, choosing not to add more. Over the past six weeks, he had found it difficult watching the woman suffer, and he would hate to toy with her hopes. Cordelia was, in a way, more like a second mother to him than an aunt. ‘I’ll speak with Kensy and Max tonight.’
He desperately wanted to tell her, but Anna and Ed had been very specific. If there was a mole inside Pharos, any hint that they were alive would jeopardise everything – and not only their safety, but the children’s too. It wasn’t how he preferred to play things but that was the current state of affairs. He was also tired of fending off the twins’ questions about why he and their parents had faked their deaths in the first place. It hadn’t taken them long to work out that ‘we wanted a normal life’ was little more than a flimsy excuse, particularly as their lives traversing the globe and living in a different ski resort each season was pretty far removed from most children’s experiences. Unfortunately, the ill-fated mission that preceded the three of them disappearing from the face of the earth was still classified Status Red, meaning that only Cordelia and a handful of agents knew exactly what had happened. Even Fitz’s own mother was in the dark – a fact that had eaten away at him for the past eleven years.
Cordelia tucked a stray strand of hair behind her left ear. ‘You know your mother is going to be disappointed too. It’s been years since Mim’s had you home for the holidays. I’m sure she thought you’d never be back again . . . I suppose we all make our sacrifices for the greater good, don’t we?’ She smiled sadly, wondering when exactly she had begun to sound so bitter.
Fitz shifted in his seat. There it was again – a glimmer of the pain Cordelia had been trying so hard to hide. ‘Mim’s fine. She already knows and she’s promised to focus all her energy on the children for me.’ He stood up and walked over to his aunt. ‘I just wanted to say goodbye. I’ll be gone before dawn and there will be so many people here that you won’t even miss me.’
Disappearing Act Page 2