The Final Mission

by R. A. Spratt

  ‘I want to check something,’ said Mum. She had just seen someone slip into the alley alongside the Post Office. Being an international super spy, Mum did not immediately assume that they were simply taking the short cut to the Co-op Stock Feed Lot, she assumed they were a member of the Kolektiv reporting to a higher authority so she went to check it out.

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Dad. ‘I’d better go and make sure she doesn’t hurt somebody.’ He hurried after Mum and the kids went ahead into the Good Times Cafe.

  Joe slid into their regular booth. The one down the end, furthest away from the other customers. April had a tendency to get into fights, usually with people complaining because she’d brought her dog into the restaurant. And Joe did not want that to happen, at least not until after he’d eaten. The only problem was, that to eat, Joe must first get served and that was rarely a speedy process in this cafe.

  Joe looked around expectantly for Joy, the world’s most sullen and miserable waitress. Her heavy black eye make-up perfectly matched the mood of her soul, so she never moved quickly. Joe was, therefore, taken completely by surprise when an entirely different young woman appeared at their table.

  ‘Hi, my name is Bethany and I’m going to be your server today,’ said the new waitress. ‘Can I get you some iced water to start with?’

  The Peski kids took a moment to absorb this new person in their lives. She was young and pretty and apparently happy – not what they were used to at all.

  Pumpkin growled.

  ‘Where’s Joy?’ demanded April.

  ‘Who?’ asked Bethany.

  ‘The regular waitress,’ said April. ‘Wears black, always has earbuds. Hasn’t smiled since she was two.’

  ‘Oh, I can’t help you with that,’ said Bethany. ‘I’m new.’

  ‘Yes, we know,’ said April. ‘We would have noticed if someone this annoyingly perky had been here before.’

  ‘My sister doesn’t mean to be rude,’ said Loretta, matching Bethany’s upbeat smile with an uber-charming smile of her own. ‘We’re concerned for Joy’s welfare. We’ve grown attached to her off-beat ways.’

  ‘I’ve never met Joy,’ said Bethany. ‘I only got hired yesterday.’

  ‘But everyone knows Joy,’ said April. ‘She is the most ironically named person in Currawong. She isn’t just joyless, she sucks joy from the environment around her.’

  ‘Did she quit?’ asked Fin.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Bethany.

  ‘Did she get food poisoning?’ asked Loretta.

  ‘What?’ asked Bethany.

  ‘You don’t have a very enquiring mind, do you?’ accused April.

  Bethany’s big smile started to diminish slightly. ‘I only came in here to get a milkshake yesterday,’ she explained. ‘There was no one serving, so I popped behind the counter to help myself. Klaus came out and offered me a job.’

  ‘Who’s Klaus?’ asked April.

  ‘The chef,’ said Bethany.

  ‘Oh, you mean the angry scary chef guy?’ said Fin. ‘Huge muscles and lots of tattoos?’

  ‘He’s been lovely to me,’ said Bethany.

  ‘You don’t have April’s personality,’ said Fin. ‘The only interaction we’ve had with the chef is when he’s thrown April out.’

  ‘W-w-w-w-where are the egg and bacon rolls?’ said Joe. The others had been too caught up in their conversation to notice that Joe was becoming agitated. He kept flipping the pages of the menu back and forth, scouring each one desperately.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t even notice,’ said Loretta. ‘You’ve got new menus! It’s probably for the best. I didn’t like to say anything, but the black mould that was trapped behind the plastic sheeting was a toxic hazard.’

  ‘There’s no egg and b-b-bacon rolls!’ snapped Joe. ‘Please say it’s a m-m-misprint.’

  ‘It’s the seasonal menu,’ said Bethany, happily. ‘The chef wants to try something new. To celebrate the Potato Festival, for the entire month there will only be potato-based foods on the menu.’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Joe.

  ‘The bubble and squeak is really nice,’ said Bethany. ‘That’s what I had for my staff breakfast.’

  ‘But it’s $8.50,’ said Joe. ‘And it’s vegetarian!’

  ‘Klaus saw a documentary about animal cruelty,’ said Bethany. ‘He’s gone vegan.’

  ‘Good for him,’ said April. ‘Maybe he isn’t such a deranged psychopath after all.’

  ‘But I’m n-n-not vegan!’ said Joe.

  ‘You should think about it,’ said April. ‘You’re too tall and muscly anyway.’

  ‘I think Joe is just right how he is,’ said Loretta.

  ‘I like b-b-bacon,’ said Joe. ‘And e-eggs!’

  ‘You’d better make it four servings of bubble and squeak,’ said Fin, gathering the menus and handing them to Bethany. ‘I think Joe is going to take a while to come to terms with his grief.’

  ‘If you still do milkshakes, we’ll have four strawberry ones,’ said April.

  ‘Of course,’ said Bethany. ‘Although, now we’re vegan we use rice milk.’

  Joe shuddered. The happy waitress bustled away.

  At the front of the cafe, Mum and Dad entered. Pumpkin yapped a greeting.

  ‘Good morning,’ Bethany called out happily from behind the counter. Dad flinched as if her happy smile was a slap in the face. He hurried over to the booth where the kids were sitting.

  ‘What happened to Joy?’ he asked.

  ‘The chef killed her,’ said April. ‘If you order the lamb roast, you’ll be eating her leg.’

  Dad went pale.

  ‘It’s all right, Mr Peski,’ said Loretta. ‘April is joking. Joy simply went missing and no one knows where she is.’

  ‘Really?’ asked Mum. ‘Do you think Maynard is involved?’

  ‘Paranoid much?’ asked Fin. ‘Not everyone who goes missing has been kidnapped by spies.’

  ‘Yeah, ’cause why would Maynard snatch the world’s grumpiest waitress?’ asked April.

  ‘Perhaps she wanted to hire someone who had experience in poisoning people,’ said Fin.

  ‘It’s never good when people start suddenly going missing,’ said Mum.

  ‘Maybe it’s purely a coincidence,’ said Fin.

  ‘There’s no such thing as coincidences,’ said Mum. ‘Not when Maynard is involved. Was this waitress Joe’s girlfriend?’

  ‘No, why do you ask?’ asked Fin.

  ‘He’s got tears in his eyes,’ said Mum. ‘And he’s rocking back and forth. Both classic symptoms of emotional distress.’

  ‘He’s grieving for his favourite breakfast,’ explained Loretta.

  Mum and Dad sat down.

  ‘What do we know about this new waitress?’ asked Mum, still eyeing Bethany warily.

  ‘She smiles too much,’ said April.

  ‘She took the b-b-b-bacon,’ said Joe.

  ‘There is obviously a double agent in town,’ said Mum. ‘Your position here has been compromised. They’re feeding information back to our enemies.’

  ‘I don’t have any enemies,’ said Dad.

  ‘No, but you were married to me and I’ve got enough enemies for all of us,’ said Mum.

  ‘We’re not running away,’ said Fin.

  ‘Fine, I accept your irrational decision,’ said Mum. ‘But if we’re staying put, we can’t let the double agent know that we know.’

  ‘We barely know anything,’ said Fin. ‘So that shouldn’t be hard.’

  ‘I’ll do some discreet investigation,’ said Mum.

  ‘Does discreet investigation mean putting people in chokeholds until they tell you everything?’ asked April.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Mum. ‘In the meantime, you’ve got to continue on as normal. Blend in. Go unnoticed.’

  ‘Hah!’ said Fin. ‘If we start blending in and going unnoticed, people will notice. April’s assaulted half the people in town. And Pumpkin’s assaulted the other half.’

  Pumpkin yapped h
appily at hearing his name. It sounded like he was agreeing.

  ‘Here are your drinks,’ said Bethany, bringing over the milkshakes. She took out her notepad and turned to Mum and Dad. ‘Can I get you two anything?’

  ‘I w-w-w-want to speak to the chef,’ interrupted Joe. He sounded very firm and adamant, and generally un-Joe-like.

  ‘He’s busy making your bubble and squeak,’ said Bethany.

  ‘I d-d-don’t want f-fried potato,’ said Joe. He was getting increasingly agitated and his voice was starting to get louder. ‘I want an egg and bacon roll!’

  ‘The potato-based menu is only for a month,’ said Bethany.

  ‘But you said the chef had gone vegan,’ said Fin.

  ‘Yes,’ said Bethany. ‘He’s planning to do an all tofu menu next month.’

  ‘I can’t take it!’ said Joe, getting to his feet.

  Bethany took a step back. She’d only just met Joe so she didn’t realise that he was actually as gentle as a butterfly. All she saw was a six foot three, muscle-bound teenager looming over her.

  The kitchen door flew open with a bang. ‘Who yell at my lovely new waitress!’ It was the chef. He had a thick accent, and sweaty muscled forearms from all the stirring and chopping he did in the kitchen. His eyes locked on the Peski kids in a stern glare. ‘Not you lot again.’ He started striding towards their booth. As he stepped out from behind the counter, they could see he had a rolling pin in his hand.

  Something snapped in Mum’s brain. She went into autopilot. She shot out of the booth faster than a bullet from a gun, whipped up a fork from the table and lunged for the chef. In the blink of an eye, she had him in a chokehold and was pressing the fork to his carotid artery.

  ‘Mum!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘He feeds us!’

  The Peski kids all started calling out at once as they leapt forward to pull their mother off the chef. It took all three of them, plus Loretta and Pumpkin, to get her away. In the chaos Pumpkin used the opportunity to tear a strip off the chef’s apron and run away with it. The chef was left sitting on the floor, rubbing four prong marks in his neck.

  ‘Get out,’ he wheezed, struggling to regain his breath.

  As the Peskis bustled their mother out onto the footpath, Bethany’s smile had completely gone.

  ‘What was that about?’ demanded April. ‘You just tried to kill a man in broad daylight!’

  ‘Even April doesn’t do stuff that crazy,’ said Fin.

  ‘Attempted murder at breakfast is not the done thing at all, Mrs P,’ said Loretta.

  ‘Arf, arf, arf!’ said Pumpkin, excitedly. He was the only one who wanted Mum to go back in and attack the chef again.

  Mum wasn’t listening. She was all worked up, her eyes blazing. ‘How long have you known that man?’ she demanded.

  ‘The chef?’ asked Dad. ‘I met him for the first time a couple of months ago when I had to go in and apologise for April’s behaviour. But I believe he’s been there for several years.’

  ‘He’s not a chef!’ said Mum. ‘That man was an agent for the Kolektiv for over a decade.’

  ‘That explains why he never cleans anything,’ said April. ‘He’s not been trained properly.’

  ‘Oh, he’s trained,’ said Mum. ‘But not in cooking. Not food cooking anyway.’

  ‘What’s he doing here then?’ asked Loretta.

  ‘He botched a major operation,’ said Mum. ‘Dozens of people didn’t die as a result. Then he simply disappeared. No one has seen him since. That was twelve years ago. And you say he’s been here in this tiny backwater town cooking egg and bacon rolls? It doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘They’re r-r-really good egg and bacon rolls,’ said Joe.

  ‘No,’ said Mum, ‘it’s too much of a coincidence. Maynard hides my family here. And a long-lost operative is here too.’ She glanced back through the window and quickly turned away because the chef was still watching them. ‘And he’s never tried anything? He’s never tried to grab you or make you give him information?’

  ‘He did threaten April once,’ said Fin. ‘But she totally deserved it. She was standing on his table, yelling at his customers at the time.’

  ‘But why would he be here in Currawong?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Dad, ‘there’s a small chance that maybe you’re a little bit mistaken.’

  ‘What?’ said Mum.

  ‘Well,’ said Dad, trying to be diplomatic. ‘If no one has seen this man for twelve years, he would look very different now. Perhaps the chef merely looks like this man you remember.’

  ‘I know it’s him!’ said Mum.

  ‘How?’ asked Loretta. ‘Did he have some sort of distinctive scar or tattoo?’

  ‘No,’ said Mum. ‘Scars and tattoos can be faked. But if you look into a man’s eyes while you try to strangle the last breath out of his body, you can see right down into his soul. I would recognise him anywhere.’

  ‘Okay, Mum, just so you know, you’re coming across as nutty as a high-protein energy bar,’ said Fin. ‘You might want to tone back the crazy conspiracy theories a little bit.’

  ‘I’m not mad,’ said Mum.

  ‘You have been under a lot of pressure lately,’ said Dad. ‘Stress can do all sorts of things to your mind. It can make you confused. It can make you see things that aren’t there and hear things that aren’t there. And not be able to tell the difference between things that are there and aren’t there.’

  ‘We get it, Dad,’ said April. ‘There’s no need to list all your symptoms. We get to see them every day.’

  ‘I am not stressed!’ protested Mum.

  ‘You k-k-kind of look stressed,’ said Joe.

  ‘After everything you’ve been through,’ said Dad. ‘It would be odd if you weren’t stressed.’

  Mum had no response. In a small part at the back of her mind she started to doubt herself. The interrogators in prison had spent an awfully long time trying to make her crack mentally. What if they had succeeded? What if she was falling apart?

  ‘I know! Spa day!’ exclaimed Loretta. ‘That’s what you need, Mrs Peski. A day of pampering.’

  ‘My name is Dr Banfield,’ said Mum.

  ‘I know,’ said Loretta. ‘But I find it hard to call people with PhDs “doctors” without laughing. Since Mr Peski has adopted me, how about we compromise and I just call you Mum instead?’

  But Mum wasn’t listening. She had spotted something on the far side of the road. ‘Quick! Hide!’ Mum dived behind a telegraph pole. No one else moved.

  ‘What are you d-d-doing?’ asked Joe.

  ‘That man on the other side of the street, do you know him?’ asked Mum. She had her back pressed to the telegraph pole so she was hidden from view. If anyone had been watching, they would be wondering why the Peski family were all talking to a telegraph pole.

  ‘Which man?’ asked Fin.

  There were quite a few people about putting up potato decorations. And there were several people holding ropes, getting ready to haul up a giant papier-mâché potato over the middle of the street.

  ‘The one in hi-vis yellow, next to the bicycle,’ said Mum.

  ‘You mean the postman?’ asked Loretta.

  ‘He’s no postman,’ said Mum. ‘That’s Roland Kumpf. He was a top Libyan explosives expert in the 1980s.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Mum,’ said Fin. ‘He’s just Sam the postman. He’s so afraid of Pumpkin, he hasn’t even got the courage to come into our front yard.’

  ‘Pumpkin did give him a nasty bite,’ said Loretta. ‘Well, several nasty bites.’

  Pumpkin yapped happily at hearing his name.

  ‘It was his own fault,’ said April, patting Pumpkin protectively. ‘A postman wearing shorts – that’s blatantly provocative. He was asking for it.’

  Mum spotted something else. ‘No!’ she muttered, as she dashed from behind the telegraph pole, ducking behind a bin instead so she would be obscured from a different angle.

  ‘What i
s it now?’ asked Dad.

  Mum pointed to the window of the Good Times Cafe.

  ‘Surely you don’t want to go back for the bubble and squeak?’ asked Fin.

  ‘The woman in the reflection,’ said Mum. They realised Mum wasn’t looking through the cafe window, but at a person reflected in the glass. ‘That’s Olga Romanov, she was a legendary operative for the KGB. Even Stalin was frightened of her.’

  April gave up trying to see anything in the reflection and turned to look straight across the street. She burst out laughing, ‘Hah! That’s just Mrs Bellamy, she’s a batty old lady.’

  ‘April,’ chided Dad. ‘You shouldn’t disrespect the elderly.’

  ‘I respect the elderly,’ said April. ‘I always take the time to stop and talk to the people at the old folks’ home.’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ said Fin. ‘You stop to yell at them.’

  ‘Well they’re always watering their garden when they shouldn’t,’ said April. ‘If they’re so old, they should know about water restrictions. I’m informing them of their civic duty.’

  ‘We should get away from here,’ said Mum. ‘She’s got a pram. There could be a bomb in there.’

  Now all the Peski kids laughed.

  ‘It’s not a b-b-bomb,’ said Joe. ‘It’s a c-c-c-cat.’

  ‘Called Princess Anastasia,’ said April. ‘That’s one of the battiest things about her. She takes her morbidly obese cat out for walks so it can get some air. Then she complains when Pumpkin helps it exercise by playing with it.’

  ‘You mean, trying to eat it,’ corrected Fin.

  ‘Same same,’ said April.

  ‘I swear that’s her,’ said Dr Banfield, risking a glance around the side of the bin. ‘We had to memorise the appearance of every known enemy agent.’

  ‘Hmm, have you had your eyes tested recently?’ asked Loretta. ‘I know you are a terrifyingly competent international operative, but you are also over forty and perhaps it’s time for you to get a stronger prescription in your glasses.’

  ‘My eyesight is fine,’ snapped Mum.