‘We’re a little pushed for time,’ Steinberger explained the apparent rudeness as he took a seat opposite them.
The jet silently rose a few metres into the air, rotated so that it faced the opposite direction and took off into the night at a powerful speed. Max and Linden were pressed into their seats by the force of the take-off and could only just manage to look out the windows as the jet flew high above the ground.
‘Well, here we are,’ Steinberger announced, smoothing down his notepad that had been mangled in the sanitiser. ‘If there are any questions you’d like to ask about the plane or Spyforce, fire away. I’m here to be your personal guide. In fact, you might even want to know a little about me. I’d be flattered to help you out there, it’s a fascinating —’
‘What are these things for?’ Linden interrupted, fearing another long-winded yabberfest and pointing to the digital screens that materialised in front of them.
‘Those are some of technology’s finest,’ Steinberger declared proudly. ‘They are Digital Think Amajigs with Triple Megapixel Microdrive and integrated audio with Hyper Blaster Sound compatibility. You can do all sorts of things with these, including ordering food, which you might like to do now. Just tell the computer what you’d like and Roger, our friendly cabin assistant, will bring it to you.’
Max and Linden typed in their requests on the touch screens. Chocolate ice cream with caramel sauce and hundreds and thousands for Linden and a banana smoothie with yoghurt and honey for Max.
‘Your request will be here directly,’ announced the computers.
‘I knew there was something missing in my home.’ Linden pictured himself with a brand new computer in his room. Then he remembered there was something else he wanted to know as well. ‘How can you make a jet invisible?’
‘Ah, terrific question,’ beamed Steinberger, leaning forward and almost falling off his seat. ‘A few years ago Irene was in the middle of one of her experiments, mixing all sorts of concoctions together, when she added a special liquid that was to be the finishing touch and all of a sudden what she was working on just disappeared. At first she thought it was her eyes playing tricks on her — she’s not as young as she used to be, as she’ll probably tell you when you meet her — but when she realised she could see everything else perfectly, she knew she had hit upon something remarkable. After a few more adjustments in the lab, Spyforce perfected and patented it. All rights belong to us and, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, the formula is top secret.’
Max and Linden were impressed.
‘Is Irene one of your scientists?’ asked Max.
‘No. She works in the kitchen. Does a mean sponge cake.’
Steinberger’s eyes went droopy just thinking about it.
The jet sped silently and smoothly through the night sky like a stingray gliding through the ocean.
‘What can you tell us about the meeting?’ asked Max, eager to know more about what they could expect.
‘Ah, that is the one thing I’ve been asked to keep quiet about until your arrival in London. I can say it’s for something very important, but until we get to Spyforce, I’m afraid I can’t say anymore.’ Steinberger turned his fingers in front of his mouth like he was locking his lips shut.
‘What can you tell us about Spyforce?’ Max probed further.
‘There’s lots to tell there.’ Steinberger folded his hands in front of him and sat back in his pink fluffy chair. ‘It was created in the early 1960s by Harrison Junior, the father of the current Chief of Spyforce who is also called Harrison. Harrison Junior and his father, Harrison Senior, were top chefs at one of the finest restaurants in London, which was called Harrison’s, naturally enough. Anyway, one day, the two decided they needed a career change and putting their heads together, came up with an international agency for fighting crime everywhere, which they called Spyforce, or the Security Protection Unit For Ousting Rotten Crime Everywhere. That spells Spyforce when you work it out.’
Max and Linden ran it through their heads.
‘No it doesn’t. It spells Spu-force,’ Linden advised quietly.
Steinberger shifted uneasily in his chair.
‘Well, the err, Marketing Department thought having an international spy agency called Spu-force might be bad for business. You know. Sounds like spew-force. People might joke and call it Vomit Force. So they decided just to fudge it a little.’
Just then, the steward arrived with their orders. Linden’s tastebuds turned over themselves as he tucked into the best, creamiest ice cream he’d ever had in his life.
‘Homemade. You can’t take the chef out of the chief,’ Steinberger mused dreamily.
‘How long does the jet take to get to London?’ queried Max, slowly sipping her smoothie to savour each taste-tickling mouthful.
Steinberger looked at his watch.
‘Should be there … about … now,’ he declared.
In a flash, the steward reappeared, grabbed their plates and glasses mid slurp and disappeared towards the back of the jet.
‘This is your captain speaking,’ said the voice on the intercom.
‘He loves saying that,’ whispered Steinberger excitedly, putting his notepad in his pocket.
‘We will shortly be arriving in London. Remember what I said about the tray tables and seatbelts and get ready for a smooth landing.’
Max and Linden tightened their belts and looked out at the city of London below. The jet’s windows were jammed with the bumpy spread of old buildings, towers, palaces, churches and cathedrals. Roads wound through like ant trails swarming with cars, trucks, motorbikes, pedestrians and lurching black cabs, while the Thames River snaked its way under bridges that crisscrossed over it like antique matchsticks.
Max looked down at the city and took a deep gulp of air as she tried to take in what was about to happen. In just a little while, she and Linden would be face to face with the world’s top spies.
It was the largest gathering of secret agents the world had never known. A top secret affair with security at its highest level. And with good reason. It wasn’t every day the world’s top spies assembled together under the same roof. In fact, it was only once a year, during the annual Spy Awards Night, a prestigious event that recognised the talents, skills and contributions of spies from all over the world. Spyforce often topped the bill for the night, taking home many of the awards, including the coveted and highly respected Spy Agency of the Year award.
The rest of the world never knew about these events. If they ever did know, the existence of these intelligence networks would be in grave jeopardy, many would even cease to exist as soon as news got out.
The location of the ceremony was announced only the day before and even then, just the chiefs of the organisations were informed. As technology could sometimes be tampered with, they were told by specially trained minor birds, the perfect messengers, as they worked in pairs and always delivered. A secret rendezvous point would be arranged where the chiefs and minor birds would meet and the message would be tweeted out in a few short cheeps before the birds would fly innocently away. Very discreet, very professional and very top secret.
This year was a highly unusual type of award night. This year a new spy had been recruited by Spyforce who was causing a stir throughout the ranks of spies everywhere. She was changing the face of intelligence work with feats of daring and skill the spy world had never seen before.
This spy’s name was Max Remy.
But many knew her as Max Remy, Superspy.
As clusters of intelligence agents hushed over dimly lit tables, spoke in secret whispers and quietly clapped each award winner, most were anxiously awaiting the announcement of who would be Spy of the Year.
As the head of the Academy of World Spies approached the podium, the room fell silent. In just a few moments, she would announce the Spy of the Year. An honour bestowed on the bravest, most intelligent spy who had, in all their work, made the world a safer, better place.
‘And the winn
er is,’ the head of the academy began as she pried open the specially sealed gold envelope, ‘Max Remy!’
Max’s hands sprang to her mouth in shock. She was not only brave and intelligent, she was also a very humble person, not used to such attention. Alex Crane leant over from her seat and gave Max a hug.
‘You deserve this,’ she whispered proudly to her one-time apprentice.
Max stood up, her legs becoming jelly-like beneath her, and made her way to the podium. She accepted the statue of the Golden Spy Binoculars, held it against her chest and began her speech.
‘I would like to thank the academy for this very generous and unexpected award. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve wanted to be a spy and do all I can to make this world safer for people everywhere. I dedicate this award to spies all over the world who risk their lives every day for the same cause. I would like to thank Spyforce for believing in me, and Alex Crane, for being my mentor, my guide and my inspiration.’
The room exploded with the emotional clapping of agents as they applauded in admiration the spy they could only ever hope to be. Max looked around the room at the awe-struck faces and gave a small bow. Soon there was a hushed call of ‘Max’ from the audience. Then another. Then another. Until soon, the whole room echoed with the quiet chanting of ‘Max, Max, Max’.
Max held her award high above her head.
The applause continued on …
‘Max!’ cried Linden.
Max snapped out of her daydream.
‘Are you coming or not?’ Linden was standing at the exit of the jet wondering when Max was going to get off.
She looked around her. They’d landed. She wasn’t sure where, but she quickly undid her seatbelt to find out.
‘Sure,’ she said, rushing to the hatch and feeling like she’d slept in for an important exam.
‘I’m glad to see you’ve finally decided to join us, Ms Remy,’ Linden remarked in a teacherly voice. ‘This tardy attitude of yours is going to do you no favours, young lady. And another thing—’
‘Linden,’ Max warned. ‘It’s not too late to hand your body over for medical research, you know.’
Linden’s mouth collapsed open in an attempt at looking offended.
‘And what would you do for entertainment then?’
‘I’d watch grass grow or paint dry, something as funny as you.’
‘It’s time to go,’ interrupted Steinberger, poking his head into the jet.
Max and Linden stepped out onto a boardwalk-style metal deck. They were inside a cavernous, shiny aircraft hangar. Everything was quiet except for a low motorised hum and the echoing noises made by their footsteps. Dim lights hung from the towering roof above them like stars in a miniature universe, just barely revealing a pristine, orderly metal cavern filled with all kinds of contraptions and vehicles. There were all-terrain trucks, submarines, planes, helicopters, one-seater mini-choppers, hovercrafts, gliders and a stretch of other machines they’d never seen before.
A man dressed in overalls lay on his back on the floor below the metal deck.
‘What’s he doing?’ asked Linden, wondering why the man’s hands were clutching tools and working away in thin air.
‘He’s giving the jet a service now that we’ve returned,’ Steinberger explained. ‘He’s also the pilot. Let me introduce you.’
He moved closer to the edge of the deck.
‘Sleek, these are our esteemed passengers, Linden Franklin and Max Remy.’
The overalled man kept working on the invisible jet and gasped a mysterious reply that sounded something like, ‘eeooorr ooo ahhh inmyanr’.
‘Sleek gets very focused when he’s busy,’ Steinberger informed them in a hushed voice. ‘This is our Vehicular All-Response Tower, or VART for short, and Sleek is crucial to this part of Spyforce. Not only does he fly and know everything there is to know about all these aeronautical thingamajiggies, he’s our extreme member of the team. No mountain is too high, no high-speed chase too fast and no vat of worms too icky for him. You name anything extreme that has happened in Spyforce and Sleek has been there.’
Just then, a black cat jumped from behind them down to the ground where Sleek lay working. In a single reflex action, Sleek moved his head sideways and noticed the cat staring straight at him.
‘Aaaahh!’ he yelled and performed a manoeuvre that astounded Max and Linden so much, their eyes only just managed to stay in their sockets. He leapt from the floor, completed a double backflip and landed on the deck, which was a whole three metres above him, in one swift move. He stood next to Max, open-mouthed and goggle-eyed like someone had stretched his head longways and forgotten to put it back to normal. The black cat caught her eye and then walked away with what Max thought were arrogant and calculated steps. A steely tremor ran through her as she was caught by the cat’s gaze.
Sleek, meanwhile, noticing the others were staring at him, closed his mouth, ungoggled his eyes and tried to pretend everything was fine.
‘I think that’s all for today,’ he said wiping his hands on an oilcloth he pulled from his pocket. ‘Jet’s in good condition. Enjoy your visit.’ And with that he walked off trying hard to look relaxed, but all he managed to do was look terribly awkward.
‘One of the bravest men I know.’ Steinberger looked after him admiringly. ‘The cat belongs to Dretch, our maintenance operator. Her name’s Delilah and she’s taken quite a liking to Sleek, but he’s not too good with black cats or other superstitious things. Apart from that, though, he’s one of our best. Now,’ he clapped his hands together, ‘let’s go and meet everyone else.’
He walked off with clipped, excited steps, mumbling to himself and consulting his notepad.
Max felt uneasy.
‘There’s something about that cat I don’t like,’ she whispered to Linden.
Linden stopped walking. His eyebrows reached new heights of incredulity as they arched up his forehead.
‘Max, you’re a person with a lot of talents but I think it’s only fair to tell you an affinity with animals isn’t one of them.’
‘I’m fine with animals,’ she protested.
‘Which ones?’
Max was stumped.
‘That’s not the point. That cat looked at me and gave me a strange feeling.’
‘I wouldn’t take it personally. Cats are really perceptive and she just needs more time to realise that deep down you really are an animal lover.’
Linden’s grin spread over his face before he hurried to catch up with Steinberger. Max turned around and saw Delilah sitting in a corner licking her fur and acting no more suspicious than any other housecat. Maybe Linden was right, she thought, but she’d keep her eye out if Delilah crossed her path again.
Max was doing her best to take everything in, including the fact that what she thought was a fictitious spy agency, was now all around her. She was at Spyforce, the international intelligence agency, bursting at its high-tech seams with spies, missions, intrigue and top secret secrets to save the world. Important stuff that no part of her regular life had. She heard nothing of what Steinberger was saying to Linden as the three of them walked along the gleaming deck. She looked up at the VART’s roof with its twinkling low-level lights and sighed, knowing her life would never be the same again. Would be filled from now on with —
Booof!
Silence. Except for the quiet motorised humming.
‘Max, are you alright?’
The room blurred in front of her eyes like a thick, swirling fog.
‘Can you hear us, Max? How many fingers am I holding up?’
Max could see little snippets of Linden and Steinberger through a churning, confused mist. Molecules of man and boy floated past her, urging her to understand what they meant.
Then …
‘Urgh! What is that?’
She sat upright holding her nose.
‘A little something they came up with in the lab. Instantly revives you if you’ve had a temporary collapse,’ explained Stei
nberger, removing a small brown bottle from beneath her nose.
‘Or in your case, if you’ve run into an enormous and pretty unmissable giant metal cylinder.’ Linden smiled.
Max rubbed the spot on her forehead that was starting to blush into a deep, red welt. The type of welt that comes up just before a bruise and a big, ugly-looking lump.
‘Maybe they should bottle your jokes instead, because they sure smell enough to bring back the dead,’ Max shot back.
‘She’s fine,’ diagnosed Linden. ‘Only an in-form Max could have a comeback like that.’
‘What’s in that stuff?’ she grizzled, wincing and breathing out hard to get the stinky potion out of her nostrils.
‘All natural ingredients.’ Steinberger smiled, relieved that his young guest seemed to be in one piece. ‘Nature can be just as smelly as chemicals when she wants to be.’
Holding his notepad in front of him, Steinberger checked over his list.
‘And now we must go. There’s so little to see and so much time to do it in.’
He looked up and frowned.
‘Why do I feel like I’ve just quoted a line from a famous book?’
He rubbed his hand across his chin trying to work it out.
Max stared at him with her throbbing head, wishing he’d get on with it.
‘Oh well, not to worry. Let’s continue with our expedition, shall we?’
Steinberger pivoted on his overzealous feet and cracked a quick pace along the deck and out of the VART. The sound of his clicking heels echoed around the hangar like a cicada-filled summer day as Linden put on a quick double-step to keep up. If the hangar for the aircraft was this big then the rest of Spyforce must be enormous, he thought, enjoying every minute of their tour.
Max lagged behind, annoyed at finding herself on the ground once again and especially annoyed at the lack of sympathy she’d received over her aching head.
Steinberger and Linden stopped before a darkened exit. Max eventually joined them.
‘Before we go any further, you need to step onto the Vibratron 5000 and have your vibrations recorded.’
Spyforce Revealed Page 7