Undercover

by Jacqueline Harvey

  ‘Thank you, Song.’ She took a sip and straightened. ‘You’ll be briefed in due course. I’ll have some clothes sent from Alexandria and the rest will be taken care of.’

  Song frowned. Clearly, he’d missed something important.

  ‘And you are to tell no one of your whereabouts – do you understand?’ Cordelia said, looking directly at her granddaughter.

  ‘What about Carlos and Autumn? They’re going to ask questions,’ Kensy pointed out. ‘Our house just blew up.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Cordelia. ‘Your cover is that you were both injured in the explosion and you’re in a secure hospital facility. After that you’ll be recuperating at Alexandria until you’re ready to go back to school. I agree that there is no way we can keep what happened a secret, given the damage, but we can control what comes next. Do we have a deal?’

  ‘Deal.’ Kensy nodded, then slipped her hand into Cordelia’s and stared through the glass at her brother. Her grandmother gave her a reassuring squeeze and kissed the top of her head. Kensy wasn’t sure how she felt about returning to Australia. It was the last place she and her brother had been together with their parents before they went missing. But if Granny needed her and Max for a real mission, and it also meant they’d get away from whoever was trying to kill them, then so be it.

  The electric gates opened slowly as Fitz turned into the driveway of a semi-detached Victorian terrace in the suburb of McMahons Point, just north of the harbour.

  Kensy peered between the two front seats. ‘Don’t tell me,’ she said. ‘This is Granny’s Sydney house in case she ever comes home for a holiday.’

  Song grinned and nodded his head. ‘You are absolutely correct, Miss Kensington.’

  ‘You’re not a triplet, are you, Song?’ Max asked. He was half-expecting another of the man’s brothers to be stationed here as a butler too.

  ‘What a terrible thought, Master Maxim.’ Song squinted as he alighted the vehicle. He had forgotten about the intensity of the Australian sun, which, after a drab and grey London, made everything look like a Mondrian painting. Song walked around to the boot, fancying he would buy himself a new pair of sunglasses.

  ‘So what’s the story with the house?’ Max asked. At street level, two arched windows stared out like unblinking eyes while, upstairs, French doors led on to a small balcony enclosed with iron lacework. The house attached on the right was a mirror image, though painted a lighter shade of grey. Down a short driveway was a single garage.

  ‘It actually belonged to your great-grandparents,’ Fitz said. He took two suitcases from Song and led the way up the front path. ‘Your grandmother couldn’t bear to part with it after their accident.’ Fitz pressed his thumb against a small pad above the doorhandle. It emitted a single beep, then opened to reveal a fantastically modern interior that looked nothing like the townhouse in Ponsonby Terrace or Dame Cordelia’s home in Wilton Crescent.

  Kensy and Max hurried in behind him, eager to get a look.

  ‘Well, this is an improvement,’ Fitz remarked, setting down the bags. ‘The last time I came here, the place looked like it was stuck in the 1940s.’

  The interior of the townhouse was now situated firmly in the twenty-first century with a large, light-filled sitting and dining room at the front. Up a short set of open stairs towards the back of the house was a sleek, white kitchen with an island bench, a small round dining table and chairs, a laundry and powder room as well as a casual living area that led out onto a patio.

  ‘There’s a pool!’ Kensy squealed.

  Fitz chuckled. ‘I think that’d qualify as little more than a puddle, Kens. I’ll take you somewhere you can swim laps tomorrow – just beyond the point, near Luna Park.’

  ‘Can we have a look around?’ Max asked, but his sister had already bolted up another set of stairs.

  ‘You can claim one of the rooms on the second floor,’ Fitz yelled after them.

  That level housed a substantial master bedroom with an ensuite and walk-in wardrobe and a balcony boasting harbour views. There were two other generous bedrooms with a Jack and Jill bathroom between them. Kensy bagsed the slightly larger one at the rear. Max didn’t mind, although the thought of sharing the interconnecting bathroom with Kensy didn’t exactly thrill him. A third level housed another enormous bedroom suite, while on the fourth floor there was a media room and an outdoor terrace with views of the Harbour Bridge, Luna Park and the Opera House.

  ‘Look – there’s a Ferris wheel,’ Kensy said, pointing out the window. She’d loved them ever since she was a little girl. ‘We have to go to Luna Park this time. Remember how Dad and Fitz said they’d take us that weekend we were in Sydney, but Mum wanted to go to the art gallery instead? Who knows how we ended up at the zoo.’

  Max winced at a sudden sharp jab in his head. He grabbed one of the outdoor chairs to steady himself.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Kensy asked, biting her lip. ‘Maybe you should sit down for a minute.’ She’d never been one to fuss over her brother, but she hated the thought of him in pain.

  Max slowly lowered himself into the chair. ‘It’s just a bit nasty every now and then. My cut must be getting better, though, because it’s really itchy.’

  ‘You know I’ve been thinking about what happened at the house,’ Kensy said, taking a seat across from him.

  ‘Me too,’ Max said. He was glad that Kensy seemed to be acting a lot more like herself in the past couple of days and things were pretty much back to normal between them. In an odd way, the explosion could have been a blessing in disguise, although that was probably putting too positive a spin on it. ‘Fitz and I talked on the plane. He said it was a plastic explosive with a remote detonator and Forensics have traced its location to Granny’s favourite Ming dynasty vase – the one Song fixed after the incident with that mysterious visitor when we first arrived in London.’

  ‘The bomb could have been in there for ages then,’ Kensy said. ‘I bet Song won’t be able to put that vase back together this time.’

  ‘Well, that’s where we’re in luck. Song said that he’d only finished repairing the last of the cracks a week ago, so the explosives had to have been planted sometime after that or Song would have spotted them.’

  Kensy’s eyes lit up. ‘That’s great news! I mean, it’s terrible, but … oh, you know what I mean. Anyway, who’s been at the house in the past week?’ she said excitedly. ‘We need to make a list.’

  ‘Remember how the washing machine was playing up and Song called the technician in to take a look, but he said he’d have to come back with a part?’ Max said.

  The girl smiled smugly. ‘Yes, but then I fixed it, so that was a total waste of money.’

  ‘And Mrs Rodriguez had a cup of tea when she came to pick up Carlos after school on Monday night.’

  ‘Pfft, as if she had anything to do with it.’ Kensy stood up and walked over to lean against the railing. The harbour was busy with ferries and little boats and she could see a cruise ship heading in to dock at Circular Quay. ‘Uncle Rupert was there the day before it happened.’

  ‘That woman dumped him right outside our house. Bit of a coincidence, don’t you think?’ Max cradled his chin in his hands.

  Kensy frowned and turned back to look at her brother. ‘Do you really think it could be him?’

  ‘I don’t want to,’ Max admitted, ‘but we have to remain impartial and consider the evidence, Kens. Remember what Mr Reffell taught us about plots and suspects? Uncle Rupert was in the house in the week leading up to the explosion, so we’re putting him on the list.’

  ‘But he helped us bring down the Diavolo in Rome,’ Kensy said. ‘I find it hard to believe that he’d help us one minute and want us dead the next.’

  Max sighed. ‘Think about it – he had time to plant the bomb. He was upstairs on his own on the way out.’

  ‘I hate this, Max,’ Kensy said.

  ‘Let’s talk to Fitz and Song,’ the boy suggested. ‘There might have been other people who visited the ho
use in the days leading up to the explosion that we don’t know about.’

  ‘I hope so,’ Kensy said, and the two of them made their way downstairs.

  Fitz looked up from his laptop and was surprised to see two rather forlorn faces. ‘What do you think of the house?’

  ‘It’s great – it’s also in one piece, so that’s even better,’ Kensy said, half-heartedly laughing at her own joke. She plopped onto a chair and yawned.

  ‘We’ve been thinking about who could’ve placed that bomb,’ Max said. Fitz closed his laptop and listened intently as the boy listed the names they’d gathered thus far.

  ‘You should add my brother as a suspect,’ Song piped up from where he was jotting down a shopping list. ‘He came to deliver that batch of cupcakes you took for the school bake sale on Wednesday.’

  Kensy’s jaw dropped. ‘You claimed that you’d made them yourself. Fibber!’

  ‘I know, but I didn’t have time,’ Song mumbled sheepishly.

  ‘Were you able to retrieve footage from the cameras in the house?’ Max asked, the thought suddenly dawning on him.

  Fitz shook his head. ‘There’s plenty of it, but nothing from the past week. Someone managed to delete it from the server.’

  ‘It was wiped? But how?’ Max was incredulous.

  ‘We have no idea,’ Fitz said, his mouth a grim line, ‘and that’s what’s even more concerning.’

  Kensy and Max looked at one another. Whoever had planted the bomb was likely a highly trained operative. So now everyone who worked for Pharos was a potential threat.

  ‘Don’t worry, no one knows we’re here – not even your uncle – and your grandmother will ensure it stays that way,’ Fitz said. ‘She’ll probably call in a little while. We have a secure line into the house, but if you do speak to her, do not mention anything about the mission. We never communicate that information over the telephone, in case someone is listening in.’

  Kensy walked over to the fridge and opened the door, peering at the mostly empty shelves. She pulled out a jar of stuffed olives and looked at the use-by date.

  Song collected the car keys and a handful of green bags. ‘I am going to make a quick trip to the supermarket. Are there any requests?’

  ‘Violet Crumbles for me,’ Kensy said.

  ‘Smiths crisps, please,’ Max added. ‘Just plain crinkle-cut.’

  Song smiled. ‘I will pick up croissants as well. Confucius says that child with grumbling stomach will soon have grumbling lips.’

  ‘I doubt he did, but that’s a good one, Song.’ Kensy took the olives and walked around to the other side of the island bench.

  The man winked at her, grinning. ‘I won’t be long,’ he said, and disappeared into the garage.

  ‘Right,’ said Fitz. ‘I suggest you two take a break from your sleuthing and rest up for a couple of hours. We’re due at school first thing tomorrow for your interview before you start classes and I start work.’

  ‘But I’m not tired and you’ve always told us the best way to get over jetlag is to spend time in the sun. Can’t we go for a walk and have a look around?’ Kensy asked, battling to unscrew the lid of the jar. She wrenched it open and fished about for an olive, which she popped into her mouth. Kensy immediately gagged at the taste and spat the offending item across the room. It pinged against the splashback and landed on the floor. She jumped up, hoping no one had noticed, and threw the olive and the rest of the jar into the bin.

  ‘All right, all right,’ Fitz relented. ‘I might join you for a quick trot around the block, then I do have a bit of reading to get through. There are a lot of staff at the school and I want to nail my profiles so I can slot straight in – it will be much easier if I know the politics of the place. Why don’t you two unpack and we can head out in a little while?’

  ‘Sure.’ Max jumped up. ‘I definitely want to be organised before we start school.’

  Kensy rolled her eyes and groaned. Sometimes she wondered how they were even related let alone twins.

  She and Max lugged their bags up the stairs and investigated their rooms. Kensy opened her suitcase and upended the contents on her bed while, next door, Max was painstakingly folding or hanging every item of clothing. As he took out his lint brush and set to work, his mind wandered to his parents. If his grandparents hadn’t been killed in that botched robbery in Paris, where on earth were they and why hadn’t they reappeared before now? It seemed crazy. Max’s thoughts were running wild when, as if on cue, his watch began to vibrate. ‘Kensy!’

  ‘What?’ she yelled. ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘It’s Mum and Dad,’ he shouted.

  Kensy raced out of her room and down the hall, her green eyes on stalks. ‘What did they say?’ She looked at her bare wrist and realised she hadn’t seen her own watch since they’d left London, although she knew she had been wearing it on the morning of the explosion. Surely it was among all the stuff on her bed.

  Max finished scribbling down the Morse code dashes and dots. ‘Getting close. Love you both. Mum and Dad.’ He looked over at his sister. ‘I wish we knew where they were. They’re clearly getting closer to finding Mum’s parents, but that could be anywhere in the world.’

  ‘Hopefully, it means they’ll be home soon and we’ll get to meet our other grandparents too,’ Kensy said. ‘Although who knows what kind of state they’re going to be in if they’ve been held captive for the past twelve years.’

  ‘Kids, Song’s back,’ Fitz called from the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Coming!’ the twins chorused.

  Kensy turned to her brother. ‘How much longer do you think they’ll stay away?’

  ‘As long as it takes,’ Max replied. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned about this spy business, they’re not working to a timetable.’

  Tinsley Chalmers waved to her children from the balcony as they headed down Warung Street, towards the ferry that would take them across the harbour to school. Her husband, Dash, leaned on the railing, sipping his coffee beside her. He was dressed for work in navy trousers and a crisp white shirt with silver cufflinks, but was missing his customary jacket and tie. Dash Chalmers was a man who lived up to his name – both handsome and charming, he was much loved in social circles and generally considered the life of the party. In business, he was lauded as a generous boss who had maintained the integrity of his parents’ company and continued their extraordinary work. Unlike his parents, though, Dash wasn’t a pharmacist. From a young age, he’d been more interested in the business side of The Chalmers Corporation and had topped his class at Harvard Business School.

  ‘Bye!’ Ellery shouted, spinning in a circle so her dress fanned outwards.

  ‘Hey Van, I’m looking forward to seeing that captain’s badge on your blazer tonight,’ Dash called.

  Donovan groaned. ‘Great, Dad. You’ve just jinxed me,’ he yelled.

  The boy had had his hopes pinned on the position ever since he’d started at Wentworth Grammar at the age of eight. A total cricket tragic, he could endlessly spruik statistics for various players and matches. Being captain of the first eleven was a huge honour and he knew that it would make his father incredibly proud to see his name etched onto the mahogany board in Darcy House alongside all the students who had gone before him – a couple of whom had played cricket for Australia. He sometimes wondered if his father wanted it even more than he did.

  ‘Good luck, sweetheart,’ Tinsley trilled, waving. She turned and looked at her husband. ‘Hadn’t you better get a move on too?’

  Dash chuckled. ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want me around, darling.’

  Tinsley smiled tightly. She poured herself a second cup of tea from the china pot and tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach.

  ‘Lucy said my first meeting’s been postponed, so I thought I’d have a coffee with my beautiful wife rather than sit in traffic,’ Dash said, gazing at Tinsley intently.

  The moment was interrupted by Rosa, their housekeeper, asking if she could ge
t anything else for them.

  Tinsley shook her head. ‘No, thank you, and don’t worry about clearing this. I’ll do it. I know you wanted to make a start on the washing.’

  ‘But that’s Rosa’s job, Tins,’ Dash scolded. He winked at their housekeeper. ‘She’s got everything under control. Haven’t you, Rosa?’

  The housekeeper nodded eagerly. ‘Of course, Mr Chalmers, sir.’

  ‘Why don’t you head into the city and get yourself something lovely to wear for the ball on Friday night?’ Dash said. ‘Oh, and Lucy will watch the kids.’

  Tinsley sighed inwardly. ‘Dash, that’s really not fair,’ she said. ‘The poor woman will have already done a full day’s work and it surely falls outside her job description.’

  It wasn’t that Tinsley didn’t like Lucy – she was great with Van and Ellery and it must have been a challenge and some working for Dash. She knew he demanded a lot from his staff, and the fact that Lucy had stuck by him for ten years was something of a miracle. It’s just that Tinsley sometimes resented how the woman was always about. And Lucy seemed to know more about her husband than she did.

  ‘No arguments, darling,’ Dash said, giving her wrist a squeeze. ‘Lucy is happy to do it; you know how much she loves the kids and they adore her.’ He pulled out his wallet and peeled off an embarrassing number of hundred-dollar notes, which he threw onto the table.

  Tinsley swallowed her discomfort and swept up the cash, slipping it into her pocket. She smiled at Rosa, who began to clear the children’s dirty breakfast dishes. ‘Thank you,’ she said, feeling the heat rising to her cheeks.

  ‘Well, I’m off. I’m sorry, darling, but I’ll be late tonight,’ Dash said. ‘We’re on the brink of a major breakthrough with the Influenza X vaccine and I need to speak to the press in the US. We can’t delay the release any longer – the death toll in Asia has been horrendous.’

  ‘Mr Chalmers, you are a saint,’ Rosa gushed. ‘The world is so much safer because of you.’

  Dash grinned and ran a hand through his dark hair. ‘Not me, Rosa. It’s the clever scientists who do all the real work. I just make things happen,’ he replied, then kissed his wife on the forehead and walked inside.