Mission In Malta

by Deborah Abela

  Max poked her head above the side of the boat towards the bay and saw a rough sliver of a cave worked into the fold of an overhanging cliff.

  Stefan pulled an old hat from his back pocket, pulled it down low and unhooked a fishing rod clipped to the side of the boat. ‘I’ll be here. Fishing.’ He winked at them. ‘The moment you need my help, just call and I’ll be there.’

  Max stood up and, as much as she wasn’t a fan of snorkelling, was happy to be getting off Stefan’s boat. ‘If we need transport, you’re our man.’

  ‘Grazzi, Max.’ Stefan’s eyes teared up. ‘That’s a very nice thing to say.’

  ‘Yep, well, we’ll see you soon.’

  Max and Linden sat on the side of the boat. They pressed the red buttons on the sides of their shoes to activate the extendable flippers, pulled out their Mini Underwater Snorkels and clamped the nostril pinchers over their noses.

  ‘Ready?’ Max asked nasally.

  ‘Ready.’ Linden gave her a thumbs up.

  They bit down on their mouthpieces and toppled backwards into the sea.

  With each stroke, the gnarled and craggy coast of Gozo rose and fell before their eyes, bringing them closer to the narrow entrance of the cave, which hunched over them with the poise of a coiled snake.

  Once inside, the spies hoisted themselves out of the water onto a rock platform and took off their snorkels.

  ‘I think I’ve found the location for my next birthday party.’ Linden shook his head, sending a shower of drops raining around him.

  Lights positioned beneath the water’s surface lit the cave up in a shimmering lightshow, and the platform they perched on clung to the edge of an inland pool before that disappeared into the rocky interior.

  ‘Let’s make sure Alfonzo has another birthday before we worry about yours.’ Max again checked the Time and Space Machine. ‘He’s further into the cave. It looks like we can follow this platform.’ She returned the machine safely inside the belt.

  After withdrawing the flippers on their Flea-Powered Shoes, the two dripping spies made their way deeper into the cave. They passed folds of overhanging rock, dark ocean-carved crevices – one sheltering a bobbing line of jet skis. As they walked, their eyes flicked around the cavern. The wash of the sea slapped around them, unnerving and restless.

  And a loud click echoed above them.

  Max and Linden looked up. Two men hovered over them on a high ledge outside a glass-fronted security room lined with cameras and TV monitors. They were pointing guns directly at them.

  ‘They don’t look happy to see us,’ Linden said.

  ‘No.’ Max watched as one man kept them covered while the other wound his way down a set of stone stairs.

  ‘Walk,’ he ordered.

  Max folded her arms across her chest. ‘No.’

  He shoved his gun firmly into Max’s back.

  ‘Okay.’ Max changed her mind.

  They were led down a series of underground caves and passages lit by an eerie yellowish light until they came to a thick metal door. The gunman kept his weapon trained on the two spies while he jammed a key into the lock.

  ‘I guess this is the part where we go in?’ Linden asked.

  The gunman answered with a frozen stare.

  Max turned and looked inside. ‘Another dungeon?’ she groaned. ‘What is it with me and dungeons?’

  Max felt a shove in the back and was thrust into the dimly lit cave. She was followed by Linden and an echoing slam and locking of the door.

  ‘I don’t know who these men are, but they’re not going to keep us here for long.’ Max blinked while her eyes adjusted to the low light. ‘We’ve come to find Alfonzo, and that’s what we’re going to do.’ She began to feel her way around the dark edges of the cave. ‘There’s got to be a way out of here somewhere.’

  ‘Ah, Max?’

  ‘They could be doing anything to him.’ She felt the walls for weak points, hidden levers, secret crevices. ‘I hope he’s still okay.’

  ‘Max?’

  ‘Why aren’t you helping me search for a way out?’ Max spun round. ‘Oh.’

  Linden was sitting beside an exhausted, hair-ruffled Alfonzo slumped against a wall in his torn suit.

  ‘You’re … here.’ She hurried over and sank beside him. He had a gash of dried blood on his forehead and was wearing his glasses with one cracked lens. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes. It seems, but I don’t understand why you are here. I told you I was going to Brussels.’

  ‘Um, Alfonzo?’ Max squinted. ‘If you’re going to do any more lying after this, you’re going to have to get much better at it.’

  ‘You didn’t believe me?’

  ‘Not even close.’ Linden shrugged.

  Alfonzo frowned. ‘Am I really that bad?’

  ‘I’ve seen five-year-olds who could teach you a lesson,’ Max explained.

  ‘How did you find me?’ Alfonzo squinted one eye through his good lens.

  ‘I slipped a Tracer Bug in your pocket.’

  Alfonzo smiled. ‘Harrison did send me two of his best.’

  ‘Why did you lie?’ Max asked.

  Alfonzo sighed. ‘I was told that if I ever wanted to see my leeches again, I had to come here to help.’

  ‘Who brought you here?’ Linden asked.

  ‘Kenneth.’

  ‘Kenneth?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alfonzo answered. ‘That’s all I know about him. He wasn’t much for conversation, and I spent most of the trip here tied in a small bundle in the back of the boat.’

  Alfonzo rubbed his wrists where the rope had left burnt red welts.

  ‘Do you know why they kidnapped you?’ Linden asked.

  Alfonzo answered quietly, ‘I suspect it’s the rehydration capsules.’

  ‘The what?’ Max scowled.

  ‘While I was at Futura, my colleagues and I came up with a procedure where we could compress water molecules to only a fraction of their size. This lead us to create rehydration capsules that are capable of absorbing great amounts of water at only a fraction of the space that a regular body of water would need.’

  ‘That’s ingenious,’ Linden marvelled.

  Alfonzo’s eyes flared. ‘The implications excited us to a level we’d never dared hope for. Huge volumes of water could be transported in mere trucks, planes or even helicopters, to desert areas, water-starved refugee camps, drought stricken farmers or the heart of raging fires.’

  ‘How do you retrieve the water from the capsules?’ Linden asked.

  Alfonzo smiled. ‘A drop of a simple salt-based solution decompresses the molecules so that they spring back to life and the water is restored.’

  ‘But something happened to ruin the plan,’ Max guessed.

  ‘Our laboratory was bought by a very wealthy man who had heard of our work and …’ Alfonzo’s face fell into an expession of wrinkled anguish. ‘He had other, less grand ideas for our capsules. Ideas that had the potential to destroy and kill and in the process make him lots of money, either using it himself to threaten whole continents or selling it to warring countries. When we refused to work with him, that’s when the accidents started happening.’

  ‘The accidents with the scientists?’ Linden asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who is he?’ Max eyed Alfonzo carefully.

  ‘His name is Louis B. Syphon. Very clever, but very …’ Alfonzo searched for the word. ‘Misguided.’

  ‘Mr Greenfield Incorporated,’ Max said. ‘Why didn’t you tell Harrison?’

  Alfonzo shook his head. ‘There had already been too many people hurt, and now I may have lost Edgar, too, and the others, when I didn’t want to risk anyone else’s life.’

  ‘So you thought you’d take on a megalomaniac by yourself?’ Linden smiled.

  Alfonzo smiled weakly. ‘It didn’t seem such a silly idea at the time.’

  ‘Well, we’re here now,’ Max said firmly. ‘And we’re going to stop this freakster from hurting anyone else.’
/>   A key clanged inside the lock and the door whined open.

  ‘I suspect that’s our escort to meet Mr Syphon,’ Alfonzo guessed.

  ‘Out.’ It was the gunman from before.

  ‘Should we bother asking where we’re going?’ Max asked.

  The man moved inside and again shoved the gun into her back.

  ‘Didn’t think so.’

  The three prisoners were led out of the dungeon, into a narrow, arched corridor to the location of Mr Louis B. Syphon.

  ‘Ah, there you are. Chef has only just now finished cooking, and if it’s anything like her usual meals, you’re in for a feast of Malta’s finest dishes.’

  At the end of a long, limestone table laid out with an intricately fussy table setting with way too many plates and pieces of cutlery, sat Louis B. Syphon. His hair was jelled back into a severe, shiny sculpture; his nose was bony and seemed to point accusingly wherever it faced. He had broad shoulders that sat above a far too skinny body that made him look like an upside-down funnel.

  And there was something else.

  ‘You’re a kid,’ Max yelled at the lanky teenager. She turned to Alfonzo. ‘This is the very wealthy and clever megalomaniac you were telling us about?’

  ‘I am wealthy and clever, but I’d go easy on the megalomaniac accusation. Some would call it a healthy dose of ambition.’ Syphon had a rounded accent that stuck in his nostrils, like someone with a bad cold.

  ‘I would call it a kid with an out-of-control ego.’

  ‘Please sit down.’

  ‘How old are you?’ Max sneered.

  Syphon paused before answering. ‘I’ll be seventeen next birthday.’

  ‘You’re sixteen!’ Max cried. ‘A sixteen-year-old is kidnapping brilliant scientists and trying to boss the world around like some schoolyard bully.’

  ‘Please,’ Syphon repeated slowly. ‘Sit down.’

  Max crossed her arms and stood where she was. ‘I’m not being told what to do by some kid just out of primary school.’

  Max felt the butt of the gun in her back once again and decided, with the others, to take a seat.

  The room they were in was large and cavernous. It was carved out of the subterranean rock to create a grand, arched roof with pillars rising from the ground so that it felt more like an underground cathedral than the hideout of a mad teenager. At one end was an ocean pool that wound its way into the cave and gently nudged at a sleek, red speedboat. Along each wall were frequently placed TV monitors with multiple angles of the warren-like den, including, Max noticed, a lab.

  She slowly slipped her hands into her pocket and began recording on her MP3. Catching Linden’s eyes, she looked down at his watch. He immediately responded by lifting his elbows onto the table and began taping.

  ‘You may think I am a megalomaniac, but that doesn’t mean I’m impolite.’

  Syphon clapped his hands twice. A door behind him swung open, delivering into the room a stream of waiters in crisp white uniforms bearing trays of steaming food that filled the air with stomach-teasing aromas. Ricotta cheese pie, rabbit stew, roast beef, baked chicken, golden roasted potatoes, baked macaroni and, for dessert, a large cream-and strawberry-topped chocolate cake.

  A waiter circled the table, laying a napkin on the laps of all the guests. Syphon picked up his fork. ‘Please start.’

  Linden reached out his hand, which shook at the enormity of his decision of what to have first.

  ‘We’ve eaten. Thank you,’ Max snapped.

  Linden stopped mid-reach and looked at Max as if she had finally and completely gone crazy.

  ‘We have?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered pointedly.

  Linden’s hand sank back into his lap. His stomach tightened and sent out a loud, echoing rumble.

  ‘Suit yourself.’ Syphon picked up his plate and served himself some roast beef, potatoes and ricotta pie. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing, though.’

  He tucked into his meal with more sounds of Linden’s stomach rumbling in the background.

  ‘My name is Louis B. –’

  ‘Syphon. We know.’ Max looked bored. ‘Greenfield Incorporated. “Tomorrow’s Scientific Solutions, Today”. Or is it “Tomorrow’s Bad Hairdos, Today”?’

  Syphon finished a mouthful of pie. ‘You don’t take hints very well, do you?’

  ‘What hints?’ Max asked suspiciously.

  ‘We tried all sorts of ways to dissuade you from being here today, but you wouldn’t heed our warnings.’

  Max zeroed in on Syphon’s adder-like grin. ‘You were behind the firecracker on Henry’s carriage and my backpack malfunctioning, weren’t you?’

  ‘The full credit goes to Kenneth.’

  At that moment a stocky man with a scar running the length of his cheek entered the room.

  ‘He’s the one I saw at the bus stop and with the box of seafood that spilled over me at the luncheon.’

  ‘Yes, that’s him. Kenneth is very good at covering a lot of ground.’ Syphon smiled proudly. ‘He’s quite the talent.’

  ‘You mean quite the freak.’

  Kenneth let his head fall to the side before turning it suddenly in a sickening, echoing crack.

  ‘It’s you. You were the one I saw in the gardens on the night of the opening.’

  ‘Yes, that would be him.’

  Linden gulped as Syphon bit into a huge forkful of pie.

  ‘Who would have guessed I’d spend so much time at a leech conference, and it took me until now to meet the biggest leech of all?’ Max smiled.

  ‘I could take offence at that but I can’t be bothered. It’s been a long time since I was a child and insults don’t trouble me overly, little girl.’

  ‘Easy on the “little girl” comments.’

  ‘If you like.’ Syphon bit into a large, crispy roasted potato.

  ‘Why did you send someone to threaten Straussmann?’ Max asked.

  Syphon’s face curled into a pained smirk. ‘Useless Straussmann – I should never have trusted him. I knew he was weak.’

  Kenneth leant his head to the other side and twisted it upright with a loud crack.

  ‘Can you stop doing that?’ Max turned and snapped.

  ‘It helps him when he’s feeling tense.’

  ‘Well, as long as he’s comfortable.’ Max fixed Syphon with a defiant stare.

  ‘What do you want with Alfonzo?’

  ‘When I bought the lab where Alfonzo worked, I bought it for one reason only.’

  ‘The rehydration capsules?’ Linden’s question was partly motivated by an attempt to help him stop thinking about food.

  ‘Precisely, but then he left, and the formula and procedure for the capsules mysteriously disappeared as well, leaving only a handful of already created capsules. I want either the procedure or Alfonzo back.’

  ‘You’re the one behind the water shortages and the malfunctioning desalination plant.’ Max remembered Stefan’s words.

  ‘Again, Kenneth is to thank for that, in preparation for our little plan to work more effectively. You see, a few years ago I was about to make scientific history with a brilliant invention of mine –’

  ‘Creating energy from sand,’ Max interrupted. ‘Blah, blah, blah … and it failed. Spectacularly. In front of the whole world.’

  The smallest of sneers formed on Syphon’s face.

  ‘As you say, the ending was unfortunate and had the effect of destroying my scientific reputation.’

  ‘Boo hoo,’ Max looked away.

  Syphon gripped his dinner knife and continued. ‘Once this country’s water supplies run dry and their desalination plants are ruined, I will arrive with my rehydration capsules and save them from a terrible demise. I will be seen as a saviour – and all in front of the world’s media, of course. I become respected once again as a scientist, the people of Malta love me and leaders of countries all over the world will flock to buy my capsules.’ He looked again at Alfonzo. ‘Once I have the formula, that will all be
possible.’

  ‘Why here?’ Linden asked. ‘What have the Maltese people ever done to you?’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ Syphon sang. ‘In fact, I’d say the people of Malta were most charming and welcoming. It’s just that, who would ever think to find an operation of this magnitude on such a small, peaceful island?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess they’re not used to finding raving lunatics tucked away in their rocky grottos.’

  This time Syphon flinched. Just barely, but enough for Linden to nudge Max, warning her to be careful.

  Syphon bit into the last of his pie. ‘Has Alfonzo told you the whole story of my offer?’

  ‘It’s none of your business what he’s told us,’ Max spat.

  ‘My assistants were instructed to offer Alfonzo hundreds of thousands of pounds, luxury yachts, a castle in Lichtenstein and a private golf club membership in the finest club in Scotland, but he declined everything.’

  ‘Maybe you’re just not that great to work for.’

  ‘Cute.’ Syphon pointed a wagging finger at her. ‘Very cute.’

  ‘Why didn’t you accept, Alfonzo?’ Syphon’s curious gaze poured all over Alfonzo. ‘Many other people would have been happy with half as much.’

  Alfonzo shrugged. ‘I don’t like golf.’

  Syphon sniffed through a bemused laugh. ‘Strange.’

  ‘It’s strange not to want to be rich and spoilt?’ Max asked.

  ‘Yes. Most people want that. Why not him?’ Syphon’s eyebrows creased together. ‘Besides,’ he snapped out of his confusion, ‘I do not have what I want, and I do not like that.’

  ‘Poor little rich boy.’ Max pouted. ‘Doesn’t have what he wants and he’s going to stamp his feet until he gets it.’

  ‘Don’t push me, girlie. You won’t like where you end up.’ For the first time since they’d entered the room, Syphon’s voice slashed through the air like a wrecking ball. ‘People still mistakenly think that the most powerful currency in the world is gold or oil, but they’re wrong. It’s the pure, delightful simplicity of water, and once I emerge on the world stage as the hero of the escalating global water crisis, people everywhere will respect me as I am due.’