‘A pact?’ Toby asked. ‘Sounds good.’ He took Linden’s hand.
Max sighed and looked at the two outstretched hands. Holding one boy’s hand was enough to make a girl want to run, but two? She also knew Linden wouldn’t start the mission without it. She reached out gingerly and took their hands.
Toby slipped on his best Mr Smarm voice. ‘I could tell you wanted to hold my hand as soon as I arrived.’
‘Linden, make it fast.’ Max closed her eyes.
Linden smiled. ‘If Max or Toby should come to harm or get lost or be in danger in any way, I, Linden Franklin, will do everything I can to help them and bring them to safety. Your turn, Toby.’
Toby repeated the pact and squeezed Max’s hand when he’d finished. ‘Lots of girls would kill to have me looking after them.’
‘Don’t you mean they risk being killed with you looking after them?’
‘You can try and resist me for only so long before you crack. You’ll see.’
‘I’ll crack you if you don’t –’
A gentle bump onto the tarmac told them they’d arrived at Charles de Gaulle Airport in Paris. Max hurriedly said her pact before snapping her hands back and wiping them on her pants.
The agents slipped on their packs and stood at the exit hatch. A muttering Steinberger remained dreamily strapped in his seat.
‘Steinberger?’ Max said.
He kept muttering.
‘Steinberger! We’re here. In Paris. And we thought we should get on with the mission, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Mission …’ he muttered further.
‘Someone has got to do something about this,’ Max mumbled before adding, ‘We’ll see you when we get back.’ She led the other agents down the exit hatch, leaving a lovesick Steinberger wallowing in a pool of his brain-slushing crush.
‘Get him off me.’ Max shook her leg to try and free herself from a curly haired, snarling poodle whose miniature jaws had clamped onto her pants. ‘Get him off me!’
Linden, Max and Toby were standing on the front steps of a palace-like Parisian house. It was surrounded by a thick garden; tall, looming trees; a swirling pebbled drive and, only in the last few seconds, the echoing cries and snarls of Max and the chomping poodle.
Linden tried to coax the furry animal away with a ball he found in the bushes, while Toby tried logic. ‘Come on, girl. You haven’t even met Max yet. How can you know so soon you don’t like her?’
‘Fifi? Where are you?’ A voice came from inside the house.
The dog stopped growling and tugging.
‘Fifi?’
Fifi gave one last wrench that tore the seam of Max’s pants before unhitching herself and running inside the mansion.
Max looked down at the damage. ‘That slobbering mutt ripped my pants!’
‘You’re lucky we were here to save you.’ Toby wiped his brow. ‘Otherwise she could have ruined more than just your pants.’
Max stood, her face within centimetres of Toby’s. ‘Next time I need rescuing, remind me to call someone else.’
She walked to the house and followed the cooing sounds of, she guessed, Fifi’s owner. ‘There there, ma chère. It’s okay now.’
Max walked through a foyer that looked like a mini-museum stuffed with paintings and artefacts and followed the voice into an equally over-stuffed sitting room. It was crammed with glass cabinets of old pots, vases and jewellery, stone plinths holding busts of ancient rulers squeezed next to settees, lounges and coffee tables. There were softly lit papyrus paintings lining the walls beneath a lofty ceiling painted with floating clouds and plumpish angels.
And seated on an antique lounge, a girl cradled the mauling pup on her lap. ‘Ah, the babysitters are here.’ She had long dark hair, a deep, sunbaked tan and a flowing shirt hanging loosely over a pair of designer jeans.
‘Actually,’ Max said, ‘we are secret agents who –’
The poodle sat up and snarled. ‘What’s wrong, Fifi?’ The girl nuzzled into the animal’s curly white coat. ‘You never behave like this with anyone.’
‘It is strange.’ Toby sat on the lounge beside her. ‘Animals usually love Max.’
The poodle leant forward and licked his hand.
‘She likes you,’ the girl cooed again. ‘Fifi has an excellent sense for picking good people.’
‘He came at me from nowhere and tore my pants.’ Max pointed at her ragged-edged trouser leg covered in poodle slobber.
‘He’s a she.’ The girl’s eyes sailed over Max’s clothes. ‘And it’s lucky you weren’t wearing anything stylish.’ She turned away and looked at the boys. ‘I am Veronique Marceau.’ She gave them a kittenish smile. ‘It is charming to meet you both.’
Max looked down and took a careful glance at the clothes she was wearing. Baggy pants, regular shirt – a little faded – and trainers. It might not impress anyone, but at least she was comfortable.
‘You speak English,’ Linden said.
‘And German, Japanese, Finnish and Spanish. I’m learning Arabic too, but I’m not very good yet.’
Fifi raised a fluffy eyebrow at Max and bared her teeth revealing an almost snarling smile on her doggy jowls. Max scowled back.
A tall man in a black suit stood at the door holding his hat before him. As he spoke to Veronique, the three agents’ Descramblers went into action, translating his words into English.
‘Your car is ready.’
Veronique stood up. ‘It’s time to go.’
‘Go where?’ Max asked.
‘An audition for a television show that is looking for new talent.’ She held up a gold-framed mirror and teased her hair with her fingers. ‘And I think I’m exactly what they are looking for.’
‘You don’t think you should stay here?’ Max asked. ‘Considering what’s just happened to your –’
‘I have been instructed to carry on with my life as normal and that you are here to protect me.’ Her smile seemed like a taunt. ‘You can stay if you like, but I do not think Commandant Tetu would be happy if you did. Come on, Fifi.’
Fifi jumped off the lounge, barking at Max as she skittled from the room after Veronique.
‘She’s right, Max. Our mission is to stay with her,’ Linden said. ‘And it might be fun.’
‘I think I’d have more fun shipwrecked in a sea full of sharks.’
Linden laughed.
‘I’m serious.’
‘I know. That’s what I like about you.’
Parked outside was a long black limousine with deep leather seats that resembled more of a lounge room than the inside of a car.
‘You own a limousine?’ Toby asked.
‘It was a present from a friend of Papa’s. He thought it too extravagant and was going to refuse, but I convinced him we should have it.’
After they’d all buckled themselves in, Veronique placed Fifi in a special dog seat between Max and everyone else. Veronique laughed and giggled with Linden and Toby throughout the journey and filled every second with stories of herself, famous people she’d met and holidays to exotic places.
Fifi stared at Max the whole way and, whenever she went to speak, the poodle bared her salivary white teeth and growled.
‘Fine,’ Max whispered to the mutt, ‘I wouldn’t want to take away from her majesty’s limelight.’
Max stared out the window as the streets of Paris slid past. Cafes and parks filled with people laughing in the sun and strolling along tree-lined boulevards and avenues. The River Seine streamed silkily beneath them as they crossed the city’s oldest bridge, the Pont Neuf. They drove around the traffic-choked road circling the hulking single arch of the Arc de Triomphe before heading down the bustling, stylish shopping strip of the Avenue des Champs-Elysées.
It seemed everyone, from tiny kids to old men and women, had dressed up for an important function. Taxi drivers, teachers leading groups of small children, street sweepers and flower-sellers. She looked down at her torn pants and the dark stain where Fifi’s dog dribble was
starting to dry. Everyone was dressed elegantly, Max thought, except her.
The limousine swung into the driveway of the TV studio and stopped before the glass entrance.
‘Ready for my big moment?’ Veronique smiled at the boys and pulled her seat forward to reveal a concealed wardrobe. She took out a covered clothes hanger and a shoebox. ‘Could you carry these for me?’ she asked Toby and Linden in a helpless baby voice.
‘Sure. We’d love to.’ Toby almost grovelled.
‘Oh, and bring Fifi will you, Max? Her lead is hanging there beside you.’
‘Sure.’ Max glowered and lifted the sparkling pink lead. ‘Because it isn’t bad enough I have to mind a spoilt brat, now I have to dog-sit, too.’
Fifi barked dog breath all over her.
‘You know an animal your size would be easy to lose,’ Max warned.
Inside the TV station, the auditions had begun. After signing in, Veronique and the agents sat in the audience listening to the last of a love song sung by a young girl.
Max’s face screwed up into an expression of pain. ‘I’ve heard chainsaws sing better than that.’
‘It was actually very good, but you have to have a musical ear to hear it. I need to go to the changing room.’ Veronique jumped to her feet. She rubbed her nose against Fifi’s and took the shoebox and hanger from the boys. ‘Take care of my little angel … and wish me luck!’
‘This babysitting thing is going to be more painful than I thought.’ Max sighed.
‘I like her,’ Toby said.
‘Like her?’ Max almost choked. ‘She’s a spoilt little rich girl who is obsessed with how she looks and how interesting she thinks she is.’
Fifi growled at Max’s feet.
‘She’s not that bad, Max,’ Linden reasoned. ‘I guess you have to be pretty confident to enter these things.’
Max’s palm computer began to vibrate. She slipped it out of her pocket. ‘It’s Tetu.’ She slumped down in her seat. ‘Just when I thought my day couldn’t get any worse.’ She opened the connection. ‘Hello, Commandant Tetu.’
‘You ’ave met Mademoiselle Marceau?’
‘We have. You didn’t tell us she was so cheery.’
‘Cheeriness iz not zomething I care for. Where iz she now?’
‘Backstage at a TV station getting ready for some singing contest.’
‘You left ’er alone? Unattended? Open to attack?’ Tetu’s face smouldered into a fiery glow.
‘Well, not quite open to …’
‘You ’ad a simple order to stay wiz ’er at all times.’ Tetu steamed. ‘Find ’er now! Or you will be expelled from zis mission immediately. And remember, do not bring any unnecessary attention to yourself.’
The screen went almost as black as Max’s mood. Which was when she smelt something strange.
‘Aaaah!’ She jumped up. ‘Why you little …’
The bustle of the auditions stopped, including the singer on stage, who was heading for her big finale.
‘What is it?’ Linden looked down and saw a puddle around Max’s shoes and a smug-looking Fifi sitting beside them. ‘Oh.’
‘It’s okay, everyone. It’s just a little accident.’ Toby called out and the room slowly went back to the fuss of the audition, except for the girl on stage, who ran off in a weeping mess.
Toby held his nose. ‘At least she chose the opposite leg to attack this time.’
‘I’m going to check on her highness.’ Max handed Linden Fifi’s lead. ‘Someone else can take care of the fleabag.’
Max found Veronique in the wings of the stage. She wore a long, tightly fitted dress that swirled around her from one shoulder and looked like it was straight from the windows of a top Paris boutique. Max sighed and walked over in her less-than-glamorous wrinkled shirt, tattered trousers and pee-stained shoes.
‘What is that smell?’ Veronique sniffed. ‘You really ought to buy a better perfume.’
‘It’s not perfume, it’s …’
A woman with a clipboard and microphone headset approached. ‘Veronique Marceau, you are next,’ Max’s Descrambler translated.
‘Wish me luck.’ Veronique turned and flicked her hair into Max’s face before gliding onto the stage. The crying singer was being led away and consoled by her mother, while two girls nearby pinched their noses and pointed at Max’s pants.
‘Why do I feel like my life is slowly swirling down a giant French toilet?’
The music began. Veronique’s eyes closed. She took a deep breath before moving her hands in front of her like slow-motion butterflies.
‘Oh, come on,’ Max scoffed, but when she craned forward and looked into the audience, everyone, including an old man dressed in a large coat and hat at the back of the auditorium, was transported into some kind of adoring gaze.
Max went to reach for her MP3 player to reduce her suffering, when she saw the old man lift a pair of binoculars and point it in Veronique’s direction. He kept them trained on her every move.
Max lifted her watch to her eye. ‘Say cheese, Monsieur.’ She clicked a few photographs and watched him closely until Veronique warbled through her last, lingering note. During the applause, the old man stood up and hobbled towards the darkened rear of the auditorium.
‘I was great, wasn’t I?’ Veronique panted to Max. ‘Listen to their applause! I really performed perfectly. Oh, one of the judges is calling me over.’
She ran down the stage stairs and skipped through the crowd to the judges’ table. Max kept her in her sights and walked back to Linden and Toby.
She sat down heavily beside them. ‘I’ve survived leeches, worms, plane crashes and megalomaniacs with egos bigger than Mount Everest, but I was in danger of not making it through that performance.’
She turned to see Toby wiping his eye.
‘Please, tell me you’re crying because that was so bad.’
‘That was really … touching.’ Toby looked away.
‘Touching? I think someone has touched you on the head with a hammer and you didn’t notice.’
‘To sing like that takes real talent,’ Linden added.
‘Talent? What’s so talented about whining into a microphone about a boy who has broken your heart and left you sad and blah, blah, blah.’
Fifi growled.
Max watched as Veronique enthused at the judges’ table. ‘And doesn’t she seem a little calm for a girl whose father has been kidnapped?’
‘She’s probably doing her best not to think about it,’ Linden said.
‘Why are you always so reasonable?’
Linden shrugged. ‘Mum always said it was part of my charm.’
‘Well, before we get carried away with what other charms you have, look at this.’ Max held up her watch. ‘This guy was watching Veronique though her whole performance.’
‘I didn’t realise it was so cold in here,’ Toby said.
‘My guess is the coat and hat aren’t for warmth,’ Linden added.
‘I’ll run it by Tetu and see if he can identify him and form any leads.’ Max’s palm computer vibrated again. ‘Ah, there’s my best friend now.’ She opened the connection. ‘Commandant Tetu, how nice to see you again. And so soon.’
‘Spare me ze sentiment.’ Tetu’s left eye twitched. ‘Did you locate ze girl?’
‘Veronique is fine, but there was this guy in the audience who was paying particularly close attention to her while she was singing.’
Tetu again rouged up. ‘A guy? Which guy? What guy?’ His eye went into twitching overdrive. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Is ’e still zere?’
‘I’m telling you now and, no, he’s not still here.’ Max took off her watch and plugged it into her palm computer with a USB connector. ‘I’m sending you a picture of him now.’
‘She is safe, unharmed, out of danger?’
‘Yes, all three,’ Max confirmed.
‘Bon. I will have the photo examined. For now, we ’ave finished our forensic investigation at ze Louvre and I ’ave decided
it is time to bring Veronique ’ere. We need ’er to look around ze office of ’er papa to see if zere iz anyzing unusual zat will lead us to where ’e iz. ’Ave you finished wiz ze zinging?’
‘Well and truly, we’ll zing her right over,’ Max answered. ‘But we’ll need to go home first and change. There’s been a little …’
‘You will bring ’er ’ere now.’ The twitching eye filled the screen. ‘From where you are it should take forty minutes.’
Max felt the cold hard black of the screen slam against her. ‘Looks like we’re going to the Louvre. Now.’
In a darkened corner of the auditorium, an overcoated figure watched the agents move towards Veronique. He drew heavy, drudged breaths. When they had left, he turned and disappeared through the darkened exit.
‘You’re late.’
The agents found themselves in the same dim corridor of the Louvre that was shown to them in the security camera footage.
Max looked at her watch. ‘By one minute.’
‘One minute still makes you late, delayed, behind schedule. And zat is somezing I do not enjoy.’ Commandant Tetu’s eye twitched.
‘Ah, you ’ave brought your fluffy little friend.’ He patted Fifi like he was patting a slug. ‘Hello, doggy.’
Max and Toby swapped stifled smiles as Fifi ran behind Veronique’s legs.
Tetu straightened and wiped his hands on a hanky. ‘Welcome, Mademoiselle Marceau. Are you well?’
‘As well as I can be, Commandant.’ Over her dress, Veronique wore a long coat that she now pulled around her. ‘I am trying to carry on as normal, as you requested.’
‘I know zis is a very ’ard time for you, but we won’t keep you long.’
Tetu sniffed the air in disgust, his nose gravitating towards Max. ‘What iz zat smell? Actually, don’t tell me. We don’t ’ave time. Follow me.’ He spun on his heels and clipped down the corridor.
‘That man has got to relax,’ Max said. ‘And does anyone else find that eye twitching thing annoying?’
‘It started after he was shot trying to save the president,’ Veronique said. ‘He could easily have died. The whole of France thinks Commandant Tetu is a hero.’
‘So, he’s a hero,’ Max shrugged. ‘Would it hurt to crack a smile?’
The French Code Page 4
