‘I guess, but he is a very respected man.’
‘Even the very respected can be tempted if there is enough money involved.’
‘What do you have on your sandwich?’
‘Tuna and egg. And you?’
‘Salami.’
‘Salami’s good.’
While the two men continued talking about sandwiches, Veronique handed Linden his earplug and turned back down the hall to the bay window. Linden and Max followed.
‘They think Papa was paid to let intruders into the Musée? Why would they think he’d do that?’ Fifi jumped up and rested her head on Veronique’s lap. ‘They aren’t guarding me for my own protection, but to find evidence of a crime they think Papa has committed.’
‘We’ve got to work out that message your dad left you,’ Linden said.
‘What message?’ Max asked.
‘Veronique thinks her dad has left her a message on the cryptex,’ Linden explained. ‘But first we have to work out the five-letter code word to open it.’
‘So Tetu was right,’ Max said.
‘Not about Papa being a criminal,’ Veronique challenged.
‘Okay,’ Max said, ‘which makes it even more important that we decode the message.’
Veronique cradled the cryptex in her fingers.
‘What words would your dad use?’ Linden sat beside her. She studied the device before looking up.
‘I’ve got it.’ She turned the rings of the cryptex so that it spelt ‘Egypt’. Veronique held both ends and pulled, but it wouldn’t budge.
‘How about a song or a favourite word your dad often used?’ Max suggested.
‘He liked the word “chaos”. He said his job was to find order and answers in a world of increasing chaos.’
Veronique lined up the letters and took a deep breath before pulling at the ends. It didn’t move. ‘It’s something else.’
‘What about a place or a person that’s important for you both?’ Max asked. ‘Think of something personal, just between you and him.’
Veronique stared at the cryptex. ‘Crete. We often go there for our holidays.’ But again the machine wouldn’t open.
Veronique turned the cryptex in her hands before the solution came to her. ‘Elise,’ she said. ‘It was my mother’s name.’
She rotated the marble letters of the cryptex and held the cylinder carefully in her hands. With a little resistance, the two ends of the device separated and a rolled note fell out.
‘Looks like that’s it.’ Linden picked up the note and handed it to Veronique.
She unrolled it. Her shoulders fell. ‘There’s nothing on it.’
‘Hey, look what I …’ Toby stopped at the top of the stairs with a pile of post in his hands. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Veronique opened the cryptex, but the message inside is blank,’ Max said.
‘There is a message inside? And you opened it without me?’
‘Yeah, who would have thought we wouldn’t need your genius after all,’ Max said.
‘Do you know why your dad would leave a blank sheet of paper in there?’ Linden asked.
Veronique shook her head.
‘Maybe the message is invisible.’ Max shrugged.
Veronique smiled. ‘Maybe it is.’
‘Is what?’ Max asked.
‘Invisible.’ Toby agreed. ‘You know, Max Remy, sometimes you are very smart.’
‘Thanks.’ Max had no idea what either of them were talking about.
‘Papa has a black light in his study,’ Veronique said.
‘No need.’ Toby reached into his backpack and slipped out a silver pen-shaped object. ‘I’ve brought my own.’
‘What’s that?’ Max asked.
‘A black light. It detects messages written in UV pen that can’t be seen under normal light. They use them a lot in galleries and museums to secretly catalogue works for security purposes. Hit the switch, will you, Linden?
Toby pointed the black light over the note. When Linden flicked the switch, purplish scribbled letters appeared in its glow:
For she that’s sweet
A special treat
In a secret place
Where we would meet
‘What does that mean?’ Max asked Veronique.
‘I’m not sure, but it’s definitely Papa’s handwriting.’
Toby shoved the post in his back pocket. ‘For she that’s sweet.’ He turned to Veronique. ‘That has to be you.’
‘Absolutely,’ Max added sweetly. ‘Who else could it be?’
‘A special treat,’ Linden added. ‘Sounds like one of those hidden gifts you told me about.’
‘In a secret place where we would meet,’ Toby said. ‘Did you and your dad have something you did together that no-one else was part of? Somewhere you went? Something you did together?’
‘We had a few things, especially when there were just the two of us.’
‘Somewhere no-one else knew about,’ Linden said. ‘And where you’d meet, probably often by the sounds of it.’
Veronique focused on the note. ‘A secret place,’ she repeated. ‘A secret … The fudge tin.’ She looked up. ‘At night, if we both couldn’t sleep, we’d often meet in the pantry beneath the fudge tin. We’d sit on the floor and eat fudge. Papa would tell me stories about ancient pharaohs or tomb robbers who died from mysterious diseases stealing riches from pyramids. Or of beautiful queens who stole the hearts of even the hardest rulers. It was my favourite time, and he’d tell these stories until I got sleepy.’
‘Looks like we’re going on a trip to the pantry,’ Linden smiled.
They followed Veronique downstairs to the kitchen and to a large walk-in pantry at the end. On a top shelf was an old and battered tin painted with a scene of the French countryside. ‘It’s that one.’
Linden reached up and grabbed the tin. After a few good tugs he opened it. ‘It’s fudge.’ He tried to squash the disappointment in his voice. ‘Anyone care for some?’
‘Why not?’ Toby took a piece but Max and Veronique shook their heads. ‘Well, if I’m the only one.’ He lifted out another slice, which lay on top of a small object wrapped in cloth.
‘That’s it!’ Linden pulled the object out and unwrapped the cloth carefully.
‘It’s a Taweret amulet.’ Veronique took a sculptured stone piece from Linden’s hand. It was part lion, hippopotamus, crocodile and human, and had been threaded through with a silver chain.
‘What’s a Taweret amulet?’ Max asked.
‘It’s a goddess symbol that was very popular in ancient Egypt. She was seen as the protector of children and the home, especially at night when the forces of chaos were at their most powerful.’ Veronique recited the lore as if from memory.
Max screwed up her face. ‘It’s a little ugly, isn’t it?’
‘The three animals were believed to be some of the fiercest in ancient Egypt, and combining their strengths produced a powerful deity and amulet.’
‘So your dad left you a protective symbol,’ Linden said. ‘Why did he think you needed protecting? And from whom?’
‘I don’t know.’ Veronique slipped the chain around her neck and clutched the amulet. ‘But we’re still no closer to knowing where Papa is.’
‘This might help.’ Toby remembered the mail in his back pocket and handed her a folded-up horse magazine in a plastic cover. ‘The guys at the front asked me to give it to you.’
‘Maybe she can look through that later?’ Linden suggested.
‘There’s a letter inside. For Veronique. The police went through it all, but when I looked at the magazine, I noticed the seal on the magazine had been tampered with.’
Veronique opened the magazine and took out an envelope with her name on the front. She tore it open and unfolded the note. She gasped before handing the note to Linden. He read:
We have Marceau. Tell anyone & he is finished. Be at 16 Rue du Repos, Avenue Circulaire 66, 9 pm tonight.
‘Who is it from?’ Max
asked.
Linden turned it over. ‘It doesn’t say.’ He looked up the address on his palm computer. ‘Oh.’
‘What?’ Max asked.
‘The address is for Cimetière Du Père Lachaise. That means cemetery, right?’
Veronique nodded. ‘Not just any cemetery. It is one of the most famous in the world. It has the graves of many well-known writers, painters, musicians and thinkers.’ Her face whitened. ‘My father is considered a great thinker. Maybe they’ve …’
‘It’ll be best not to think about “maybes”,’ Linden said calmly.
‘Aah!’ Linden flicked the note from his hands. The bottom edge began to smoke and the letter ignited, drifting to the floor as a pile of ash.
‘A self-destructing note,’ Toby said. ‘I guess that rules out getting any fingerprints.’
‘Someone doesn’t want to be traced,’ Linden said.
‘We need to leave.’ Veronique scooped up Fifi.
‘I don’t think all of us should go.’ Max looked pointedly at Linden.
‘Max is right,’ Linden said. ‘Toby and I will go, and you and Veronique stay here.’
‘But I …’ Max spluttered.
‘It’s a good plan,’ Toby added. ‘The police have completely surrounded this house and are watching Veronique’s every move, so she needs to stay here.’ He added with a smile. ‘And it’ll give you two a chance to bond.’
Fifi barked.
‘Sorry. You three.’
‘We’ll be in constant radio contact via the watches,’ Linden said. ‘You’ll know our every move. I promise.’
Veronique nodded. ‘Okay. If you think it is best. I will trust you, Linden.’
Max pursed her lips.
‘How will you get there?’ Veronique asked.
‘Our backpacks are also Personal Flying Devices, and we have a GPS system on our palm computers as well as detailed maps of Paris.’
‘I feel very safe being guarded by someone so smart.’ Linden’s face smudged bright red as Veronique sidled up beside him. ‘And brave.’
‘You could use the Time and Space Machine,’ Max blurted louder than she’d intended.
‘We’ll leave that with you in case you need it,’ Linden said.
‘Right.’ Toby pulled a small shampoo bottle from his backpack. ‘Who’s in for a bit of Invisibility Cream then?’
‘Invisibility Cream?’ Veronique frowned.
‘Yeah.’ Toby winked. ‘Watch this.’
Toby and Linden squirted the cream onto their hands and began to disappear as they applied it to their bodies and packs.
‘Have we missed anywhere?’ Toby asked.
‘Only there.’ Max pointed to a waving strand of Linden’s wild hair.
‘Oh,’ she heard Linden say, before the strand of hair disappeared.
Max did a final check of the space where Linden and Toby stood invisibly. ‘I think you’re done.’
Veronique reached into the space before her. ‘You really are invisible?’
‘Yep. That’s me,’ Linden said. ‘And that.’
Max watched as Veronique poked and prodded the air. ‘What about there?’
‘There too.’ Linden laughed. ‘Ah, that tickles.’
‘And there?’
‘Yep.’
Veronique grinned. ‘And what about –’
‘Will you stop touching Linden!’ Max snapped.
The room went quiet.
‘I mean …’ Max coughed. ‘It’s time for Linden and Toby to leave, and we shouldn’t hold them up.’
Max could hear Toby smother his laugh. ‘We do have to go.’
‘We’ll be in contact and keep you updated on how we’re going,’ Linden’s voice floated through the air. ‘Veronique, what’s the most discreet way out of here?’
‘Follow me.’
They made their way to a darkened room at the side of the house where there were fewer undercover police. Max and Veronique watched as it seemed like the curtains opened themselves and the window slid upwards.
‘Au revoir,’ whispered Toby before he landed with a muffled ooph outside, followed by a faint squelch of pebbles. A second crush of pebbles sounded as a policeman’s torch light swung through the night beneath the window. Veronique froze before leaning outside and waving at the dutiful officer. ‘Bonsoir, monsieur.’ She flashed her best smile.
The policeman moved closer. Max’s Descrambler translated. ‘It would be better, Mademoiselle, if you keep the windows closed. For your own safety.’
‘I was taking in some fresh air.’ Veronique exaggerated a deep breath.
The officer gave one final sweep of his torch before turning away.
‘Be careful,’ Veronique whispered.
‘We will,’ Linden answered before a nearby bush parted and sprang back into position.
‘Will they be okay?’ Veronique asked.
‘They’ll be fine. If your dad is going to be found, they’re the ones to do it.’
Veronique took one last look outside before closing the window and locking it securely against the night.
Agent Max Remy, the finest spy from the intelligence agency, Spyforce, was on the trail of Madame Grande-Bouche, a wealthy and garrulous woman fond of talking about herself and erecting statues in honour of her imagined talents. She had also recently been elected to the French Parliament and had aspirations of becoming France’s next Prime Minister.
She was famous for donating large sums of money to charities and institutions all over France – hospitals, museums, wildlife foundations, environmental groups – as long as with each donation a statue was erected in her name.
‘Perfect,’ Madame Grande-Bouche oozed as the truck’s crane lowered the most recent statue onto the ground outside the Musée du Louvre in Paris. She stepped closer and surveyed her finely chiselled features. ‘A very good likeness indeed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was real.’ She laughed out loud, as did her cronies who followed her every demanding footstep.
Working undercover as an apprentice sculptor, Max Remy had discovered that the statues weren’t just Madame Grande-Bouche’s attempt at preserving her memory long after she had gone. Every statue was carved so that her extended finger provided a perch for a small sculptured bluebird to rest. All very sweet, Max thought, until she discovered the open mouth of the birds were wired to a length of tube that would, at a specific time on election day, release a hypnotic gas into the air, transfixing the public into voting for Madame Grande-Bouche. Once in power, she would change laws to make her the most powerful and wealthy woman France had ever seen. She would shut down hospitals, ban environmental groups and singing outdoors, except when she was giving one of her many concerts. There would be no end to her megalomaniac, conniving, self-seeking, fat-headed, big-mouthed
‘Hey. That’s mine!’
Fifi hurried away from Max’s plate, where she’d crept onto a chair and stolen her slice of strawberry tart.
‘You love strawberries, don’t you, Fifi?’ Veronique smiled from the lounge where she was brushing her hair.
‘Maybe he can get his own next time.’ Max sent a sour smile back.
‘She,’ Veronique reminded her. ‘What are you writing?’
‘Nothing.’ Max closed her spy notebook and slipped it into her backpack.
‘Sounds fascinating.’ Veronique laid the brush down on an antique table beside her. ‘So, apart from writing about nothing and being in a bad mood all the time, what else do you like to do?’
‘I’m not in a bad mood all the time.’ Max raised her voice. ‘And don’t you think you better stop all that brushing in case your hair falls out?’
‘Don’t you think you should try using a hairbrush?’
Max’s hands flew to her hips. ‘I use a –’
‘It helps take my mind off Papa and the boys,’ Veronique interrupted.
‘Right. It’s got nothing to do with how beautiful you think you are.’
‘My father has been kidnapped.
I don’t think you realise …’
A police officer knocked at the door. ‘Everything okay, Mademoiselle?’
Veronique calmed down. ‘Yes, thank you. Everything’s fine,’ Max’s Descrambler translated.
Veronique slumped back onto the lounge after the officer left. ‘I’m not going to be able to take being watched so closely.’ She looked around. ‘Ah, that will help.’
In the far corner of the room beneath a single stream of warm, orange-tinted light was a sandstone table. It was inlaid with bright blue and red mosaic tiles arranged into climbing snakes and palm trees. Sitting on top, in an open stand, was a leatherbound, yellow-paged book.
‘This will do nicely.’
‘What is it?’ Max asked.
Veronique brought the book over to the table where Max was sitting and sat beside her. Fifi leapt from the lounge and climbed onto a chair between them. ‘It’s called Le Livre des Enonciations or The Book of Sayings. It has thousands of lines of wise quotes and poetry from men and women, famous and not-so-famous, throughout history.’
‘You don’t think there’s a little too much going on to sit here and read quotes?’ Max asked.
‘It’s no less useful than you writing stories about nothing. And it’s not just “reading quotes” – it’s bibliomancy.’
‘Biblio-what?’
‘Bibliomancy. It’s a way of predicting the future by interpreting a passage picked at random from a book. Papa and I love it. The book has to be one you trust a lot. Often people use religious books. St Francis of Assisi was known to use the Bible to help him make decisions.’
‘Isn’t that a little kooky for you and your father to believe in?’ Max frowned. ‘He is a scientist after all.’
‘Not everything comes down to facts and hard evidence. Papa studies the ancient world where many different cultures believed in all sorts of ways to understand their world, and even cure themselves.’
‘Well, I like working in facts and hard evidence.’ Max looked at her watch. ‘Like exactly what time those boys are going to contact us.’
‘Bibliomancy has been believed for centuries.’ Veronique’s smile was full of challenge. ‘But you don’t always get the answers you’re hoping for, so it isn’t surprising you’re too scared to do it.’
The French Code Page 6
