The French Code

by Deborah Abela

  Her foot caught the edge of a rough flagstone and she stumbled into a life-sized stone statue, which she hugged in time to stop from crashing to the floor.

  ‘Oh, do be careful,’ Strangways yelped. ‘These are all rare pieces that if broken can never be replaced.’

  ‘Sorry.’ Max carefully repositioned the statue on its pillar and looked up. She stared at the large, bearded, bluish coloured man with a palm frond on his head and one in his hand. Beside him was another pillar holding a woman with the head of a snake.

  The brass plate below read:

  Nun and Naunet

  Deities of Water and Chaos

  Said to have ruled over the watery mass of chaos before the world began. Ancient Egyptians believed that the waters of Nun would eventually flood the world, and once again the universe would become the prehistoric waste of Nun’s chaotic waters.

  A strange tremor rippled through Max. She moved slowly away and shoved her hands firmly in her pockets.

  Strangways led them beneath another low stone archway and down a shorter set of stairs into a sparsely furnished, low-lit room.

  ‘This is one of my favourite parts.’

  ‘It feels like a crypt.’ Max shivered as the temperature around them fell.

  ‘Actually, it was more of a torture chamber originally.’ Strangways’s voice lowered like a guide leading a ghost tour. ‘This castle was once ruled by a vicious lord who used this dungeon as his punishment pit. He would bring his prisoners down here and leave them shackled to the walls without food or water. Then he’d release a bug of his choice. Wasps, bees, scorpions. Whatever took his fancy. The prisoner’s crime didn’t have to be very big: a dinner served cold, a mumbled greeting, or the mere suspicion that you were up to no good could be enough to secure your journey to oblivion.’

  Strangways’s eyes settled on Max. She tried to hold his stare, but the cold of the room began to prick her eyes. She turned away and found herself facing an upright coffin cradling a bound and frayed mummy.

  ‘Aaaah!’ She screamed. ‘Tell me he’s not a real dead person.’

  ‘She, actually,’ Veronique answered. ‘And yes, quite real and long dead.’ She walked to a glass cabinet containing a scroll of papyrus sheets nestled in a soft, glowing light. ‘I haven’t seen this before, Regi.’

  Strangways’s voice softened like an entomologist coming across a rare insect. ‘That is my latest acquisition.’ He hobbled over, his face warmed with a smile reserved for an old friend. ‘It’s The Book of the Dead. Or one of them at least, but this one is quite unique.’

  ‘This visit just gets more and more cheery.’ Max sighed and sat on the edge of a carved stone pillar. She pulled her knees against her chest and rocked back and forth to try and warm up.

  ‘The books were collections of spells and formulas that were placed in tombs to protect the souls of the deceased, like guidebooks to a happy afterlife, and were otherwise known as books of magic.’ Strangways’s voice was infused with awe.

  ‘Magic?’ Max asked. ‘I thought this was a museum of ancient history?’

  ‘Magic was very much part of the life of the ancient Egyptian. They believed that magic, or heka as they called it, was integral in creating the world and that everyone had the ability to conjure it. But there were rules about how and why it could be used.’

  ‘So everyone in ancient Egypt was a magician?’ Linden asked.

  ‘With the right resources at their fingertips.’ Strangways leant in and smiled greedily. ‘Some were better at it than others.’

  He picked up a pair of white cotton gloves beside the cabinet and slipped them on. ‘Many men died in ancient times trying to gain access to such books. Many forgeries were made to throw them off the track, leading them on erroneous trails.’ He lifted a latch, opened the cabinet door and ran a hand gently over a page filled with hieroglyphic symbols and drawings.

  ‘There were palace and temple books of magic, but also private collections that were handed down within families. This is one of the private ones. Have you seen this before, my dear?’

  Veronique leant over. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I don’t mean to be disrespectful,’ Linden said, ‘but isn’t believing in magic a little …’

  ‘Loopy?’ Strangways finished his sentence. ‘It is no more loopy than much of what we take for granted as true today. No more loopy than the appearance of the first leaf after a fire has destroyed an entire forest. No more loopy than the joining of a few cells that will eventually become a baby.’ He held out his arm, revealing a long scar. ‘Or no more loopy than a cut to the skin that, with time, completely heals itself. All of these things are magic, my boy.’

  ‘With a firm scientific basis,’ Max spelled out.

  ‘For some it is pure science, for others the element of mystery and magic can simply not be denied.’

  ‘What did they use magic for?’ Toby asked.

  ‘Almost anything. As a defence system against sickness, to protect a new home, to rid an area of poisonous snakes.’ Strangways gasped like an excited four-year-old. ‘Why, there are even stories where people brought wax animals to life or rolled back the waters of a lake. After years of searching, your father was the one who finally found this for me.’ Strangways stole a quick glance at Veronique.

  ‘Why wouldn’t he give this book to the Louvre, with all the other artefacts?’ Max asked.

  ‘There are many such books that are far more detailed and, therefore, more important to the museum than this one.’

  ‘How does it work?’ Toby asked.

  Strangways’s eyes were lit from the light of the cabinet. ‘The spell was recited with a series of actions.’ He pronouned each word slowly, carefully. ‘If it was done right, a person could summon the powers of magic and heka was yours.’

  Strangways lifted his arms before him as if he were conducting a giant orchestra. Before he realised, he’d lifted his cane from the floor and began toppling sideways.

  Linden and Veronique caught him.

  ‘Are you okay, Mr Strangways?’ Linden asked.

  ‘Yes, my boy.’ Strangways took out a hanky and wiped it across his brow. ‘I’m sorry, I tend to get carried away whenever talk turns to ancient Egypt.’

  Max rolled her eyes and kept rocking. ‘So, when a person in ancient Egypt died, they had to rely on a bunch of spells to make sure they were happy being dead?’

  ‘It helped,’ Strangways explained. ‘When a person died, the god Anubis would take their souls into the underworld and deliver them to the Hall of Truth, where their heart would be weighed against a feather.’ Strangways held out his hand as if weighing an invisible heart. ‘If the heart weighed less than the feather, it was judged to be full of goodness and granted eternal life.’

  ‘And if it was heavier?’ Toby asked.

  ‘I’m afraid they would face the prospect of eternal darkness.’

  A loud slam echoed around the room followed by a muffled cry. ‘Aaaah!’

  ‘What was that?’ Toby breathed.

  ‘Aaaah!’

  ‘There it is again.’ Linden looked around the room until he realised something was missing. ‘Max? Where is she?’

  ‘I think she’s in there.’ Toby pointed to an ornately painted, human-shaped coffin.

  ‘Get me out of here!’ The muffled yelling continued from within.

  ‘Yep. She’s in there.’ Veronique folded her arms across her chest.

  Toby and Linden hurried to the long wooden sarcophagus and grabbed hold of the lid.

  ‘It won’t open,’ Linden wheezed.

  ‘It has a self-locking system.’ Strangways pulled a key from his pocket. ‘It’s the small gold one.’

  Linden took the key and opened the lock.

  ‘I said get me … Oh.’ Max opened her eyes.

  ‘Seems I am good at rescuing you after all,’ Toby smiled.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Linden asked.

  ‘It was getting cold, so I thought I’d warm up in
here.’ Max felt another small bump forming on her head. No-one moved. ‘But I’d be better if I was out of here.’

  Linden and Toby leant into the coffin and helped Max out.

  ‘You really do have to be more careful, dear.’ Strangways leant on his cane. ‘I would hate for something to happen to you whilst you are in my care.’ He turned to the door. ‘And now it is my bedtime. I need to be up early tomorrow for a board meeting in the city for which I’ll need all my energy just to keep awake. They can be such dreary things.’

  He stood at the exit of the private museum and invited his guests to leave before locking the door behind them. ‘Would you mind, dear?’

  Veronique took Strangways’s hand and helped him up the narrow, circling stairwell.

  At the top of the stairs, Strangways took a moment to catch his breath. ‘You will be treated with the utmost cordiality whilst you are here. And please, treat my estate and everything in it as yours.’

  ‘Does that include the fridge?’ Toby asked.

  An unrestrained smile rolled onto Strangways’s lips. ‘The cupboards and pantry, too. Veronique can fill you in on all the other facilities we have here. And please don’t worry. Wherever you go on the grounds, you will be perfectly safe. ’

  He rang a bell that sat on a hall table.

  ‘Most importantly, I want you to try and forget the horrible events of the past few days. It is for Tetu and his men to do all the work and the worrying.’

  The stiff housemaster appeared unsmilingly beside him.

  Strangways laid a hand against Veronique’s cheek. ‘You look more and more like your mother every day. She would be so proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks, Regi.’

  ‘I’ve had the rooms next to yours made up, Veronique, if you wouldn’t mind showing our guests upstairs. Goodnight.’ Strangways walked down the long corridor to his room, leaning on François’s arm. Each step was strained and tired.

  ‘He’s getting older.’ Veronique watched until she heard the soft click of his bedroom door. ‘Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms.’

  ‘You don’t think he’s, well, strange?’ Max walked closely behind. ‘I mean, the way he was going on about that heka stuff was really weird.’

  Veronique reached the top of the stairs and swung around. Max stopped abruptly and leant back. ‘Regi has always been passionate about his work. It is his life.’

  Max frowned. ‘That doesn’t make him any less weird.’

  ‘I like him,’ Toby said. ‘Okay, all that death and magic stuff is a little crazy, but if I have to listen to a few spooky stories between profiteroles and a luxurious castle holiday, then I can cope.’

  ‘Sometimes I wonder why you want to be a spy.’ Max eyed Toby.

  ‘Same as everyone else.’ Toby grinned. ‘The fame, the girls, the exotic locations.’

  Veronique laughed. Linden did his best to cover a rising smile, and Max did her best to pretend she was still a spy trying to complete an important mission.

  ‘Why’s he so obsessed with spells and magic and what happens after people die? It’s creepy.’

  ‘He isn’t obsessed. When he has an audience, he likes to talk about those aspects for dramatic effect.’ Veronique paused. ‘Regi is a good man and would do nothing to hurt me or Papa.’

  She turned and flung herself into Linden’s arms. He held her as she sobbed.

  Toby levelled a look of blame at Max.

  ‘I just want them to find my father.’ Veronique took out Linden’s hanky and wiped her eyes.

  ‘They will,’ Linden patted her gently. ‘You’ll see.’

  She gave him a fluttering smile and walked down the corridor to her room. ‘You are always so caring, Linden.’ She offered Max one last pointed look before closing the door.

  ‘What’s your problem with Strangways?’ Toby asked.

  ‘I think he knows more about Antoine than he’s telling us,’ Max said quietly. ‘Like I’ll bet he knows exactly what it was Antoine wanted to show him that night at the museum – he may even have it.’

  ‘How can you know that?’ Toby asked. ‘We’ve only just met him.’

  ‘He rushes off late at night to have a secret meeting with Antoine to talk about an important discovery. Instead, we end up with a kidnapped archaeologist, a conveniently concussed Strangways and no discovery.’ Max lowered her voice even further. ‘Just before we went into the museum, he almost sliced me in two with a giant blade.’

  Toby and Linden swapped a confused look.

  ‘Max, he’s an old man who walks with a cane.’ Toby frowned. ‘I can’t quite see him swinging any swords.’

  ‘He didn’t swing it himself. He activated this giant medieval blade that swung across the doorway when you were already inside. He made sure I was standing close enough so that it only just missed me.’

  ‘Maybe it was his way of letting you know the place is safe,’ Toby suggested.

  ‘Or that that’s what we’ll get if we go snooping around,’ Max whispered and looked over her shoulder. ‘And did you notice he didn’t answer me when I asked if he knew where Antoine was?’

  ‘It was the only question he didn’t answer,’ Linden recalled.

  ‘And what about all those questions Strangways asked Veronique, where he was fishing for information?’

  ‘Which ones?’ Toby asked.

  ‘When he asked in a roundabout way whether her father had any news about one of the many projects he was working on, and if she’d seen that Book of the Dead before. And did you see how he looked at her when he told her it was Antoine who found it? Like he was checking for any giveaway reaction.’

  Toby offered another explanation. ‘Maybe he was seeing if she knew anything that would be useful for Tetu in finding her dad. Strangways is a family friend, and he probably thinks she’d feel more comfortable talking to him than to strangers.’

  ‘Maybe, but what did you think Strangways meant when he said he was sorry Veronique had been “involved in all this”?’

  ‘That he was sorry that Veronique had been involved in all this.’ Toby frowned.

  ‘Thanks, Einstein.’ Max scowled. ‘Don’t you think it could mean that he’s not sorry about everything that’s happened, but he is sorry that Veronique became involved in whatever sneaky plan he’s trying to carry out?’

  ‘What sneaky plan?’ Toby asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Max answered. ‘I haven’t worked that out yet.’

  Max’s room was the furthest down the hall. She felt tired. Her head was pounding from the fall into the coffin and her bones ached from lack of sleep.

  From the shadows of the hallway, a hidden figure watched as she dragged her feet into her room and closed the door against the quiet, lamp-lit hall. The figure stayed there all night, watching and waiting.

  Secret Agent Max Remy fought against the ropes that bound her body with a mummy-like grip. She writhed and struggled, hitting against the sides of the sarcophagus that was now her private prison in the dungeon of Strangways’s castle.

  ‘You see, you are no match for me, my dear, no matter how much of a superspy you think you are.’

  Strangways leant against his cane and didn’t even try to conceal his gleeful smile. ‘Until now, I can assure you, you have dealt with amateurs, and I am no amateur. Not when it comes to getting what I want.’

  Max took a deep breath and fought against the surge of panic swelling in her chest. ‘You may think you’ve won, but I will fight you until my last breath.’

  Strangways put his weight on his good leg, leant his cane against the wall and gave Max a slow clap. ‘Bravo!’ he called out. ‘Such a noble performance. And so dramatic. Pity it will be your last.’

  Strangways grabbed his cane and pushed it into a button on the wall beside him. In the roof above Max, the stone cover of a chute slid open from which fell a waterfall of feed pellets.

  Max closed her eyes and twisted her head away as her coffin filled with the dry foodstuff.

  ‘Feel
ing hungry, are you?’ She tried to sound calm.

  ‘Oh, it’s not for me, my dear.’

  He nodded at a small hatch cut into a wall at the far end of the room.

  ‘It’s for the rats, of course.’

  A cage-like door swung upwards and a spill of rats flooded from the hole like a geyser. Max’s pulse quickened. She looked from the rats to Strangways, who was now safely positioned behind a solid wooden door, his eyes visible through a sliding peephole.

  ‘Bye bye, Max Remy. Our time together has been short, but most definitely sweet,’ he snivelled gleefully. ‘Especially this part.’

  The peephole panel slid shut.

  The rats were tidal-waving into the room. Tumbling and stepping over each other, tripping and scrambling towards the smell of dinner.

  Max kept pulling her bound arms until she finally managed to free her hand far enough to reach into her pocket and pull out her palm computer.

  ‘Linden! Linden. This is Max. I’m in trouble.’

  Max waited for an answer.

  ‘Linden? Where are you? I need your help.’

  Max desperately watched the blank screen for a response, while behind it a large, toothy rat had sunk its claws into the top edge of the coffin and launched himself inside.

  ‘Aaaah!’

  Max dropped her computer as the rat ravaged the pellets that lay all over her. Other rats followed, struggling to get to the edge of the coffin before leaping inside.

  ‘Aaaah!’ Max tried to kick out with her legs and beat the rats away, but more scrambled over her, crawling on her, sniffing and drooling, until the coffin swam with them.

  One large, hairy rat began to move up her chest, inching towards Max’s face.

  ‘No!’

  It’s gnarled teeth, yellow and fang-like, grew larger as it closed in, step by step, creeping towards her before a backdrop of marauding rats, dripping with saliva. Closer, hungrier until

  ‘Aaaah!’

  Max woke to see two coal-black eyes staring at her.

  ‘Aaaah!

  She screamed again and wrestled with the sheets of her bed, which had twisted around her like pythons. Unable to break free, Max flung herself onto the floor and rolled into the middle of the room.