‘Thith is your captaid speakgig,’ interrupted Sleek’s stern but slightly cloggy and flu-ridden intercom voice. ‘All cabid quew and passedgers prepare for take-off. Do that thig with your tray tables, and bake sure your seatbelts are firbly fastened. Take-off will be id approximately thirty secodds.’
Roger the cabin guy abruptly told Max to find a seat while Linden and Ella talked like they’d never stop.
‘Come and sit with us,’ Irene said gently.
Max kept her eyes on Linden and Ella and only just managed to strap herself in before the jet took off, on its way to deliver them to a secret location for the most top secret night of the year.
As the Invisible Jet skimmed silently through the skies of England, making its way to the secret awards night location, Steinberger, back to his usual self now Frond had gone, began explaining to Max, Linden and Ella what their duties would be.
Finally, Max thought, the real part of my life is about to begin.
But when he’d finished, all he’d spoken about was basic food preparation and cleaning.
‘That’s it?’ asked Max, not trying at all to hide her worsening mood.
‘No, there’s one more thing,’ Steinberger added. ‘You’ll need to take the garbage from your kitchen to Landing Dock Seven when the night is over.’
Max sat back in her seat wondering when this nightmare was going to end.
‘Look out your windows,’ Irene breathed excitedly.
Max was thinking so hard about the spy adventures she could be having, she didn’t hear Irene’s invitation. Steinberger leant over to her.
‘I think you’ll want to see this.’
Max turned her head reluctantly and saw why Irene was so excited. Out of what looked like wisps of floating orange cotton, the gradual outline of a mountainous island appeared. It was tall and craggy and licked by the blue-black waves of a full moon. Half alien-like, half earthlike, it rose out of a seemingly endless sea. For a moment Max wondered if they’d stayed within earth’s atmosphere and looking closer at the island’s outline, she saw something else. It seemed to be floating.
‘Where are we?’
‘Ah, this is a very special place that you won’t find on any map anywhere,’ Steinberger said proudly.
The jet slowed down as it approached the island and the orange glow became more intense. All around them they could see spies arriving in various kinds of secret vehicles, while waiters on small flying platforms zoomed up to open doors, offer snacks and take their coats.
‘This is your captaid speaking,’ Sleek’s nasally announcement began. ‘We have arrived at our destidation but have beed idstwucted to hover as there’s sub kide of traffic jab. The oradge haze you cad see is a force-field that acts as a security systeb we deed to pass through. Idside the systeb, you will see the full force of the isladd’s beauty.’
‘But it’s beautiful already,’ Ella exclaimed.
‘Put it this way,’ Steinberger said eagerly. ‘This is like wearing a blindfold compared to what you are about to see.’
Suddenly the white gnarly teeth and saliva of an enormous Alsatian appeared at Max’s window.
‘Aaahh!’
The dog barked back as a security officer on a hovering platform pulled its heavy chain towards her before flashing her light into Max’s window.
‘Security is going to be very strict,’ Steinberger explained. ‘The elite of the world’s intelligence agencies will be here tonight and no chances can be taken.’
‘Attentiod paddengers. We are cleared for edtradce add will begid our descedt shortly.’
‘I think that means we’re coming in to land.’ Steinberger interpreted Sleek’s flu-filled speech.
As the jet entered the frosted field, they were enveloped by a pulsing orange glow. Then, without warning, they were flung through the force-field so fast it seemed like a G-force ride at an amusement park. Max, Linden and Ella screamed.
‘Sorry,’ Steinberger muttered. ‘I should have warned you about that. It was actually stronger than I thought.’
Now that they were through the force-field, the whole island appeared before them as a medieval English fortress. Except for the strange vehicles and glamorous evening wear of the guests, it seemed as though they’d been transported back in time. There were mountains, forests, lakes, turrets and bridges, all surrounded by a commanding stone wall. Craggy cliffs and deserted beaches ringed the island and ancient churches and palaces nestled below hills. Dominating it all, in the centre of the island was a majestic castle cradled by a deep green moat.
‘That’s where our celebrations will be,’ Steinberger gasped reverently.
The jet landed in a large field lit by small fires. They parked beside a collection of vehicles that looked like they were from a Spiderman comic. There were single-seater choppers, glass-domed cars, stretch limo-type hovercrafts and Green Goblin-esque jet pads.
‘James Bond never had anything like those,’ Linden said dreamily.
Ella stared at the stone castle set against the orange-tinged sky. ‘It doesn’t look real.’
‘Oh, it’s real,’ Steinberger informed her. ‘Just not known. Only those people here tonight and a handful of others know anything about it. The orange force-field protects it from intruders and satellite cameras and makes it totally undetectable to the naked eye.’
More waiters hovered by attending to spies.
To reach the castle, the guests stepped onto a long wooden drawbridge strung with thick steel chains on either side. As they approached the entrance, the drawbridge lit up beneath them. Steinberger smiled. ‘Look familiar? It’s the Vibratron 5000. Spyforce owns the copyright and very proudly export the device to over fifty countries.’ As he spoke, his chest puffed up so much his chin almost disappeared inside his shirt collar.
Max wasn’t thinking about the Vibratron. She was finally moving among the elite of the spy world and not buried in some kitchen peeling potatoes. She stepped up to the Vibratron with her security pass ready.
A surly security guard wearing a pair of black sunglasses studied her pass. ‘Sorry, Miss. You will have to use the side entrance.’
‘But I have a pass,’ Max protested.
‘This pass allows you access to food areas only. Please step aside,’ he said like he wasn’t ruining her life.
Max moved away as other spies were allowed through.
Irene placed her hand on Max’s shoulder. ‘Come on, little one. We’ve got work to do.’
Steinberger said his goodbyes and went to check on Spyforce seating arrangements. ‘Good luck, team. I know you’ll do Spyforce very proud.’
Proud? thought Max as they made their way through a small wooden doorway followed by trolleys of crates. What’s there to be proud of when all we’re going to do is chop carrots and carry trays of frogs and fish eggs?
The kitchen was like a large underground cave made of huge blocks of stone. The floor was cobbled and at the long stone benchtops a squadron of kitchenhands thudded and clanged as they prepared the feast. Max’s eyes were drawn to a pair of solid, wooden doors fitted with round windows. She moved slowly closer, realising it was the room of the awards night celebration.
Inside, balloon-like chandeliers hung from gold chains suspended from ancient splintery beams. Stained glass windows rose from rich carpeted floors to a dome-shaped roof. Red velvet-covered tables with chairs like thrones sat surrounded by a ring of flaming sceptres that lined the stone walls like a burning guard of honour.
Max couldn’t stop staring.
That is until Ella bumped into her with a trolley of beetroot and broccoli soup.
‘I am so sorry.’ Ella watched as Max’s trousers became soaked with the red and green concoction.
‘It’s not enough that I have to work with food, I have to wear it as well,’ Max sneered through clenched teeth.
The kitchen was in full flight of activity. Irene was wearing a headset and was in constant communication with the other kitchen staff around her.<
br />
‘Max, we need these eggs beaten.’
‘Cracking eggs,’ Max murmured. ‘And I thought my day was going to get worse.’
As she began cracking eggs, Max saw a moody, ill-tempered Dretch in the awards room. He scowled at everyone, made no attempt to be friendly, and he looked like he hated every second. What was it with him? Why did he even bother to come? But then his beady eyes spotted Max through the windows and he glared at her as though he could chop her into cat food. She ducked out of his view.
‘Dretch is up to something, I know it,’ she muttered.
She left her egg cracking and crept closer to the double doors and saw he was talking to Harrison.
‘Probably complaining about something,’ Max groaned. As she was about to turn away she saw Alex, but not like she’d ever seen her. Alex seemed a little uncomfortable dressed in a long red gown and her hair in ringlets. Max thought she was beautiful.
The kitchen door was flung open and Steinberger entered, sending Max sliding across the floor.
‘Sorry, Max. Are you alright?’
‘No. I’m having trouble remembering who replaced my life with someone’s who was doomed to hard labour.’
‘Oh Max, that sense of humour of yours.’
‘Steinberger, Alex is here.’ Max scurried after him.
‘Yes, she came here by plane.’
‘An invisible jet?’
‘No. Regular plane. Sometimes agents get bored with the gadgets of being spies and prefer to act like everyone else when they’re off duty.’
The doors crashed open behind them. Dretch entered with Harrison and pointed at Max. She shivered. The way Dretch was looking at her spelt trouble.
Dretch wrote something down on a napkin and walked over to Max and Steinberger. He showed them the napkin: ‘Keep working as normal. Max be silent.’
He then ran a small green gadget over Max, which lit up bright green near her pocket. He did the same with Linden and Ella but nothing happened.
He wrote another note to Max. ‘Empty your pocket.’
Max took out some gum, a pen and her Spyforce badge. Dretch placed the badge on a chopping board and picking up a meat tenderiser, brought it slamming down onto it. He then examined it with a small gold telescope.
‘Hey! That’s mine. Steinberger gave it to me.’
Steinberger examined the badge too. His face became serious.
‘I sent you one very like it, but this one isn’t it.’
The badge trembled on the board like a dying bee as the news sank into the agents like sea water into a sinking ship.
‘Dretch. What do you think?’ If the expression on Harrison’s face could be read it would be shouting, ‘Red alert!’
‘It’s a transmitter. It must have been swapped.’
‘How?’ Max asked, feeling guilty.
‘We’ll worry about that later,’ Harrison commanded. ‘For now, the entire spy industry could be at risk.’
‘But how did it get through security?’ Linden asked.
‘It has a special anti-matter coating that was detected by my Securicore,’ Dretch explained, pointing to his green gadget. ‘And this infra-red telescope has revealed a hidden seal belonging to Blue.’
No one spoke as the seriousness of the situation unfolded before them.
‘We must find out what Blue is up to and stop him from infiltrating the awards ceremony tonight.’ Harrison’s face clouded over. ‘But my guess is he already has. We have to act fast. Spy agencies across the world could be facing one of their most dangerous breaches ever. One that could spell the complete destruction of spy agencies throughout the world.’
Steinberger gathered a few select agents in the kitchen. Harrison briefed them on the situation and the plans that had been put in place to find out if the awards night had been infiltrated.
Harrison then took a deep breath. ‘This is possibly the most dangerous threat we’ve had to the spy industry. Blue has the perfect situation. He’s not only intercepted our latest moves on the night where every super agent in the world has gathered together, but we have no idea how he is planning to use that information. He could have planted a secret agent or a device of destruction or …’ and here he stopped as if he was getting ready to prepare everyone for the worst, ‘he could be here himself.’
Linden, who had been munching on one of Irene’s bright yellow profiterole pastries filled with red cherry sauce, stopped mid chew so the sauce dripped down his fingers and into a small red pool on the floor.
‘Whatever he’s planning, we can be certain it will be something very clever and very devastating.’
The agents stood perfectly still, their expressions unchanged, their eyes focused steadfastly on their leader. Max tried to push through them to get a better view, not understanding why none of the agents recognised her. She was Max Remy, after all, only one of the youngest agents the world had ever known.
A scarf on a woman in front of her was swept back, sideswiping Max and giving her a mouthful of woollen lint. Max scowled and spat out the fluff as Harrison continued.
‘One thing we can be sure of, Blue won’t let the opportunity pass of trying to bring down the very foundation of the spying world.’
‘Absolutely right.’ Max was determined to be noticed but her words fell in clumps around her like badly aimed pigeon poo. No one moved. No one said a word. Max had never felt more invisible in her life.
‘This is a map of the island.’
Max strained to see past a tall agent standing in front of her wearing a frilled and feathered dress that itched her nose.
Harrison outlined their plan and who would cover different areas of the island as Max rubbed her nose, trying not to sneeze.
‘The guards in charge of the force-field have been put on high alert and the security personnel in the watchtowers are looking out for even the smallest discrepancy.’
Max tried to move away from the tickling feathers but was hemmed in by agents on either side of her.
‘Anything suspicious must be reported. Check every possible area for a bomb or infiltration device. But remember, you’ll be operating among the best in the business and it’s crucial that we keep this mission top secret and do nothing that attracts attention.’
Max couldn’t hold back any longer. She let out an enormous sneeze that sent her tumbling backwards into a large pot of banana and raspberry custard.
The agents turned and stared as the custard dribbled over her. No one moved to help her, including Alex, who had probably had enough of Max’s clumsiness. The agents turned back to Harrison as he completed his instructions.
‘You have my utmost confidence as the best people for the job. Good luck, and may the Force be with you.’
As the agents left, Harrison and Steinberger focused on the map. Max began to wipe off her pink custard coating, and Linden and Ella made their way across the kitchen to help. Linden knew Max’s pride would be hurt and he tried to cheer her up.
‘Maybe they’ll ask us to help,’ he suggested.
‘Yeah,’ Ella added. ‘Maybe that’s what they’re working out now.’
Heartened by these words, Max flicked a raspberry from her vest, scooped some custard from her sleeves and walked over to Harrison.
‘What would you like me to do, sir?’
Harrison looked up from the map like he’d only just realised she was there.
‘You’ll be needed here in the kitchen.’
That was all he said. Nothing else. He just went straight back to looking at the maps.
Max was so disheartened, she felt more gooey than the custard dribbling down her. Not only was she not able to help, it was her fault Blue knew where they were.
Noticing her miserable face, Harrison attempted to explain further.
‘Max, what has happened is not your fault. Blue will stop at nothing to get what he wants and he’s wanted to bring down Spyforce for years. It’s all part of a failure complex he has for not having measured up as a Spyforce
agent, which he holds me personally responsible for. While the agents stop him, it is most important that you, Ella and Linden stay here and help Irene make things appear as normal as possible. No one outside us and Spyforce must know what has happened.’
Harrison then left and Max watched every chance she had of being involved in the mission leave with him.
‘You heard what the man said, let’s do normal like we’ve never done before.’ Irene flew straight into a business-as-usual mode while offering Max a clean cloth to wipe herself down. ‘Lucky I made extra custard,’ she joked, trying to lift Max’s soggy spirits.
Why does everything sloppy have to end up all over me? And in the most important moments of my life? Max thought. She dreamt of the day she’d be sent on a mission that had nothing to do with food or slime or jelly or any other gooey stuff.
The kitchen went back to being a fast, efficient network of food preparation until the first trays were ready to be taken out. Max, Ella and Linden entered the awards room with the tasty and unusual treats.
Max carried her tray nervously, desperate not to make any slip-ups as she offered it to the agents.
‘Ahh, one of Irene’s trays,’ said a guy with a toupee perched on his head like a chubby, overfed cat. ‘No wonder Spyforce do well every year. They have a good cook filling their stomachs with the best food this planet has ever had. Wish she’d come over to our team.’
Max wondered if any of the agents would recognise her.
‘I think it’s the organic food she uses,’ another agent added, hardly noticing Max was even there. ‘I hear she insists on it.’
Max flicked back her hair, trying to get their attention.
‘That’d have to be a big part,’ another agent with a neck brace chimed in. ‘But she definitely has the touch of Midas when it comes to food.’
All three agents nodded their heads and offered mumbled groans before falling into a reverent silence.
‘Mmmmmm.’
Max tried to look more conspicuous as the agents’ eyes went all woozy. It was obvious they weren’t thinking about her at all.
The Nightmare Vortex Page 7
