When the twins had returned to England from Sydney they begged their grandmother to bring Curtis into the fold. After all the boy had helped them foil Dash Chalmers’ evil plans, albeit as an accidental addition to the mission, and had shown himself to have some impressive spy credentials, but it wasn’t as easy as that. There was a process and it would take at least several weeks for Dame Spencer to decide the lad’s fate. If he failed, Curtis would have a lovely holiday and go home none the wiser, but if he passed, he and his parents’ lives would change forever. Once you were in – and that was mostly due to being born into the group – you could never leave, although the twins had heard rumours about a couple of rogue agents who had disappeared years ago. Apparently the recruitment of trainees outside of the organisation was a rarity, which made this situation even more important.
‘What’s that building up there?’ Curtis pointed towards the family vault, which was almost as ornate as the mansion itself though significantly smaller in scale.
‘It’s where we keep our dead relatives,’ Kensy said straight-faced.
Curtis’s eyes widened for the umpteenth time that day. ‘So it’s the Spencer mausoleum? Can we take a look?’
Max glanced across at his sister. ‘Maybe another time. It’s pretty boring – there’s not much life in the place,’ he joked.
‘I get it,’ Curtis chuckled.
The breeze had picked up and there was a sticky salt spray in the air. The twins were enjoying the warmth on their cheeks after a lifetime of living in the cold. The lighthouse was a way off in the distance, standing proudly on the point where the land jutted furthest into the sea. Its whitewashed walls stood out against the rolling green fields behind it and the blue-green water below.
‘Look! There’s a boat,’ Curtis pointed at a small vessel speeding towards the cliffs.
Kensy flinched. It reminded her of the speedboat on the Thames with the shooter who had fortunately missed their targets.
Her reaction wasn’t lost on Max. ‘It’s not the same one,’ he said quietly, although he had to admit it was similar.
‘What are you talking about?’ Curtis said. The pair had forgotten that their friend practically had bionic hearing.
‘Nothing. We saw a boat on the river in London that looked a lot like that one,’ Max said. But Fitz reported that Pharos knew who was on board that boat – some guy named Huang and one of his associates. There were agents on the hunt and according to their intelligence, Huang had already skipped the country. As far as they knew the boat was still impounded by Scotland Yard.
The vessel on the ocean vanished.
‘Is there a cove?’ Curtis asked. ‘They must be awfully close to the rocks.’
The boy charged off the path, hoping that he might get a glimpse of where the boat had gone. The twins ran after him.
‘Don’t get too close to the edge!’ Max shouted, but his voice was carried away on the breeze. Song had told them that the cliffs were prone to crumbling and the last thing they needed was having to explain Curtis’s untimely demise to his parents.
Kensy and Max caught up to him just in time to watch the vessel disappear between two rocky outcrops. Maybe there was a beach down there.
Curtis dove onto his stomach, trying to get a better look. The twins hit the ground beside him, but the boat was gone.
‘Do you think there could be a pirate’s lair – a cave?’ Curtis fizzed.
‘Um, maybe if the year was 1760.’ Kensy grinned but she was desperate to know more too. No one had ever mentioned anything about caves along the cliffs.
‘Come on, we’d better get to the lighthouse or we’ll run out of time,’ Max said, standing up and brushing the grass from his knees.
Kensy and Curtis jumped to their feet and followed the boy, who had started to jog. It took another ten minutes before they reached their destination. As with every other building on the estate, this one was pristine, bordered by a white picket fence and a manicured laurel hedge. There was a path leading to the lighthouse door, which had a blue stained-glass window in the top half. Beside the lighthouse was a pretty white cottage with a gleaming slate roof.
‘Maybe someone does live out here,’ Curtis said, nodding towards the adjacent building.
He pulled the notebook from his backpack and scribbled something down.
‘What are you doing?’ Kensy looked at him.
‘Your grandmother told me to take note of anything unusual. The speedboat – that’s a bit weird, don’t you think?’ Curtis said.
Kensy shrugged, but something about it niggled.
The children hurried down the path to the lighthouse. Max tried the door but it was locked.
Kensy plucked the hairclip from the underside of her braid.
‘What are you doing?’ Max whispered.
‘What does it look like? We didn’t come all this way for nothing. Distract Curtis for a minute,’ she said. It was just as well the lad had already found something else to look at – a plaque in the garden commemorating the poor souls who had been lost at sea before the lighthouse was erected.
Kensy inserted the device and in a flash she was in. She waited a few seconds before shouting out to the boys who came running.
‘How did you do that?’ Curtis asked, eyeing the open door.
‘I found a key under the mat. Granny’s staff are clearly not very creative with their hiding spots,’ she lied.
The children walked inside. The lighthouse wasn’t as tall as some and had an unusual octagonal shape. The ground floor was almost bare save for a small table inside the entrance. Max led the way up the staircase for three floors until they reached the light. It was encased in a metal frame and looked to be operated on some sort of timing system.
‘There’s a good view from up here,’ Curtis said, peering out into the ocean, which had calmed again. There were a couple of freighters on the horizon.
‘Sure is,’ Max said when an excruciating noise like metal grating against metal clanged from below. It was followed by a whooshing sound.
Kensy sprinted down the stairs with the boys on her heels.
‘That wasn’t there before,’ the girl said, pointing at an open hatch in the floor to the left of the front door.
‘Whoa,’ Curtis peered inside. A spiral staircase corkscrewed into the void. ‘Your grandmother has the coolest things.’
‘Come on,’ Kensy said, shimmying into the gap.
‘I’m not sure that we should, Kens,’ Max said. ‘What if we can’t get back out again and what if someone is down there?’
Kensy rolled her eyes. ‘You stay here then, scaredy cat, and Curtis and I will take a look.’
‘I’m not scared but . . . we don’t have a torch,’ Max added.
Curtis reached into the pocket of his cargo pants. ‘Yes, we do.’
‘I love you, Curtis Pepper,’ Kensy said. She grabbed it out of his hands.
The boy’s cheeks blushed a fiery red.
‘I mean, like a brother,’ she added. ‘And sometimes I don’t like him at all so don’t get on my bad side, okay?’
Curtis grinned.
Kensy looked at the boys. ‘I know it’s getting late, but come on. We need to see what’s down there, don’t we?’
‘Okay,’ Max sighed. ‘But we can’t be too long.’
And with that the three of them disappeared into the abyss.
The children charged down the staircase, deep into the chalk cliff below. The further they went, the louder the sounds of the sea became. Kensy shone the torch about as they forged on. Eventually they dropped out of the cylindrical stairwell into a huge stone cavern. Electric sconce lights dotted the walls, giving the place an eerie glow.
‘It’s a cave,’ Curtis breathed.
‘Of sorts,’ Max replied.
This was no ordinary hole in the rock face. The children peered around at the subterranean lair that was full of boats and other maritime equipment. The speedboat they’d seen out in the sea was bobbing about, tied u
p to a steel jetty. Further around, a white yacht sat in dry dock beside a cruiser that was more like a mini ocean liner. Two rows of jet skis and at least a dozen skiffs filled racks along the walls and there was a mountain of fishing gear as well – all perfectly ordered and neatly in its place.
‘I didn’t realise Granny had her own yacht club and fisherman’s wharf,’ Kensy said with a grin. Alexandria was certainly the property that kept on giving.
‘I can’t imagine what it would have cost to build this place,’ Curtis said. ‘The engineering down here is off the charts.’
‘Come on – let’s take a closer look,’ Max urged, although he also had one eye on the time.
The children jumped off the bottom step and onto the concrete platform that ran around the water’s edge.
‘What happens when the tide comes in?’ Curtis said. ‘Wouldn’t it get flooded?’
Kensy and Max had both been thinking the same thing.
Kensy shone the torch towards the ocean. They could hear the waves but they couldn’t see them and it quickly became apparent why not. A vast metal wall separated the cave from the sea. Without warning it began to slide like a cavity door receding into the cliffs.
‘Someone’s coming!’ Kensy called and the three children leapt into a rubber duckie that was sitting on the edge of the dock. They lay down flat on their stomachs and covered themselves with a black tarpaulin, then peered out to see what was going on.
‘Whoa,’ Curtis mouthed. ‘Why are we hiding if this is your grandmother’s place?’
‘Just be quiet, okay?’ Kensy shushed the boy and flicked off the torch.
The entire front face of the cave had regressed and they could see a beach and a cove beyond.
A black speedboat, its engine rumbling, was sitting on the other side of the sand, bobbing up and down in the waves.
‘Maybe that’s the boat we saw?’ Kensy whispered. ‘Not that one over there.’
Max shrugged. They looked pretty similar so it was impossible to tell.
‘How do they get in here? There’s no channel or anything,’ Curtis asked quietly, but they didn’t have to wait long for an answer. The middle of the sand began to give way and water rushed to fill the space. Moments later the outboard engine revved and the vessel puttered inside. The noise was deafening until the driver switched off the ignition and the motor died.
‘Who is it?’ Max asked, wiping away the salt spray on his glasses with his T-shirt.
‘I don’t know,’ Kensy mouthed back.
The three children lay still and watched as the fellow steered the boat alongside the dock then tied it up. He wore a dark jacket with a hood and black trousers. Black trainers completed his look. He jumped onto the metal platform and pulled a phone out of his pocket, answering the silent ring.
‘It’s done,’ he growled in a strong Northern accent.
Curtis could feel his left leg beginning to cramp. He tried his best to stretch it out, but as he moved his foot he made contact with something inside the rubber duckie, causing a loud thud.
The man on the phone stopped and looked around. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said and walked along the platform towards the children’s hiding place.
‘He’s coming!’ Kensy breathed. She could feel her heart pounding. It would be a miracle if the man didn’t hear it himself.
‘Is there anyone down here?’ the fellow called. His voice echoed around the walls. He pushed the hood of his jacket back revealing a mop of curly ginger hair.
Curtis’s calf muscle was tightening and the pain was intense. He grabbed the torch out of Kensy’s hand and bit down on it hoping that it would help him to stay quiet.
Then Max did something completely unexpected. He slid out of the rubber duckie and onto the floor then rolled over until he was shielded by the other speedboat.
‘What’s he doing?’ Kensy mouthed.
But Curtis was concentrating too hard on not making any noise to respond.
Like a meerkat, Max popped his head up from behind the boat.
‘Oh, hello,’ he called out.
The man practically levitated for a second, clearly not expecting anyone to answer him.
Max stepped out and walked towards the fellow, his hand outstretched. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Max,’ the boy said.
The man was taken aback and seemed to have lost his voice, momentarily at least.
‘Granny asked me to check on something,’ Max said. ‘She was thinking about taking the cruiser out on the weekend if the weather is good.’
‘Granny?’ The man finally spoke, his brow creased.
‘Dame Spencer,’ Max said. ‘She’s my grandmother.’ He eyeballed the man, imprinting his face on his memory.
‘Of course,’ the fellow said as if he knew exactly who Max was, but the boy had his doubts.
‘You didn’t tell me your name?’ Max said confidently.
‘Um, Fife, Frank Fife,’ he said with a nod.
‘This place is incredible,’ Max said. ‘Looks like it’s been here forever too but I suppose it was built . . .’
But the man didn’t participate in the conversation. Max’s attempts to learn more about the grotto and its history were failing dismally.
‘Better not keep you then,’ Max said.
Frank scratched his head and nodded then walked towards the spiral staircase where he disappeared from sight.
‘Ow!’ Curtis roared, although it was somewhat muffled under the tarpaulin. ‘Cramp!’
Kensy threw off the cover and jumped up to stretch his leg. She pushed his foot back and held it tightly for several seconds to release the strain.
‘Are you okay?’ Max hurried over to see if he could help, but fortunately the pain had begun to ease. Curtis rubbed his calf muscle and exhaled loudly.
‘I forgot my magnesium supplement this morning,’ the boy said, making a mental note to take one as soon as they got back to the mansion. ‘Sorry, I almost gave us away. Though I have to wonder exactly why we were hiding. I mean your grandmother owns this place, doesn’t she? So surely she wouldn’t mind you seeing it.’
The boy had a point.
‘I couldn’t believe it when you slithered out of here and confronted the guy,’ Kensy said with a grin. ‘I think he might need a change of underwear.’
‘So who was he?’ Curtis asked as he and Kensy hopped out of the rubber duckie and onto the floor.
‘Frank Fife apparently,’ the boy replied. ‘Not very chatty and I must say he has the reddest hair I’ve ever seen.’
‘Do you think he’ll tell Granny that we’ve been down here?’ the girl asked.
Max shrugged. ‘I think we should tell her ourselves. No one said we couldn’t and that hatch was left wide open.’
Curtis wandered to the end of the jetty, poking about among the boats and equipment. He wiped his torch on his sleeve and shone the light around.
‘Someone doesn’t care about bringing the seafarer’s bad luck,’ the boy said.
‘What are you talking about?’ Max asked.
He and Kensy hurried along to see what Curtis was looking at. The boy pointed at the stern of the speedboat that Frank had driven into the cave.
‘There,’ Curtis said. But the twins wondered what he was looking at. The name on the vessel was Osiris.
‘Everyone knows it’s considered bad luck to rename a boat. You’re supposed to purge all traces of the old name before you christen it with a new one. Then it’s imperative to have a renaming ceremony – otherwise the boat will likely fail and all on board will perish in a watery grave,’ Curtis explained.
The twins peered closer. Hidden beneath the ornate letters Max could just detect a faint outline.
‘See there’s a “t” and an “i” and an “o” and an “n” – it must have been called something else,’ Curtis said. ‘Tion. Maybe contraption, invention, satisfaction, competition. Though they’re not very good boat names are they?’
Kensy began to feel sick.
She looked at her brother who nodded. ‘Deception,’ he whispered.
‘That’s a good name,’ Curtis said. ‘Anyway, you’d better make sure that the boat’s been properly cleansed before it goes out again – you wouldn’t want to risk upsetting the gods of the ocean.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Max said. ‘Perhaps don’t mention it to anyone though, Curtis. Granny gets upset if things aren’t done properly and I’d rather have a quiet chat to her.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, we should get going. Dinner is in less than an hour.’
But Kensy had different ideas. She wanted to check the other speedboat too – the one that was already there before they arrived.
‘Can I borrow your torch, Curtis?’ she asked.
‘Kensy, come on. We don’t have time,’ Max said, but his sister was undeterred.
Curtis handed it over and Kensy ran to the other speedboat to have a look at what it was called. Sobek and there was no evidence that it had ever been anything else.
‘That’s interesting,’ Curtis said, having followed her. ‘Sobek was the God of the Nile – depicted as a crocodile, and Osiris was the God of the Dead, but before that he was the God of Water and Vegetation. Your grandmother must have a thing for Egyptian history.’
‘Mmm, I guess she must,’ Kensy nodded.
Curtis was right of course. Pharos was the ancient lighthouse at Alexandria in Egypt and the founding location of the world’s most important and secretive spy organisation, but she couldn’t tell Curtis that, at least not yet. Hopefully one day he’d learn about it, just as she and Max had. But for now, they had to find out more about Frank Fife and what he was doing driving the black speedboat that had been used in the attempted murder of their family. Why was it here at Alexandria with a new name? Surely this was proof there was a rat in the ranks somewhere, but whom they could trust with this new information was another thing entirely.
Kensy scraped her hair into a messy ponytail then quickly tied it with a hairband. She checked herself in the mirror – it would do. There were other more important things on her mind. She hurried down the hall to Max’s bedroom and turned the handle.
Kensy & Max: Freefall Page 3
