Mission In Malta (9 page)

‘Do you have to do that each time we meet?'

Max wiped her cheeks after Stefan had pulled her in for another session of slobbery cheek kissing.

‘It is the Maltese way of letting you know we are happy to see you.' Stefan grabbed Linden and delivered the same lip-smacking greeting.

‘What's wrong with a simple hello?' Max mumbled.

‘I've been sent to take you to your first contact. He has new information about your mission.'

Max looked around the square outside the conference centre but couldn't see Stefan's car. ‘How will we get there?'

‘In that.' Stefan pointed proudly at a horse and carriage across the street that was threaded with flowers, ribbons and gold-framed portraits of Jesus and Mary.

‘We're travelling in that?'

The plumed and headdressed horse snorted at Max.

‘I thought this would be a subtle way of moving around the city,' Stefan explained.

‘Yeah, subtle.' Max's last experience with a horse was when she was thrown by one at a cowgirl birthday party her mother threw for her when she was seven.

Stefan only narrowly avoided being flattened by a motorbike as he stepped onto the road. Max and Linden waited for the traffic to clear before they followed.

‘He's beautiful,' Linden smiled. ‘What's his name?'

‘Henry. He has been with me since I was a boy.' Stefan kissed Henry on the lips, and Max swallowed an overwhelming feeling of nausea. ‘When the spying business is slow, Henry and I take tourists sightseeing.'

‘Hey, fella.' Linden let the horse sniff the back of his hand before slowly patting his face. ‘Aren't you good-looking? Bet you've got all the girls chasing you.'

Henry bowed his nose into Linden's hands.

‘He likes you,' Stefan said proudly.

‘Now that your horse has made a new friend, can we go?' Max walked past Henry, who stuck his nose out and gave her another snort.

‘Don't worry. It isn't personal,' Linden whispered to Henry. ‘Max has cultivated a dislike of all animals, not just you.'

‘I heard that.' Max crossed her arms. ‘Are we going to meet our contact or not?'

Stefan gave Henry a final snuggle and, to Max's
further disgust, another slobbering kiss on the lips. ‘This kissing thing has got to stop,' she muttered.

Max and Linden climbed into the back of the carriage while Stefan took a seat in the front.

‘And I don't dislike animals,' Max protested. ‘When have I ever said I dislike animals?'

In all the time Linden had known Max, she'd been bowled over by dogs, attacked by chickens, crawled over by tarantulas and snored at by a giant sloth. Max had never been a fan of anything from the animal kingdom, but Linden had also never been a fan of upsetting her. ‘Never,' he answered.

‘I'm just not a fan of ones that are this big and have the potential to break loose into a mad gallop and carry me off into some frenzied and wild ride that I may never survive.'

‘Oh, Henry would never do that. Would you, boy?' Stefan jiggled the reins and Henry snapped into a trot. ‘Best behaved horse you'll ever meet.'

‘Are you sure you know how to drive one of these?' Max was having flashbacks of their trip from the airport.

‘Oh yes, it's just like driving a car, only safer.'

‘I hope so.' Max grabbed onto a strap hanging from the roof while Linden turned away with a smirk.

‘How was the opening night? Did you make
any interesting discoveries?' Stefan called over his shoulder as he pulled into traffic and Henry clopped in front of an ice-cream truck.

‘Max overheard a conversation that we think means Alfonzo is about to be kidnapped,' Linden replied.

‘Kidnapped?' Stefan turned to face them as Henry swung into oncoming traffic.

‘Aaaah!' Max pointed at a bus that was headed straight for them.

Stefan turned to face the road and directed Henry back into the left lane. ‘When?' he asked as if he hadn't just put them all in danger of being killed.

‘We're not sure,' Linden answered. ‘Hopefully the contact will have more information for us.'

‘We'd better hurry then.' Stefan flicked the reins and Henry kicked his heels into a faster trot, only narrowly avoiding an old woman in a motorised buggy and a small boy chasing a runaway ball. After a few more near-misses, which Max mostly had her eyes shut for, they arrived at the busy bus terminus outside the city gates.

‘You are to position yourself at stand number thirteen. Your contact will meet you there.'

Max didn't answer. Her chest rose and fell in
hyperventilating waves.

‘How will we recognise him?' Linden asked.

‘You don't have to,' Stefan smiled. ‘He will recognise you.'

Linden jumped out of the carriage followed by a shaky Max.

‘I'll be here when you've finished.' Stefan nodded and pulled a newspaper from underneath his seat and began reading.

‘Great,' Max whimpered.

She led the way through the crowd, past small kiosks and stands full of sweets, cakes and pastizzis.

Linden's stomach growled as he looked longingly at the food passing beyond his reach.

‘Couldn't we stop for just one pastizzi?'

‘No time.' Max grabbed his sleeve.

The bus terminal was like a small city. It was crowded with stalls of food and lollies, postcards, drinks, clothes and jewellery. Bright yellow buses packed with onlookers pulled in and out, swerving around hordes of bus conductors, ticket inspectors and clusters of people: prams, tourists with backpacks and groups of nuns in long habits, all in a sound-scape of bus horns, laughing kids and music.

‘Here it is.'

At stand number thirteen Max took out a bus
timetable from her pocket while Linden reached into his backpack for a tourist map. Both their eyes hovered just above the borders of their leaflets as they searched the area around them.

‘Do you see our contact?' Max's eyes sifted through the chaos.

‘No-one who sticks out.' Linden's eyes landed on a cake stall. ‘But if I had one of those almond biscuits, I'm sure my eyesight would improve.'

Max was about to answer but was interrupted by a quiet, ‘
Psst
.'

‘Did you hear that?'

‘
Psst
.'

Linden turned and saw a cylindrical garbage bin nestled beneath a tree. The two spies slowly moved beside it and Linden leant towards the bin mouth at the side. ‘Agent 31?'

‘No, Agent 32,' a voice in the bin answered.

‘Where's Agent 31?' Max asked from behind her timetable.

‘After his treatment at the hands of Antonelli's thugs in the Venice mission, he's been temporarily ordered out of undercover work to more regular spy activity until he's fully recovered.
⁵
I'm his
apprentice.' Agent 32's chest puffed up as much as it could in a garbage bin. ‘He's taught me everything I know.'

‘How did you get in there?' Linden asked.

‘There's a hatch at the back. It's actually quite roomy. There's even space for my lunch box.' Agent 32 pulled out a honey date biscuit. ‘Very nice. Homemade. These Maltese people really know their sweets.'

‘Oh, oh.' Linden winced and lifted his map higher.

‘What is it?' Agent 32 asked.

‘Incoming.'

Agent 32 squished himself against the back of the bin and missed most of the half-chewed, soggy ice-cream cone that flew his way. He looked down. ‘I guess I shouldn't have worn a new shirt, but I wanted to look good for my first solo mission. How do you get chocolate stains out?'

‘It's a tough one.' Linden frowned. ‘But my mum used to –'

‘I'm sorry about your shirt, Agent 32.' One of Max's eyebrows snaked up her forehead. ‘Not that anyone can see it, of course. But do you have any information for us?'

‘Oh, yes.' He put his biscuit back in his lunch box. ‘Firstly, Steinberger has contacted me.'

‘He's identified the two men from last night?' Max asked.

‘No, I'm afraid the voice recording didn't match any suspect Spyforce has on file, and the vision was too dark for the lab to make out any features. They've wired other agencies throughout Europe to see if they can come up with a positive voice ID. Meanwhile, Spyforce have increased security around Alfonzo, so if anyone makes a move, we'll know about it immediately.'

‘Don't worry,' Max replied. ‘We'll stop them before they do. What else do you have?'

‘There's a man at the conference called Straussmann.'

‘Mr Happy,' Max sneered. ‘I should have guessed.'

‘He's a fellow leech expert who has been researching leeches for over twenty years. He's notoriously jealous of Alfonzo's fame. His research is very well-respected, but for some reason fame hasn't followed him as it has Alfonzo.'

Linden opened out the map and pretended to study it further. ‘Do you think he's behind the attacks?'

‘We're not sure; we're still checking that out.'

‘I didn't know the world of leeches was so ruthless,' Max said.

‘It's worse than ruthless. The competition is so fierce, there's great danger rivals may bleed their colleagues of all their research and suck them dry.'

Linden and Agent 32 sniggered.

‘What's so funny?' Max asked.

‘Ah … nothing.' Agent 32 bit down on his lip. ‘Who wouldn't want the fame, the fortune … the girls?' Agent 32 sighed. ‘That's one of the main reasons I got into spying.'

‘Me too.' Linden nodded seriously.

Max ignored them. ‘Anything else we need to know?'

‘Spyforce have managed to track down a junior assistant who was working with Alfonzo and his scientists at the Futura group. He told them that Straussmann turned up at the lab uninvited on more than one occasion.'

‘Why does the word “uninvited” not surprise me?' Max scowled.

‘He'd enter the building demanding to be part of their group.'

‘They wouldn't let him in?' Linden asked.

‘There were many efforts to steal Futura's ideas
by all sorts of groups and individuals, so secrecy was of the utmost importance. Straussmann loved the idea of being famous, and the group agreed that he couldn't be trusted not to talk to the media and release their secrets before projects were ready to be launched. This made him furious and there was even a physical altercation with one of the scientists.'

‘He hit someone?'

‘Apparently it got quite heated until he was escorted out.'

‘That's it, I'm not inviting him to any of my parties,' Linden resolved.

‘One thing is clear.' Agent 32 squinted through a knowing look. ‘Whoever attacked the Futura scientists is probably after Alfonzo and isn't working alone, but is more likely a pawn in someone else's bigger plan.'

‘That's what it sounded like last night in the gardens.' Max looked up to see a man sitting on the stone border of a fountain in the centre of the terminus. He seemed to be speaking into his palm before he slipped quickly behind a newspaper. Max began pointing at Linden's map, pretending to discuss it.

‘I think we're being watched.'

‘By who?' Linden asked.

‘The guy opposite us, sitting by the fountain.'

Linden casually looked up as two buses clanked into gear and drove off, obscuring his view. When they'd gone so had the man.

‘Can you see him?' Agent 32 asked.

‘Not anymore.' Max folded up her timetable and put it in her pocket.

‘Are you sure he was watching us?' Linden asked. ‘This place is pretty busy.'

‘I'm not sure. I only saw him for a second.'

‘Don't take any chances,' Agent 32 warned. ‘While we don't know who may be after Alfonzo, we've also seen how dangerous they're prepared to get.'

‘Thanks, Agent 32.' Linden put his map away and turned away from the bin. ‘And good luck with the shirt.'

Linden and Max wove their way through the crowd and back to Stefan, who quickly folded up his newspaper. ‘Mission accomplished?'

‘Mission accomplished.' Linden nodded and climbed into the carriage followed by a wary Max.

‘Excellent!' Stefan threw the carriage into a tight spin, cutting off a bread van before heading into the bustling early morning throng.

‘Do you mind if we walk next time?' Max whispered.

‘Sure,' Linden answered, trying hard not to look like he was enjoying the ride so much.

‘I don't mean to make you worried,' Stefan called over his shoulder, ‘but I think someone may be watching us.'

Max leant forward. ‘How do you know?'

‘Just a feeling. I have this sixth sense that I inherited from my Great Aunt Mary.'

‘Do you have anything more concrete than that?' Max cried.

‘No, but Aunt Mary's sixth sense was as good as concrete.'

‘Right.' Max had just flopped back in her seat, when a whistling explosion detonated behind them. Henry reared up on his hind legs and leapt forward into a panicked gallop. Linden flung himself over Max. The two spies huddled on the floor, gripping the sides of the carriage as it careered wildly from side to side as Henry tore through the narrow streets. Cars skidded into kerbs and over sidewalks into walls and garden fences, while others slammed into each other in a series of screeching metallic crashes.

‘Whoah! Whoah, Henry!' Stefan pulled hard on the reins in an attempt to control his frightened,
stampeding horse. Henry galloped on, his carriage slamming into apple carts, souvenir stands and into glass windows of shop fronts.

‘Henry!' Stefan screamed. ‘Whoah!'

With each swerve of the carriage Max and Linden clung harder to the sides, desperately trying to avoid being flung out. It wasn't until Stefan directed Henry into a square at the opposite end of the city that the horse found himself trapped and slowed to a trot before eventually coming to an unsettled stop.