The French Code (7 page)

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Authors: Deborah Abela

BOOK: The French Code
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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.'

Fifi barked and stared at Max.

‘I'm not scared,' Max said. ‘I just think it sounds a little wacky.'

‘Papa says scepticism is often a cover for fear. Why don't you try it?'

Max stared at the musty book that smelled like a forgotten wing of an old library. ‘I think I'll leave my future to me to decide, not some moth-eaten book.'

Veronique sighed. ‘You wouldn't be the first person to be nervous about having your future held up before you.'

‘It's a stupid old book that I've never seen before. It has nothing to do with my future.'

‘If you're scared of what I'll think of you, you can ask your question under your breath.'

‘Unless it says “your friends are safe and you're going home soon”, I'm not interested.'

‘I'll go first.' Veronique laid the book on its spine and held it firmly between her splayed fingers. ‘You can ask a specific question or simply be open to whatever the book has to tell you.'

Max looked at Fifi, who was sitting upright, transfixed by Veronique and her smelly book.

Veronique took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘Will I meet a handsome boy soon who will think I'm charming and cute?'

‘Maybe you should ask if you're always going to be this shy?' Max mumbled.

‘Shhhh,' Veronique whispered. ‘I need to concentrate.'

She took her hands away and let the book fall open. She slid her finger across the page, opened her eyes and read aloud:

Sometimes what you are searching for

may already be with you.

French proverb

Veronique looked up. ‘Excellent.'

‘Excellent what?' Max asked.

‘It means I've already met him. Probably … very … recently.' Veronique flounced her hair.

‘Really?' Max frowned at the book. ‘Maybe I
will
have a go.'

She pulled the book towards her and held it between her hands. She closed her eyes and let it fall open. Her finger swept across the page to one small passage:

Avoid being impatient. Remember, time

brings roses.

Anonymous

Fifi barked and pawed the air.

‘I'm not impatient.' Max shut the book firmly. ‘This book has no idea what it's talking about.'

‘I said you don't always get the answers you hope for.' Veronique patted Fifi. ‘Have another go.'

Max scowled at the book and held it upwards. ‘I'm only doing this to amuse you and as part of my
babysitting duties.' She took a long, deep breath, let the book fall open, pointed her finger and read:

If you never leap, you'll never learn to fly.

Chinese proverb

‘And since I'm not planning on doing any flying any time soon, it's been another pointless reading. This bibliomancy thing is a pile of –' Max's watch lit up. She held it to her mouth. ‘Linden? Are you okay? Where are you?'

‘We're fine,' Linden's voice came through in a whisper. ‘We're at the cemetery.'

‘Can you see anyone?' Max asked.

‘You mean live people?' Toby piped up.

‘That's the general idea,' Max answered.

‘Not yet.'

‘What can you see around you?' Max asked.

‘Apart from a tree-lined road, a bunch of old crypts and loads of weeping angels, not much,' Toby whispered.

Veronique grabbed Max's wrist and spoke into her watch. ‘Have they left any more messages?'

‘You have to press this button to speak.' Max pressed it for her and she asked again. ‘Can you see any messages?'

‘No, but it's pretty dark,' Linden said. ‘There are only a few lights, and we don't want to use our torches in case they're seen. We've got our Night Vision Sunglasses on so we should … wait.' Linden went quiet.

‘What's wrong?' Veronique asked Max.

‘I don't know.' Max texted Linden via her watch. ‘u ok?'

In a few seconds a message came back. ‘i c 2 men hiding. will leave camera on. txt l8r.'

‘What are they going to do?' Veronique asked.

‘Find out what those two men are up to.'

Max retrieved her palm computer and focused intently on the screen. The bumpy, darkened image crept closer to the two figures. They were dressed in dark skivvies, beanies and gloves, and their faces had been blackened. Linden's watch caught their conversation and Max's Descrambler translated.

‘It's almost nine o'clock. She should be here soon,' a raspy voice said.

‘How do you know she'll turn up?' A second, uneasy voice whispered.

‘I hear she's a feisty one. She won't let her dad be kidnapped and do nothing about it. Not after our invitation.'

‘Why did he have us meet her here?' the second one breathed. ‘It's a little creepy, isn't it?'

‘Sorry if it's not glamorous enough for you.'

‘I don't need glamour; I just don't need freaky.' He sighed. ‘All of this because of a piece of rock. Why does he want it so badly, anyway?'

‘Not sure, but we've been paid good money to do this job, and I'm not leaving until we do it.'

Max watched as Linden moved his radio watch even closer to the two men.

‘What's he doing now?' Veronique asked.

‘I'm not sure yet.'

There was a brief pause before Linden released a ghoulish wail: ‘Oooooo.'

‘What was that?' The second man gasped.

‘I don't know,' the raspy one hissed. ‘But don't get so close; you're on my toes.'

‘Oooooo.' It was Toby this time.

‘It's a ghost. I knew it. We're being attacked by a ghost.'

‘There's no such thing as ghosts.'

Within seconds a vase of flowers lifted from a nearby grave and floated within centimetres of their faces.

‘
That
is a ghost.'

‘Whyyy arrrre yooou heeeere?' Linden deep
ened his voice and added a ghostly waver.

Max's computer screen showed torchlights skittling amongst the gravestones like panicked moths. ‘You'd better come out, whatever you are, or we'll … Ouch! That ghost threw a stone at me.'

‘They're not ghosts!'

‘Well, what are they then?'

‘I don't know!'

‘Whooooo has sent yooooou?' Linden wailed.

‘I'm getting out of here.' The second man shuddered.

‘You're not going anywhere.'

‘Whoo has paiiid yooou to beeee heere?' Toby sang out.

‘It was …'

‘What are you mad? You can't tell anyone or we're done for.'

‘Tell us!' Toby whined. ‘Or we will haaaauuuunt you for aaaaall your dayyyys.'

‘But these ghosts are going to get us if we don't tell.' A splintering crash rang out. ‘That's it, I'm out of here.'

Max and Veronique heard scuffled sounds as the screen went black, followed by footsteps and panting.

‘What's happening?' Veronique asked Max.

‘I'm not sure.' Max drew in a quick breath. ‘I can't talk to Linden yet in case we give them away. Do you recognise the voices of either of those men?'

‘No.'

‘And what did they mean all this being
for a piece of rock
?'

‘I don't know.' Veronique sat heavily on the lounge. Fifi climbed beside her and lay her head in her lap. ‘So it was a trap and they're after me?'

‘It seems so,' Max answered.

‘Why?'

‘That's what we have to figure out.'

‘Maybe this is why Papa gave me the amulet. To protect myself from those men.' Veronique looked up. ‘We have to tell Tetu.'

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