The past few days had been hectic, to say the least. When school had broken up for the two-week Christmas vacation, Kensy and Max, along with the rest of the junior Pharos agents at Central London Free School, had been left in pairs at various train stations around London. They were each handed twenty pounds to find their own way to Dame Spencer’s country estate in North Yorkshire. That was something of a challenge given the rail fare was twice that amount.
Since their arrival, the children had undertaken a variety of intensive training sessions. Unbeknown to the twins during their first visit, Alexandria was not just Dame Spencer’s rural idyll, it was also the countryside headquarters of Pharos, boasting so much more than beautiful gardens and a stunning fountain. The incredibly well-concealed state-of-the-art facilities included an indoor Olympic-sized swimming pool that was housed in what looked from the outside to be a barn, albeit with an entire wall of glass. It featured a hydraulic diving board that could automatically sense the height at which the diver was willing to leap, but was programmed to then rise twenty per cent higher. There was also an archery field complete with straw dummies that reacted when hit, the maze where the children would practice their marksmanship, and an enormous blast-proof bunker beneath the stables. Who knew what else they were yet to discover, but one thing was for certain – there were bound to be more surprises in store.
A number of their teachers had accompanied the group on their specialist activities. Despite being part of Pharos for over a month now, Kensy and Max were still getting their heads around how everything worked. To the outside world, Central London Free School was just a regular school. Eighty per cent of the students were ordinary kids, but the remaining twenty per cent and every single staff member – from Mrs Potts in the office, to Mrs Trimm, the dinner lady; Mr Reffell, their slightly unhinged History teacher, right the way up to Mr MacGregor, the headmaster – were Pharos agents and agents-in-training.
The rest of the school staff were due to arrive in time for Christmas, along with the children’s families and other agents, whose cover ranged from black cab drivers to journalists and many things between. It was to be a huge celebration. According to the program, training would last until midday on Christmas Eve, followed by a party that night. There would be a formal lunch on Christmas Day before guests returned home and some of the children departed for Rome on Mr Reffell’s History tour. It was straight back to school after that. Kensy and Max were looking forward to the trip. At the moment, being busy was a very good thing.
Gordon Nutting and Willow Witherbee intercepted the children as they reached the storage shed – although this wasn’t your average farm building. The twins’ jaws had almost hit the ground the first time they’d stepped inside. For thirty seconds it appeared exactly as one might expect, with various pieces of gardening equipment neatly organised along the stone walls. Then Miss Witherbee pulled on a hook and the interior transformed into something else entirely. Gun racks flipped out of the walls, hanging rails containing bulletproof body armour rose up from the floor, and various other weapons ranging from handguns to crossbows descended from the ceiling.
‘Well done, everyone – except for you, Dante.’ Gordon Nutting tut-tutted. ‘How you lasted as long as you did is a complete mystery. You do know, if you stick your head up, it’s going to be a target.’
Dante grinned. ‘Must be the luck of the Irish.’
‘You’re Italian, Moretti,’ Harper quipped. ‘Which is a good thing because I need a translator on our trip.’
‘I have an Irish grandmother,’ the boy replied. ‘And I will be happy to lend my services as an interpreter, although I haven’t decided how much to charge yet.’
Harper flicked her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. ‘I’ll buy you a gelato, but that’s it.’
‘Ah, frozen dessert treats.’ Dante sighed happily. ‘You do know the way to a young man’s language skills.’
The teachers and a couple of students remained behind to lock everything away while the rest of the children exited through a door in a high stone wall into the rear garden nearest to the house. Fairy lights twinkled in the trees and hedges though not in the heavens tonight. The patchy afternoon clouds had knitted together like a snug grey blanket, but at least it wasn’t quite as cold as it had been.
Max gazed up into the darkness and did a double take. He rubbed his eyes and wondered if he was imagining things. ‘Hey, look over there,’ he said, pointing at the sky beyond the roof of the mansion.
‘What is it?’ Kensy asked, squinting into the distance.
‘Someone is up there,’ Max said, breaking into a run. ‘They’re going to crash!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Kensy was beginning to think her brother must have taken a hit to the head during the exercise. He was making no sense at all.
But Sachin’s eyes had tracked it too. ‘Oh my gosh. There’s a parachute – a roman candle. Whoever it is, is going to hit the ground!’
The children charged after Max, who ran around the side of the house and down the driveway to the field beyond the Atlas fountain. All eyes were glued to the figure in the sky, silently praying for their chute to open.
‘Did anyone hear a plane?’ Kensy puffed, and was met with a volley of negatives. ‘Well, how did whoever that is get up there in the first place?’
‘Good question,’ Autumn panted.
‘Does anyone from . . . outside know about this place?’ Kensy couldn’t help wondering if there were suddenly going to be hundreds of jumpers raining from the sky, armed with some form of deadly weapon. She was prone to letting her imagination get the better of her.
Max leapt off the ha-ha wall into the field below, sending Dame Spencer’s sheep scattering and bleating at the tops of their lungs. Alfie was following close behind but miscued and hooked his foot on a loose stone. He landed flat on his face and half a dozen of the children thudded down on top of him. Fortunately, the hulking lad was a seasoned rugby player and simply shook them off, scrambled to his feet and hurtled over to join Max. The group soon caught up to them and all eyes stared into the sky.
The speed of the parachutist was enthralling, though the likely outcome was absolutely sickening. Yasmina covered her eyes.
‘This is going to be messy,’ Dante murmured, unable to look away.
Moments before impact, a chute opened. It was a giant of a thing, at least three times bigger than usual, which stopped the jumper in their tracks with a sharp jolt. The children watched as the figure floated to the ground like a feather and landed deftly on their feet. At that second, the clouds parted to reveal a full moon, the light glinting off the jumper’s silver suit. The interloper removed their helmet and goggles and realised that they had drawn quite a different audience to the flock of sheep they’d been expecting.
‘Good grief, what are you lot doing here?’ the man said. ‘I rather fancied a surprise arrival, but my stealth clearly leaves a lot to be desired.’
At the sound of the man’s voice, Carlos broke into a grin. ‘Agent Spencer, is that you?’
‘At your service. Whoever’s asking?’ the man replied.
‘It’s Rodriguez, sir,’ the boy said, stepping forward.
Kensy and Max looked at one another and then at the man, their eyes wide. They’d never even met their dad’s brother before and now here he was. Rupert Spencer was clearly a man of action and intrigue given his choice of transport.
‘Oh, hello Carlos. I hope you’re up for a spin around the track. If I recall, I still owe you a walloping after you cheated last year,’ Rupert said. He fiddled with the sleeve of his suit and, in the blink of an eye, the voluminous silk parachute shot towards him while simultaneously folding itself neatly into the pack he was wearing.
Carlos folded his arms across his chest. ‘Except that I didn’t cheat.’
Max nudged his sister. ‘Rupert?’ he mouthed.
‘Where did you come from?’ Alfie asked. ‘We didn’t hear a plane.’
Agent Spencer betrayed a hint of a smile. ‘Good – that was the plan,’ he replied and, with his helmet tucked under one arm, he leapt onto the ha-ha wall and strode off towards the house.
While the others descended into a raft of speculation, Kensy and Max were at a complete loss. That was their Uncle Rupert?
‘Do you think he saw us?’ Kensy asked as they made their way back to the house.
‘It’s hard to tell,’ Max replied, deep in thought. Perhaps their uncle hadn’t realised they were there. Max wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, because if Rupert was aware, it seemed pretty clear that he didn’t care to know them at all.