Chapter 4

xmascara

At exactly one minute past eight the following evening, Delta returned. Once again dressed in a dark suit and silk tie and clutching his attaché case, he entered the sitting room and sat opposite Max, shuffling his feet to ensure his black shiny shoes were aligned and the toes exactly level with each other.

‘No second thoughts, I trust?’ he asked matter-of-factly, while rummaging through his papers.

‘We’ve discussed this fully,’ Dad butted in. ‘Max seems more than happy to be your ears and eyes. I’ve got no reason to doubt his decision so yes, we’re still up for this.’

‘I’ve even had a few words with Jay.’ Max smiled, as Delta’s eyebrow rose nervously. ‘Don’t worry, I’ve not given anything away. He’s coming here for a sleepover next Saturday night. Dad said he could come with us to football and back here for a take-away and DVD. Then I might get invited back to his house.’

Delta looked at Dad for confirmation. Dad smiled as if to say ‘I told you so.’ He’d been in a far better mood since his threat of a driving ban had been magically lifted. ‘A small price to pay for a clean driving licence! Can I get you a drink, Mr... er... Delta?’

‘Not for me. Regarding your licence, the paperwork is already being processed. Your penalties have been erased from the records as I promised. I’m glad to hear Max is already forming bonds with Jay but I have to warn you that his uncle is a different kettle of fish. You will soon find what a slippery character he is.’

‘All very fishy!’ Max joked.

‘What if your intelligence about this man is wrong?’ Dad asked.

‘It isn’t,’ Delta snapped. ‘We’re professional. The Government never deals in shoddy intelligence. So just make sure this man doesn’t fool you with any false charm. He’s planning something sinister and we need to find out exactly what as soon as possible. I shall also give you a list of things I want you to look for around the house and garden. Any likely bomb-making equipment must be reported to us immediately.’

‘Bombs?’ Max looked shocked. ‘That sounds a bit scary.’

‘This isn’t a jolly little adventure, Max. This is ugly terrorism in the raw and it’s a cruel business. Innocent people get hurt. He’s bound to have weapons of some sort. Your job is to find details, clues and evidence.’

‘Why don’t you just send round your people to check things out?’ Dad asked.

‘With respect, Mr Hunter, you had no idea that we’d been round this house with a fine-tooth comb simply because you’re not a professional terrorist. He’ll be prepared. He’ll have counter-surveillance equipment and if he gets wind that we’re on to him, he’ll go to ground and we’ll risk losing him. No, by far the best intelligence will be gathered by someone on site while he’s actually in the house and off his guard. Someone who isn’t seen as a threat. That’s why Max must know just what to do and what he can safely use. That’s essential and that’s why I’m here now.’ He looked down at his shoes again, before taking a small package from his case and placing it carefully on the coffee table.

‘These are the tools of your trade, Max. I will now explain how and when to use them. Any chance of that drink, Mr Hunter? Earl Grey tea, if you have it.’

‘Er…might have… I think we’ve got some bags somewhere.’

‘No milk or sugar. Just a slice of lemon. In a cup, no mug. Bone china preferred.’

Dad pulled a face and left the room, leaving Max with a smile and a lot of questions.

‘How will I pass on any information to you?’ he asked enthusiastically.

‘Not me,’ Delta snapped. ‘You communicate with Department 42. After today, all communication between you and me terminates once and for all. The name of your contact at Department 42 is Tango. He’s head of the team for Operation Code-Cracker.’

Delta leaned forward slowly. Thinking he was about to examine the state of his shoes again, Max sat back to wait. Instead, Delta spoke in a whisper so Max had to strain to hear.

‘I’ve told you before about saying nothing to anyone else about what you hear and see. That also means keeping everything secret from your father as well. As they used to say in the Second World War, “Even the walls have ears. Careless talk costs lives.” If your cover is ever blown by careless talk, you will be in great danger. I needn’t tell you that the Silver Scorpion stops at nothing to dispose of enemies, or anyone who upsets them.’

‘Silver Scorpion?’

‘Jay’s Uncle Kurt is a dangerous member of this poisonous organisation that aims to strike at the heart of world governments. Just like a real scorpion’s venom, their attacks destroy the very nervous system of civilised society.’

‘One Earl Grey with lemon,’ Dad announced triumphantly as he entered with a tray of cups and slices of Gran’s coffee and walnut sponge. ‘Anyone for cake?’

Delta eyed the cake as if it were laced with Silver Scorpion venom. ‘I think not.’ He pushed the package on the table to Max, who took out the contents.

‘It looks like a sort of screwdriver,’ Max said, unimpressed.

‘It’s an electric pick-gun that runs on batteries. It can pick most locks in a matter of seconds, should you need to investigate behind normal household locked doors. It’s a clever piece of kit and works on standard padlocks as well.’

‘Cool!’ Max looked at the next object. ‘My own phone. Brilliant!’

‘It will only work when you key in your code and fingerprint recognition as it’s essential no one else uses it or gets access to your files. You can text, email or phone Tango as well as send image information. Its camera also records flash-free infra-red images for use in total blackout, plus video and sound; and it has internet access. We can send you images of suspects, instructions or coded messages if necessary. A most helpful piece of equipment. Just be warned, Silver Scorpion is a highly organised network with sophisticated technology as well as ruthless operators. At all times be on your guard. I’ll give you a couple of these just in case.’ He placed two small devices on the table, each with a neckband attached. ‘These look like any computer memory sticks that can be worn round the neck. In fact, each is a small distress flare – a mini firework, if you like. It only burns for a matter of seconds but it emits great heat and light so never ignite within ten metres of your face. By pulling out this pin, you have ten seconds before it explodes with a bright flash, sufficient to signal or alert rescue services in the dark.’

Max picked one up to examine. ‘Wow – wicked!’

Delta frowned disapprovingly. ‘These should only be used in extreme emergencies, never for cheap tricks.’

An awkward silence followed, with Max being lost for words. He glanced down at a scrap of paper on the coffee table. Delta leaned forward and asked, ‘I don’t suppose you got anywhere solving my puzzle? But there again, I don’t suppose a boy your age would have the maturity or skill – ’

‘Actually,’ Max grinned, ‘I reckon it’s quite easy. I’m really into dingbats.’

Delta’s frown deepened.

‘Dingbats are special word puzzles,’ Dad said. ‘My mother gave Max a dingbat game for Christmas. He beats me every time!’

Max fetched the paper with Delta’s puzzle written on it:

BCDFHIJKLMOPQRSUVWXYZ x 2

‘The missing letters from the alphabet spell A GENT. At first I thought that meant something about a man gone missing. Then I realised it’s more likely to do with spies so it probably means MISSING AGENT. Could the “x 2” mean DOUBLE? Maybe MISSING DOUBLE AGENT. To be honest, I’m not really sure what a double agent is!’

‘Spot on,’ Delta nodded thoughtfully. ‘Most encouraging. A double agent is no more than a traitor – someone who pretends to work for one side while really serving the other. We don’t tolerate that sort.’

Max sat back smugly. ‘Yay, I cracked it! Now I’ve got one for you. What saying is this?’ He held up some paper with a single word on it:

xmascara

‘I would imagine it has nothing to do with Christmas,’ Delta said. ‘Nor anyone called Cara. Apart from being an anagram of “A Max Scar”, I think it is safe to say...’

Suddenly he looked up. His icy eyes darted in all directions and his wispy eyebrow quivered.

‘Is something the matter?’ Dad asked. ‘Something wrong with the tea?’

‘I think my dingbat has stumped him!’ Max laughed.

‘Sssh. Is there anyone else in the house? A new pet, perhaps?’

‘Just Dad and me.’

But Delta’s next words were like something from a spy film. At first Max thought he was trying to be funny – but Delta didn’t do humour.

‘We’re not alone. Someone’s there.’

There was a moment’s silence while everyone listened intently. They all jumped at a rattle from the kitchen.

‘Maybe I didn’t put the cake tin back properly. It’s probably just slipped a bit on the shelf,’ Dad whispered unconvincingly.

But then came a scraping from the kitchen.

Clutching the tray in front of him like a shield and gripping the cake knife, Dad opened the door from the sitting room and approached the kitchen. Max followed close behind, armed only with his new phone with its hot-line to Tango at GCHQ. Not that it would do much good right now.

Dad slowly placed his hand on the door handle, took a deep breath and barged into the kitchen. There was a scream and the smash of a plate.

‘Whatever do you think you’re doing?’ It was a woman’s voice. Gran.

‘Blimey, Mum! I thought we had burglars. What are you doing here?’

Still startled and with her hand clutching her chest, Gran spluttered and waved her other hand across her face like a fan.

‘Goodness me, dear. You scared the living daylights out of me rushing in like that. And you, Max – it looks as if you’ve seen a ghost. I told you I’d pop back with a chocolate cake when I’d done some baking. Shame about that plate. Sorry, love.’

‘It’s okay, Gran, it’s just that we thought there was an intruder on the loose.’

‘Come through for a cuppa, Mum, and a piece of cake. Leave that broken plate, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got a visitor for you to meet.’

Max shook his head frantically. ‘Dad, no. Hush hush.’

‘A visitor?’ Gran laughed. ‘Not a new lady friend, darling? This I must see...’

She entered the room and looked round. ‘Oh. I knew it was too good to be true.’

Max and his dad stared at the empty chair. Delta was nowhere to be seen. The chair and cushion where he’d been were not creased in the slightest, his cup and saucer had gone completely and there was nothing to suggest he had ever been in the room. He had disappeared without trace.

‘A professional to the last,’ Dad muttered, going to the front door to peer outside.

‘Stop all this nonsense.’ Gran sighed. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you both. Now you’ll be delighted to know I’ve brought you a new ball, Max. It’s in my bag in the kitchen, dear. Oh look, there’s a little package on the sofa. What’s in there, I wonder?’

Max dived onto the sofa and grabbed it before Gran could pick it up. ‘Just a couple of things to help with a little job I have to do,’ he said. ‘Ah, he’s done my dingbat!’

He picked up the paper with Delta’s answer scribbled on it. It said under XMASCARA: ‘Could be XLIPSTICK or XBLUSHER. Answer still the same: Kiss and make-up’.

‘He worked it out.’ Max grinned.

Gran frowned. ‘You seem to be talking in riddles today, Max. Sometimes I think you’ve got an overactive imagination. But I wouldn’t have you any other way, love.’ She ruffled his hair. ‘Maybe you get it from me. Perhaps I’ve got a mad imagination, too. I think that’s what the police thought when I phoned them today.’

‘You did what? Why?’ Dad looked horrified.

‘Well, you hear so many stories these days that I felt I had to report it. I was convinced I was being followed in Archers, the garden centre on the ring road. It was a man with a face shaped like a potato who wore grubby tennis shoes – the same man who I’ve seen staring at me from a white Volvo outside my house for the last couple of weeks. A shifty-looking type. And I’ll tell you another thing. This morning I caught him snooping through my wheelie bin. I waved my rolling pin and he ran off but ever since, I’ve had that uneasy feeling that I’m being watched. And the awful part is, it’s just the same in this house. Between you and me, it feels as though something scary is going on. Something very scary indeed – just you mark my words.’