Mission In Malta Read Online Free PDF Page B

range of luxury cars, including a gleaming, silver Aston Martin.
    â€˜Is that your car?’ Linden followed Steinberger’s excited steps.
    â€˜No, it belongs to the Force. It’s much more incognito for getting around London than our other spy vehicles. Aston Martin had it specially made for us and customised to suit our needs, like …’ He pressed a button on his keychain and two seats folded out from the back. ‘Rear passenger seats. It’s also bulletproof and has spy features installed such as anti-tailing oil licks and steel spikes, as well as built-in rocket thrusters andinvisibility shields.’ He breathed a jittery, I’m-in-love sigh. ‘Jump in.’
    The doors opened by remote.
    â€˜Are you sure you can drive this thing?’ Max looked sceptically at Steinberger, who looked more like a kindly uncle who should be behind the wheel of nothing more powerful than a shopping trolley.
    He laughed. ‘I was born to drive this baby.’
    Linden slipped eagerly into the back while Max carefully stepped into the front and buckled up.
    Steinberger started the engine. ‘Listen to that purr.’ He slowly drove along the internal passageways of the secret garage, past an array of other cars, from small, inconspicuous sedans to a Porsche and a Ferrari.
    â€˜This car can accelerate from zero to one hundred kilometres per hour in just over four seconds.’
    â€˜Which we won’t need because we’re going to be incognito. Right?’ Max reminded him.
    â€˜Oh, yes. Definitely incognito. Don’t worry, Max, I am a very safe driver.’
    After having their palms scanned by two CRISP agents in a small booth, Steinberger drove onto a large metal platform. A lift flicked into action, carrying the car upwards. When it stopped,a garage door opened automatically and Steinberger inched the car forward into a dismal back alleyway lined with garbage bins, abandoned TVs and washing machines and closed in by looming brick walls covered in graffiti. He adjusted his rearview mirror and carefully checked both ways before tearing into the alley in a scream of speeding rubber.
    â€˜All right!’ Linden cried out from the back as Max’s head hit against her seat and she clung on even more tightly to her arm rest.
    Steinberger’s face transformed from calm, in-control manager to world-class Formula One driver. Shops and crowds of people blurred past as Steinberger swept in and out of lanes, caught the end of red lights and sped down cramped, car-lined streets before coming to a sudden stop in front of an expensive-looking block of flats.
    â€˜Ten minutes.’ Steinberger looked at his watch. ‘Fastest yet.’
    Max said nothing as she carefully peeled herself from the seat and stepped onto solid ground. After gaining clearance at the entrance of the building and again at Harrison’s door, they found themselves inside a plush yet messy apartment filled with terracotta pots and facing the wide smileand generously bandaged hand of Mr Harrison.
    â€˜Hello and welcome to my home.’ Harrison held out his arms and ushered his guests in.
    â€˜What happened to your hand?’ Linden asked.
    â€˜Oh, this?’ Harrison waved his non-injured hand flippantly. ‘It’s nothing, just a simple accident with my rather bad-tempered axolotl. He’s in pet anger management at the moment. But you’re not here to talk about fleas … I mean … me . Have a seat.’ He pointed to a large, comfy lounge and coffee table filled with bowls of strawberries and red lolly snakes. ‘Help yourself. Steinberger?’
    Linden did just that as Steinberger picked up what looked like a snow dome of New York with a flag attached to the side. He opened a false bottom to reveal a miniature control panel and used the flag to enter a code. The wall Max and Linden were facing slowly spun round. It took with it the plasma TV and a bookshelf and replaced it