The Final Curtain Read Online Free

in the fridge. That Steinberger thinks of everything, doesn’t he?’
    When Max looked back up, the woman had disappeared into the thick London traffic.
    â€˜Did I what?’ Linden asked.
    â€˜Nothing.’
    Max shrugged and climbed inside the car. She sipped on her juice and tried to think of where she’d seen the woman before. There was something about how she stood and the way she stared that Max knew they’d met before. No matter how much she tried to recall where, the memory remained scratchy – but she had the creeping feeling their meeting hadn’t been very pleasant.

From the front, Spyforce Headquarters looked like a regular cement office building nestled amongst other similar cement office buildings in one of London’s more solemn business districts. There was no outdoor furniture, no rich green pot plants, no colourful signs displaying the company name or the nature of their business.
    The one item that gave away any information was the rich red carpet leading up to black-glassed front doors, which hinted that something special may be happening inside.
    And special it was, once identities were checked and double-checked.
    Max and Linden were directed by two solemn-faced men in dark suits to step onto a dark red floor tile. The two spies swapped brief smiles, and when their shoes touched the tile it lit up into the colour of burning coals. A gentle buzz trembled inside them like a million soft-drink bubbles making their way up their bodies.
    After a few seconds, the bright red light and fizzing faded.
    â€˜I’ll never get sick of the Vibratron,’ Linden smiled.
    â€˜Me too.’ Ben stepped onto the tile with Eleanor. ‘Along with Irene’s cooking, it’s my favourite part of the Force.’
    After they’d been positively identified the front doors slid aside, allowing the four agents into a stately foyer. It had a grey slate floor, grey marble walls and windows obscured by sheets of grey film. Agents with immaculately pressed tuxedos and slicked-back hair instructed them to rest their chins inside a small mirrored box called a Face Reader, which analysed every bump and wrinkle to further confirm their identities.
    Linden approached the Reader. ‘I’ll have to be careful of my hair.’ He patted his wild mop. ‘It took me hours to get it just right.’ Max smirked but the two agents’ stony faces didn’t budge an inch at Linden’s joke. ‘Maybe I’ll just do the reading.’
    After their faces had all been read, followed by soft melodic pings of approval, two metal doors slid open to reveal a brighter interior room dripping with sparkling streamers above mingling crowds of partying agents. Ben and Eleanor were immediately swept away into a whorl of hugging and back-slapping old friends. Waiters offering drinks wove their way between guests as if they floated on air, until Max realised they were floating on air in hover shoes. Guests were directed down a corridor, the walls alive with video reconstructions of missions from the Spyforce archives.
    â€˜That’s us!’ Linden pointed to vision of him and Max being chased in the middle of the Amazon Jungle. 4
    â€˜Kronch never stood a chance against Quimby’s foldaway inflatable Aqua Buggy,’ Max said. ‘And there’s us in Malta chasing Syphon off the island of Gozo.’ 5
    â€˜There wasn’t much that was going to stop his plans,’ Linden added.
    â€˜Except us,’ Max said before feeling a cold shiver at the next piece of footage. ‘There we are in Venice, tied to the wharf on the Island of the Dead.’ 6
    â€˜That tide rose fast.’ Linden watched closely. ‘Luckily Toby arrived in time to rescue us.’
    â€˜Don’t remind him, though,’ Max said. ‘His head’s big enough without any help from us.’
    â€˜Wasn’t that the time I saved you in Venice?’ The voice behind them was