Max had a thousand questions running through his mind. How had it happened? Did they know who was responsible? Would she recover? But at the moment he didn’t want to ask any of them out loud. Talking made things real.

  ‘I’m not sure you’ll be able to see her,’ Magoo said.

  ‘But we have to,’ Kensy blurted.

  The lift came to a halt and the driver sped forward into a marked parking space.

  The twins had been here before. On the day of the explosion at Ponsonby Terrace last year, prior to being whisked away to Australia, Max had been rushed to the secret facility to be checked for concussion and stitched up.

  Kensy wondered if their grandmother wouldn’t have been better off at a proper hospital with more extensive facilities, rather than a small clinic for Pharos agents.

  Magoo opened the taxi door and stepped from the vehicle with the twins behind him.

  The place was actually bigger than Kensy remembered, but then, she’d only really seen the small treatment room where Max had spent his entire stay.

  ‘She’ll be down here,’ Magoo said, leading the children to the end of the passageway. He pressed his hand against a metal plate and two white doors swung open, revealing what looked like a full hospital ward. There were machines everywhere and at least a dozen empty beds. One sign indicated operating theatres off to the left while another pointed to an intensive care ward through yet more glass-paned double doors, through which they could see their father, Fitz and Song.

  ‘Dad!’ Kensy called out. Edward Spencer looked their way and emerged seconds later with Fitz beside him.

  The girl threw herself at her father, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle and squeezing her eyes shut so that the tears that threatened wouldn’t come.

  ‘Is Granny going to be all right?’ Max asked. He was standing back a little, trying to be brave.

  Ed looked at Max then at Kensy. ‘It’s impossible to know. Hopefully they got her to Dr Foster and her team in time. She’s in a coma. It may take a while for her to wake up.’

  ‘How did it happen?’ Max asked. ‘And when?’ The situation was just about the worst thing the boy could imagine. They’d only had their grandmother for such a short time. The thought of losing her was incomprehensible.

  A deep frown line appeared on Ed’s forehead. ‘We’ll talk about that later.’

  ‘No need to keep things quiet on my account, Ed,’ Magoo MacGregor said. ‘I’m afraid I was with Tippie when Dr Foster called. She was on speaker in the car.’

  Ed glanced at Fitz. Tippie MacGregor had been contacted immediately to find out whether she and her team of scientists had new knowledge on ways to neutralise the toxin.

  ‘It looks like the novichok was in her tea,’ Ed said.

  ‘Her tea?’ Kensy gasped. ‘Where? When?’ The girl was hoping against hope that her grandmother had been at a cafe or a restaurant when it happened. Not somewhere her tea could have been made by anyone they knew.

  ‘She was at the Beacon,’ Fitz said. ‘An hour ago.’

  ‘But the only person who ever makes her tea at work is . . .’ Max looked at his sister, then at Fitz.

  ‘Sidney. Yes, he’s in a secure place awaiting questioning,’ Fitz said. ‘I’m on my way there now.’

  ‘No!’ Kensy gasped. ‘Sidney loves Granny. It can’t have been him. He’d lay down his life for her.’

  ‘We’re not saying it was him, Kensy,’ Fitz said. ‘But we have to investigate all possibilities.’

  ‘Because if it wasn’t Sidney then who else could it be?’ Max asked, taking a deep breath.

  And novichok – the children had learned about that recently in their Pharos Science classes. It was a Soviet-issue toxin with deadly consequences.

  ‘That’s what we need to find out. I’ll see you all later,’ Fitz said, and stalked away towards the exit.

  ‘I should be going too,’ Magoo said. ‘I said I’d meet Tippie at the Inventions Room – give her and the team a hand to see if there’s anything else we can learn about that horrid poison. I have a couple of old contacts in Russia I’d like to talk to as well. We all want to do our part.’

  Ed nodded. ‘Thanks for bringing the children.’

  ‘Anytime,’ he replied. ‘And if you need us to look after them tonight, Tippie and I are more than happy to help. I can’t imagine Anna will want to leave Cordelia’s side and you’ll have a lot to do too.’

  ‘Song can take care of us, or Grandmère and Grandpère,’ Kensy said.

  ‘Your grandparents are still in Yorkshire and I think Song will have other things on his mind,’ Ed said.

  ‘We could stay with the Peppers,’ Max suggested. ‘They’re right across the street.’

  ‘I’m afraid they don’t have the clearance to be told what’s going on,’ Magoo said. ‘It would really be much easier for everyone if Tippie and I took care of the twins. We can stay at your place. Tippie won’t mind a bit, and the twins will be in their home environment.’

  Ed flinched but didn’t respond. He wasn’t keen on Tippie and Magoo MacGregor having the run of their home. Magoo had been a notorious snoop ever since they were boys on training camps at Alexandria – he and Fitz had, on many occasions, found Magoo in places where he shouldn’t have been – and Ponsonby Terrace was the receptacle of a good many secrets, if one knew where to look.

  ‘We’re old enough to spend the night on our own,’ Kensy protested.

  Ed shook his head. ‘I’ll call you in a little while, Magoo, and let you know what’s happening. It won’t be too late; the children have school tomorrow.’

  ‘You can’t seriously make us go to school when Granny is lying half dead in a coma. That’s not happening,’ Kensy cried.

  ‘Sweetheart, it’s far better for you to keep your mind on other things and we’ll let you know the second there is any change,’ her father said.

  Magoo nodded. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’

  Of course he couldn’t, Kensy thought. He was the headmaster and there was nothing more important than school in his eyes.

  Max looked up through the low window and spotted his mother in full personal protective equipment including a face shield, mask and hazmat suit.

  ‘Can we see Granny?’ Max asked quietly. In truth, he couldn’t care less where he slept.

  Max’s words refocused Kensy’s attention. Arguing about where they would spend the night was stupid when their grandmother was so ill.

  ‘Of course, mate. I’m afraid you can’t go into the room at the moment, but there’s a glass partition,’ Ed said.

  Magoo gave a wave and left the family to it.

  ‘Oh, Dad, she’s not going to die, is she?’ Kensy stifled a sob.

  Max couldn’t stop the tears either. They welled in his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks.

  ‘Not if I have any say about it.’ Ed gathered the children into his arms and the three of them headed inside.

  ‘Good morning!’ The words sang out across the verdant garden, followed by the crowing of a rooster.

  ‘Good morning, Miss Polly.’ Mae Lyn smiled at the parrot sitting atop her elaborate perch in the corner of the covered terrace. ‘I know I’ve asked you this before, but please do not crow – it makes Mr Koh grumpy. And he still blames the rooster from next door even though no such bird exists.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ the African grey parrot apologised, but Mae Lyn knew tomorrow morning would start exactly the same way. ‘May I help you?’

  The maid shook her head. ‘I’m afraid your table-setting skills are not up to standard and we don’t need any accidents on my clean white cloth.’

  ‘No poo poos,’ the bird said in a serious tone.

  ‘That’s right,’ the woman replied. ‘No poo poos!’

  ‘What nonsense are you talking this morning, Mae Lyn?’ growled Vera, an older woman wearing a grey dress with a starched white apron over the top.

  ‘I was just chatting with Miss Polly,’ Mae Lyn replied.

  ‘Mr Koh does not pay you to talk to the bird. Hurry up and finish setting the table, then make sure you are on hand to pour his tea the moment he sits down,’ the other woman said. She shook her head and stalked back into the house.

  Mae Lyn had already spread a crisp linen tablecloth on the rattan table before she had been interrupted. She finished putting out the last pieces of cutlery and stepped back to appraise her efforts.

  ‘Very nice, very neat,’ Miss Polly said, bobbing up and down.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Polly – at least someone appreciates my work,’ Mae Lyn replied with a wry smile. She had rather hoped Vera would sleep in this morning and leave her to get on with things alone.

  Mae Lyn had only been in Mr Koh’s employ for the past four months. Her job involved cooking and cleaning, looking after Miss Polly and other tasks associated with making the household run smoothly.

  Mr Koh had his quirks but he was kind, and she rather enjoyed the peace and quiet that living on a large property in Nassim Road brought with it. It was different to the experiences of other helpers, who mostly lived in high-rise apartments – usually with a room the size of a large cupboard. Her quarters here, accessed via a covered walkway, were separate to the main house and included her own sitting room and kitchenette as well as a large bedroom and ensuite bathroom. Plenty of space to spread out and make oneself at home. For now.

  The only thing Mae Lyn didn’t much like about her job was Vera. The woman seemed to have taken an instant dislike to her, though the gardener, Cheng, had told Mae Lyn that Vera meted out the same treatment to all of the maids who had come and gone over the years. Thankfully Mae Lyn was in her late thirties and had enough life experience to hold her own. She knew that she wouldn’t have to work with Vera for too long so there wasn’t any point causing trouble. The older woman was turning sixty on her next birthday, which meant that she would have to leave her job and return home to the Philippines. It was the law. Vera had lived in Singapore and worked for Mr Koh for almost forty years – the thought of being forced away must have been terrifying in the extreme.

  Vera didn’t seem to do much these days anyway, other than criticising Mae Lyn and taking care of Mr Koh’s laundry and his sleeping quarters. Mae Lyn had been strictly forbidden from entering that part of the house, however she had on several occasions when Vera and Mr Koh were out. Unfortunately her searches hadn’t yielded anything of value so far.

  Miss Polly began swaying from side to side, then bobbing up and down again. ‘Music, please.’

  ‘Not now. Mr Koh will be down soon and you know he enjoys quiet in the morning. We can play your favourite disco tracks once he has gone to the office.’

  The parrot let out a loud sigh, which made Mae Lyn laugh. Who knew that one of her favourite work companions would turn out to be a bird? Though Miss Polly wasn’t your average feathered friend. She was an African grey parrot – a breed renowned for their ability to talk and mimic. Miss Polly’s vocabulary was extensive even for her type, and she was witty too. She was also Mr Koh’s pride and joy and he loved nothing more than to show her off to his friends and business associates – of which he had many.

  Mae Lyn glanced at her watch as, right on time, her employer walked out onto the terrace. The man was a stickler for routine – except when it came to entertaining, which he was prone to do at a moment’s notice.

  Sedgewick Koh picked up the copy of The Straits Times that Mae Lyn had placed on the far side of the table next to the New York Times, the Beacon and the Wall Street Journal. He was resplendent this morning in a taupe linen suit, though he quickly removed his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ Mae Lyn said with a nod, then poured his tea.

  ‘Good morning, sir,’ Miss Polly echoed, and bowed to her master, who gave the bird a wide grin.

  ‘Good morning, ladies,’ the man replied, addressing both woman and parrot simultaneously. ‘How are you on this splendid day?’

  Mae Lyn replied that she was well, thank you, but Miss Polly waxed lyrical. ‘I’m tired. No sleep,’ she said, and tucked her head under her wing. ‘Too much talking.’

  Sedgewick laughed. ‘My poor poppet. You must go to bed earlier in future.’

  ‘I love you, Mr Koh,’ Miss Polly said.

  ‘And you know I love you too, Miss Polly,’ Sedgewick replied.

  ‘She is so clever, sir,’ said Mae Lyn.

  ‘Indeed,’ the man replied. Mae Lyn began to serve Mr Koh’s breakfast from the portable bain-marie at the side of the terrace. She’d been surprised to learn that her boss preferred English breakfasts to traditional Chinese fare. He was also a man of simple taste who thankfully ate the same thing every morning. Scrambled eggs, a rasher of crispy bacon, a well-cooked grilled tomato and a side of wholemeal toast with strawberry jam.

  ‘Will you be home this evening, sir?’ Mae Lyn asked.

  Sedgewick wiped his mouth on the crisp linen napkin. ‘Tonight I will be hosting a dinner party for six – including myself. My guests are expected to arrive at seven.’

  Mae Lyn felt her stomach lurch. She wished he had told her yesterday when she went to the market. But then perhaps Vera had already known and chose not to mention it. It wouldn’t be the first time. Her morning plans to polish the silver had now been scuppered by another shopping expedition.

  ‘May I ask if there are any special dietary requirements for your guests?’ Mae Lyn said. She’d been caught out once before when she had served meat dishes to a group who were vegetarian. She found out later that Vera had known this and allowed her to cook the meal anyway.

  ‘No. I will leave the menu to you, but my guests are very important business people. They will have high expectations,’ said Sedgewick.

  He finished the last bite of his eggs and placed the knife and fork side by side, then reached for the toast rack.

  ‘And you, my dear Polly. I need you to be in fine voice this evening. Our guests must be wowed,’ the man said. ‘I am counting on some sizeable donations.’

  Mae Lyn cleared her employer’s plate and walked inside to the cool of the house where the fans whirred overhead. Her day had just become much busier, though it wasn’t a surprise given Mr Koh’s extensive network of business associates and penchant for entertaining. Sedgewick Koh had been the heir to a shipping fortune and sat on the boards of many important Singaporean institutions including the Singapore Zoo, the Jurong Bird Park, the Gardens by the Bay, the National Arts Council and the ArtScience Museum. He was a tireless fundraiser and was often called upon to host events. Partly because he was a consummate gentleman and the other reason being he was very well connected.

  Mae Lyn put the plate into the dishwasher and mentally began writing a shopping list. Though she had no idea who would arrive this evening, she would be ready. Her meal would be outstanding, her serving skills beyond reproach and her demeanour delightful. She would tell Vera that she would handle everything. It was Friday evening and Vera would not want to miss her favourite television show, so there was a good chance Mae Lyn would be left alone. And of course Miss Polly would be perfect too – that bird’s ability to extract information from people was beyond compare.

  ‘You must be starving, you poor things,’ Tippie MacGregor said as she rifled through the pantry. She was searching for something that the children might like to eat while they waited for the pizzas to arrive.

  Kensy shook her head, though she had felt her stomach grumble earlier in the taxi. They’d stopped in at home for a few minutes on their way to the MacGregors’ townhouse in Chelsea so the twins could throw some clothes and toiletries into a bag. Mr MacGregor had insisted on coming inside – just in case they needed any help – even though part of their agent training included putting an overnight bag together in under five minutes.

  He’d also mentioned several times that it would have been much easier for him and Tippie to stay in the guest room at Ponsonby Terrace for the night rather than uprooting the twins, but Ed hadn’t been at all keen on that idea.

  Kensy had thought their house had felt cold and empty – strange. Song was staying at their grandmother’s place at Wilton Crescent while things were investigated. The girl still didn’t believe that Sidney had anything to do with the incident. There had been something roiling around in her mind – Granny had said a few days ago that Sidney was off his game; that he’d done some odd things. She must remember to tell her father next time they spoke.

  Tippie set two glasses of lemonade in front of the twins and poured a bag of crisps into a bowl. A fluffy white cat curled its tail around her legs and she gave the creature a quick pat.

  ‘Sorry, we’re not used to having youngsters in the house. I hope this is okay,’ the woman apologised, and smoothed some invisible creases from her white skirt. ‘It’s usually just me, Magoo and Mr Pippin.’ She motioned at the feline, who had taken up residence on the chair at the end of the table.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ Max said, looking up at the woman. ‘Thank you.’ He leaned over and gave the cat a rub on the head.

  ‘Hello, puss,’ he said, his kindness repaid with loud purring. ‘He’s a lovely fellow.’

  ‘Until midnight,’ Tippie said, rolling her eyes. ‘Then he turns into an evil monster who likes to tap dance around the house. I’m afraid we have to lock him in the utility room or no one gets a wink of sleep.’

  ‘Sleeps all day and parties all night,’ Max said.

  ‘That’s exactly right,’ Tippie said.

  The front doorbell buzzed and Magoo called out from somewhere down the hall that he would get it.

  Under normal circumstances the twins would have been intrigued to see inside their headmaster’s home, but tonight was far from normal. Neither had paid much attention to the place, still lost in their own thoughts about their grandmother and how she’d come to be poisoned.

  ‘Your grandmother is a fighter,’ Tippie said. ‘She’s beaten all comers before.’

  Kensy wondered exactly what Tippie meant by that. Had there been other attempts on Cordelia’s life? The child couldn’t reconcile the idea that someone had got to her grandmother at work – a place that should have been safe. Then again, the Meyer twins and their gang had infiltrated the Beacon office a few months ago to hack the company’s servers, so clearly it wasn’t the fortress Kensy had previously thought.