Family of Spies, page 9
“Part of that is correct. I can often figure things out really fast and sometimes it feels like I’ve always known it, but I still need to study. High school is nothing like university, in so many ways.” Gavin sighed. “I still think I’ll be letting them down.”
“Even if they are a bit disappointed, they’ll get over it. For parents, they are pretty cool. Even though they are mega nerdy. Plus, they are professors, so how can they argue with your dream of following in their footsteps?”
“Thanks Ford. You sure know how to make me feel better. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so…happy.”
“Yeah, well I guess we all have our talents.” Ford reached to the bottom of his bag and pulled out scrunched-up pamphlets, gum wrappers, and three mismatched socks. He unzipped each side pocket. “I can’t find it!”
“What are you looking for?”
“My power cord. I need it to charge my computer. Where did I leave it?”
“The only place you brought it out was—”
“The library!” they said in unison. The boys suddenly wore identical cheesy grins.
“We’ll have to go back—” began Ford.
“Tomorrow. Agreed.”
They high-fived as the apartment’s front door creaked open.
“Kids! We’re baaaaack!” Mom sang, her voice echoing down the hallway.
Ford and Gavin looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“Very, very nerdy,” said Ford.
Gavin nodded, with a face-covering grin. “Very.”
Ford thought he’d never seen his brother look so happy.
“How was your day?” Mom asked as she and Aunt June strolled into Ford’s room, shopping bags hanging from their arms. Mom’s sunglasses perched on the top of her head, half buried in a mound of red curls. Aunt June’s glasses hung by a gold chain around her neck, her hair hidden under a rather floppy celery green-coloured hat.
Ellie bounded into the room, pecked her mom on the cheek, then dove onto the bed between her cousins. Gavin grabbed the bedpost so he wouldn’t fall off.
“Dinner’s in an hour. Your dads are making crepes,” said Aunt June.
“And we are going to have a glass of wine on the balcony,” added Mom. “And after dinner we are having a family meeting to plan out the rest of our week in Paris. Come with ideas. If there is someplace you want to see, let us know.”
They linked arms, their eyes sparkling and smiles identical as they disappeared down the hallway.
“Race you to the kitchen,” Ford said and dashed through the doorway, with Ellie and Gavin close on his heels.
“Cheater!” Ellie called.
“You mean, winner!” Ford said, laughing. He didn’t think he’d been happier in his life. Another thing he had in common with his brother—utter happiness.
¶
Gavin flopped onto the couch in the living room. “Those were the best crepes, ever.”
Ellie sat next to him, a napkin in her hand. “In the entire universe.”
Ford sprawled in an overstuffed chair, his legs dangling over one of the plump arms. He moaned. “I think I ate one too many.”
Ellie laughed. “Don’t you mean you ate ten too many? I have no idea how you can eat so much and stay so skinny.”
Uncle Jim sat in the chair opposite Ford and laughed. “I used to be like you son, I could eat all I wanted and more, then one day, ba-bam, I grew this big ol’ belly. Now no amount of that rabbit food your Aunt June force-feeds me is shrinking my girth.” Uncle Jim rubbed his rather large stomach.
“Oh dear, I love you just as you are,” Aunt June said, as she perched on the chair’s armrest. She draped her arm around his shoulder and gave him a smooch on the cheek.
He stared up at his wife, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. “Sugar Dumpling, you have a way with words.”
“Oh brother. Old Person Romance. That should be outlawed,” Ford muttered.
“All rightieooooo faaaaamily,” Mom sang as she entered the room, her arms full of tourism pamphlets. “Time to plan our remaining days in Paris. We don’t want to get to London with any regrets over missing something important.”
“We have some ideas, too,” Ellie said, waving her napkin in the air. “I have a list.”
“When did you make that?” Gavin asked.
“At dinner when you and Ford were licking Crepes Suzette off your plates.”
Uncle Jim winked at Ellie. “That’s my Sweetpea. Always ready for everything.”
“Let’s have the kids go first,” Dad said. “I’m curious to see what they have on their Paris list.”
“Well, we’d like to see—” Ellie began.
Ford shot upright. “I have something to add!”
He zipped over to Ellie and whispered in her ear. “We need to return to the library to get my power cord. I forgot it there.”
“Really. You forgot it?” she whispered back, rolling her eyes.
“It was an accident. Honest.”
Ellie grunted. “Likely story.” She scrawled it on the napkin in big, black, spikey letters, then passed it to Ford’s mom. “Here you go.”
“Wow,” Dad said, peering over Mom’s shoulder as she scanned the paper. “That is a lengthy must-see list.”
“And we’d like to see them in that order. More or less,” Ellie said.
Uncle Jim chuckled. “That’s my girl. Organized down to the last detail.”
“Many of the places you’ve listed are also on our checklist, so this may work quite well,” said Mom, passing it to her sister.
“Looks good to me. The only conflict I can think of is tomorrow’s boat tour, although we do have a choice of tours,” Aunt June said, then spoke directly to the kids. “Currently, we are leaning towards one that follows Paris history through the past 600 years. This particular tour company is known for their comprehensive details.”
“Ugh,” mumbled Ford.
“What’s that Ford?” Mom asked.
“Oh, I was just wondering how long the tour will take.”
“Three hours. There was a four-hour voyage, but the only one they offered was in French and we didn’t think that would be a good choice, given—”
“My poor French skills?” Ford finished, for once thankful that he wasn’t as good as the rest of his family at foreign languages. “It is still a long time to be on a boat…”
“Yes, and there is a third option. Your dad thought you may prefer it,” Mom said.
Dad winked at Ford. “The final option is a longer cruise, closer to five hours—”
Ford slumped back in his chair. “Five hours? Dad—”
“Wait, wait. I am not done. It is a longer cruise that docks partway, close to the Eiffel Tower. You three can disembark and tour around for a few hours while we continue, and we can meet up at the Louvre at 3:30 on the dot.”
“We can do the library and café on our own, which you don’t want to see. That’s perfect,” said Ellie.
“Yeah, it sounds great! Thanks,” said Ford.
“Glad you’re happy. Your dad was insistent on that third option. Now, it’s time for you kids to head to your rooms for bed. It’s late and we have an early start tomorrow. Everyone up at 6am shaaaaaaarp!” Mom singsonged.
Ford sighed. “She giveth with one hand and taketh with the other.”
“What are you now? Some sort of psychic philosopher?” Ellie asked as they shuffled down the hall.
“Yup, that’s me, Fordacle the Oracle. Rub my belly and I will tell you your future.”
Gavin dropped his arm around Ford’s shoulder. “I think you are getting mixed up with Buddha. Did you know, Buddha Shakyamuni was the first Buddha? He was born a royal prince in 624 BC and interestingly, the region where he was born was originally a part of Northern India, but now it is a part of Nepal…”
Ford smiled. He was getting to like this sixty-year-old man-child brother of his.
Chapter 18
Ford, Ellie, and Gavin stood at the front of the boat, a warm breeze ruffling their hair as the tour guide rattled on about all things Paris: Napoleon, the French Revolution, the history of Paris patiseries, and of course guillotines.
Ellie grimaced. “For such a beautiful city, it sure had a grisly past.”
“History is pock-marked with murderous moments,” said Gavin nodding, a smile dancing on his lips. He looked ready to dive into a full history lesson.
“Pock-mocked with murderous moments?” Ford teased.
Gavin’s smile quivered, then disappeared. He lowered his head.
“Ford!” Ellie said.
Shame flamed through Ford as he watched his brother’s face redden. Gavin hadn’t always taken offence this easily. He cleared this throat. “Uhm…what I meant was that almost sounded like poetry. You make history interesting, Gavin.”
Gavin peered at Ford. “You think so?”
“Yeah, I really do. You should be the one guiding this tour, instead of that boring old geezer.” Ford pointed at the elderly tour guide who sat perched on a tall stool and had bellowed supposedly interesting facts into a megaphone for the past two hours. “I was only joking around.”
Ellie wrapped her arms around her cousins’ necks. “Now that’s what I like to see: brotherly love.”
“Don’t get carried away. Gavin’s still a colossal nerd.”
“And you’re still a huge pain in the—”
“Okay, okay. I get it; you’re brothers, you fight,” interrupted Ellie.
“Look! We’re almost there.” Gavin pointed at the Eiffel Tower which loomed ahead. “It seems so much bigger in real life.”
“Here they come,” Ford said, nodding at Uncle Jim and Dad as they wandered across the boat deck. A small French flag waved from the top of Uncle Jim’s baseball cap.
Ellie laughed. “Look at my Dad. Such a tourist.”
“Shhh! He’ll hear you,” Gavin said. “Hey Dad. Hey Uncle Jim.”
“Hey yourself,” Dad said. “Are you kids ready to take off?”
Uncle Jim smiled. “Ellie already filled me in on your plans.”
Ford’s breath caught. “She did what?”
Ellie leapt to Ford’s side. “I sure did. We’re off the library and then lunch at Les Deux Magots for their world-famous…croissantwiches and…chocolate mousse. I have our route all planned out.”
Ford stared at his cousin. She stared back. World-famous croissantwiches? What was she talking about?
“Ellie—” Ford began, but Uncle Jim’s booming voice cut him off and drowned him out.
“Lordy, Lordy, you are a marvel,” Uncle Jim beamed at Ellie. “Leave it to my Sweetpea to have every moment of your day plotted and organized.”
“And we’re here!” Gavin said, shrugging his backpack onto his shoulders as the boat docked.
Dad peered over the rim of his glasses at Ford and Gavin. “Ah, right. Au revoir, boys. You have my number in case of emergency. Have fun and use your heads. Remember you are in a new city, so if something seems fishy, follow your gut. Your instincts won’t often steer you wrong.”
Funny, Mme. Bellerose had instructed Ford to do the same thing.
“Thanks Dad,” Gavin said “No need to worry about us. As Ellie said, we’ve got it all planned out from start to finish.”
The cousins raced down the plank to shore, weaving between masses of people. Snippets of conversations in French, Italian, English, Spanish, and a whole bevvy of other languages swirled around them. They broke free from the crowd and raced to the bottom of a wide, cement staircase that led to the street above—the Quai Branly.
“This way,” Ellie said. She darted up the steps with Gavin and Ford close behind. Ford’s heart beat wildly.
“So what was all that talk about sandwiches?” Ford asked her when they reached the top.
“Oh, yeah. My dad basically interrogated me last night when he came to say goodnight. He couldn’t figure out why two middle-schoolers and a university student were so taken with a military library and a café frequented by artists. I had to do some fast talking to get him to back down.”
“That was pretty good thinking,” Gavin said.
“Yeah, well you can thank me later. Now we have a mystery to unravel.”
Ellie showed Ford and Gavin the map on her phone. “We have a bit of a journey ahead of us and we are on a tight schedule. So, we need to get your power cord and get to our first destination—Les Deux Magots Café—as fast as we can. That means no extra chatting with your wannabe girlfriend, Marie-Claire.” Ellie poked Ford in the ribs.
“Stop it,” Ford grabbed her fingers and shoved her hand away. “And what do you mean, wannabe girlfriend? I have no idea what—”
“Zip it. Just listen. Grab your power cord and then we fly. Remember, whatever happens, we can’t be late meeting our parents at the Louvre. 3:30 sharp means not one second late to The Sisters. If we’re past our meeting time, they are going to tan our hides and they might get suspicious. We cannot afford suspicious parents. Especially after my dad’s interrogation last night.”
“True. How far is it from the café to the Louvre?” Gavin asked.
Ellie typed on her phone. “We can walk there in fifteen minutes. So as long as we leave the café by 3:10, we’ll have plenty of time.”
Ford looked out the window at the Eiffel Tower as they pulled away from the curb. “See ya later, tower.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Hello Monster Madness. Time to level up.”
Ford smiled as he shifted in his seat, ready for thirty minutes of uninterrupted gaming time. Vive la France!
Chapter 19
Marie-Claire raced across the library floor towards them. Her heels clicked fast and loud, her face pale, a look of fear in her eyes. This was not the same happy, rosy-faced Marie-Claire they had met yesterday.
Her words tumbled out before they could even say hello. “There was a man and a woman, and they were looking for you this morning. I think the woman may still be here. I didn’t see her leave, but I’ve been busy cataloging books so I can’t be certain. You need to leave. It is not safe for you.”
“What?” Ford asked, confused. What man and woman? Marie-Claire wasn’t making any sense. “Who would be looking for us?”
She looked over her shoulder, then back at Ford. “You must go. You cannot be seen. Please, hurry.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the wall of books on the side of the great room. “Vite, vite,” she said to Ellie and Gavin, her voice barely above a whisper. Her stride quickened. Ellie and Gavin kept pace.
She dropped Ford’s hand and lifted a keyring from her suit-jacket pocket. Unlocking a door partially obscured by a wall of books, she turned a darkened brass knob and led them into a maintenance hallway. It was dim, only lit by bare bulbs that hung every ten feet or so along the ceiling. A bright green SORTIE sign shone at the end of the hallway. Once all three cousins passed through the doorway, Marie-Claire closed the door and locked it. She let out a long, shaky breath.
“These people, they spoke to Monsieur Bouchard at great length and then they asked me so many questions—questions about all three of you: why you came to the library, what you were looking for, and”—she glanced at Ford—“many, many questions about you.”
A lump of fear formed in Ford’s throat. Why would anyone come looking for him? Mme. Bellerose’s warning came to mind. He had no intention of becoming anyone’s agent of evil. “And what did you say?”
Ellie gently took Marie-Claire’s hands and looked directly into her eyes. “Did you tell them about Ford’s abilities?” Ellie whispered, urgency lacing each word.
Marie-Claire shook her head, her voice wobbling as she answered. “No. No, I kept his secret, but they knew so much already. I got the feeling they already knew you were searching for information about your great-grandfather, they just wanted me to say it.”
“How could they know?” Ford asked.
Marie-Claire removed her glasses and cleaned them on her blouse. “I think our computer search on your great-grandfather triggered an alarm…of sorts.”
“An alarm? Like a fire alarm?” Ellie asked.
“No, quite the opposite. A fire alarm is intended to warn the public of danger. What I am referring to is a silent alarm designed to warn an elite few of danger or discovery.”
“An elite few, or…entire governments,” Gavin added. “It is common knowledge that governments have their secret service agencies monitor what people search on the internet. I guess that means we’re being watched now.”
“But why would anyone care about a bunch of kids googling a long-dead relative?” Ford said.
Marie-Claire sighed. “I suppose that is the question you must answer. I fear you have awoken a sleeping dragon. You must remember that there is a reason that people say war is hell. Things happen; people, soldiers, civilians, and governments do things that they would not do during peace time. What I learned in my university studies is that there are some war secrets governments do not want the public to discover, even decades later.”
What had Great-Granddad been involved in? Fear stirred deep inside of Ford. It churned in his belly. Did he really want to know?
“So who exactly were those people who came looking for us?” Ellie asked.
Marie-Claire shook her head. “That isn’t so easy to say. Logically, you should explore secret service agencies related to your initial search.”
“You think spies are after us?” Ellie said.
“That is the most likely conclusion,” Gavin said.
Marie-Claire nodded. “They were definitely not gendarmes. The man who spoke to me had an English accent. The woman never uttered one word.”
“English accent…would they be from the Special Operations Executive? That’s who we searched up. Are they even still around?” Ellie asked.
“Well, sort of. They officially ceased to exist after the war, but their…contre-renseignement…counter-intelligence work would have been carried out by Britain’s secret service agency—MI6,” Marie-Claire explained.
