Free Mission In Malta by Deborah Abela Page B

the centre of it all, a many levelled fountain was lit from beneath so that it seemed to spill streams of gold.
    â€˜Ow!’ Max pushed a tall man’s elbow out of her face. ‘There’s plenty of ground to stand on without having to use me as well.’
    Waiters swept through the excited hum with large trays of food and drinks. They wove their way around brightly coloured lips, through cologne-whiffed air and past polished shoes, pressed suits and long, flowing gowns.
    And each time people met, they kissed. It was everywhere. Old couples, young couples, kids and their parents. An old lady slipped one of the waiters a peck on the cheek when he handed her a cocktail.
    â€˜What’s with all the kissing?’ Max mumbled to herself.
    â€˜The what?’ Linden looked up from a tray of small meat pies a waiter was offering him.
    â€˜Why all the kissing?’
    â€˜It’s a big night and people are excited.’
    â€˜I’m excited too, but you don’t see me kissing everyone I meet.’
    As eager leech fans scrambled around Alfonzo to get his autograph, security guards attempted to organise an orderly queue, and Max and Linden found themselves jostled to the back of the crowd.
    â€˜This is like the Hollywood of the science world.’ Max smoothed her elbow-shoved hair as they were pushed to the outer fringes of the ceremony.
    â€˜If I’d known leeches were so popular, I’d have paid more attention to my hair.’
    â€˜I’m not sure that would have helped.’ Max smiled at Linden’s untameable mop. ‘And anyway, our attention is supposed to be on Alfonzo and the people here, not your appearance.’
    Linden tried to pat down his unruly hairdo but gave up when a passing waiter with a tray full of ricotta cheese-filled pastries walked by. ‘Pastizzis. Steinberger told me about these.’ Linden took a bite. ‘Yep. They are good. I’ve got to find out a way to get these into the Mindawarra Bakery.’
    â€˜Hey, watch it.’ Another Alfonzo fan swung his camera into Max’s head while trying to take a photo. ‘Do you mind if I have a little bit of earth to stand on?’
    But Max didn’t have to worry about standing for much longer. A wave of overzealous leech fanshad forced her away from Linden and towards the balcony fence bordering the gardens.
    â€˜Max, you have to try one of these. Max?’ Linden turned to see Max lifted from the ground by the crush of fans and left teetering on top of the low iron fence.
    â€˜Linden!’ Max reached forward in the confusion and tried to find something solid to hold onto, but one final, unseen shove from the crowd sent her toppling off the balcony.
    â€˜Max!’ Linden pushed through the crowd as if he was fighting a powerful rip. He reached the fence, searching desperately into the lamp-lit evening for Max, but all he could see was the blackened sweep of night that stretched all the way to the harbour.
    Linden spoke into his watch. ‘Max, can you hear me?’
    Nothing. An awful silence blotted out the night so that even the boisterous sounds of the party became muffled in the face of what may have become of his friend. Linden searched the darkness below, wondering if Max had landed in the harbour or, perhaps, he winced, slammed into the hard stone of the cobbled harbourside pavement.
    â€˜Max, please answer.’ Linden held the watch close to his lips. ‘Where are you?’
    â€˜I’m here,’ a small, irritated voice floated out of the device.
    Linden strained his eyes. ‘Where?’
    The light from Max’s watch briefly illuminated the edge of her face.
    â€˜Oh.’ Linden’s eyes adjusted to the low light, eventually revealing a flattened Max, only metres below him, lying on her back in a bed of … of …
    â€˜It’s manure if you’re wondering where I’ve landed.’ She turned the watch light off. ‘I’m