Free In Search of the Time and Space Mach by Deborah Abela

what and why.’
    â€˜How are we going to do that if they won’t talk to us?’ asked Linden.
    â€˜We’re going to visit the Government department where Francis works. And even though I’ve got a feeling we won’t find him there either, maybe we can find someone who isn’t afraid to talk.’
    As Max and Linden waited for the elevator, a door to one of the flats opened a fraction and two spectacled eyes peered out, watching them. Then the elevator doors closed behind them and they were gone.

As Max and Linden left the building in Cricklebury Lane, Max took out her notebook and scribbled a few lines.
    â€˜This is what we’ve got so far. Francis did live in that apartment but was taken away by men in suits in a sudden and very suspicious departure that the neighbours are too afraid to talk about. We need to find out what has made them so scared. Who were the men in suits? Where did they take him and why? And finally, where is he now?’
    Linden took a mint from his pocket and started sucking it. He had a theory.
    â€˜My guess is whatever is going on, it’s big and involves some very important people. It may even go all the way to the top.’
    He felt like a spy from a 007 film.
    Max was impressed.
    â€˜I think you’re right,’ she said.
    â€˜Thanks,’ said Linden. ‘Want one?’
    Linden offered Max a mint.
    â€˜Thanks.’
    The Department of Science and New Technologies was a tall, marble building with statues and carvings in the walls of great scientists throughout history.
    As Max and Linden stood in front of it, theyfelt like they were somewhere very important. Max patted down her hair and straightened her jacket.
    â€˜If people are scared to talk we have to be careful how we handle this and we have to look and act respectable, so don’t do anything that will attract attention.’
    Max watched Linden try to control his wild curls.
    â€˜Well try and look as respectable as you can,’ she sighed.
    â€˜Whatever you say, boss,’ said Linden.
    â€˜And don’t call me boss,’ Max snapped.
    â€˜Right boss,’ said Linden, trying not to smile.
    Max shot him a quick stare and walked up the long stairs of the building. She pushed through the heavy revolving door into the foyer and stood on the polished marble floor. Linden walked in and stood next to her.
    â€˜Wow! This is some classy building,’ he said.
    Linden had hardly been out of Mindawarra in all his life and being in London with all its old buildings and statues was like being in another world.
    The front foyer was full of paintings, big carpets and shiny brass everywhere, from door handles to railings to flash name plates on long polished desks. There were people in suits hurrying all aroundthem, like they were all late for important meetings. Two of them nearly trampled Max and Linden as they stared at the high, super-white ceilings that were covered in great dangling chandeliers.
    In the centre of the foyer was a man with a small headset on a glued-to-perfection hairstyle and a smile that seemed to have been permanently fixed to his face. He was sitting at a solid round marble desk frantically answering phones, redirecting calls and saying ‘Have a nice day’ more often than your average human could have managed in a year. When there was a break in answering phones, Max spoke up.
    â€˜Excuse me, we were wondering …’
    â€˜Good morning, how can I help you?’ he asked sharply.
    â€˜We’re looking for a Professor Valerie Liebstrom,’ Max said.
    The receptionist’s smile fell to the floor in howling crash.
    â€˜Who?’ he asked, not sure he’d heard right.
    â€˜Professor Valerie Liebstrom,’ Max said a little shakily.
    â€˜That’s what I thought you said,’ said the receptionist in a clipped voice, with one eyebrowclimbing high up his forehead to show how annoyed he was at her question.
    The man