Feel the Fear, Page 3

  Ruby took out her book of Rules, a small magenta pink notebook with the word RULES printed in bright red letters across the front.

  She’d had this book of rules since she was four years old and it had grown into quite a list over the years. Seventy-nine of them in fact. Now she had a new rule to add.

  DON’T STAND ON A WINDOW LEDGE IF YOU AREN’T COMPLETELY SURE THE WINDOW OPENS INWARDS OR OUTWARDS.

  OK, it was quite a specific rule. But a useful one. She’d improve on it later, give it a bit more pizzazz.

  ‘You look better.’

  Ruby looked up to see Dr Harper, the Spectrum medic who had treated her when she was brought in from Wolf Paw Mountain.

  ‘Better than what?’

  ‘Better than what you looked like the last time I saw you.’

  ‘Yeah, well last time you saw me, I had the flu, plus an injured foot, a broken arm and I’d nearly died of being burnt to death.’

  ‘Yes, your hair doesn’t look so good,’ said Harper, making a face. ‘Still a bit. . . crispy. So is the arm giving you any trouble?’

  ‘Nah, not really,’ said Ruby. ‘But it itches like crazy.’

  ‘Yes, that’s healing for you,’ said Dr Harper. ‘Itchy.’

  ‘Anything you can give me for it?’ asked Ruby hopefully.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dr Harper reaching into her top pocket. ‘This.’ She handed Ruby a yellow pencil.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ruby, ‘does it come with any directions?’

  ‘Yes, avoid the sharp end,’ replied Dr Harper.

  ‘How about my foot?’

  The doctor gave it the once-over and declared it ‘good to go’.

  ‘You sure?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘Trust me, I’m a doctor,’ said Harper.

  ‘And there I was thinking you might be a comedian. What about my arm?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Dr Harper, ‘that’s healed too. I’d cut you out of that cast right now but I got to be somewhere.’ She looked at her watch anxiously.

  ‘A medical emergency?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘A table for two at the Twinford Grand,’ said Dr Harper.

  ‘You won’t help me out of this thing because you got a lunch date?’

  ‘Did no one ever tell you lunch is the most important meal of the day?’

  ‘That’s breakfast,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Oh dear, I missed breakfast,’ said Harper. ‘So, I guess twice as important that I don’t miss lunch.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not dying,’ said Ruby.

  ‘No one dies of an arm cast,’ said Harper.

  ‘And you say you’re not a comedian,’ said Ruby.

  ‘See you next fall,’ called Dr Harper as she made her way out of the canteen.

  Before Ruby had a chance to get back to her thoughts, a voice came through the cafeteria intercom system. ‘Redfort, Ruby, report immediately to Spectrum 8. Agent in charge, office situated on black and white level. HQ.’

  The voice belonged to the Spectrum information announcer, a person Ruby had never actually laid eyes on, but imagined would not be someone you would want to land up on a desert island with.

  She guessed the owner of this voice resided in the same general department as Buzz, the mushroom-like woman who manned the fifty-plus telephones in an office just off the central atrium. Why he couldn’t just say, ‘Ruby Redfort to LB’s office, pronto,’ Ruby didn’t know.

  She finished her drink and slowly got to her feet, then she sauntered off to find LB.

  ‘Howdy,’ she said as she passed Buzz, who was as usual on the phone and talking to who knew what. Buzz blinked at her, pointed to her watch and continued her call.

  As Ruby approached LB’s office she could see the door was slightly ajar and as she got nearer she could hear fragments of a discussion; the voices semi-hushed, she could only pick up words at intervals so they were separated from their meaning:

  ‘apparently removed without authorisation. . .’

  ‘. . . from the department of defence?’

  ‘that’s what we’ve been told’

  ‘highly classified?’

  ‘affirmative. . .’

  ‘but how could anyone make it in?’

  ‘entered via an air vent. . . I know it seems impossible’

  ‘nothing else tampered with?’

  ‘No sign of anything else missing, no sign of anyone or anything anywhere else in the building.’

  ‘You worried about our security?’

  ‘Always. I’m. . .’

  ‘. . .but only an idiot would attempt—’

  She knocked and the conversation stopped dead.

  ‘Come in,’ said LB, her voice sounding even more gravelly and drawn-out than usual. ‘And close the darned door Redfort.’

  Ruby pushed it shut behind her and walked over to the empty seat next to Hitch. He tapped his watch and gave her a look to say, why in the world of reason can’t you follow orders? She slung her satchel across the back of the chair and slumped down. Then she looked from LB to Hitch.

  Hitch’s brow was ever so slightly furrowed; LB seemed not quite as composed as usual. In her hand was an object which she was turning over and over in her palm: a smooth rectangle of clear plastic or Lucite, the shape and size of a key tag perhaps. But the thing attached to it was no house key, or at least if it was, it was a pretty state-of-the-art locking device. When LB caught Ruby’s gaze she frowned, and slipped the thing into the pocket of her white jacket.

  ‘What’s with you guys?’ asked Ruby. ‘Did your kittens get run over or something?’

  Hitch raised an eyebrow. ‘I wish the problem were a simple case of a couple of flat cats,’ he said, ‘and I speak as a cat lover.’

  ‘Must be serious then,’ said Ruby. ‘So you gonna tell me about it?’

  ‘No,’ said LB.

  Ruby shrugged. ‘OK. So anything you do wanna share?’

  LB gathered her papers into a neat pile and then peered at Ruby through her large white-rimmed soft-tinted glasses. Today she looked tired. Working late? Or is she not sleeping so good?

  ‘So. You did well Redfort. It’s a pity that you couldn’t manage to secure the wolf, but you prevented the suspect acquiring it and that is something.’

  LB was referring back to the previous case Ruby had been assigned to, when she had indeed done well, albeit in a messy, skin-of-her-teeth sort of way. She had used her code-breaking and detective skills to figure out who had let loose a load of rare and wild animals from a zoo owned by a private collector. She had discovered the zookeeper was to blame, though he had later been murdered by those who had commissioned the crime.

  The perpetrators had been a young woman, believed to be a perfumer, named Lorelei von Leyden, and her mysterious sponsor about whom they knew nothing other than that – from her accent and the location of her initial coded message – she was Australian. Both were prepared to kill more than once to get their hands on the Cyan scent – an intoxicating perfume extracted from the near extinct Cyan wolf. The scent was the stuff of myth and legend; a few drops were worth a small fortune.

  The only problem was some of this scent had been successfully stolen.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ said LB, echoing Ruby’s thoughts, ‘they got away with it. So while I can congratulate you for cracking the case, I can’t help but feel it is a shame that you managed to let the vial of Cyan get into enemy hands, and the two main assailants disappear into the wide blue yonder. But there we are, amateur hour I dare say comes to us all.’

  LB had an unfortunate way of turning what might first be construed as praise into something rather more approaching a dressing-down. Fortunately or unfortunately, Ruby had become accustomed to it and didn’t let it bother her.

  ‘Going back to the events of that particular encounter, can you repeat again exactly what it was that the Australian woman said to you before she encouraged you to walk off that cliff?’

  ‘I’m unlikely to forget,’ said Ruby. ‘I thought they were gonna be the last words I ever
heard.’ This was no lie.

  Ruby paused for a second, concentrating so she might recall it perfectly, and then said, ‘She asked me to hand over the vial of Cyan – she had a gun, so I did. I guess I thought she was intending to sell it for its perfume value, since it’s worth a lot – so I said, “All this so you can make some money out of some stupid fragrance.” And she said, “Is that what you think this is about? No sweetie, this is not about some high-end perfume counter cluttered up with rich folk wanting to waste their money. This is about something important, more important than you could ever imagine.”’

  LB said nothing, but stared straight ahead into the middle distance as if trying to focus on something that was too far away to see. No one spoke and the silence was only broken by the sound of Buzz’s voice coming through the intercom.

  ‘Agent Farrow from security is here to see you.’

  LB nodded. ‘I’ll be one minute.’ She turned back to Ruby. ‘Well Redfort, I recognise that you showed great initiative and courage when you went into the mountains to recover the Cyan wolf, but. . .’

  She paused. Ruby looked over at Hitch, his face betrayed nothing.

  ‘But,’ continued LB, ‘you also headed into the field, alone and without backup. You ignored direct Spectrum orders. And you would not be alive today if one of our agents hadn’t risked his life to haul you out of there.’

  Ruby opened her mouth to protest.

  LB raised her hand. ‘As I said, you displayed good qualities. But you also took unacceptable risks. So as of this moment, you are off the field agent programme. To put it in terms you might understand, you’re grounded Redfort.’

  ‘You have to be kidding,’ said Ruby.

  ‘You think I have time to kid around?’ said LB. Her eyes were steel – nothing about her suggested that she ever kidded around. ‘You will be permitted to take one further test, and your results will be evaluated. The outcome will determine your future field agent suitability.’ She looked over at Hitch. ‘You can thank your colleague here for this chance. Be ready for it. There will be no warning, you fail to show, you fail the test.’

  LB stood, gathered her papers and exited the room. Not another word spoken; silence but for the swish of her elegant white skirt as she padded barefoot down the corridor.

  When they were alone, Ruby turned to Hitch. ‘Grounded?’

  Hitch looked her square in the eye. ‘Be more grateful,’ he said. ‘LB was ready to kick you off of the field training for good and always.’

  ‘Why? I cracked the case.’

  ‘You solved part of the case,’ said Hitch. ‘But you let the bad guys get away. And you nearly died in the process.’

  ‘Nearly dying is a sackable offence?’

  ‘Redfort, we can’t afford to lose good code breakers, nor for that matter agents. A lot of investment goes into training you up, plus you play fast and loose with your life and every last one of our lives is at risk.’

  Ruby said nothing.

  ‘Besides,’ he said, ‘do you have any idea how difficult it is to find thirteen-year-old school kids who can crack a code?’

  She looked at him. ‘Yeah right,’ she said.

  They left Spectrum, and rode the elevator back to ground level and were once again in the Schroeder car park. They climbed into the car. ‘So who’s the idiot, anyway?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘What idiot?’ asked Hitch.

  ‘The idiot you were talking about when I arrived.’

  ‘You are if you think I’m blabbing to a school kid.’

  ‘Worth a shot,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Which is what Spectrum might think if I go ahead and repeat classified information without authorisation.’

  ‘They’d shoot you?’

  ‘They might consider it.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No Redfort, not really, at least I doubt it, but they might fire me.’

  ‘That would suck,’ she said.

  Hitch nodded. ‘Yes, it would. I’d have to go and get a real job.’ He shuddered.

  ‘I’m sure my parents would keep you on.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hitch. ‘That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.’

  Meanwhile,

  via a secure transmitter line,

  a man and woman were

  talking. . .

  ‘So you have the 8 key?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It can’t be done.’

  ‘Everything can be done.’

  ‘You don’t understand, the subject has kept it safe. Security has been increased since I acquired the other two items—’

  ‘Why two items? I only instructed you to bring back one.’

  ‘I took something for myself. I saw it in their lab as I was leaving and thought I could use it.’

  ‘Use it for what?’

  ‘It’s personal.’

  ‘I’m not paying you to steal “useful” items for yourself, I don’t want you attracting attention by busting into labs and taking what you want.’

  ‘Relax, they won’t even know I took it, they won’t even know I was there.’

  ‘Just don’t get distracted Birdboy. You need to keep your eye on the ball.’

  ‘I’ll get what you want but you need to give me time.’

  ‘I don’t have time, I need it now!’

  ‘It’s not easy to access.’

  ‘Of course not, I wouldn’t need you if it was.’

  ‘It’s more difficult than I thought.’

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be brilliant?’

  ‘I thought you were supposed to be dead, Valerie.’

  ‘You see? Everything’s possible.’

  ‘Becoming undead is possible?’

  ‘It would seem so.’

  Chapter 5.

  ‘HEY RUBE,’ SAID HER FATHER, LOOKING UP. He was in the living room and looking weary. He was lounging back in his chair, the one he liked to sit in if his day had been tough. Mr Barnaby Cleethorps had obviously been a handful. Hitch was mixing a drink at the bar.

  ‘Good trip to the dentist?’ asked Brant.

  ‘Uh?’ said Ruby. ‘The dentist? Umm. . .’

  ‘That’s OK honey, dumb question. When does one ever want to go to the dentist, right?’

  ‘When one has a cavity?’ said Ruby.

  ‘So you had a cavity?’ said her father.

  ‘False alarm,’ said Ruby, wondering why Hitch hadn’t briefed her about the ‘trip to the dentist’.

  ‘Hitch was with you the whole time, of course?’ her father asked anxiously.

  ‘Oh yeah, he was there all right.’ She flashed a look at Hitch. ‘Weasel,’ she mouthed.

  Hitch handed Ruby a glass of lemonade, and whispered as he passed, ‘Just keeping you on your toes kid. Keep sharp and stay alive.’

  ‘What a lovely sentiment, I’ll be sure to write it in your next birthday card,’ hissed Ruby, giving him a death stare.

  Brant Redfort looked at his watch. ‘Do you think supper’s ready?’

  ‘I hope so, I’m starving,’ said Ruby.

  ‘You didn’t eat lunch?’ Brant asked, alarmed.

  ‘Yeah, sure I did, I’m just sorta double hungry these days. Probably the healing process; one needs to eat twice as much.’

  Brant Redfort looked troubled. ‘I’ll talk to your mother about it; can’t have my girl’s healing process compromised,’ he said, ruffling her hair. She tried not to growl at him – she hated the hair–ruffle thing – but her father looked so tired she didn’t want to give him a hard time.

  ‘So what else happened today?’ he asked.

  ‘The doc said I could finally get this lump of plaster sawn off,’ said Ruby, holding her cast up.

  ‘That’s swell news honey.’

  ‘I wanna do it as quick as possible,’ said Ruby. ‘Tomorrow would be good, you know what I’m saying?’

  ‘The Scarlet Pagoda! Absolutely. You’ll want to look your b
est for tomorrow night’s theatre fundraiser.’

  ‘That’s right Dad, looking my best is what I live for.’

  ‘Look, I’ll get onto Doctor Shepherd, I’ll bet he can wriggle you onto his list – get one of his guys to do it. I don’t want just anyone sawing into my Rube’s arm.’ He mussed her hair again and picked up the phone.

  ‘Hello Frank, Brant here. . . very well thank you! And you? . . .And Wallis? . . .And the kids? . . .And your parents? . . .Your sister Betty? . . .Glad to hear it. The thing is, Ruby needs a plaster cast removed pronto and I was wondering if you could slide her in tomorrow, get one of your best guys to do it? . . .Swell Frank, I appreciate it. I’ll wait to hear from you.’ He hung up. ‘Looks like you’re all set for tomorrow night’s costume shindig. All of fashionable Twinford will be turning out for it. And you know we Redforts have to be there looking a million dollars.’

  Ruby did know. Her parents were nice – more than nice, they were very, very likeable, friendly, sociable, popular people. Take this Scarlet Pagoda fundraiser, for example. Mr and Mrs Redfort were right at the top of the invitation list. If they hadn’t been able to make the date then there was a good chance that the date would have been changed to fit with their social schedules. They were fun folk, influential, and they always gave generously.

  Their daughter, Ruby, was also popular, but in a totally different way and for totally different reasons. For one thing, she did not go out of her way to be friendly. She was never wilfully unkind nor unfair, but she didn’t feel the need to be liked for the sake of being liked. She felt no motivation to be popular and perhaps for this very reason, she was. Magnetically so.

  ‘Thanks Dad,’ said Ruby, heading towards the stairs.

  ‘No problem,’ said Brant. ‘Soon that arm cast will be behind you and you’ll be back playing ping-pong with your pals.’

  Brant Redfort was unaware that Ruby had been playing ping-pong with her pals and doing numerous other things she always did – she wasn’t going to let a broken arm cramp her style and she wasn’t afraid of a little pain.

  Ruby went on up to her room, closed the door securely behind her and pulled at a wooden slat that concealed a secret compartment where she kept one of her yellow notebooks (the other 624 were hidden under the floorboards and not a living human soul had ever read one word of what she wrote). It was in these that she noted down everything of interest and anything that might one day be of interest. Her RULE 16 being EVEN THE MUNDANE CAN TELL A STORY and her RULE 34 being YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN SOMETHING IS GOING TO COME IN HANDY – this included seemingly useless information.