‘Me,’ said LB.
NO ONE HAD NOTICED THE SPECTRUM 8 BOSS enter the Morning Star coffee shop. She had picked up the distress call to Hitch and, wary of recent events, had made the decision to follow up.
She’d stepped quietly in through the door, without a sound, and had been watching them unobserved.
When LB spoke, her voice was steady, not a hint of shock, surprise or emotion, but Ruby couldn’t help wondering on what kind of inner reserves she must be drawing, what it was costing her to hold it together instead of collapsing clean to the floor.
Several seconds passed before anyone said anything, and when they did it was Ruby who said it.
‘You are Loveday?’
‘I am,’ said her boss, her eyes trained on the man sitting opposite Hitch.
‘L for Loveday, so B for …’
‘Byrd,’ said LB.
Baker stared back at LB as if he was struggling to pluck some memory.
‘Loveday Byrd?’ mused Ruby.
‘My parents had questionable taste,’ said LB.
‘It’s very … sorta …’ Ruby began.
‘Romantic …’ suggested Baker.
‘Loveday Byrd …’ she switched to a whisper, ‘Uggerlimb.’
‘Ah,’ said Baker.
‘Which is why I went with the initials.’
‘I can see why you dropped the U,’ said Ruby. ‘What I don’t get is how can no one know your real name?’
‘I changed it a long time ago. The only person to know me as Loveday was Baker … and I thought he was dead.’
She sat down. Her face was hard to read.
LB was looking directly at Baker when she said, ‘We never found your body, we thought it had been consumed by the flames. There was no sign of you, no sign that you had managed to struggle from the wreck or eject from the craft, no time to go over the area with a fine-tooth comb. We had to erase the evidence before the TV crews and newspapers showed.’ She paused, turning to Hitch. ‘And by the way, it wasn’t an accident.’
‘What wasn’t an accident?’ asked Hitch.
‘The crash.’
‘The crash was planned?’ said Hitch. ‘Someone shot down Baker’s space craft – who?’
‘Her,’ said Baker, pointing his thumb in LB’s direction.
‘How do you know? I thought you had amnesia?’ said LB.
‘She told me,’ said Baker, now pointing his thumb at Ruby.
‘You read that in the Ghost Files?’ said Hitch, looking at Ruby.
‘Run that by me again?’ said LB.
‘The kid broke into the Ghost Files,’ said Hitch.
‘She what?’ said LB.
‘How do you know I broke into the Ghost Files?’ asked Ruby.
‘Someone found your pencil,’ said Hitch, producing it from his pocket.
‘So why didn’t you say?’ asked Ruby.
‘I had my reasons,’ said Hitch.
‘I’d love to hear them,’ said LB.
‘And I’m sort of dying to know why you decided to kill Baker,’ said Hitch.
‘Reading the Ghost Files won’t tell you,’ said LB.
‘No, that’s right,’ said Ruby, ‘it was the Count who told me.’
‘Told you what?’ asked Hitch.
‘Told me that it was LB who killed Bradley Baker.’
‘As everybody is beginning to figure, I’m not actually dead,’ said Baker.
‘Which is a miracle,’ said Hitch.
LB turned to Baker. ‘I had to make a choice between one life or more than a thousand. I chose to save the thousand and twenty-seven – I chose to kill you.’
Baker smiled. ‘How could you not? It had to be that way.’
And she flashed him a look which told of pain and grief.
There followed a debriefing of sorts where Ruby explained again what had led her to Baker and how she had discovered all she had discovered.
LB was unusually calm about the three break-ins to the Prism Vault. But then again, how could she possibly be angry? Without Ruby’s total inability to abide by Spectrum rules, Bradley Baker would still be up in Little Mountain Side standing behind a counter in a grocery store, chatting to customers and filling in the squares in the cryptic crossword. Grateful though she was, LB did make an emergency call to Froghorn and tell him to reconfigure the Prism Vault code.
‘And Froghorn,’ her voice was stern, ‘do better this time.’
Hitch looked at his watch: the weather forecast predicted snow flurries.
‘Kid, we should go if we want to get that helicopter back to base.’
They left the Spectrum 8 boss and former agent Baker sitting at the little table in the Morning Star coffee shop, deep in conversation and barely seeming to register their colleagues’ departure.
Once outside, Ruby turned and, looking back through the window, what she saw was a couple lit up by the cosy glow of the cafe, snowflakes beginning to drift across the scene. It looked for all the world like a Christmas card.
BRADLEY BAKER LEFT LITTLE MOUNTAIN SIDE the very next day. It was decided that it would be impractical for him to stay on there. He was reluctant to leave, but he understood that the debriefing would take time – there were a lot of missing memories and no one was sure if they could be recovered. It was LB’s feeling that while security was compromised at HQ, Spectrum would not be a safe place for Baker to be. Furthermore, information regarding Baker’s survival should be restricted to those agents LB had faith in and could trust with her life; these individuals would have to work outside of the Spectrum headquarters.
So after much discussion and deliberation, it was decided that the safest place for Bradley Baker was Green-Wood House. Baker would be well protected: on the one hand, there was the new state-of-the-art security system, and on the other, living with the Redfort family would provide perfect cover. Since no one was aware Baker was alive, no one was going to come looking for him.
‘Not a word of this gets discussed over the airways, are we clear?’ said LB. ‘Baker’s name should not be mentioned in company, nor anywhere in the Spectrum building, and no one but those authorised to know should be made aware of his existence.’
So just like that Bradley Baker became a guest of Sabina and Brant, only he would be known as Mo Loveday. Hitch made the call, which went something like this …
‘I hope you will understand, Sabina –’ (Sabina Redfort had always insisted on informality) – ‘if there were any alternative I would certainly take it.’
‘Why yes, of course Hitch, but what are you asking exactly?’
‘My cousin from out of town?’
‘A cousin, how wonderful!’ Pause. ‘What about him?’
‘You didn’t get my message?’ said Hitch, who hadn’t actually left her a message.
‘No,’ said Sabina. ‘I’ve been so busy with the Christmas shopping I just haven’t had time to do another thing, I’m so sorry.’
‘Well, I left a note to say, my cousin Mo has just had a spell in the county hospital and I want to keep an eye on him.’
‘Oh dear, what happened to him?’
‘He had an accident of sorts …’
‘Oh my, how awful. What sort of accident?’
‘It involved a chicken of the woods.’
‘He was attacked by a wood chicken?’
‘No, it’s an edible mushroom, not to be confused with the hen of the woods, a different fungus altogether. Anyway, he ate a chicken of the woods and suffered a bad reaction, it happens from time to time.’
‘How dreadful,’ said Sabina; she paused and then said, ‘and oh dear!’
‘What is it?’ said Hitch.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, I believe Mrs Digby is preparing a maitake that’s hen-of-the-woods mushroom stew for this evening’s supper and your poor cousin really won’t want to look a mushroom in the face after what he’s been through! I mean I should know after that terrible bout of oyster poisoning I contracted.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Hitc
h. ‘He’s a bit disorientated is all, just don’t ask him too many questions. Questions tend to throw him.’
‘Oh,’ said Sabina, ‘I’ll be sure to tell Brant, no questions.’
‘Anyway, the thing is, I don’t like the idea of Mo being alone, what with his …’
‘Confusion?’ said Sabina.
‘Exactly,’ said Hitch.
‘Right,’ said Sabina, herself confused. ‘Of course you don’t, Hitch, neither do I. He must come and stay, we have the guest room and he’s welcome to use it.’
The Green-Wood guest room was actually more like a guest apartment, which meant if the guest so wished, there was no need for him to venture into any other part of the house. But this was not how the Redforts liked things: they enjoyed company, and they prided themselves on being good hosts.
‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ said Sabina, clasping her hands excitedly. ‘I will make such a fuss of him.’
‘No fussing,’ said Hitch. ‘He’s not good with fussing.’
‘No fussing,’ promised Sabina, ‘but I really will have to change the menu.’
When Baker arrived that Saturday it was by the city bus, no fanfare, no big welcome party, everything was deliberately low-key. Ruby and Bug met him at the corner of Cedarwood Drive, and they walked casually on towards Green-Wood House.
‘Nice to see you out and about. I hear you suffered some kinda toadstool poisoning?’
‘I think that’s unlikely,’ said Baker. ‘I kinda know my mushrooms from my toadstools by now, but I’ll play along.’
Ruby filled him in on the occupants of Green-Wood House.
‘Mrs Digby you’ll like, she’s a straight-talker, and so long as you appreciate her cooking and never interrupt her when she’s playing TV bingo, you’ll get along just fine. Though she’s furious with you.’
‘What, already?’ said Baker.
‘You’re the reason her hen-of-the-woods stew had to be abandoned.’
‘But I love hen-of-the-woods stew,’ argued Baker.
‘Yeah, but you’ve just suffered a bad case of mushroom poisoning,’ explained Ruby.
‘This is a very inconvenient lie,’ said Baker.
They crossed the road, and once on the other side Baker stopped and looked around.
‘What is it?’ asked Ruby.
‘I don’t know, just a feeling,’ said Baker.
‘Like you’ve been here before?’
He shook his head. ‘Something else,’ he said.
They walked on up the steps and before Ruby could reach for her key, the door was flung open and there was Sabina Redfort smiling her biggest Sabina Redfort smile.
‘Hey Mo!’ she said. ‘Come in come in, how lovely to see you, you must make yourself comfortable, how was your journey? Are you tired? Do you want a tea? A coffee? Oh –’ she remembered what Hitch had said about questions, no questions – ‘just come in, let me help you with your bag, do whatever you want, take your boots off, keep them on, if you’re cold turn up the heat, if you’re hot open the windows, anything goes … oh –’ no fussing, she remembered, and quickly corrected herself – ‘I mean just go right ahead and help yourself and I’ll leave you to it.’ She walked quickly upstairs and disappeared into the lounge.
Bradley Baker looked confused but Ruby shrugged, ‘My mom’s a little strange,’ she whispered, ‘just go along with it.’
Mrs Digby sniffed when she saw him; it was a disapproving sniff and he picked up on it right away.
‘I am all apologies Mrs Digby, I don’t know what to say, all the efforts you’ve gone to producing a wonderful supper and I’ve ruined it all by almost dying of mushroom poisoning – some house guest,’ said Bradley.
This did the trick and two minutes later Mrs Digby and ‘Mo Loveday’ were chatting away while he sliced onions and she boiled potatoes. They talked of foraging and survival and Mrs Digby explained how her old pa had taught her to move without sound when stalking prey.
‘I don’t often get the chance to use this talent,’ she said, ‘but I tell you once in a blue moon it comes in very handy indeed.’
By the time Ruby decided to turn in for bed, Sabina, Hitch, Bradley, Brant and Mrs Digby were settled in for a long night of poker.
HITCH HAD ARRANGED THINGS WELL: It was Sunday and Brant and Sabina had suddenly found themselves invited to an exciting auction of rare and hitherto unseen works by the artist Pietro Tomassini. This exclusive event was celebrated with a slap-up lunch hosted by Miersons Auction House and held at the Circus Grande. This was to be immediately followed by the opera – Hitch had somehow managed to get his hands on a pair of tickets for L’Amitié est Aveugle.
‘He must have connections,’ said Sabina. ‘Tickets to see Flora Steffanelli sing are just about gold dust.’
‘He’s some butler,’ remarked Brant.
‘Honey, Hitch is a house-manager,’ corrected Sabina. ‘He doesn’t like to be called butler, he’s very particular about that.’
‘Well, he’s some house-manager,’ said Brant.
The point of all this was to get the Redforts out of the house. Mrs Digby, Hitch had dispatched to an all-day, all-night poker session. He’d been tipped off about the game by an acquaintance known as Bunny All Thumbs, and Mrs Digby, needless to say, couldn’t get down there fast enough.
Once the coast was clear, it was easy enough for Spectrum to come and go without arousing suspicion.
Dr Harper arrived first. She was there to check Baker’s blood pressure, shine a light into his eyes, tap a little hammer on his knee, that sort of thing.
‘So you’re the great Bradley Baker?’ said Dr Harper. ‘Everyone does talk a lot about you, don’t they?’
‘I’m afraid I wouldn’t know. You gotta remember, I’ve been dead for eleven years.’
‘How could I forget? Someone brings that fact up at least once a week,’ said Harper.
‘Sounds tedious,’ said Baker.
‘You get used to it,’ said Harper. ‘I’m just happy I finally got to meet what all the fuss was about.’
The examination didn’t take a great deal of time, but when it was done and doctor and patient walked back into the kitchen, Ruby saw something different in Harper’s expression, though she could not pinpoint what it was.
‘So doc, can you do anything about the missing pieces?’ said Bradley, tapping his finger to his head.
‘That’s a question for SJ. She’s our memory expert.’
‘SJ?’ said Baker.
‘That’s me,’ said SJ. ‘Good to see you again sir.’ She stepped forward.
‘Glad to see you too SJ,’ said Baker, shaking her by the hand. ‘Forgive me for not remembering you, let’s hope you can put that right.’
‘I’ll do my best Agent Baker, you can count on it,’ said SJ.
Dr Harper handed SJ a file before pulling on her coat. ‘A real privilege to meet you, Agent Baker,’ she said, picking up her doctor’s bag.
‘Likewise,’ said Baker.
Harper disappeared, LB arrived. It was the weirdest day, seeing the great and good of Spectrum walk in and out of the Green-Wood House front door.
‘So what are we thinking,’ said LB, sitting down at the Redforts’ kitchen table. ‘Any chance of restoring the memory?’
‘Is it even possible?’ asked Baker.
‘I think we might be able to gradually restore your memory, piece by piece, but to try and bring it back too swiftly could be damaging,’ said SJ. ‘I can’t say we have ever done anything as radical as restore biographical memories. We have had great success restoring partial memories: how to tie shoelaces, things like that … But what Baker here has is more difficult than that. He remembers how to do things, how to speak … he just doesn’t remember his life. When Pinkerton was alive, we spent a lot of hours trying to understand how memories are laid down and recovered, but—’
‘You knew Pinkerton?’ said Ruby. ‘Homer Pinkerton?’
‘Of course,’ said SJ. ‘When I first started at Spec
trum, I was Professor Pinkerton’s lab technician. He taught me everything I know about memory.’
SJ picked up Baker’s file and went to set up whatever it was she needed to set up downstairs in the guest apartment. Not quite forty minutes later, she returned.
‘So, we’re ready,’ she said. She glanced at LB. ‘I’ll push the treatment as far as I can, but Baker has to take it easy.’ She glanced down at the file Harper had given her. ‘Anything too stressful, any physical over-exertion could be very dangerous –’ again she looked at LB, her expression suddenly very serious – ‘fatal even.’
LB just nodded. ‘Baker, are you happy to do this?’ She reached out and touched his arm, and Baker smiled at her. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Without memories, what are we?’
Ruby had never seen LB make any kind of gesture that might suggest actual affection, but with this one small movement Ruby saw the tiniest hint of what Bradley Baker meant to her.
‘OK,’ LB said, ‘so go easy on him. Time’s not on our side but let’s not go killing him in the process.’
While Baker was having his memory worked on, Ruby went up to her room to continue her trawl through the yellow notebooks.
What she found was not particularly enlightening.
Much of it involved watching the Lemons trying to collapse Archie Lemon’s stroller, or get their dog Dudley to fetch a ball. Dudley seemed to spend most of his waking hours howling at squirrels.
A few hours later she came back downstairs to the kitchen to find SJ writing up notes in her file.
‘Where’s LB?’ she asked.
‘Back at HQ,’ said SJ.
‘Where’s Baker?’ asked Ruby.
‘Resting,’ said SJ. ‘Probably fast asleep; this recall treatment really takes its toll.’
‘Want a snack?’ asked Ruby.
‘What you got?’ asked SJ.
‘Cookies or crackers,’ said Ruby.
‘Cookies,’ said SJ.
But before they could open the tin, Blacker walked in with five bags of take-out.
‘Hitch sent me,’ he explained.
‘Where is he?’ asked Ruby.
‘Back at HQ,’ said Blacker. ‘He’s got a lot on his plate. So who’s for lunch? I got Chinese, Lebanese, Japanese,’ he announced. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d prefer, so I kinda ordered everything.’