blab to the butler.
It was hard to know whether Ruby had written this as a joke or if she had actually had some premonition that something dark was coming her way.
But it was all he needed.
Clancy ran to the nearest phone booth and dialed the number on the card — his call was answered after the first ring.
“She told me about her work with you and Spectrum, she didn’t want to but I wouldn’t let it go, she had to.”
“It doesn’t matter about that, not anymore,” said Hitch. “Just tell me what you know — Ruby said something about a redhead, you saw this woman, right?”
“Yes,” said Clancy, “I did, we both did.”
“Meet me at one hundred and one Maverick Street,” said Hitch. “Can you do that?”
“I think I can find it,” said Clancy.
Clancy arrived at the Spectrum office twenty-five minutes later. He was out of breath and thirsty but when Hitch answered the door Clancy forgot all about that.
“It was me who spotted her,” said Clancy.
“We’re talking about the redhead?” said Hitch.
Clancy nodded. “When I spotted her in Twinford Square, I knew I had seen her some place before but I couldn’t think where.”
“So you followed her?”
“Yeah, we followed her to the Grand Twin Hotel and we managed to get into her room.”
“What did you do then?”
“Well, Ruby started going through a stack of photos she found on the desk.”
“And you?”
“Well, I noticed that the woman had all these glasses, huge glasses, tinted, sorta like sunglasses but not, ’cause you could wear them indoors.”
“So?”
“So,” continued Clancy, “Ruby pulls out this photo from the stack of pictures and I remember where I’d seen the redhead — she was in the Redforts’ slide show, in the background of one of their vacation pictures.”
“They didn’t know her?” asked Hitch.
“No, they didn’t. Anyway, then when we are outside the Double Donut, I see Ruby is staring at me because you see I have forgotten to take off the lady’s glasses.”
“And Ruby recognizes them?” suggested Hitch.
“Yeah,” replied Clancy, “but she didn’t say why.”
Hitch reached behind the file shelf and the bookcase slid to one side, revealing a passageway. “Come with me, kid.”
“Hey, that’s kinda corny!” said Clancy.
“Corny it may be, but Ruby never found it,” replied Hitch.
Hitch led Clancy down to the cinema room deep underneath the office. He switched on the projector and clicked through the slides until he got to one of a woman stepping out of a jewelry store.
“I know the picture’s black-and-white but could this be the woman?”
Clancy looked up at the image: the woman in the photograph had the same elegance, the same style, the same mean look about her. The main difference was that this woman wasn’t wearing huge tinted glasses, so you could clearly see her heavily-lashed eyes.
“It does sorta look like her,” ventured Clancy, “but the woman I saw had a big scar across her left eye — I only saw it for a couple of seconds but you couldn’t miss it.”
Hitch felt his blood run cold: now he was sure. It was Nine Lives Capaldi who had taken Ruby, and he knew there was not much chance of finding her alive.
“What is it?” said Clancy.
“This is Valerie Capaldi — we call her Nine Lives. The last time she crossed my path we got into a fight — I left with a torn-up leg and she left with a nasty gash to her left eye. I haven’t seen her for a couple of years,” added Hitch, staring at the screen, “but if Nine Lives is involved then Ruby is in a lot more trouble than I had thought.”
Sabina heard the front door open and the heavy footsteps as Hitch climbed the stairs to the living room.
“So where’s Ruby?” she called, adjusting her dress.
“Don’t worry about Ruby, I’ll make sure she is there on time.”
Brant breezed into the room, smiling. “That daughter of mine around? I hope she’s not going to be late — she has a terrible problem with punctuality.”
“She’ll make it, I promise you that — everything is going to be all right,” said Hitch. “You can count on it.”
Sabina looked at him. “Darling Hitch, no need to be so dramatic.” She laughed. “You’re almost worrying me — she’s not going to wear one of her awful T-shirts is she? I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind because you know I would — but nothing can ruin tonight for me — nothing.”
RUBY SAT UNCOMFORTABLY IN A LARGE SHABBY CHAIR. A chair that might well have belonged to Dracula himself, with its dragon feet and bloodred fabric. Her wrists and ankles were bound and her mouth gagged, a blindfold across her eyes. She could hear sounds, mutterings, heavy objects being dragged across a stone floor. She could sense that something — several somethings — were in the room even if she couldn’t see them. She felt as if she were surrounded by vultures . . . a colony of vultures! That was the collective term for them — fine time to remember that.
Then, suddenly, light.
Someone removed the silk scarf and Ruby found herself once again staring into the pretty eyes of Baby Face Marshall. He really did have a very sweet face. It was hard to believe what Agent Blacker had said about this clean-cut guy with his tidy features and straight teeth.
“Got something to say, cutie?”
Baby Face ripped the tape from her mouth. Her eyes began to water.
“Oh, now don’t cry — tell me what I need to know and you can run along back to Mommy and Daddy.”
“Look, first of all I don’t cry — least not because some schmuck with a face like a baby is giving me grief, and second of all, as I was saying to those cronies of yours before they stuck packaging tape over my mouth, I don’t know anything.”
Baby Face didn’t like the line about his having a face like a baby, Ruby could tell — his voice got a whole lot harsher.
“What were you doing at Crisp ’n Clean dry cleaners?” He leaned very close when he said this — his breath warm against her face.
“I was picking up a dress for tonight, for the museum shindig, you know the one, everyone’s talking about it, the old Buddha thing? You see I forgot to collect my outfit and my mother will be mad as a bear if I don’t wear it this evening. You know how mad bears can get, don’t ya?”
“Yeah, I hear bears are capable of knocking a person’s head off.”
Ruby regretted bringing up the subject of bears — she didn’t want to be giving him any ideas. The one thing Ruby Redfort knew about bears was RULE 79: WHAT TO DO IF YOU MEET A BEAR — WISH YOU HADN’T!
Baby Face picked up Ruby’s backpack and pulled out the blue jacket. “This your outfit?” He was looking in the pockets.
“No! I don’t believe it! What the . . . I guess I must have picked up my mom’s dry cleaning instead of my own, how could I be so dumb?”
“Yes, that is a question I am asking myself,” said Baby Face in a sinister tone.
“Look, mister, just what is it you want from me? You can have the jacket if it is such a big deal — my mom will kill me but I would rather deal with her than have you all unhappy.”
“Oh, I’m not unhappy, Ms. Redfort, but I know someone who might be.”
He turned toward the door.
“Hey come on, look at me, buster. I’m just a schoolkid you know.”
“Tell it to my boss,” hissed Baby Face as he closed the door behind him.
Hitch pulled up outside the museum entrance, and Mr. and Mrs. Redfort stepped out of the car. LB had insisted that he be assigned the job of securing the safety of Brant and Sabina Redfort. When he had argued with her she had countered, saying, “You’re too close to this thing, Hitch. Let someone else search for the kid — you’re feeling guilty and guilt never did anyone any good. You’re more use to us here. You’ve got to keep perspective.”
/> Chinese lanterns were strung along above the steps, and music drifted out across the square. The cherry trees had scattered blossoms across the path and all in all it was a very beautiful scene. A gentle breeze, a mild night — a perfect evening for a party. Fairy-tale perfect.
Hitch however, noted nothing of this. All he registered were security guards, cameras, and agents. He switched on his watch transmitter and spoke into its speaker. “Any sign of the kid?”
“I’m afraid not, Hitch. We’ve been looking all over Twinford and a ways beyond too, but it’s like she just disappeared into the night.”
Hitch sighed heavily and took the incoming call from Agent Blacker. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” asked Blacker.
Hitch groaned.
“Well, the bad news is Mr. Klaus Gustav has yet to emerge from his hotel room so we haven’t had a chance to brief him on our security — Dr. Gonzales is beginning to wonder if he is ever going to show.”
“And the good news?” asked Hitch.
“I’ll call you when I’ve got some.”
Ruby listened.
She heard the determined clack of expensive leather-soled shoes making their way along the stone corridor. The footsteps were far away but steadily getting nearer. Even the sound of them — so regular they reminded Ruby of a ticking clock — seemed to be announcing something awful. By the time they came to a stop outside the huge wooden door Ruby’s heart was beating so hard her whole body could feel it.
As the door creaked slowly open, Ruby felt perspiration trickle down her face, though it was deathly cold inside the room. The figure that stood there cast a long and eerie shadow, a shadow almost independent of the man it belonged to. It was impossible to see more than that, but then Ruby, with just the one contact lens, stood very little chance of seeing anything very clearly.
However, she understood something without looking, without seeing — her sixth sense was telling her that this man was not a good man.
This is the sort of man, thought Ruby, who might indeed dangle one over a bubbling volcano . . . just because . . . why not?
SHOULD HAVE WORN THE YELLOW, thought Sabina, I’m a knockout in yellow.
Sabina Redfort hadn’t quite recovered from the disappointment of discovering she wasn’t the only one to have thought of wearing a jade-colored dress; most of the women at the party were attired in varying shades of green. Still, her iced canapés were a triumph and the green martinis were a masterstroke. All in all the party was a glittering success.
She was roused from her self-appreciation by the voice of Freddie Humbert.
“And where is that clever daughter of yours, Sabina?”
“She might be clever, Freddie, but it seems she still hasn’t learned to tell the time. If there is one thing Brant and I tried to teach her, it’s punctuality, but it’s a losing battle with Ruby.”
“Ah, she’s a great kid though,” said Brant. “Easily diverted, but a great kid.”
“Diverted!” Sabina frowned. “The clock will strike midnight before she appears and it will all be over.”
“It’s true,” said Freddie Humbert. “Kids nowadays have got no ability to listen to simple instructions.”
“Here you go, Dad,” said Quent, returning with a tray of drinks. “Two martinis, one with extra olives, one with no olives, one mineral water, ice, and a twist of lime, and a jade juice, no fruit.”
“I blame that old devil, the TV,” asserted Marjorie Humbert. “Quent’s usually glued to it.”
“Having a proper conversation is impossible,” said Freddie.
“Maybe Hitch knows where Ruby might have gotten to,” said Sabina distractedly.
Hitch, meanwhile, was scanning the room. Just where are you, Nine Lives, and who in all the underworld are you working for? Who would be insane enough to believe that they could outwit Spectrum, dodge a whole security team, and steal what was considered “more precious than gold?”
The shadowy man walked toward the chair. He seemed to be studying her.
“So, you are Ms. Redfort . . . Ms. Ruby Redfort.” The man pondered her name as if placing it in some invisible title sequence. “I am sorry for your discomfort — did Mr. Marshall bind you too tightly? He can be very thoughtless.”
He had a disconcertingly kind voice — soothing, calm, at times barely audible.
“It’s a shame about the temperature. It does seem to stay icy cold in this tower, yet such a mild evening.”
Ruby searched his eyes but saw only blackness: no pupils, no iris. Shark’s eyes, she thought — impossible to fathom. He moved over to a table and poured a glass of water from a jug.
“Did Mr. Marshall even offer you a drink? I imagine not, and yet manners, they say, make the man — without them, what are we? Monsters?”
Ruby thought of her father. How often she had heard him say “Manners maketh man.” He was clearly wrong.
“A little consideration goes a long way, does it not, dear Ms. Redfort?”
Ruby wondered when the torture was to begin.
He raised the glass as if in a toast. “You’re sure I can’t tempt you?”
Ruby cleared her throat and tried to gulp back her fear. “Who are you?” she asked.
Why she asked she did not know; she knew the answer and she had no desire to hear it spoken out loud.
“Forgive me, here I am talking of manners and I have forgotten my own, but then I imagined an intelligent girl such as yourself would already know.” The man smiled and his white teeth glistened. “They call me the Count,” he said calmly, reassuringly even.
But Ruby’s blood had already run ice-cold, her limbs felt all at once very heavy. For she was face-to-face with the archenemy of all archenemies. Perhaps only the mysterious Bradley Baker had ever escaped the Count’s chilling clutches — was there really any chance for a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl from Twinford?
She felt for the key ring still clipped to the chain on the back of her jeans — it was a comfort to hold it in her hands. She slid the tiles around nervously, and, without knowing it made a word.
HELP
Hitch looked at his watch, and the little light that was once again flashing; this time, red.
It was beginning to spook him — Bradley Baker was long gone, yet it was as if the young Bradley was trying to make contact across time and space. The giant clock on the museum wall was ticking, its huge hands clicking steadily toward midnight and still no sign of anything to lead him to either Ruby or Ruby’s captors.
“Let’s talk about Spectrum,” said the Count.
Ruby didn’t so much as blink.
“You’re going to have to spill the beans sooner or later, Ms. Redfort. I would urge you to do it sooner — I find waiting such agony, don’t you?” He smiled.
But Ruby said nothing.
The Count just laughed. “A bit late for keeping your mouth shut, isn’t it? If only you could have been less chatty the other day, then you wouldn’t be in this”— he waved his hand carelessly —“little situation.
Ruby tried to think back. When had she blabbed about Spectrum?
The Count shook his head. “I must say, on the whole you are very discreet — we would never have known you were involved at all if it hadn’t been for that one call to your friend, Master Crew.”
The conversation with Clancy! One stupid phone call had her all tied up and about to die! Why couldn’t she keep her big mouth shut? It was just one little rule after all. Why couldn’t she just keep it zipped.
“You bugged the phones?” whispered Ruby.
She had imagined she was invisible just because she was a kid, but a spy should always assume that someone might be there watching through the keyhole, or listening at the door — it didn’t matter what age you were. RULE 9: THERE IS ALWAYS A CHANCE THAT SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE IS WATCHING YOU.
“You robbed the house? You took everything but left the phones?” It was all beginning to make sense: those hang-up calls, no one on the line . . . just the bad g
uys, checking to see who was there.
The Count nodded. “Not me personally, you understand. As a rule I don’t go in for heavy lifting.” He chuckled at that one, but Ruby wasn’t laughing.
“And you stole my parents’ luggage . . . and tried to kidnap my mom?”
“Well, there, my dear, I must confess to being quite deceived by your mother. We have been watching her all these weeks, thinking that she was in some way masterminding the museum security — that she had cunningly met with that mustachioed fellow in Switzerland, thus foiling our plans to silently break in to the museum and take the Buddha of Khotan by stealth.” He paused. “So tell me, how did such a clever girl come up with such — how do you put it? Such dumb parents?”
The little red dot was still flashing. Hitch flicked the watch to radar mode and sure enough it gave a coordinate — the signal was coming from the east wing of the museum, the tower in fact. Should he check it out? He couldn’t, not now.
Don’t get distracted, keep your eye on the ball.
Count Von Viscount was pacing around and around the room; he seemed to be enjoying himself. “So tell me, why has Spectrum once again resorted to using such young agents?”
Ruby was puzzled. What is he talking about? Young agents?
“Why, surely they have told you about the wonder kid — the ex–wonder kid, I should say.”
Ruby stared into his black eyes. Is he telling the truth?
“Ah, I see from your expression that they omitted to mention the astonishing talent that was Bradley Baker.”
“Bradley Baker? He’s a kid?” gasped Ruby.
“Was. Many, many light-years ago. He was recruited at seven and grew up to be Spectrum’s finest. I believe I first encountered him when he was around about your age, and what a talent. . . . The only agent to ever make a return visit. Careless of me? Or clever of him? Who can say? But I’m afraid Spectrum lost him in the end.”
“You killed him?” whispered Ruby.
“Oh, goodness me, no. Haven’t you heard? Bradley Baker died in a plane crash while flying over a mountain range — I saw it with my very eyes. Plane burned to a cinder, his handsome face never to be seen again. Poor LB, how she mourned him.”