“So LB and Baker were close?” Ruby’s curiosity outwitted her fear for a moment.
“Oh, more than that. They were engaged — in love I believe.” The Count said this with some distaste. “It was all very unfortunate — to see Spectrum’s most talented code breaker and daring agent go up in flames.”
“So that’s why Lopez wasn’t allowed to go on missions?”
“Lopez? Ah yes, Lopez. We weren’t exactly sure where she fit in, she covered her tracks well — no link to Spectrum at all, until we heard you blabbing about her. Not that it made a difference to her fate.”
Ruby winced.
“So Spectrum keeps its code breakers indoors these days. Foolish. There is no such thing as safe. Better to be prepared for danger than to close our eyes to the possibility of it.”
Ruby could see that he was right. She was just about living proof of it.
“My friend Madame Erhling,” he continued, “spotted Ms. Lopez at the Fountain Hotel.”
Madame Erhling — the woman in the veiled hat, thought Ruby.
“But of course we had no idea she was involved with such a prestigious spy agency. She was no more than a rank amateur. If they had only trained dear Lopez,” he continued with a theatrical flourish, “perhaps she would be sitting here today — instead . . . of . . .” The Count laughed. “Well . . . you.”
Ruby shivered.
“But avalanches are such unpredictable things. And loud noises — dynamite for example — do tend to set them off. What a shame. Such a smart lady: I think her brain was almost equal to mine, and I am considered quite the genius.”
Ruby rolled her eyes. “Some genius. You left her with the code, which is the reason we caught on to you,” she said. “You gotta learn to look — check, check, check.”
The Count narrowed his eyes. “Talking of which, let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”
Ruby gulped.
“Just tell me where it is and I’ll leave you in peace.”
“Where what is?”
“Ms. Redfort, let’s not play games, not you and me. We are above all that surely.”
“But look at me, what could I possibly have that you could want?” But Ruby’s heart wasn’t in the lie — RULE 26: NEVER KID A KIDDER, she thought.
He stared at her with his cold black eyes.
“OK,” she ventured. “I give you the key, you let me go?”
The Count shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid that’s just not how it works. You see you are in the worst possible position to make a bargain.”
Ruby swallowed — her mouth was very dry and beads of sweat were forming on her brow.
“Speak up, Ms. Redfort.”
But Ruby said nothing.
He stamped his foot. Ruby jumped and felt a heavy lock of hair fall across her right eye. And her barrette — her barrette slipped slowly, very slowly past her nose. She held her breath.
Will he see? Of course he will.
The Count reached his long elegant hand out, slipped the barrette from her hair, and just like that . . . the glass K was his.
“Good, no need for torture today — you see how pleasant things can be?” he said. “Poor little Dorothy, doesn’t look like you are going to make it to the Emerald City after all.” He looked at her clogs. “Not even your ruby slippers can save you now.”
“Never mind, I’m not really dressed for a party,” said Ruby with a weary smile.
The Count looked at Ruby’s T-shirt, which read, in deep trouble.
“No, I dare say you are right, though the sentiment is perfect for the occasion,” said the Count with a wink.
“What now?” Ruby’s voice was almost a croak.
“Quite right, let’s move on, no more chatter,” said the Count. “I have devised something rather splendid for you — it’s straight out of The Wizard of Oz. What a wonderful film that could have been, if only someone with a little imagination had directed it. My favorite scene is the one where the witch turns over the hourglass — Dorothy will die when all the sand has fallen. What a shame, I always thought, not to put little Dorothy inside the hourglass. So much more dramatic, far less chance for error . . . So consider this a remake, the version Hollywood would not dare to screen!”
Ruby’s eyes grew very big and she could no longer be sure that her heart was still beating.
“Well, now my pretty,” said the Count, adopting the Wicked Witch of the West’s mocking tone. “When the clock strikes half past eleven, the tower you are sitting in will begin to fill with jade-green sand like a giant hourglass.”
Ruby winced — she had never liked sand in her hair, but to be buried alive in it was gruesome beyond anything she had seen in any of Mrs. Digby’s thrillers.
“You can kill me if you want,” said Ruby, her voice beginning to crack, “but that won’t help you get past all the museum security, all the alarms, all the guards. You haven’t a chance of getting anywhere near the Jade Buddha of Khotan.”
“It’s sweet of you to show your concern but I have it all beautifully choreographed, and I have the perfect little distraction for the good folk of Twinford — a power cut and an explosion all in one. It really will be very exciting. Total blackout, so dramatic. Blow up the bank and watch all those pretty green dollars float up into the sky. And of course once the power is cut they can forget about all their clever little lasers — they will look like they are activated but I can assure you, they won’t be!”
Count Von Viscount looked at his watch — it was an old-fashioned timepiece, kept in his pocket, secured by a chain. “Time marches on, however, and now I regret I must leave you. I am glad we had a chance to meet, too bad I will not have the pleasure again.”
And with that, he was gone.
Ruby couldn’t be sure, but as the door closed, she thought she heard the sound of a woman’s voice — one she almost recognized. But before she had a chance to search her mind, she heard another.
Is that singing?
Ruby looked up, and there perched on a ledge was a reel-to-reel tape player, playing a tune she knew very well. Mr. Sandman — her father sometimes whistled it before bedtime. She shivered. Would this be the last time she ever heard that song?
Think like that, Ruby, and you’re already dead.
HITCH WATCHED AS A TALL MAN in a rather old-fashioned suit walked into the imposing museum hall, followed by a relieved-looking Agent Blacker.
The clock struck eleven thirty. Just in the nick of time, thought Hitch. Herr Gustav had been expected at least three hours ago.
He radioed the search team again. “The kid?”
“Nothing,” came the reply.
On the other side of the room, Clancy had spotted his parents — they were talking to Mr. and Mrs. Redfort and an elegant man who Clancy didn’t recognize.
“I just don’t know where that daughter of ours has gotten to — I was so hoping to introduce you,” said Brant, shaking the man’s hand.
The man smiled reassuringly. “I am sure she is somewhere nearby . . . buried up to her ears in something. I remember myself as a child,” said the man. “I used to wish I could lock myself away and listen to music undisturbed.”
“That sounds like our girl,” said Brant.
“No doubt she’ll be wearing something utterly inappropriate for the evening,” said Sabina, plucking a long red hair from the man’s jacket. “Forgive me, force of habit,” she said, laughing.
The man smiled again. “She sounds like an intelligent girl, Mrs. Redfort. I am sure she will have chosen an outfit that befits the occasion.” He turned. “And who is this?” He was looking at Clancy, who by now was standing next to him.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Herr Gustav, this is our son Clancy,” said Ambassador Crew.
Clancy shook the man’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Herr Gustav — I had a hunch you would be much shorter.”
Herr Gustav laughed. “Sorry to disappoint you, Master Crew.”
Meanwhile, locked in a tower someplace, who only k
new where, a schoolgirl was watching as the sands of time fell about her.
Oh boy, thought Ruby, how did I get into this mess?
She was in what amounted to a giant egg timer, and it was clear that no one was going to rescue her before her three and a half minutes were up. What was the time, she wondered. Had the museum launch even begun? And that’s when she remembered something very important.
The escape watch. Although both her hands were tied, her fingers were free and so, patiently and with great care, she started to feel each of the twisting winders and tiny knobs and switches. There had to be a cutting device on this thing — every spy surely required a laser? Watch any Hollywood spy movie and it was only a matter of seconds before the hero made use of the laser gadget.
First thing I shoulda done when I took that darned watch was look for that old laser feature.
She could have kicked herself — indeed would have, had her legs not been tied together. She twisted and turned every possible button on the watch but nothing happened — not a thing. The sand was falling fast, and although the chair was raised up on a platform, her shoes were nearly buried.
And then she felt something warm on her wrist — no, not warm, hot.
“Ouch,” shrieked Ruby. She had found the laser.
With a little more ow-ing and a lot of cursing, Ruby finally directed the cutting device at the ropes binding her wrists.
Once her arms were free she set about releasing her feet.
She was stiff and her limbs were aching but what was the point of thinking about that, she hadn’t even begun to get out of this little mess.
“I am just about bursting to see the Buddha rise from the floor — I understand it does so in the blink of an eye! Am I right?” Sabina could barely contain herself.
“Quite right,” agreed Herr Gustav. “The clock strikes midnight, the lights go out, and a second later there it will be.”
“On the absolute stroke of midnight someone is going to get a chance to look into the eyes of the Jade Buddha of Khotan! Isn’t it thrilling?” she said.
“Thrilling,” agreed Klaus Gustav.
“And you are the only person who can make that happen, since you are the one who holds the key.”
“Indeed,” nodded Klaus Gustav. “I hold the key to the secret of the Jade Buddha of Khotan.”
“Will you unlock the case yourself, Herr Gustav?” asked Marjorie Humbert.
“You can count on it,” he said, patting his breast pocket.
“I heard you were Swiss?” said Clancy.
“Indeed,” replied the man.
“Is that a Swiss accent you have?” asked Clancy.
The man nodded.
“Because it sounds sorta, not Swiss, more like —”
“Clancy! It’s not polite to ask questions like that,” said Mrs. Crew, her embarrassment evident. This was not the behavior of an ambassador’s son. “I’m sorry, Herr Gustav, our son rarely knows when to stop.”
“I was just asking,” said Clancy.
“Well, don’t,” said his father.
Ruby stood on the chair and, holding her wrist very steady, aimed the watch at a metal hook just above the window and pressed down on the winder button.
Out shot the titanium cable. The grabber claw reached out, missed the hook, and the cable slid down the wall.
Ruby quickly retracted it and tried again. Come on, I don’t have time for this. This was true: the sand had already reached the seat of the chair. Ruby took aim again, and — bingo! — the claw closed around the hook. Ruby closed her eyes, pressed the retractor, bracing herself to be whisked at lightning speed through the air . . . and nothing happened.
No, no, no! You are a rescue gadget and you rescue, that’s what you do!
The sand was covering her feet and the tower was filling up fast. You can’t jam! Spy gadgets don’t jam! She pressed again — still nothing.
OK, you can jam but not now! She pressed the button again — nothing for one split second . . .
And then quite suddenly Ruby was wrenched from the chair and carried away high above the sand and onto the window ledge.
Take your time, why don’t you!
She released the grabber and assessed the situation. The window, it seemed, was boarded shut from the outside, and she didn’t have enough space to give it a good hard kick. She looked around. Right in the middle of the ceiling hung an iron chandelier. If she could just grab on to that, she could swing herself at the blocked window and dislodge the boards — how she was going to get down from the window was a whole different problem. Several times she pressed the cable button, but to no avail — it really had given up.
OK, Rube, you still have time, don’t panic. She looked at the tape machine with its big spools turning around and around — and she had an idea. Sorry, buster, but you are beginning to get on my nerves.
Ruby took off one of the reels and pulled at the yards of song tape, then she took the key ring from her jeans and tied it to the tape, making a weight. Using this as a sort of lasso, she was able to hook and pull the chandelier toward her until she was able to grab hold of it. Then, hanging from it like a trapeze artist, she swung back and forth until she had gathered enough momentum to break through the wooden boards.
Only thing was, she had gathered a little too much momentum; she crashed through the window and was flung into the night sky.
By now Klaus Gustav was surrounded by all the glittering folk of Twinford.
“To make a completely unbreakable glass display case is quite a feat, Herr Gustav. Just how was it done?” asked Ambassador Crew.
“That was easy,” said Klaus Gustav. “It was the key that was the tricky part.”
“Might we see it, Mr. Gustav, I have been just dying to know what it looks like,” implored Sabina.
But Klaus Gustav just tapped his nose. “Secrets, all secrets.”
Clancy looked at Herr Gustav, the Swiss man with the accent that reminded him of . . . who was it?
“Well, we are very proud to welcome you to Twinford and our city museum,” said Ambassador Crew.
Herr Gustav smiled and his black eyes glistened.
Dracula! thought Clancy.
Mrs. Digby gripped the lamp. I’m ready for ya, the Digbys’ have never been afraid of anything. (Well, except rats, of course).
“Ach,” came a voice, “Ich habe auf meine Brille getreten!”
Mrs. Digby was surprised to hear a rat talk, a foreign one at that. “What language is that you’re speaking?” she asked.
“Oh, so someone is there,” came the voice again, this time in English. “Who are you?”
“I’m the one holding the heavy lamp, ready to knock you out, is who I am. Who are you?”
“I’m being held captive. Could you help me?”
“How do I know you’re not one of them?”
“Because if I were, I wouldn’t be stuck in here.”
Mrs. Digby thought for a moment — he didn’t sound particularly dangerous, and seeing as they were in the same situation she thought she might as well get along with him. She set about pulling all the books off the bookcase until it was light enough to move.
“OK, you ought to be able to squeeze through the gap, unless you are very fat, which I don’t s’pose you are if they have been feeding you the kind of rations they have been feeding me.”
Gradually, one limb at a time, a little old man appeared.
A little old man with a huge mustache.
“Klaus Gustav,” he said, offering her his hand.
CLANCY WAS TRYING TO GET HITCH’S ATTENTION but Hitch was on the far side of the room, his eyes scanning the crowd, and he wasn’t noticing Clancy’s subtle hand gestures.
Would you just look over here!
Clancy didn’t know what to do — he didn’t want to leave the man in case he disappeared but he couldn’t do anything about anything without Hitch. He began to wave and Hitch waved back, awkwardly — the way people wave when they don’t know why they
are waving.
Clancy tried again, this time more wildly, like a drowning person.
“What are you doing?” said his mother through clenched teeth.
“Waving,” muttered Clancy.
“Well, would you please stop it,” she hissed. “It’s embarrassing your father.”
But Clancy couldn’t stop — he had to make Hitch see that something very terrible might be going on. This man who claimed to be Klaus Gustav was not Klaus Gustav. Clancy was sure of it.
Lucky for Ruby, she hadn’t actually fallen the one hundred and two feet to the ground below, but instead found herself clinging to a branch of a very rotten tree, dangling a mere sixty feet above the ground.
What now?
This was Ruby’s last thought before a huge thunder-like boom shook the building. It came from Twinford City Bank. It was a deafening noise, an explosion.
Inside the museum, for one half of a split second all the guests went quiet — only the party music played on.
And then — pandemonium.
Martini glasses dropped and shattered on the marble floor, a hubbub of noise rose up, some folks screamed, and fear sparked like electricity. A sea of people rushed toward the doors. An alarm went off and sirens screeched — it was panic and chaos.
But Clancy Crew was desperately trying to find a way back through the crowds — people were pushing and shoving, trying to get out into the square, and he was the only person headed in the other direction. He felt himself being forced backward, and then all of a sudden, a hand grabbed him and pulled him free.
“Where are you going, Clancy Crew?” It was Hitch.
Clancy’s eyes were wild with panic. “That man, Klaus Gustav — I think he’s a fake. I think he’s meant to be a small man with a mustache — the man from the airport. I think this guy is the one who took Ruby.”
“You know what, kid,” replied Hitch, “I’ve got a hunch you might just be right.”
“So now what? The man, he’s disappeared — how are we going to find Ruby without him?”