THE RUBY REDFORT COLLECTION: 1-3: Look into My Eyes; Take Your Last Breath; Catch Your Death. Lauren Child
that he had to go out and fix something in the yard,’ said Clancy pointedly. ‘It seemed kinda urgent.’
‘I’ll bet it did,’ said Ruby, glancing up at a slide which showed her mother and father looking into each others eyes while biting into the same strudel.
Some likely suspects
RUBY GOT UP VERY EARLY THE NEXT MORNING, walked into the bathroom, looked in the mirror, made a face at herself and said, ‘Ruby my old pal, you look terrible.’
Her mind was buzzing with thoughts – she had not been sleeping well.
She went downstairs. Hitch was in the kitchen drinking a cup of coffee. ‘Hey,’ she said, ‘that was a neat trick you pulled last night, disappearing at the last minute.’
‘Well, it wasn’t planned. I got a strange signal on my watch – flashed up for just a second. Didn’t make any sense – like a call from beyond the grave.’
‘Huh?’ said Ruby.
‘It was a signal from a non-existent agent,’ explained Hitch
Ruby paused before dropping some bread into the toaster. ‘Meaning, an extinct agent?’
‘Yeah, he’s dead all right – though there’s not a soul in Spectrum who doesn’t wish he wasn’t. I had to check it out, though of course it was nothing.’
‘This dead agent, he wouldn’t be this guy Bradley Baker would he?’
Hitch flinched, almost imperceptibly but Ruby caught it. ‘It’s confidential,’ was all he said.
Ruby let the subject drop. She was thinking about another extinct agent – just what had happened to poor old Lopez?
But all she said was, ‘Well, call it what you like but I figure you were saved from a fate worse than Chinese drip torture.’
‘I’m glad you survived it kid. So you know I’ve got to ask you – you going to have anything to report tomorrow?’
‘Maybe,’ said Ruby. ‘I just need to check out a couple more things before I know for sure – but I’m close.’
‘That’s not what Froghorn said – he seemed to think you’d struck out.’
‘Yeah well, you know Froghorn – always likes to rain on someone else’s parade.’
Ruby’s toast popped up and Hitch slid it on to a plate.
‘Looks like you’re out of time kid – LB wants to see you today.’
Ruby looked down at the plate and instantly lost her appetite.
‘Redfort, report to Spectrum at 0800 hours’
When they arrived, Buzz informed them that LB was giving a briefing to some of the Spectrum staff.
‘She’s in the cinema room – looking at key suspects for the City Bank robbery.’
Hitch led the way down a black and white tunnel until they reached the circular doorway of the screening room.
‘You better wait here kid, this is highly confidential – I’ll call you in when we’re done.’ Hitch entered and the door locked shut behind him.
Ruby stood around gently kicking at the wall until she heard footsteps running down the passageway. Agent Blacker appeared, out of breath and even more crumpled than usual.
‘You meant to be at this thing too?’ he wheezed.
‘Yeah,’ replied Ruby. ‘I forgot the password – talk about dumb!’
‘No worries,’ said Blacker, ‘we can probably slip in unnoticed if we sit in the back – I know all this stuff anyway so I’m not missing anything.’
He tapped in the password and they crept in silently; a projector was whirring and grainy pictures were being thrown up on to the screen, twenty or so people sitting listening as LB talked. Ruby caught sight of the back of Hitch’s head, and sank as low as she could into her seat; Agent Blacker made himself comfortable, propping his feet up in front of him. Projected large was the image of a big, thuggish looking man in a raincoat.
‘I wouldn’t like to meet him on a dark night,’ whispered Ruby.
‘I wouldn’t want to meet him on any night,’ replied Agent Blacker.
The next picture came up: a strangely comical face – ugly, sinister even but definitely comical.
There was a wave of muffled laughter from the Spectrum audience.
‘I see you have taken an instant liking to our dear friend Hog-Trotter,’ said LB. ‘Not as funny as he looks I’m afraid.’
‘Is he as stupid as he looks?’ said a young man in the front row.
‘Oh, never underestimate this portrait of crime – where HogTrotter is concerned it’s always wise to bear in mind the cliché “never judge a villain by his face” – however ugly that face may be. He is strangely good at second-guessing people and quite the intellectual. I wouldn’t rule him out.’
LB clicked the button again.
‘Wow, he doesn’t look like the criminal kind,’ whispered Ruby, peering at the green–eyed, sweet-looking man who filled the screen.
‘Ah yes, Baby Face Marshall – now he always surprises everybody,’ replied Blacker.
‘He’s dangerous?’ said Ruby doubtfully.
‘Quite the cold-blooded killer,’ hissed Blacker. ‘You see Baby Face, don’t bother calling for Mommy – run!’
Ruby gulped. She was used to the baddies she saw on TV. There the murderers always seemed to have a hump, or hooked hand, or half a dozen gold teeth, something to give them away, but this guy looked like he might run the local pet store. The projector clicked on and up came the face of a woman.
‘Valerie Capaldi, also known as Nine Lives,’ said LB.
‘Wow, she’s pretty,’ said the same mouthy young man.
‘Not as pretty now,’ replied LB. ‘A couple of years back she got into a nasty tangle escaping one of our agents – I would imagine she has a fairly ugly scar across her left eye. Be kind of hard to miss – they call her Nine Lives because she has cheated death as many times as any cat.’
The woman on the screen didn’t look the type, Ruby thought – in fact she looked like someone her parents might know.
‘She’s a decadent sort and pretty stylish,’ continued LB, ‘though I would be surprised if she were involved in a gold heist – jewels and precious stones are more her style. She was trained by this gentleman.’ Click. ‘Fenton Oswald – he loves planning a good robbery, enjoys the challenge but he is strictly speaking more of a jewel thief – spends most of his time in Europe.’
He looked an ordinary sort of man – the picture showed him exiting a jewellers in Berlin. He was wearing tinted glasses, a tweed suit and carried a rolled umbrella.
Then came a very different sort of face, the kind of face you might expect to appear in an old movie, very melodramatic looking with slicked grey hair and pointed sideburns. The nose was long and elegant which gave the face a dignified look, but the chiselled cheekbones were those of a gothic villain. His clothes were different too, long black coat and pointed black shoes, polished to a high shine. The slide was aged and the picture black and white. LB clicked past him without explanation.
‘Who was that guy?’ asked Ruby.
‘Oh him?’ said Blacker. ‘That was the Count.’
‘The Count of