by Lauren Child
“So where is the security device?” asked Ruby.
“That’s the thing, the gold vault at the bank doesn’t have a security device — not as such. It has a two-part code: Freddie Humbert, the bank manager, has one half, and his security chief has the other. There’s no way anyone can get their hands on the code without kidnapping both of them, and since LB’s brought in around-the-clock high security protection — kidnapping is near impossible.”
Ruby frowned. If the Fool’s Gold Gang were worthy of Spectrum’s concern, then why hadn’t the Gang noticed that Twinford City Bank security had been tightened? Why didn’t they know that they had to get their hands on a code, not a device? They didn’t stand a chance with a plan like this. These bozos might well know how to get shoe polish off a pair of corduroy pants but they had no idea how to go about robbing the safest safe in the U.S.A.
Ruby pondered all this for a while. Something didn’t make sense . . . unless, of course, the gang had something much bigger in mind.
Was this plan only the beginning of things?
Was the real plan way more cunning? Is that what Lopez had discovered? Did the Fool’s Gold Gang know more about the Twinford City Bank than anyone gave them credit for?
At three o’clock Hitch called to see how she was doing. “Look, kid, I’m sorry but I’m going to be a little late picking you up. Something has come up at HQ. Just hang on till seven and I’ll be there.”
Ruby was exhausted and the idea of staying into the early evening was not very appealing. To make things worse, Blacker poked his head around the door and said, “I’m sorry Ruby, I’ve been called in to HQ. Got to deal with a crisis. A replacement agent is coming over to watch over you. I’ll stick around till they get here.”
“Oh,” said Ruby. “OK.”
She started reading, and ten minutes later a voice broke her concentration. She looked up to see the smug face of the Silent G.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Ruby Redfort.”
“Oh, brother!” sighed Ruby.
“Believe me, little girl,” Froghorn said, “I’m not exactly turning somersaults to be here.”
Blacker frowned. “You play nice, Froghorn, you hear? Ruby, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed his jacket and made for the door, calling out, “Be nice, Froghorn! You remember how to be nice, don’t you?”
Froghorn pinched his lips together like he had just sucked a lemon.
“Never fear,” he said. “Your little babysitter friend will be back to keep you company tomorrow. And I’m sure Hitch will make you an ice-cream sundae when you get home.”
Geez, this potato head was really winding her up, but she decided to keep her cool.
Keep a lid on it, Ruby.
That day Ruby did about as much reading as she had ever done, and Ruby was a big reader. She had once read one hundred and two Spy-Scoundrel comic books in one day, but this was a whole different type of reading.
By six o’clock she was exhausted — she had barely looked up all afternoon. She stretched back in the chair and absentmindedly pulled the key-ring puzzle out of her jeans pocket. She stared at it without thought — she was too tired to think. She sat there motionless for a few moments before being brought back into focus by a buzzing sound — a housefly had roused itself and was hovering over in the corner of the office. She watched as it settled on the seat of a bike that was propped against the wall. It was a woman’s bike; she guessed it must have belonged to Lopez. Ruby looked at the door and looked over at Froghorn — he was chatting on the phone. She paused for one whole split second just weighing something up.
“Excuse me,” she said, “but I gotta be going. Hitch phoned to say I could ride home if I liked. He’s not gonna be finished for a while.”
Froghorn put his hand over the receiver. “Sure, sure, run along home, little girl, what do I care?” He motioned for her to go. “Maybe you’ll be allowed to watch some TV before bedtime.”
Ruby thought she might just do that — she had done enough reading to last her a week.
She was without her beloved paperbacks, which had apparently been rejected by the burglars and left in her basement apartment. Mrs. Digby was a voracious reader and loved her crime fiction even more than she loved her TV thrillers.
If they had to go and steal everything, including me, then why in tarnation couldn’t they have the decency to steal my valuables too?
Then she stopped to think.
Aha! But they will have stolen Ruby’s valuables, and I can count on that kid to have a little old thriller I can settle down with.
Then she noticed the clock — nearly seven.
Quick, not much time.
Although unable to escape her luxury prison, Mrs. Digby could at least make herself a cup of tea — although the milk had gone bad. “Rats!” she muttered, before settling down in an armchair to watch her favorite game show, What’s Your Poison?
She was just getting comfortable when she was startled by an alarming, high-pitched scream.
Before Mrs. Digby could turn around, she heard the voice of a woman. “Stay right where you are, lady. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t even twitch an eyelash.”
Mrs. Digby was a tough old bird, but even she knew when it was wise to twitch an eyelash and when it was not.
IT WAS NICE TO BE BACK ON A BIKE AGAIN, and Lopez’s bike, although a good deal too big, was a pretty deluxe one. It was fast and light and Ruby seemed to be gliding along speedily with little effort, which was lucky since it was beginning to get dark and the bike had no lights. She was just making her way up the steep hill — a deserted stretch of road — which connected East Twinford to West Twinford, when she started to feel the unpleasant sensation of a deflating back tire.
Oh geez, that’s all I need! She hopped off the bike and surveyed the flat. There was no way of fixing it; she was going to have to walk home, and it was a long way. To make matters just that much more miserable, it began to gently drizzle.
Fabulous, just fabulous.
A few cars passed her as she trudged up the hill — some of them slowed down but none of them stopped. She didn’t want them to either, not unless it was someone she knew, someone she could count on. By now it was pitch black. There were a few streetlights but this was the industrial part of town and the mostly abandoned warehouses were unlit. The drizzle had become rain, real drenching rain.
Ruby thought about her own bike with its sturdy, heavy-duty, all-terrain tires — speed was all very well but given the choice she would take reliability any day.
Darn it!
She was so busy cursing and complaining to herself that she didn’t at first sense the car behind her. She had vaguely heard it in the far distance as it approached the hill, its gears shifting down as it began to climb. But what she hadn’t noticed was the sound of the engine slowing to almost walking pace; not overtaking, just following. Puddles were beginning to form on the road, and her feet were soaking wet. The lace of her left sneaker had come undone, and she bent to tie it. It was sodden and her fingers were cold, unable to get a proper grip. She made an ugly knot and stuffed the ends into her shoe.
And that’s when she really became aware of the car.
Still crouching, she turned her head; the headlights were on full beam and she held her hand in front of her eyes to protect them from the glare. The car was moving very slowly toward her but she was unable to make out the driver’s face. Ruby’s mind began to weigh the options — friend or foe? What kindly stranger would be so stupid as to shine their lights in a person’s face and edge nearer to them in this creepy way?
Foe, it had to be.
Panic took hold and Ruby, stumbling to her feet, began to run. She felt the rough stones beneath her soles and heard the sloshing of her shoes in puddles, but mostly she was aware of the thumping of her heart and the single thought that was echoing in her brain: how could you be so dumb?
She quickly turned to check on the car, stumbled, and went sprawling onto the road. The car stopped. Thr
ough the dazzle of the headlights she saw the door open and the black shape of a figure step out. A man. He paused, faceless behind the light, and then he moved, stepping steadily toward her. Tap, tap went his shoes on the shiny wet asphalt. Thump, thump went Ruby’s uncertain heart. She held her breath, her hands unable to make a fist . . . she felt around for some stone or stick, some inadequate weapon to fend off who knew what. The man leaned down toward her, she could smell his cologne.
“When are you going to start paying attention, kid?”
“Hitch?” croaked Ruby. “That you?”
“You better believe it, buster,” came the reply.
THE JOURNEY BACK WAS NOT A PLEASANT ONE. Hitch wasn’t mad. He didn’t need to be — Ruby was far too mad at herself already. She was, however, relieved — relieved to be sitting in a nice warm car and not to be in the hands of some mad murderous crazy type. Not that there were a lot of those around, but you never could be quite sure and with Ruby’s luck lately, she felt the odds of meeting a mad murderous crazy type were high.
Hitch drove in near silence while Ruby mumbled on. Every now and then he would raise an eyebrow or nod in agreement but he never bothered to say, “I told you so.”
He didn’t have to.
When they got back to Cedarwood Drive, Ruby slumped down at the breakfast bar while Hitch unloaded Lopez’s bike from the trunk. When he came in he said, “Look, kid, maybe part of this is my fault, I accept that. I’ve been kinda ribbing you and talking down to you — so maybe you and I need to start over?”
Ruby was astonished — it was the very last thing she was expecting.
“Yeah well,” she said. “I guess I should have listened but I just like to be independent, you know what I mean?”
Hitch nodded. “OK, so how about you get yourself to and from Maverick Street but on your own bike and on the condition that you attach this tracker device to the handlebars.” He took out a small, round, orange metal thing that looked exactly like a bicycle bell. “The first sign of anything suspicious, you press the green button in the middle and I’ll find you.”
It seemed like a pretty fair deal. “Sure, I can do that.”
“One other condition,” continued Hitch. “If someone ever does tail you, someone meaning someone relating to the work you are doing, someone who’s figured out what you are up to, then we have to pull the plug — no more code cracking.”
“OK.” Ruby nodded reluctantly. “I guess I can live with that.” She had no choice other than to agree. But in any case she was determined that no one was ever going to tail her.
On Saturday morning Ruby pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt that simply said, help is at hand. She looked out the window. Mrs. Gruber was walking her cat, as she always did in the morning. Apart from that, there wasn’t a whole lot of action. She went downstairs, scratched Bug behind the ears, grabbed her bike, and rode to Maverick Street. Halfway there she got, well, not so much a strange feeling, as an uneasy one. She had no idea why but she sort of felt as if a pair of eyes was watching her every move.
Getting edgy, Rube, that’s not good. RULE 76: STAY ALERT BUT DON’T EVER GET EDGY.
But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. This feeling was justified when she arrived and the door was opened by none other than Froghorn — the Silent G.
“Oh, look, it’s the wonder kid.” He tapped his watch. “You’re late.”
Ruby’s smile faded. “I’ve been missing you too. Where’s Agent Blacker?”
“He might be in later but right now I’m the lucky babysitter.”
Ruby gave him her best Ruby Redfort bozo-look. “So where’s the baby? Don’t tell me you lost it already?”
Froghorn extended his index finger and jabbed it in her direction. “You think you’re the cat’s pajamas, right?” he hissed. “Well, let me tell you, I’m in charge, so you better toe the line, little girl. You already got me in trouble once by riding home on your own. But I’ve got my eye on you now, and not much gets by me.”
“Oh, brother!” muttered Ruby.
There was no jelly donut on her desk today, and there would be no helpful conversation, let alone convivial chitchat, to speed up the work.
Ruby picked up where she had left off and started to read Lopez’s notes.
She saw the way Lopez had put everything together, piece by piece. She had put the decoded messages in some sort of order so that they made a kind of conversation. It was easy to see what it all meant when you were looking at the whole picture. Just knowing any one piece wasn’t enough — it meant nothing. It occurred to her that this whole thing was cleverer than it looked; Lopez had seen that only the person masterminding the bank heist had actually known what the whole plan was. Each gang member had their piece of the plan, but that was all.
Smart, thought Ruby, very smart. Now that’s what I call keeping a secret.
Froghorn walked into the room. “There’s a sandwich if you’re hungry — hope you like liverwurst. I don’t, so I took the egg.”
Jeepers, thought Ruby, remind me never to recommend your charm school.
Ruby sniffed at her lunch and cautiously took a bite. It wasn’t great but she had eaten worse.
She had almost worked her way to the very end of the very last file. There was another clipping which she translated as:
Handover to take place at fountain —
plan to be there at 18:00 hours.
That was it, nothing else.
Ruby had reached the end — but what did she know? Not as much as Lopez, that was for sure. She wished she could talk it all over — get a different perspective — but there was no use trying to talk to old Froghorn.
She looked around the dingy office. She could hear him talking on the phone. He barely took a breath, and Ruby began to wonder how Lopez could have stood this. Day in, day out, sitting in an office chair trying to figure out things that might in the end lead nowhere — what kind of life was that? A lonely one.
She caught her reflection in the glass of the adjoining door. She looked at the words of her T-shirt, help is at hand. She tore off a piece of packaging tape and stuck it over is at hand so the shirt now simply read, help.
And then, like a miracle, Blacker walked in.
He looked at her. “Did you get into a fight with the tape or are you sending some sort of SOS?”
Ruby kind of smiled. “Well, let’s put it this way, your timely arrival may have prevented a major felony.”
He motioned toward the little office where Froghorn was working. “You two not hitting it off?”
“Oh, me and Froghorn, we are getting along like cats and dogs — couldn’t be better.”
“Yeah, well, he’s an acquired taste, that’s for sure.” Blacker handed her a donut. “So I’m guessing you’ve cracked the case.”
“Yeah, yeah, very funny. I got as far as the fountain. Did you ever work out where it was?”
“’Fraid not, there must be more than a hundred fountains in the area. We knew it was likely to be in a town, ’cause most fountains are, but which town is what we couldn’t figure out.”
“So you didn’t follow it up?”
“No way we could. Anyway, Lopez was feeling kinda itchy, couldn’t sit still. It was bugging her that we couldn’t work out who these people were — we’d sorta reached a dead end. We went and got a drink at Blinky’s bar and then at around four I dropped her off at that fancy salon off of Twinford Square — she was always in there getting her hair manicured or whatever — never a nail out of place!”
“That’s not how I pictured her,” said Ruby. “I guess I thought she might be kinda dowdy.”
“Dowdy, oh no, not Lopez. Always looked like two-and-a quarter million dollars, always perfect — well, apart from the week before she went away of course.”
“How do ya mean?” asked Ruby.
“The day after I dropped her off at the salon, she came into work with only half a manicure.”
“Did you ask her why
?”
“Who am I to comment?” said Blacker, pointing at his dirty fingernails. “A person wants to go about with nail polish on one hand but not the other, that’s up to them. But something wasn’t right — she was distracted.”
Ruby thought about this. “I bet you miss her, huh?”
“Yeah, I miss her all right. She was one nice person.” He paused before saying, “I’ve just packed up the things she had with her when she died — got to mail them back to her family.” He pointed to a small box, high up on the shelf by the door. “Doesn’t look like much, does it?”
Ruby could only agree.
Blacker said good-bye and wished her luck. “Maybe I’ll see you on Monday, Ruby. Just keep thinking. I know you’ll get there.”
But Ruby wasn’t so sure. She had been looking forward to the challenge of finding the missing link, the final piece, but three-and-a-quarter hours later she had found exactly zip.
Back at Cedarwood Drive, Ruby went downstairs to find Hitch, who was sitting in his small but comfortable apartment, listening to music and reading some papers.
He looked up. “Hey, kid, long time no see. How’s the world of crime?”
“Oh, you know, full of criminals.”
“But no one’s been tailing you? No strange or uneasy feelings, I trust?”
“No,” said Ruby. “No strange feelings.” She decided to keep the uneasy ones to herself.
“Know anything we don’t know?”
She paused for a second, but, realizing she had nothing to say, she shook her head. “Afraid not.”
“That’s a shame,” sighed Hitch. “We were all kind of counting on you.”
“There’s still time though,” said Ruby. “I mean, LB didn’t give me a deadline.”
“She never does,” said Hitch. “Likes to keep everyone on their toes. Yep, you could have hours before she fires you. Let’s keep our fingers crossed.”
RUBY WENT UP TO HER ROOM, and ignoring the blinking light of her answering machine, she opened her notebook and began writing up the day’s interesting events. She had barely started when she heard the doorbell ring. She slipped off the window ledge and went to look at the door monitor. It was Clancy Crew, standing with his face right up close to the camera so that his eyes looked huge and ridiculous.
