by Lauren Child
One of the very dullest was simply a small white and green striped canister. It looked a lot like a tube of mints – in fact, very much like an old-fashioned-style packet of Fresh Breath Mints. The label next to it said:
GROUND GLOWS [Taken out of commission in 1962] To be used when trekking at night in uncertain terrain. Help the trekker retrace his/her steps, or a specified ally to follow the same route. Made up of two parts: flat glow lights and discreet shoe fix activator. Instructions: attach activator to footwear and dispense glow discs as you walk. Discs will only light up when in range of the activator. Multiple activators can be issued, for example to a fellow agent wishing to follow the same trail.
There was a warning, but the ink was smudged and Ruby couldn’t make out all that it said, just:
WARNING! after heavy rainfall they can ra c an nr ia e
These seemed like clever little illuminators because they had the advantage of only being useful to the user. They were very discreet and very handy if you happened to want an agent to follow your trail at a later time without tipping off an enemy tracker. No doubt they had aided the rescue of more than a few Spectrum agents over the years. Ruby wondered why they weren’t issued as general survival kit; it would save a whole lot of bother – at least to her.
She looked at them for the longest time, well, actually, only about 3.5 minutes, but it seemed a long time as she stood there, thinking about what the right thing to do might be.
It turned out the right thing to do was to borrow them without telling anyone. She didn’t want to involve Hitch because he shouldn’t be implicated, just in case trouble was caused and also (and perhaps more importantly) because he might stop her. Ground glows were just the thing she needed and therefore they seemed to be a very sensible thing to take with her. I mean how dumb would it be if I got lost and some whole mission got blown when, if only I’d been carrying ground glows, everything woulda been fine?
There was also the small matter of LB, who would no doubt be firing Agent Redfort if she slipped up again during basic training. That decided it: Ruby put the ground glows in her pocket; after all, they had been taken out of service so who was really going to care?
‘What are you up to kid?’
Ruby, caught off guard, jumped.
‘I found your cufflink!’ she said.
‘I haven’t lost a cufflink,’ said Hitch. He took it from her. ‘That’s Bradley Baker’s cufflink.’ He looked puzzled. ‘How did that wind up in here?’
It wasn’t until much later that Ruby got back to watching the store security tapes. She had snuck back to the room where she and Froghorn had been working.
She got in easy enough: she remembered the sound each numeral made when pushed. The trickier part was finding the microtapes themselves: she had no idea where Froghorn had put them. After a little rummaging, she began to realise that they must still be loaded into the microtape reader. Of course Froghorn had activated the security code on the number pad and of course this was known only to Froghorn. What could it be?
She looked at the pad for a moment, and noticed that four of the numbers were a little more worn than the others: they had a sort of sheen from being repeatedly pressed. Naturally Froghorn would be too arrogant to change his code.
1, 2, 7 and 9, thought Ruby. But in what order?
Then she smiled. It had to be 1729. The smallest number expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways. Just the kind of number a geeky desk agent like Froghorn would choose.
Of course, because Froghorn was Froghorn, she couldn’t ask him which tape the flickering thing had shown up on. He was never going to help her out like that.
She got lucky after approximately two hours and fifty-five minutes. She slowed the tape down and enhanced the image as much as she could; it was pretty blurry, but was clear enough for her to be sure.
‘Well, I’ll be darned,’ said Ruby, ‘it’s a bird.’
She called Blacker and filled him in.
‘I’m on my way,’ he said.
The thing Ruby most liked about Blacker was that he was just not interested in giving her a hard time about minor misdemeanours. For instance: gaining entrance to a locked office without permission; sitting at someone else’s desk and breaking into their password-protected computer.
‘Thought you might need one of these,’ said Blacker, passing her a jelly donut wrapped in a serviette. He pulled up a chair next to hers.
‘There it is,’ said Ruby, freezing on the distorted image of a bird.
‘So we have an intruder,’ said Blacker.
‘But it doesn’t help us a whole deal,’ said Ruby, ‘I mean not as far as the robberies go.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Blacker, ‘but it does mean that there’s a lapse in security. I mean somehow that bird got into Melrose Dorff and I would doubt it was through the revolving doors, so we’re probably looking at a window or a roof.’
‘I guess,’ said Ruby.
‘Either way,’ said Blacker, ‘we should get down there tomorrow and tell them they’ve got something flapping around in store.’
Chapter 29.
Good and bad
CLANCY HAD GONE TO THE BIKE SHOP EARLY so he could gaze at the Windrush 2000 before meeting Ruby at the tree. But she never showed and by the time he realised that she never would it was too late to grab a bite at the diner. He was pretty hungry and found himself resorting to chewing on a piece of the bubblegum from the pack Mr Redfort had inexplicably handed him. But it just made things worse: his gut started rumbling and he felt hungrier than ever.
He was working himself up into a pretty bad mood: he was now both starving and late for class, and if his dad found out about it that meant another reason for him to get on his case. Maybe he just shouldn’t care so much, become more like Ruby. She wouldn’t worry about all these details; she didn’t even care enough to show up at Amster Green. He needed something he could rely on and the Windrush was that something: he had to get his hands on that bike.
It was when Clancy was walking across Main and down Riverdale on his way from Amster Green, that he saw something kind of odd; it looked like a bundle or a slumped sack. He crossed the street and began to see that this bundle had shoes – well, feet and legs actually. Clancy guessed it must be a homeless guy sleeping in the early morning sun. He slipped off his backpack and let it fall to the grass, then cautiously walked towards the man.
He took a closer look at the guy’s shoes and realised that they were pretty expensive as footwear went, not the footwear of vagrants. He knew this because Ruby’s dad had the very same ones, made by Marco Perella. Blue and white deck shoes or, as Ruby would call them, ‘dork shoes’ – she had been complaining about the noise they made. Clancy could also see a price sticker on the bottom of the left sole. These shoes were not only expensive but newly purchased.
The man seemed to be unconscious, possibly drunk. Clancy took a cautious sniff. No, the guy wasn’t drunk, there was no whiff of alcohol, but he did smell strongly of something, a mix of one really nice smell, probably some expensive cologne, and one very unpleasant smell that Clancy didn’t like to imagine, but it was definitely on the scale of poor bathing regime.
He took the man’s hand in his and squeezed. Did the man respond? He wasn’t sure. The hand clutched a cotton handkerchief neatly folded as if he had recently taken it from his pocket. Clancy took it from him and considered mopping the sick guy’s brow – was that the type of action a person took in this sort of situation? The thing was, Clancy wasn’t quite sure, but he felt he should do something if only to prove his point that the human being was basically a compassionate mammal, something he was beginning to doubt.
He ran to where he had dumped his backpack and looked to see if there was anything in it that could be of use. However, before he could employ his Boy Scout first-aid training, a car drove up and both doors were flung open. Two people, a tall young man and a slim young woman, ran towards the tree. Clancy was kind of relieved; his scouting day
s seemed a long way in the past and he wasn’t certain that he was capable of saving a person’s life if that was what was required.
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ said the woman, her face ashen. ‘It’s him.’
The tall guy looked concerned; he bent down to feel the man’s neck, searching for a pulse.
The woman looked at him. The guy nodded. Her face relaxed a little. She sniffed the air, following the scent, and turned to see a boy chewing on some bubblegum, the sun behind him.
‘Shall I call the paramedics?’ Clancy asked. ‘There’s a phone booth just up the street, I can be there in a minute.’
‘There’s no need,’ she said. ‘I mean that’s really kind of you,’ she paused before continuing, ‘but you see this happens a lot.’ She stopped. ‘That sounds bad, I’m sorry. What I mean is, he lives next door, has done for years, a really nice man, a good friend, but he has troubles, troubles the hospital can’t fix. He’s been missing for days and we have been so worried, but the cops, they said they couldn’t help.’
‘Really?’ said Clancy. ‘You’re sure he’s gonna be OK? ‘Cause he seems in bad shape.’
‘It looks worse than it is,’ said the woman softly. ‘He forgets to take his medication and then gets sick; we know what to do, been doing it a long time,’ she said. She bit her lip. She looked so sad.
The woman was pretty, beautiful actually, and the kindness in her eyes made her more so. She smelled of something sweet, something good, a smell that suited her.
Clancy nodded sympathetically; her face was pale, like she had been up all night. Tears glinted, making her eyes shine bluer, and Clancy felt sorry for her, really sorry.
He watched as the couple eased their friend with great care into the passenger seat; he still had his eyes closed, but looked comfortable, his head resting on the kind woman’s shoulder.
‘Good luck,’ called Clancy as they drove off. Suddenly he felt better about life – not everyone was mean-spirited; not everyone was out for themselves. It was too bad it didn’t happen more often. Too bad his debate teacher, Mr Piper, couldn’t witness this, an example of the good neighbour. Then he remembered how sick the man had looked and Clancy felt bad again. Boy, did life suck sometimes.
Chapter 30.
Nice detergent
RUBY HAD NOT MANAGED TO SEE CLANCY BEFORE CLASS; he was late arriving which was most unusual and then she realised why: she had forgotten to meet him on Amster Green.
Oh brother, she thought, that won’t make him any happier.
She was keen to tell him about her latest findings, tame as they were; discovering a bird had flapped in through an open window or door was hardly like coming face to face with Nine Lives Capaldi or having Baby Face Marshall try to strangle you, but it was something. She couldn’t help but feel satisfied that she had once again proved Miles Froghorn totally wrong and she thought Clancy might get a kick out of that.
Ruby went to wait for him to come out of philosophy class. The pupils spilled out of the room, chatting excitedly about what they had discussed; Mr Piper was a popular teacher and his class was considered interesting. Clancy might argue otherwise; he was last out and looked demoralised.
‘Are you OK Clance? You look kinda shattered.’
‘Don’t even ask,’ said Clancy as they made their way along the long corridor, down the stairs into the bright light of the schoolyard.
‘By the way, where were you? I waited and waited, but you never showed.’
‘I totally flaked,’ said Ruby. ‘I was up real late working on this whole Melrose thing and I just forgot. I owe you – you need a doctor’s note or something to explain why you were late? I got one from the dentist too if you prefer that?’
‘No, too late, Mrs Drisco already marked me down for an essay on the importance of punctuality,’ said Clancy.
‘I’ll do that,’ said Ruby, ‘no sweat. When do you need it for?’
It was hard to be mad at Ruby Redfort. Clancy had always found that to be the case, which somehow, right at this moment, made him feel madder still, like she had this power over him.
They sat down at a lunch bench and Clancy swallowed down a sandwich as fast as he could, followed by potato chips; they helped. He forgot about being crabby at Ruby and instead grumbled on about his run-ins with his philosophy teacher.
‘So I told Mr Piper about what happened this morning and all he could say was, “This is just one example and how do you know that these people are good-spirited, what does it actually tell us? What did you actually see?”’
Clancy was going on about the sad but yet somehow happy incident he had witnessed before school, but Ruby’s mind had wandered off and was on other things.
‘I wouldn’t have spotted him at all if it hadn’t been for his dork shoes,’ said Clancy.
Ruby was thinking about the CCTV footage.
‘At first I thought he was just some hobo, sleeping it off,’ continued Clancy, ‘but then I saw his footwear and realised he must have a few bucks. They were just like your dad’s – same brand and all, you know, the squeakers?’ It wasn’t like Clancy to notice the brand of a pair of shoes, but Ruby had been going on and on about them so much that he had become very familiar with the shoemaker.
Ruby was sort of half listening to her friend, but mainly she was thinking about the bird, how had it got there and maybe she should go and check it out. She could take that tiny camera and catch the bird in action – really rub Froghorn’s nose in it.
‘So the guy gets picked up by these really nice neighbours of his and I guess it was kinda heart-warming. I feel bad though ‘cause I took the guy’s handkerchief, not on purpose or anything.’ He pulled it out of his pocket. ‘It smells nice.’
Clancy waited for Ruby to say something, but she didn’t.
‘Rube?’
‘Uh?’
‘Are you even listening?’
‘Sure I am, this sick guy is out of it on the sidewalk in his expensive Marco Perella shoes and you try to help, but before you can these nice folks stop by and help the guy – who turns out to be their sick neighbour – into the car. It was heart-warming and if I might say so it has cheered you up about a thousand per cent.’ Ruby had a talent for hearing things while she was actually thinking other thoughts. It drove Clancy crazy because although he could tell when she wasn’t really paying attention he rarely if ever managed to catch her out.
‘Is that handkerchief clean by the way?’ she asked.
Clancy shrugged. ‘I guess, looks clean to me. Why?’
‘Hand it over, I need to blow my nose,’ said Ruby.
‘You can’t blow your nose on some other person’s handkerchief,’ said Clancy.
‘You said it was clean,’ said Ruby.
‘That’s not the point,’ said Clancy. ‘It’s not yours.’
‘It’s not like you’re ever gonna see the owner again,’ said Ruby.
‘I know, but I should try and get it back to him.’
‘What? Are you gonna take an ad out in the personals? Green striped handkerchief, believed to be clean’ – she looked at it more closely – ‘monogrammed with the initials SS, I think, or is it FF? Smells of’ – Ruby sniffed it – ‘some really, really nice detergent. . .’ her voice trailed off for a second – ‘call Clancy Crew for its safe return?’ She breathed in the scent again. ‘Boy, is that some nice detergent – I can smell it even with a stuffed-up nose – it makes me think of a forest.’
Clancy took it and sniffed. ‘It doesn’t smell anything like a forest.’
‘I didn’t say it did. I said it made me think of a forest, the moon too.’
‘The moon doesn’t smell of anything,’ said Clancy.
‘How would you know? You ever been to the moon?’
‘Here, have it,’ sighed Clancy. ‘I was trying to be a good citizen, but you take it if it reminds you of the moon so much.’
‘Thanks, I appreciate your goodness,’ said Ruby, sniffing it again. ‘Smells too good to use, I’ll just k
eep it in my satchel. I can sniff it when I need to breathe something other than Melamare’s tacky hairspray – why does she have to sit in front of me? It gives me the worst headache.’
Chapter 31.
The uncatchable thought
AFTER SCHOOL WAS OVER, Ruby went to meet Blacker at a diner not far from the store.
‘Well?’ said Ruby. ‘What did you find?’
‘Turns out there is a hole in a small pane of glass in the maintenance team’s restroom window. It’s to the back of the store, behind the jewellery department. The bird must have flown in through there and out into the store.’
‘Dillon Flannagon,’ said Ruby.
‘Pardon me?’ said Blacker.
‘Dillon Flannagon, he’s some hitter. My friend Elliot said he thought he saw him hit a baseball through one of the department store’s windows. I guess he was right.’
‘So that explains how a baseball wound up in the toilet. The maintenance guy was puzzled about that,’ said Blacker.
‘How come he didn’t notice the broken window?’
‘It’s high up and really small – he just didn’t see it – and even if he had no one would think much of it; there’s no way anyone could use it to break in. Those windows don’t have any way of opening and only a pixie is going to make it in that way.’
‘Do you believe in pixies?’ asked Ruby.
‘As it happens, no,’ confirmed Blacker, his face deadpan.
‘So if we’re ruling out pixies,’ said Ruby, ‘then I guess we have zero in the way of suspects.’
‘I’m afraid it looks that way,’ agreed Blacker. ‘It explains how the bird got into the building, but not a whole lot else.’
‘I guess not,’ said Ruby. There was a little thought flitting round and round her head, but she couldn’t quite catch it.
They said goodbye and Blacker headed on back to Spectrum, but Ruby decided to go and take another look around Melrose Dorff.
Ruby stepped into the rotating door and let it spin her from the oven-hot day into the cool luxury of the shop. She looked around at the shoppers: the place was abuzz with activity; people browsing, trying on, holding up, smelling, applying and tipping faces at countertop mirrors.
