by Lauren Child
Ruby could see Mr Barnaby Cleethorps’ face and it was not a happy one. She adjusted her position on the ledge so she could see her father’s expression. As always, he looked remarkably cool, not in any way flustered, but she knew he must be feeling the strain because he was heading towards the window, and when her father was feeling tense his response was usually to let in some air. Tension brought on a sort of claustrophobia – too much stress in one room made it difficult for him to breathe.
Ruby ducked down, making herself as small as she could. Not that Brant could have seen her through the Venetian blind, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
The opening of the seventy-second-floor window might have helped Brant Redfort regain his calm, but for his daughter it had entirely the opposite effect. The problem was that Ruby had not anticipated how the window might open; she was expecting it to hinge in the middle when in fact this huge window was of the pivoting variety, and as her father yanked it open Ruby was flung out into thin air. She landed in – or, more accurately, dangled from – one of those window-cleaning cradles that travels the length and breadth of skyscrapers, allowing maintenance guys to squeegee the acres of glass. Luckily there were no maintenance guys in it now, though unluckily it meant there was no one to pull Ruby back in.
Now, suspended six hundred feet above the downtown traffic which crawled and tooted beneath her, she could see the irony of the situation – her father, intent on keeping her safe, had almost brought about her demise.
But at this precise moment she was struggling to see the funny side.
Chapter 2.
HANGING THERE BY HER FINGERTIPS, Ruby looked down at the map of streets. She could see the city’s famous old movie theatre, the Scarlet Pagoda; the Japanese garden in front of it, the lampposts decked in bunting and lights to celebrate this year’s Twinford Film Festival: A Date with Thrills.
The festival was to be a celebration of romantic thriller movies of the kind that she and Mrs Digby loved, and the situation Ruby currently found herself in was no doubt one seen in many of these pictures.
Only for Ruby this was no stunt, there was no safety net, and she needed to get a grip before someone raised the alarm. She heaved herself into the window-cleaning cradle and found the controls that would carry her back to her original window. She knew which one it was because it had an empty milk glass sitting in front of it.
She was just clambering out of the cradle when she heard a voice.
‘Hey kid, would you come in from there?’
Ruby looked up to see a tall, well-groomed man in a well-cut suit standing in the room. He appeared moderately anxious.
‘Am I making you nervous?’ asked Ruby.
‘The only person making me nervous is the meter maid on 3rd Avenue where I’m double-parked.’
‘Geez Hitch, why don’t you just find a parking spot like a normal person?’
‘You think it’s easy parking in this city?’ Hitch replied.
Ruby sighed, swivelled herself round and dropped back in through the window. She landed on the long elegant coffee table, the main feature of the sleek reception room. Pens went skidding across its surface and a bowl of marbles upturned, contents spinning in all directions and disappearing under furniture.
Hitch rolled his eyes. ‘Good going kid.’
‘OK, OK,’ said Ruby gathering up the pens and plonking them back in their pen pot. ‘Don’t have a total baby about it, man.’
HITCH: ‘It’s not me who’s going to have the “baby”. Mr Barnaby H. Cleethorps is a very particular man.’
RUBY: ‘What’s he gonna do, dangle me out of the window by my toes?’
HITCH: ‘Probably.’
RUBY: ‘Boy this guy must really like his pens tidy!’
HITCH: ‘You better believe it Redfort.’
RUBY: ‘So what are you doing here? You back from summer vacation?’
HITCH: ‘Something like that.’
RUBY: ‘Where have you been anyway?’
HITCH: ‘It’s classified.’
RUBY: ‘Your vacations are classified?’
HITCH: ‘I wasn’t on vacation.’
RUBY: ‘But you just said you were.’
HITCH: ‘No I didn’t, you did.’
RUBY: ‘Boy, have I missed small-talking to you. So where are we going?’
HITCH: ‘Elevator.’
RUBY: ‘You know I can’t leave, my dad won’t let me out of his sight.’
HITCH: ‘I’ve cleared it, your father has entrusted me with your safety.’
RUBY: ‘He clearly doesn’t know your safety record – so what are we doing?’
HITCH: ‘I’m going to have a cup of coffee and you are going to be grilled.’
RUBY: ‘Huh?’
HITCH: ‘Our boss, she wants to talk to you.’
To the outside world, Hitch was the Redforts’ household manager, but to the few in the know he was actually a highly trained Spectrum agent, living undercover at the Redfort home, stationed there to mentor and protect Ruby Redfort, Spectrum’s youngest recruit. Their boss was LB, head of Spectrum 8.
They took the elevator down to street level. It wasn’t the quickest ride since the building was an old one and the elevator cars were far from state of the art.
‘I thought I was on sick leave,’ said Ruby.
‘Not any more,’ said Hitch.
‘Anything going down at Spectrum?’ asked Ruby. ‘A new case?’ Ruby had been a Spectrum agent and expert code breaker since April, and in that time she had worked on three cases. All three had nearly got her killed. But then evading death sort of went with the territory.
‘Don’t ask me, I’m just the bozo driving the car,’ replied Hitch.
Ruby gave him a look, aware that if anyone was going to know anything then it was Hitch. But that said, there was no point trying to get him to talk; if he didn’t want to then he never would. That was the thing about Hitch: he kept his mouth shut.
SPECTRUM RULE 1: KEEP IT ZIPPED. He had to: as one of the highest-ranking agents at Spectrum 8, he was trusted with heavily classified information. He didn’t squeal for anything or anybody.
So how had a top-notch spy wound up working undercover as bodyguard to a thirteen-year-old kid? Hitch, for one, asked himself this question practically every day.
They strode out of the Sandwich Building to see a meter maid busy studying Hitch’s car.
Where to start? He was parked in a tow-zone, facing in the wrong direction, one of the wheels up on the sidewalk, the vehicle abandoned for twenty-one minutes. This was going to be one long ticket.
Hitch just raised an eyebrow. ‘Wait here kid.’
The meter maid had her hands on her hips, like she meant business. She looked ready for a fight, like she was thinking, Here he comes, another bozo who doesn’t want to take responsibility for his own dumb actions.
Hitch strolled over and the meter maid crossed her arms – a defensive move.
Hitch leaned against his car and began talking – well not so much talking as chatting. The meter maid shifted her weight and relaxed her arms so she now stood with one hand on her hip – was she actually smiling?
Man, you’re good, thought Ruby. Hitch could talk his way out of a maze.
The conversation, for that’s what it had become, went on for some time. What is he telling her?
The meter maid looked over to where Ruby stood, then she stuck her ticket pad back in her pocket. She laughed and nodded her head.
She raised an arm as if to high-five Hitch. He wasn’t the high-fiving type, Ruby knew that, so instead he gave her a kind of salute. Happy with that, the meter maid walked off whistling a merry tune.
Ruby climbed into the car. ‘What did you say to her?’
‘Just explained what a great kid you are,’ replied Hitch as he slid into the driver’s seat.
‘Yeah, right – apart from that?’ said Ruby.
‘I said I could get her courtside tickets to the Twinford Sneakers play-offs.’
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‘And can you?’
‘Sure, the organiser is an old friend of mine.’
‘I thought you secret agents didn’t have friends?’
‘No, you’re thinking of tax inspectors,’ said Hitch, starting the engine. ‘I’ve got more friends than I can handle.’
‘Funny,’ said Ruby, ‘I’ve never met any of them.’
‘They’re all the shy and retiring type,’ said Hitch.
Ruby looked at him. ‘You sure they’re not the invisible, imaginary type?’
‘Oh, they’re just quiet,’ said Hitch. ‘A game of cards and an early night.’
‘Sounds like a hoot, wish I could meet ’em.’
‘Ah, you wouldn’t like ’em kid,’ said Hitch. ‘Not one of them has an interest in bubblegum.’
Chapter 3.
IT WAS NO REAL SURPRISE TO RUBY that Hitch himself was bringing her into HQ today. Sure, she had been into the building’s hub many times and worked endless long hours in its secure surrounds, but even so knowledge of the ‘way in’ was not a given. The Spy Agency’s entrance moved frequently and Ruby was not among the privileged few informed of Spectrum 8’s plans and architectural changes. Hitch was her link to this underground world and without him she could very easily find herself shut out in the cold. You mess up, you’re out for good.
Last time Ruby had visited was by way of the little kid playground in the middle of Central City Park, and to Ruby’s huge annoyance and humiliation Vapona Begwell – fellow pupil, schoolyard enemy and major irritation – had observed her crawling into the kids’ caterpillar tunnel. Ruby still hadn’t lived it down and Bugwart (as Ruby called her) wasn’t about to let anyone forget it – ever.
Of course, Vapona had no idea what “Little Red Ridingfort” was actually doing in the caterpillar tunnel and she never would. To tell the secret of Spectrum was forbidden. That said, there was one person outside the organisation who did know, and he was Clancy Crew, the most loyal ally a school kid could have, and Ruby Redfort’s closest friend. He would part with body parts before divulging a sworn-to secret.
‘So where is the Spectrum portal this time?’ asked Ruby.
‘If I told you it was the toddler playground, what would you say?’ replied Hitch.
‘You have to be kidding!’ said Ruby. ‘You’re telling me I have to walk into the little kid playground and crawl into that activity fun tunnel again?’
Hitch said nothing.
‘Man, I bet this was your idea, you get a big kick outta this don’t you; humiliate the kid, watch her street credibility sink below zero. . . I bet you’re laughing all day long.’
Hitch looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
‘You really serious about this?’ asked Ruby.
‘Nah, I’m just messing with you Redfort. You should see the look on your face. You know, you can really whine when you want to.’
‘You shouldn’t kid around with people that way. It interferes with a trusting relationship.’
‘You shouldn’t get wound up so easily Redfort. You’ll get a reputation for being flappy.’
Ruby glared at him.
It had been around five months now since Hitch had walked through the Redforts’ front door and taken up work in their stylish modern home under the guise of ‘household manager’. Ruby’s mom still insisted on introducing him as the butler, even though Hitch had on many occasions more than hinted that he would prefer her not to.
This kind of undercover work would ordinarily be beneath someone of Hitch’s status, but Ruby Redfort was no ordinary assignment. The reason: she was the brightest code breaker to step into Spectrum since the late Bradley Baker. Bradley Baker had begun his career as a boy, had died a man, and was to this day a hero mourned by every agent at Spectrum. Bradley Baker was a legend and – to Ruby – a pain in the derrière.
It was hard to outdo a dead super-agent, but Ruby was certainly in the business of trying. She was ambitious; not just determined to outclass Baker’s code-breaking ability, but also to become at least as good a field agent. Whether she would or not remained to be seen.
So Hitch, for now, was her official protector. He had been a field agent for a long time now and was highly trained in many disciplines. It hadn’t exactly been his idea of a whole bunch of fun. Watching over a school kid was not without its frustrations, particularly a school kid with a big mouth. But Ruby grew on him. That was the thing about her – you just found yourself wishing she were there even when you wanted her to go jump in a lake.
She was sharp as a tack and keen as a knife; determined, hardworking, loyal and – luckily – pretty funny with it. There were few Spectrum agents Hitch could say all that about.
Hitch got a beep on his watch. He took the call through his earpiece and Ruby had no idea what was being said. All she knew was that three seconds later they were heading back in the direction they had come and were now making their way once again to the downtown city centre.
‘What’s the deal?’ asked Ruby.
‘I guess Spectrum are ramping up security,’ said Hitch. ‘They’ve moved the “way in” again.’
‘Something happened?’ she asked.
‘Something’s always happened,’ he replied.
Downtown all the buildings were tall, even the short ones. Imposing heavy-stone department stores, offices, government buildings, banks and apartment blocks. Skyscrapers rose up hundreds of feet, and when you looked up the city tapered away into blue. The older Twinfordites often referred to this part of the city as Mini Manhattan or Little-L.A., because it bore a certain resemblance to both; a sort of mixture of uptown New York and downtown L.A. Although in terms of square mileage it was not on the same scale as either.
The buildings were by and large attractive, many dating back to the 1920s and 30s. There were newer ones of course, all glass and steel, but when one stood in just the right spot and looked upwards beyond the modern street signage and billboards, one could imagine Twinford City past. This was why downtown Twinford was often used for feature films depicting another age, when 1930s mobsters screeched through the streets and elegantly dressed couples danced through the night.
This part of town was an area that Ruby loved – it was exciting somehow to lose one’s self, to become anonymous, in the crisscrossing streets; ant-like to someone looking down from the top of the gargantuan architecture.
Hitch parked underneath the building known as the Schroeder, in a single empty space among the seemingly endless rows of stationary cars. There was nothing to indicate that this one lone parking spot had been reserved for Hitch’s silver convertible, but Ruby got the impression that somehow it had. The car park ramps spiralled down below them and Ruby wondered just how many vehicles were sitting under this vast building.
‘1,500,’ said Hitch, as if reading her thoughts. ‘1,517 if you count the maintenance team’s trucks. All parked on three underground levels under seventy-seven floors of concrete, steel and glass. Makes the mind boggle, doesn’t it?’
‘Makes the mind wonder if you shouldn’t get out more,’ said Ruby. ‘Maybe call up some of those “fun friends” of yours, live a little.’
They climbed out of the car and walked across to the elevator. Someone had scratched a tiny image of a housefly next to the ‘down’ button, and there was a trail line etched into the steel of the doors as if the fly had just buzzed out. The doors opened and Ruby and Hitch stepped in. Hitch snapped open what seemed to be an invisible panel, pressed some digits and the doors behind them closed and the doors in front of them opened. They exited. On the other side was a dusty old service elevator. Hitch clanged open the concertina metal gate and they stepped into the rough wide box, punched the button marked “−8” and a second or seven later they began to move unsteadily towards the bottom of the elevator shaft, the dark lit up by a single naked light bulb that swung above them, casting eerie shadows as they descended.
How many would guess that this tired-looking elevator with its mean light source
might lead to one of the world’s most sophisticated intelligence operations? Well, Ruby Redfort might; she had seen it all before.
Chapter 4.
WHEN THE DOORS OPENED THEY WERE IN A VERY DIFFERENT SPACE: huge, subterranean and sleek. No dust, no cobwebs, no bugs – of either variety.
‘So what exactly does our boss want to talk to me about?’ asked Ruby.
‘It’s not my business to say,’ said Hitch.
Ruby hadn’t seen LB, the head of Spectrum 8, since before the whole Blue Wolf mission had kicked off.
The thing was, by the time Ruby had been helicoptered off Wolf Paw Mountain and rushed to the emergency room, LB had had her own crisis to take care of; she’d been called away on urgent duty and unable to attend Ruby’s official debrief. That task had been passed to another agent.
‘Will she be in a good mood dya think?’ said Ruby, knowing this was about as likely as LB showing up in a pink trouser suit – LB only ever wore white.
Hitch didn’t answer. He just pointed to a waiting area, with sleek white chairs.
HITCH: ‘Wait here kid.’
RUBY: ‘OK.’
HITCH: ‘Here? You got that?’
RUBY: ‘Uh huh.’
HITCH: ‘That’s a yes, right?’
RUBY: ‘Uh huh.’
HITCH: ‘You’ll be called in about fifteen, OK?’
RUBY: ‘OK.’
HITCH: ‘Don’t move.’
RUBY: ‘Got it.’
Fifteen minutes, thought Ruby. Enough time to drink a soda. And, she walked off in the direction of the Spectrum canteen.
She got herself a can of Fizz and sat down on one of the stylish chairs arranged around one of the many cool-looking tables, all lit by low hanging lights. The effect was cosy and conspiratorial. The Spectrum canteen was no ordinary work cafeteria – like all things Spectrum, it gave the impression of being very pleased with itself.
