Ruby Redfort 1 - Look Into My Eyes (9 page)

“Yeah, I remember,” Ruby mumbled. It was an experience she had tried hard to live down. She had not relished the attention.

“We were interested, but when we discovered exactly how old you were, that you were just some little kid, we thought again.”

“So, what? You don’t think I’m ‘just some little kid’ now?”

“Well, since you’re asking, yes, but now we’re desperate,” replied LB.

“Wow, you sure know how to pump up a person’s ego.”

LB gave her a hard stare. “We’ve been watching you for a number of years. Since you appeared on our radar we have had access to your grades and school assignments. You’re not normal.”

“That’s you paying a compliment, right?”

“I wouldn’t take it that way.”

Ruby shrugged. “So why’d ya call?”

“I need to know if you are willing to work for us — just the one job, you understand.”

“Doing what?” asked Ruby.

“We’ll get to the details in due course but I need to know, are you in or are you out?”

“You must have a lot of confidence in me.”

“That, or I’m crazy,” said LB, shuffling her papers.

“But can I be trusted?” said Ruby.

LB stopped shuffling and looked up. “We think so. One thing you seem good at is keeping your mouth shut.”

“And if you’re wrong?” said Ruby.

“And if we’re wrong,” said LB, leaning forward. “And you do turn out to be a blabbermouth, then who’s going to believe you?”

It was true, a schoolgirl was going to have a hard time convincing anyone but Clancy Crew that there was a secret agency situated beneath the street if you only took the trouble to lift the manhole cover just underneath the sign for Lucky Eight gas.

“So, are you willing to take the assignment?”

“I have no idea what it is.”

“You’ll be briefed once you have taken
and passed
the required Spectrum test and been cleared by security.” LB paused. “I should make clear that this will be a desk job: there will be no car chases, no jumping out of airplanes in black turtleneck sweaters, and it will not make you
one of us,
you will
not
become an agent, you will simply be carrying out this one task, and when it’s over you will go back to your boring humdrum schoolgirl life.”

“Gee, lady,” Ruby exhaled. “It’s on the tip of my tongue to say yes.”

“Oh, I forgot,” said LB. “There is a small fee.”

“Do I pay you or do you pay me?”

LB ignored this last comment. “Your decision?”

“But you haven’t told me what I have to do.”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. Yes or no?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Ruby, chewing on her fingernail. “There
is
this biology assignment I’m working on. You see I have to imagine my life as a plankton, and I reckon thinking like a plankton is going to take time. I mean, gee, I’m not sure I can spare the hours.”

“Look, plankton girl,” drawled LB. “Cut the baloney and let’s get things straight, are you in or are you out?”

Ruby gave LB one of her sideways stares before answering. “I guess the plankton can wait.”

“Good, glad to have that sorted out. We will arrange for you to be excused from class. Other than that, don’t call us we’ll call you.”

“Anything I need to know?” said Ruby.

“Uh-huh.
RULE ONE: KEEP IT ZIPPED
.”

Ruby lifted the drain cover and felt a large hand grab her by her jacket collar.

She shrieked in a most un-Ruby-Redfort-like way.

“Take it easy kid. I thought you might like to throw your bike in the trunk and get a ride home.” Ruby looked up to see the tan face of the Redfort household manager.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I guess you just struck me as the kind of girl who likes to spend her evenings crawling down drains.”

Ruby looked at him hard. “Who exactly
are
you?”

“Spectrum sent me to babysit you,” said Hitch, wiping dust from his hands.

“Well, sorry to put you out of a job,” said Ruby. “But I’ve been putting myself to bed since I could climb into my cradle.”

“Well, Ms. All-grown-up, what you’ve got to understand is that this isn’t just any job, they’re trusting you, kid — trusting you with things no one gets trusted with.”

“So what you are saying is, you work for them?”

“Yeah, I work for them.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a spy too,” said Ruby.

“Agent,” corrected Hitch.

“Right, so you’re not even
slightly
an actual household manager?”

“No, I am just looking out for you while my arm heals. I needed an assignment without the action — though you can’t deny I keep a pretty clean kitchen.”

“Should I believe you?” asked Ruby. “The truth isn’t exactly your strong point — how’s your housemaid’s elbow, by the way?”

“Getting better, thank you.”

“Good. So what actually happened?”

“I got shot.”

“Who by?”

“Someone.”

“I had no idea butlering could be so dangerous. What did you do, break one of the Wellingfords’ Ming vases?”

“There are no Wellingfords.”

“I didn’t think so. Who shot you, then?”

“Trust me, kid, you don’t want to know.”

“And why would I trust you?”

“I’ve got an honest face.”

“A pretty one maybe, but I wouldn’t call
pretending
to be a butler honest.”

“Well, I can assure you it doesn’t feel like pretending to
me
— feels like hard work. Your parents are kind of persnickety.”

“Maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are. Clancy had a hunch that there was more to you than the whole butler thing.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I wouldn’t. I thought you were a bozo. What normal person travels with his own toaster?”

“Communication device actually — it sends and receives written messages.”

“That figures,” said Ruby, recalling the image of Hitch examining his toast. “So how does this whole undercover thing work?”

“Well, your parents must never suspect a thing;
no one
must ever suspect a thing — and that includes your pal Clancy Crew. That’s
RULE NUMBER ONE: KEEP IT ZIPPED.
”

“So I heard,” said Ruby dryly.

“So you’re clear on this?”

“Yeah, don’t blab — sounds pretty simple to me.”

“No, kid, that’s where you’re wrong — that’s the difficult part. Code breaking and all that other stuff — that’s easy compared to keeping a secret like this.”

She had investigated her surroundings and discovered that although she was trapped
—
nothin’s gonna budge these locks —
in what amounted to a giant warehouse, she was at least very comfortable.

So this is how it feels to be a Redfort,
she said to herself as she stretched out in Brant Redfort’s designer lounge chair. She was by now attired in one of Sabina Redfort’s evening gowns — it was a full-length silver sequined affair and rather dressy for kicking about an old warehouse, but Mrs. Digby had always wanted to try it and besides, who was ever going to know?

Mrs. Digby, ever practical
— my ancestors were pioneers, they panned for gold, survived eating boiled raccoons and raw berries, sometimes boiled berries and raw raccoons —
had managed to find a long extension cord and had powered up the well-stocked refrigerator. She wasn’t going to starve anytime soon, that was something.

The Digbys have always survived and always will because we’re not afraid of a little hard work and a little discomfort,
said Mrs. Digby to herself as she arranged Mrs. Redfort’s faux mink stole around her shoulders.

Now, if I could just find a way of getting reception on this TV.

“SHE WILL BE IN MIAMI,”
said Brant Redfort.

“Who will be in Miami?” repeated Sabina.

“Mrs. Digby,” said Brant. “Remember that time she got so mad at you for putting us all on that pickle diet? Said it would pickle us from the inside out.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, what did she do? She took off for Miami, stayed there till you saw sense.” Brant folded his arms like a man who had just successfully completed the cryptic crossword.

“You know what, Brant? You’re a genius!” She turned to Ruby. “Your father’s a genius, Ruby!”

Ruby thought this unlikely but said nothing.

“Miami! That’s exactly where she is,” continued Sabina. “Playing poker, I’ll bet. Thank goodness for that.” She poured herself another tomato-celery health juice. “She loves to gamble!” Sabina picked up her magazine,
Faces of the Absurdly Rich
. “Well, this is going to make old Freddie happy. It says here that security has been stepped up to record levels. Twinford City Bank now has the safest bank vaults in the whole of the country.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear it,” said Brant. “I just deposited my latest paycheck! I certainly don’t want to gamble with that!”

Sabina laughed like he had just cracked the joke of the century.

Ruby, who despite appearances had actually been paying attention to this conversation, thought about what her father had said — not about the gold, but about Mrs. Digby. Gambling in Miami — it was certainly a possibility.

She was roused from her thoughts by a piece of toast freshly delivered to her plate. It was telling her something:

Be ready in ten. Wear your sneakers.

Mrs. Bexenheath, the school secretary, looked up to see what at first glance she imagined must be some Hollywood film star. It was as if he had accidentally strayed off the Walk of Fame and wandered unwittingly into the shabby halls of Twinford Junior High — so entirely out of place was he. However, this handsome man struck up an easy conversation with her, and before a minute had passed Mrs. Bexenheath had found herself agreeing to excuse Ruby Redfort from all lessons for the foreseeable future. She had concentrated carefully, all the while staring into his Hollywood eyes, wondering if they were brown or hazel. And although after he had left she couldn’t exactly remember
why
she had excused Ruby from classes, she did find herself very sympathetic.

“Of course! Of course, she must take all the time she needs,” she had gushed.

“Just remember, Mrs. Bexenheath, keep it hush-hush — oh, and don’t bother Mr. and Mrs. Redfort, if you need to ask anything then be sure to bother me.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” said Mrs. Bexenheath sincerely.

Hitch thanked the school secretary for her warmth and kindheartedness, and promised that
yes,
he would make a point of visiting the school again soon. Then he said good-bye and returned to the car where Ruby was waiting.

“So?” said Ruby when Hitch got back into the driver’s seat.

“Mrs. Bexenheath sends her warmest wishes and insists you take all the time you need.”

“Really? What did you tell the old crab apple?” asked Ruby.

“Well, it seems that your grandmother has contracted a rare but not infectious virus while bird-watching in the Australian Alps — condition, serious,” Hitch said, turning the key in the ignition.

“There
are
no Australian Alps,” said Ruby.

“Well, someone should have told your grandmother that because now look at her.”

“I can’t, she’s in New York — probably all tucked up in her penthouse apartment,” said Ruby.

“Let’s not tell Mrs. Bexenheath that, or she might get
really
upset.”

“You know what, man, you’re some butler.”

“I prefer household manager, but thanks, kid. Now, I think we should pay our friends at Spectrum a little visit.”

“Why is it called Spectrum?” asked Ruby

“You’ll see,” said Hitch as he sped out of the parking lot.

Ruby sat back. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad. He certainly knew how to concoct total nonsense. Perhaps they were going to get along after all.

When they entered HQ it wasn’t via the manhole cover that Ruby had previously used. No, this time they had to climb along the side of the Twinford Bridge. She now understood why the toast had recommended sneakers.

They stopped when they found a tiny rusted metal doorway covered in graffiti — nonsensical words and sprayed-on images, including one of a fly. Different from the one on the manhole cover but a fly nonetheless.