Ruby Redfort Take Your Last Breath (15 page)

They headed off in the direction of the blue corridor, passing doors in varying shades of cyan until they got to the one he was looking for. Hitch knocked, but didn’t wait for an answer.

Blacker was sitting in a large round room, its ceiling curved, its floor flat glass, and under the glass the room continued its curve. Blacker flicked a switch, and the sphere they stood in was suddenly covered in coastal maps. They were inside a giant sea globe.

“Hey there, Ruby. Nice to see you again. I thought you were going to Department Seven first?” said Blacker, looking at Hitch.

“He’s late,” said Hitch.

Ruby looked at Hitch. “You mean I could be at swim practice after all?”

“I was told to get you here by three thirty. I can’t help it if people don’t show when they say they’re going to show,” said Hitch.

“Well, no matter, early or late,” said Blacker. “I’m glad you’re here. We got a lot to do, and I sure could use your brain.”

Hitch walked to the door. “See you in a while, kid. Be smart.” He left the room.

Blacker pushed a chair in her direction, and Ruby sat down. “Here, have a jelly donut — it’ll help you think,” he said, handing her a fat sugar-dusted donut. “So, they fill you in on what’s going on?”

“Nuh-uh,” said Ruby.

“OK, so let me,” he said. “I have been looking into the Mayday call those fishermen sent out last night. They claim to have made several attempts to contact the coast guard, and when their distress signal was not answered, they tried to get the attention of another boat. This vessel, however, did not come to their aid, although they insist it must have seen their predicament.”

“What did this boat look like?” asked Ruby.

“
Strange and old-fashioned
is what they said, though they didn’t get to see it up close.”

“So where exactly was the fishing boat when they called in to the coast guard?”

“Exactly here.” Blacker pointed to the wall at an expanse of sea not so far from the Sibling Islands on the north side. There was a little red light illuminated, indicating the tiny fishing vessel. Another light, this one green, represented the boat the fishermen had tried to make contact with; not so far away, but to the east side of the islands.

For the next two hours Blacker and Ruby worked together, reading out coordinates and marking them with lights. By the end they had almost thirty markers glowing on the glass walls around them, showing the locations of cargo boats that had drifted off course, other boats that had sent out unanswered Mayday calls, and rough locations for sightings of strange marine-life activity. They covered quite an area, and it wasn’t clear what it really meant, though there was a clustering in the deep waters half a mile from the Sibling Islands.

“What’s out there?” asked Ruby.

“Not a whole lot,” said Blacker. “Cargo ships sail close, but not directly into those waters; they always travel to the west side of the islands. The ocean is deep on the east side, but there are too many rocks just under the surface to be safe for very large shipping. The currents can be dangerous for recreational sailing — you need to know what you’re doing.”

Ruby did know; she had heard people talking about it all her life.
Beware the Sibling tides
— it was one of those old sayings people handed down to their children. The point was that it was not a good idea to go out there unless you really knew what you were up to. The waters were dangerous, and there were outlandish tales spanning the centuries of people mysteriously going missing — all greatly exaggerated no doubt, but nonetheless true, at least in essence.

“What about the actual Sibling Islands? Aren’t they kinda worth a visit?” suggested Ruby. “I mean, don’t people head out there to see them? I’m sure my parents are passing nearby on this yacht tour they’re on, learning about history and stuff.”

Blacker licked the donut sugar off his fingers; it was getting all over the keyboard. “I guess if you have the inclination to go and stare at two giant rocks sticking straight up out of the ocean — very few tourists bother to go that far, your parents excepted, I guess. It takes a long time to get there and you can’t land or anything and you certainly can’t swim. Sure, they’re sort of impressive to look at, but they don’t usually attract a lot of sightseers. It’s geologists who are interested, and marine life experts; as I said, the water goes very deep, and there are a lot of unusual species of fish. Apart from that it’s pretty dangerous out there; plenty of ships used to get wrecked in olden times.”

They both sat and stared at the maps now dotted with red, green, pink, yellow, and violet lights, all representing a different type of disturbance or unusual occurrence.

The telephone rang, and Blacker picked up. “OK, I’ll send her over.” He put the receiver down.

“Do you think you can make it to Department Seven? It’s in the violet zone — room 324, if you’re going by numbers.”

“I reckon I’ll find it,” said Ruby.

“You sure?” said Blacker, getting to his feet. “You want me to walk you?”

“That’s OK,” said Ruby. “I’m good at finding my way.”

She was pretty sure she knew where she was going, but even if she hadn’t had a clue, she would have said she did. The truth was, Ruby wanted to stop by somewhere.

She could have just turned left down the corridor the way she had come, but what would be the fun in that? She was a slave to her curiosity — as Mrs. Digby so often observed,
“Curiosity will be the death of you, young lady.”

This prophecy had almost been borne out just a matter of weeks ago. Ruby was lucky to be alive, and she knew it, but it hadn’t changed a thing. She was as big a snoop as ever. So instead of turning left out of the door, she turned right.

It took some time, but after what seemed like miles of passageway and a zillion closed doors, she finally reached one she recognized. It was bright orange, and it was the Spectrum gadget room.

She looked at the Bradley Baker rescue watch, tapped the exact time into the keypad, and the door clicked open. The code had not been changed.

Ruby had been told not to take anything without proper permission. That meant filling out a form — in triplicate — and getting it signed by the correct authority. But the person in charge, what’s-his-name (she had never actually met him), wasn’t in Spectrum today, and when was she going to get the opportunity again?

As she walked past them, the display cases and glass drawers all lit up. Ruby moved past the rows of low glass counters, slowly eyeing their contents. She was looking for something in particular, something she had seen on her first visit to Spectrum. It was in the section devoted to gadgets for use in the ocean.

Ruby could see that this device might well come in handy, and she was sure that the person in charge would sign it out if she requested it — so what was the harm in taking it? She was a bona fide agent, after all, and she had done her dive training. So what was the big deal? She cast her eyes over the other glass drawers and cases. There was an intriguing label next to a small bag that looked to contain marbles.

She might as well grab them too while she was at it, since she was going to get in a whole lot of trouble anyway. In for a dime, in for a dollar. She slipped the “borrowed” treasures into her pockets and checked her watch.

Oops, didn’t mean to be gone so long.
The time had slipped through her fingers. Peeping through the spyhole, she checked to make sure the coast was clear before opening the door. Then she walked swiftly down the corridor and up to Department Seven, violet zone. She knocked before entering room 324.

“Late!” said a voice.

“Oh, geez,” said Ruby. “Does it have to be
you
?”

RUBY COULDN’T BELIEVE HER DUMB LUCK.
Was she really going to have to suffer the company of the Silent G?

His name was Froghorn, but the
G
was silent — something Ruby chose to ignore, which was just one reason their relationship was so bad. The other being that Froghorn was a petty-minded bully. At twenty-three he had been the youngest agent currently in Spectrum employment, but then Ruby had come along and spoiled all that, and he was
not
happy about it.

“You should be grateful, little girl — I’m actually handing you some real work on a real case. This is your lucky day.”

“Oh, I’m really stoked,” said Ruby. “Being shut in a tiny room with you is my
definition
of a lucky day.”

“Oh, dear. Now you’re getting your hopes too high. I won’t be babysitting. I have
important
things to work on, and I think even you can manage to listen to tape recordings by yourself.”

Ruby looked at the desk, covered in batches of tapes.

“What are they?” she asked.

“You have to listen to them.”

“What are they?” said Ruby again.

“Tapes — of radio shows, the kind of shows that people with very little musical taste might tune in to.”

Ruby considered this for a moment.
Was he talking about what she thought he was talking about?

“I guess you’re referring to Chime Melody?”

Froghorn wrinkled his nose, evidently surprised that she was aware of the Chime situation. “Oh, I’m sorry — no insult intended,” he said, not the merest hint of apology in his voice. “Apparently you’re a listener?”

“Sure, I listen,” said Ruby. “It’s important to have an open mind, otherwise one walks around like one knows it all when one is actually a total potato head, no insult intended.”

Froghorn’s mouth went very small, but he chose to ignore Ruby’s jibe.

“There seems to have been some interference of some kind — highbrow music playing on a lowbrow show. It could be accidental, just two radio frequencies clashing. However, due to all the other unusual activity, LB assigned me the job of listening to each and every tape just to make sure there isn’t some underlying voice message or communication.”

“She assigned you? So what am I doing here?” said Ruby.

“You’re here because I’ve delegated this task to a junior agent.”

“Are you palming this work off on me, Froghorn?” she said. It was clear he thought it was a dead-end job.

“Not at all. It’s just the kind of chore a less able person should be doing, and your name came to mind. All you have to do is listen, though I realize this is not something you’re skilled at.”

“Jeepers, Froghorn, did your mommy not love you enough? You got some serious ego issues, man.”

Froghorn pursed his lips so his mouth went even smaller. He didn’t like this Ruby Redfort girl undermining him. Who did she think she was marching in with her big mouth, mocking him, making him feel stupid?

“Next time, don’t be late.” The door slammed as he left.

“That’s the best you got? Don’t be late? You need to brush up on your insults, potato head,” said Ruby to no one but herself.

She stared at the piles of tapes.

She felt not unlike one of those fairy-tale characters who ends up left with some impossible task — to weave straw into gold or peel 1,500 carrots before dinnertime.

Might as well buckle down.
She inserted the first tape in the machine, put on the headphones, and sat back in the chair.

It was going to be a long, long night.

THE DOOR TO RUBY’S BEDROOM FLEW OPEN.

“Child, get yourself up and at it; your parent-folks will be arriving home today, and I want to get your room looking like a room before your mother has me fired and run out of town.”

Ruby lifted her head from the pillow and rubbed her eyes. She was exhausted from her long night of listening to Chime Melody’s peculiar sounds.

Mrs. Digby, who of course knew nothing about that, was standing in the doorway, pink rubber gloves up to her elbows, bucket in hand. Through the blur that was Ruby’s eyesight she looked like some kind of gunslinger.