Blink and You Die

Ruby shrugged. ‘So substitute.’

‘What with, might I ask?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Ruby. ‘How about button mushrooms?’

Mrs Digby shook her head. ‘What you don’t know about cooking is a lot.’

Which was true.

The phone rang and Ruby picked up.

‘Pest control, we spray you pay.’

‘Hey Ruby, it’s us! We’re in Paris!’

‘Mom?’

‘Oui, but of course.’

‘Ciao ciao Ruby!’

‘Dad?’

‘Yes, it’s me.’

‘How are you?’

‘Well, the weather here is très froid you know, and there’s neige.’

‘What? You mean snow?’

‘Uh huh, lots and lots of neige, the airport is still closed.’

‘So when are you likely to make it home?’

‘Ooh la la – heaven only knows.’

‘Would you like to talk to Mrs Digby?’

‘Oui, yes, if you please s’il vous plait.’

Ruby handed the phone to the housekeeper and left them to it.

Maybe she’d have a go at solving Mrs Digby’s fungus problem.

Ruby might not know a lot about how to get her hands on a hen of the woods, but she knew someone who probably did.

IT WOULD BE BETTER NOT TO LET MRS DIGBY know who Ruby was planning to call; it would almost certainly put the housekeeper in a very sour mood.

Ruby climbed the stairs to her room at the top of the house and there used her private telephone line to make the call. She had quite a collection of phones in all shapes and designs. From lobster to squirrel, donut to clam shell.

She picked up the squirrel and dialled.

‘Hola,’ said the voice at the end of the line.

‘Hey there, Consuela, it’s Ruby as in Redfort,’ said Ruby.

‘Don’t tell me, you’re sick because you’re eating all that garbage food. I bet you have pimples.’

‘No,’ said Ruby, checking her face in the mirror.

‘It’s your eyesight; you’re not eating your kale?’ said Consuela.

‘Well …’ said Ruby.

‘You got bad vision because you don’t eat your kale,’ said Consuela.

‘I have bad eyesight because of genetics,’ said Ruby. ‘I’m all with you on the good diet theory, but eggs is eggs and facts are facts.’

‘Facts you know, and yet still you eat all that junk,’ said Consuela. ‘So why are you calling?’

‘I just wanted to congratulate you on your new job.’

Silence, then, ‘What new job is that?’

‘I read you are working for the scientific institute, so I guess you’re looking at the diet of those snakes.’

Silence.

‘What snakes?’

‘The yellow snakes.’

‘That was not in the paper,’ said Consuela. ‘This is all on the low down.’

‘Downlow,’ corrected Ruby.

‘Downlow, low down, is no matter, what I am saying is it is not to be chitter-chatted about.’

‘I know,’ said Ruby, ‘I just sort of figured it out.’

‘Well, I hope you will figure out how to keep your mouth shut,’ said Consuela. ‘So why are you calling when I’m all busy and up to my eyes cooking?’

‘I thought you might be able to help me with an ingredient.’

Ruby explained and Consuela listened and then thought about it, clucked her tongue and told Ruby to hang on and hung up.

While Ruby waited she took the opportunity to look up in her encyclopaedia just what might make these mushrooms worth the trouble.

Maitake: (also known as Hen of the Woods or Ram’s Head) a choice delicacy, known to have many health benefits, including boosting the immune system and improving blood pressure. Grows in large circular clusters of spoon-shaped caps at the base of oak trees, grey on top and white beneath. September-November. Spores when magnified are elliptical and smooth.

Makes a nourishing and meaty mushroom stew.

Twenty minutes later, Consuela called back with a name.

‘You have to go to Mo’s store, he’s … what do you say …’

‘A mycologist?’

‘A heart pounder.’

‘Say again?’

‘Que guapo.’

‘Really?’

‘I asked him out and guess what he says – “maybe”. What good is maybe! His store is Daily Supplies in Little Mountain Side,’ she said. ‘No one else will have them, not late in the year as it is.’

‘Where’s Little Mountain Side?’ said Ruby.

‘Look it up,’ said Consuela. ‘I got larger fish to fry,’ and the call was over.

After supper Ruby did just that, first checking the map that covered the walls of the guest bathroom off the downstairs hall – no sign of Little Mountain Side.

Must be out of town, she thought.

She went into her dad’s home office and found a map of the surrounding area and spread it out on the desk. It was not, as she had expected, somewhere near Little Bear, nor was it to the north-east in the Wolf Paw range. Little Mountain Side turned out to be quite a way south of Ridgepoint, which was probably why Ruby had never heard of it: to get there meant a detour off the Pine Forest Pass as the town was tucked away on the far side of the second Sequoia Mountain.

Mrs Digby had recently given up ‘getting behind the wheel of an automobile’ due to the ‘volume of numbskulls on the roads’, (her words) and so unless she could find someone willing to pick the mushrooms up for her, it was going to be a morning’s bus ride for the old lady.

Ruby thought for a minute.

Maybe I’ll do her a good turn, make that bus trip myself, discover a new part of the world and clock up some girl scout points while I’m at it. To be honest Ruby could use the good press; after she’d been caught up in a street brawl (not her fault) and had been issued with six hours community service, her angel status had waned. The chance saving of Baby Lemon had restored a little of her good-kid status, but topping it up would do no harm.

If she was honest this was only part of the reason for making the trip. There were tales about the Sequoia Mountains which more than piqued her curiosity. Rumours of unidentified flying objects and little green men appealed to Ruby Redfort, and while she doubted any of them were based on fact, she wouldn’t mind taking a look for herself.

That decided, Ruby kicked off her shoes, switched on the portable TV and slumped into the beanbag, clicking through the channels until she reached Horror on 44.

A dark-haired girl dressed in a check shirt, jeans, but no shoes, was sitting at home with her dog. She was listening to music on her record player, and the dog was asleep. The girl sipped lemonade while flipping through a comic. Then all of a sudden the hound began to howl.

‘Hey there, Rex,’ said the girl, ‘what are you barking at?’ She stared into the dark.

‘There’s nothing out there.’ The dog continued to whimper.

The camera panned out of the window and into the woodland. In the darkness something moved.

Ruby looked over at Bug. He was fast asleep, no howling, no whimpering.

Her thoughts strayed to the strange happenings of recent weeks.

She picked up her pencil.

To date there were three known dangerous criminals wanted by Spectrum 8:

The Count: a psychopath, thief and murderer with no real motivation for his evil deeds, other than the prevention of boredom and the pursuit of pleasure. What Ruby now knew for sure was that he was working for someone else, and what he had recently imparted during their crypt encounter was that he wasn’t particularly keen on the arrangement any more. However, what wasn’t clear was how he had come to be in the power of another, nor who that individual could be.

The Australian: a close acquaintance of the Count and equally ruthless.

Ruby was not sure what drew these two together, but guessed they had known each other for more than a few years. It would seem the Count had requested the Australian’s assistance to help tie up loose ends; they trusted each other, and from the way the Count had talked, he had great respect for her.

Lorelei: estranged daughter of the Australian and sometime employee of the Count. Lorelei was a law unto herself, that was beyond doubt now. She had gone rogue, betrayed the Count twice (there would be no third chance) and was hell-bent on raining havoc and destruction on those who strayed across her path – which put Ruby well and truly in the firing line.

Then of course there was the mole, the double agent, the traitor, puppet master, bad egg, bad apple … Call them what you liked, someone was pulling the strings; the question was, who?

And the Count was scared.

Not exactly a soothing thought. What kind of soul could make a soulless monster tremble?

The girl on the TV was getting twitchy: she was beginning to feel sure something was lurking out there in the darkness.

Ruby got up and went over to her own window and stood there looking out into the black. Somewhere something evil lurked. It was a big wild world and this dark soul could be a thousand miles away. They could be watching from Mars or they might be just around the next bend in the Dry River Road. However, what seemed most likely of all, was that this enemy was already within and stalking the corridors of Spectrum.

The sixty-four-thousand dollar question was:

This dark soul, could it really be LB?

HQ was on high alert, Spectrum 1 was in charge of the investigating team, security had been ramped up to carmine level, protection at Spectrum 8 had never been higher, but it was hard to feel reassured. After all, how does one protect oneself when the evil lies on the inside? From the safety of Green-Wood House, Ruby considered her options.

When you are written large on a psychopath’s hit list, do you:

A: Stay indoors, turn the locks, switch off the lights, hide under the covers and wait for someone else to do something?

B: Brush up on your kung fu moves, wrap up warm, get out there, root out trouble and save yourself?

She tapped her pencil against her head.

The idea of being a sitting duck until another agent pulled the clues together, identified the mole and rounded up these murderers was not an appealing one.

‘Sit tight’ was a Spectrum watchword, but as far as Ruby could tell, this was no time to be taking orders from Spectrum.

She smiled sadly.

It could only be option two.

Death or glory, she thought.

Meanwhile – some eleven and a half years ago …

… the guy lying on the side of the road looked up at the old man and saw the fear in his face.

‘Am I … alive?’

The old man nodded. ‘It would seem so.’

‘You … OK …?’ stammered the guy. ‘You … look … like you’re … gonna … faint.’

The old man was shrugging off his jacket. He pulled a penknife from his pocket and he began cutting at the sleeve of his own shirt, tearing it right off and wrapping it around the bleeding guy’s leg.

‘My name, should you be wondering, is Lenny Rivers.’ He was working quickly but methodically, binding the wound tight, trying to stop all that blood leaking onto the road.

‘Pleased to … meet … you … Len …’

‘So what hit you friend, a truck?’ The poor guy was a real mess, the worst thing Lenny had ever seen, except for that time when he’d found a hunter who’d been attacked by a bear. That fella hadn’t made it. ‘Was it one of those haulage trucks smashed into you?’ he asked.

The guy smiled faintly. ‘The fun … the funny thing … is … I … don’t re-mem-ber.’

‘Musta been going at a fair old lick,’ Lenny tutted. ‘Either didn’t see you or just decided to leave you for dead.’

‘I guess,’ said the injured guy, his eyes closing slowly.

‘Hang in there,’ said Lenny, more to himself than to the half-dead fellow lying there on the ground. He’d do what he could, but this poor soul’s ticket was punched, Lenny Rivers was sure of that.

‘So what do they call you?’ Lenny asked.

One thing Lenny Rivers knew for a certainty was, he’d want to hear his name spoken aloud one final time if he was about to float heavenwards. But the wounded man was already slipping away, his focus gone. ‘Hey there son, don’t leave me, tell me what you go by.’ Lenny gently tapped the injured man’s bloodstained cheek. ‘Stick with me pal, you must have a name, right?’

The guy’s eyelids flickered and opened one last time. He was staring beyond Lenny as if his eyes saw some other figure standing behind him. ‘Loveday,’ he said. ‘It was Morgan … Loveday.’

THE SOAP RANG IN THE BATHROOM the next morning and Ruby spat out her toothpaste and picked up.

‘So what were you going to tell me?’ asked Clancy. Ruby could hear his little sister Olive in the background, talking to someone.

‘Who’s there with you?’ asked Ruby.

‘Olive,’ said Clancy.

‘But who’s she talking to?’ asked Ruby.

‘Buttercup,’ said Clancy.

Silence.

‘Her doll,’ said Clancy.

Ruby listened for a moment. ‘Jeepers,’ she said.

‘Exactly,’ said Clancy. ‘So what were you going to tell me?’

‘Well, I’m not going to say it over the phone, am I, buster?’

‘Of course you’re not, bozo. I was wondering if you’d like the pleasure of my company, plus if I have to listen to more of this dolly talk I’m gonna go crazy.’

‘Anyone would,’ said Ruby. ‘Is she like this most days?’

‘Try every day,’ said Clancy.

‘I’ll meet you in a half hour, usual place.’

The usual place was the tree on Amster. They met there when they wanted to be completely alone and out of sight. It was December and the tree’s branches were bare and so the oak would not provide any cover, but at least sitting high in its boughs meant they were a long way from eavesdroppers and interrupters. It was as they sat up in the oak that Ruby filled her friend in on everything she had omitted to tell him before.

‘LB killed Bradley Baker?’ said Clancy.

‘That’s what the Count told me,’ said Ruby.

‘Are you actually serious?’ asked Clancy.

‘Serious as the look on your face,’ confirmed Ruby.

‘But … I mean, really? I mean … kill him? How?’ asked Clancy.

‘What you have to ask yourself is why,’ said Ruby.

‘Why?’ said Clancy. ‘Why is why the question I have to ask myself? Why not – can you get me outta Twinford as quickly as possible? Followed by, could you call the sheriff’s office right away? Because those are the questions I would be asking if I just found out that the boss of the secret agency I worked in had murdered her best friend and not just some average Joe either, not that that would make it all right or anything, but we are talking about Bradley Baker, legendary agent of Spectrum 8. So if LB did that then yes, can you get me to a safe house and could you call the sheriff would be my first two questions.’

‘Well, thank goodness you’re not me, Clance, because both of those questions are dead ends. For one: who’s actually going to believe any of this? And for two: if LB is really his killer then how far am I gonna get before I end up going the same way as Baker? I mean think about it, Clance, she runs a team of highly trained agents, secret agents who are capable of –’ she drew her finger across her throat, before adding – ‘secretly.’

Clancy opened his mouth to speak, but could not think of anything cheerful to say.

‘So what you gotta look at,’ said Ruby, ‘is the whole big picture. My boss might well be a traitorous killer: she has the means, the power, possibly a motive, but before we absolutely totally conclude she is a traitorous killer, we need to examine the evidence. For example, what do we know about Bradley Baker?’

Clancy shrugged. ‘He was the youngest spy Spectrum ever recruited, super respected and well-liked, and he was the most talented code breaker and agent they ever had.’ He stole a sideways look at Ruby. ‘No offence, Rube.’

‘Don’t sweat it bozo, I hear it all the time.’

‘And,’ continued Clancy, ‘he was killed in a plane crash.’

‘Which it seems was no accident,’ said Ruby. ‘Nor was it at the hand of the enemy, but rather by the hand of his most loyal ally.’

‘And let’s not forget fiancée,’ added Clancy.

‘So now what we got to look at is who exactly is feeding us this information,’ said Ruby. ‘Who is the deliverer of this sad and bad news?’

‘The Count,’ said Clancy. ‘At least, it was his apple.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ruby, ‘it was his apple, and he wanted me to find the note.’

‘So,’ said Clancy, ‘so you’re asking, do you think we should consider him a reliable source? Maybe he just wants us to believe LB is a murderer. He could be just making the whole thing up?’

‘Yeah, and the truth is, I can’t say I know him well enough to know,’ said Ruby.

‘You do know him well enough,’ said Clancy. ‘You know him well enough to know that you can never know him.’

‘What?’

‘I’m saying he likes to move the goal posts, he sorta enjoys playing with people, creeping them out, just for fun and also, you know … killing them.’ Clancy shivered.

Ruby stared into the distance. ‘Yeah, he does like to mess with people’s heads; once he’s planted an idea, you just can’t shake it. He knows how these thoughts grow, how they take off in different directions – you don’t exactly know what they mean or even what you’re scared of, you just keep running with it.’

‘So what has he got you thinking?’ asked Clancy.

Ruby paused before speaking. ‘What he’s got me thinking is, what if Bradley was not all that he seemed; what if he were the so-called bad apple?’

‘You suggesting he wasn’t the super talent everyone thought he was?’ asked Clancy.

‘No, I think we can accept that Baker was the super talent that everyone drones on about, but if he was such a talented agent then he may also have had a talent for espionage.’

‘Huh?’

‘What I’m suggesting here is, was he leading a double life?’

Clancy was looking at her, his expression one of puzzlement.

Ruby spelled it out: ‘Do we know which side he was really on?’

‘Oh,’ said Clancy, ‘that … that wasn’t something I was even thinking about.’

‘So let’s just say he was a double agent, LB woulda had to kill him for the sake of Spectrum, for the sake of this country –’ she stretched her arms out wide – ‘the world even.’

Clancy let out a heavy sigh. ‘I’d feel a lot better if that’s how it was.’

‘It could have been that LB knew what nobody else knew: that he was a phoney, a fraud, an imposter.’

‘Like some kind of mole, you mean?’

‘Yeah,’ nodded Ruby.

‘Boy, it sure makes you think,’ said Clancy. ‘Imagine finding out that your best friend, most loyal ally, is a total fake, not to mention murderer.’ He looked at Ruby. ‘Though I have to say, Rube, if you turn out to be an evil genius, I can’t see myself killing you. I kinda like your company.’

‘I appreciate that Clance, I really do.’

‘Still, I think LB had guts to do what she did,’ said Clancy. ‘If Baker was a bad egg, she did the right thing.’

‘Yeah,’ said Ruby, contemplating this for a moment, ‘but what if he wasn’t? What if it was the other way around?’

‘Jeepers, I was just beginning to relax,’ said Clancy.

‘Yeah, well, don’t, cos what if it was Bradley Baker who was the good news in this story and LB eliminated him so she could get on with her plot to take over the world or steal the moon or whatever?’

‘The moon?’ said Clancy. ‘Can you even do that?’ He was on his feet now, as if he needed to be ready for what might be coming.

‘Geez, Clance, it was just an example, how should I know what she’s got planned?’ Ruby paused, sorting through the thoughts that were flickering in her brain: the cyan, the indigo, the ruby eyes of the Buddha, the 8 key, the yellow snake. ‘If I could figure that out, and how it all links together, the thefts and the murders, the mole within Spectrum, well, then I might know what to do.’

‘Yeah, right,’ said Clancy, ‘if you knew all that then you could just amble downtown and knock on Sheriff Bridges’ door and hand him the evidence.’

Ruby sighed. ‘Like that’s gonna happen.’

‘But meanwhile, you figure one of them has to be a bad seed?’ said Clancy. ‘Either it’s Baker or it’s LB?’

‘Or it’s neither?’ offered Ruby. ‘Unless of course,’ – she looked at him out of the corner of her eye – ‘they were both bad apples.’

Clancy made a face like he wished she wouldn’t say these kinds of things.

‘Look, could you give me a break here Rube? I can only cope with one double agent at a time.’

She thumped him lightly on the arm. ‘Take it easy,’ she said. ‘Yeah, I think it’s probably either Baker or LB, and let’s hope it’s Baker, right?’

Clancy nodded. ‘Because if it’s Baker then LB is on the level.’

‘Only thing is,’ said Ruby, ‘if LB isn’t the bad apple then who is, who’s the one pulling the strings?’

Clancy gave her the pained look again. ‘I don’t want to think about that right now.’

‘Yeah, well, time’s running out. Whoever is behind this whole series of events has a master plan and I get the feeling we’re heading towards the end game.’

‘So what’s your next move?’ asked Clancy.

‘I guess I need to find out more about Bradley Baker. I mean I know precisely zero about him other than what a great guy, what a smart agent, how we all wish he’d come back, but if I could dig down to what made him tick, what thoughts were whirling round that super-brain of his, and of course exactly how and why he died, then I might know more about LB.’

‘So ask around,’ said Clancy.

‘What, are you kidding? People don’t talk about Bradley Baker. They sorta mention him, how brilliant he was, but they don’t actually really say anything.’ Ruby shook her head. ‘No, if I started in asking a lot of questions then I would have to explain why I wanted to know, and then I would have to get into the whole bit about LB maybe being a murderer and I get the feeling that’s not gonna go down too well.’

‘You mean it might get you dead. If she’s a cold-blooded murderer, is that what you’re saying?’ said Clancy.

‘That is the worst case scenario,’ said Ruby, ‘and me dead is something I’m trying to avoid.’

‘You could tell Blacker?’ suggested Clancy. ‘You trust him, right?’

‘Sure, but this is not the same, this is me telling him not to trust his boss, and if you were asking, do I trust him not to go right ahead and speak to LB about my concerns? That would have to be a no. Blacker is loyal to Spectrum, loyal to the core, and I would have a pretty hard time convincing him that his boss is a bad egg or apple or whatever. People generally don’t like to believe they have been putting their trust in, and generally assisting, a dangerous psychopath.’

‘But her name was inside a bad apple,’ Clancy reminded her. ‘Blacker can’t ignore that.’

‘And who put it there?’ said Ruby. ‘The biggest bad apple of them all. Everyone knows the Count would be happy to see Spectrum destroyed.’

‘You have a point,’ said Clancy.