Lauren Child - Pick Your Poison

LOOSE END FOUR: the key. What’s the link?

She paused before writing,

Beats me.

She didn’t know what else to write, except for the one thing she didn’t want to write: has a bad apple found its way into Spectrum, or is someone in Spectrum rotten to the core? Someone I know? Someone I trust?

She sat back and exhaled a weary breath. ‘Where the Sam Hill are you Hitch, and why can I never find you when I need you?’ The question, muttered aloud, roused her trusty husky dog and he ambled over and licked her hand, a display of loyal affection Ruby was grateful for.

‘Come on Bug, let’s you and me go get a snack, how about that, huh?’

The dog began to wag his tail. Ruby wriggled out of the beanbag and the two of them exited the room and went quietly on downstairs.

When she arrived down in the kitchen she fetched a dog treat from the pantry and fed it to Bug. Then she opened the refrigerator to see a large glass of green with a note pinned to it written in Spanish:

It was undoubtedly from Consuela.

If I wanted to wind up with dog breath – no offence Bug – then I would. She wasted no time in pouring it down the sink, trying not to breathe in the kale smell.

Mrs Digby had made her a small fish pie. Ordinarily Ruby would have been pleased (Mrs Digby made a good fish pie), but due to her earlier encounter with fish heads she decided she might give it a miss. Instead she sliced some bread, dropped it in the toaster and waited in silence for it to toast. She thought about Hitch again and where he might be – was he part of some investigation into the 8 key or had he been kept out of it too? How did people so good at keeping secrets investigate other people who were equally good at keeping secrets?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the pop of the toaster and just like that one of her questions was answered.

THE MESSAGE WAS GRILLED INTO THE TOAST, the words clear but edible, an advantage to any hungry spy looking to cover her tracks. The fax toaster was Spectrum issue and, while useful, some might feel it had its downsides – not everyone wanted to be contacted about work assignments at 8pm when they had just popped into the kitchen for a snack. But then Ruby Redfort wasn’t everyone.

She spread the toast with mayonnaise (the Redforts were out of butter), stuck it between her teeth and pulled on her waterproof coat. Rain was due anytime soon – that’s what they kept saying, though it was the wind that had the city in its grip.

Then she headed out into the dark to Greenstreet subway station. The train journey wasn’t a long one, but even so Ruby was frustrated with herself for forgetting to bring her book. So instead of reading she stared at her reflection in the dark window. Someone had stuck a sticker to the glass. It was of a boss-eyed cartoon kid licking its chops – on the tongue were the words: It’s On the Tip of Your Tongue.

There was also part of a newspaper discarded on the ledge behind the seat, its headline mirrored in the glass:

She picked it up and continued to read:

THIS YEAR’S HALLOWEEN PARADE BIGGER THAN EVER!

Mayor Abrahams, keen to make himself popular before the mayoral elections, had decided that there should be a special televised Twinford Halloween parade in Harker Square. The meteorological service thought this unwise due to the recent violent gales and predicted torrential rain, but Mayor Abrahams was not to be deterred:

“No little rain shower is going to dampen Twinford’s spirits!”

Ruby’s friends, Red in particular, were keen to make a big impression, costume-wise. There had been a lot of talk but so far no decision on what ghoulish theme they would all be adopting.

She resurfaced at Crossways, the subway stop just northeast of the Village and not so far from the Twinford River. On Broker Avenue traffic was heavy no matter what time of day or night, and to traverse meant dodging cars. The Dime a Dozen 24-hour supermarket was her destination: brightly lit with fluorescent tubes, the aisles signed with giant cardboard numbers suspended from the ceiling.

Aisle 17 held canned vegetables and jarred baby food on one side, chilled goods in tall refrigerators on the other. She didn’t immediately spot Hitch. He was browsing chickpeas: a tall, good-looking man, wearing an elegant raincoat over a dark suit.

In his hand – only slightly marring the look – was a Dime a Dozen paper bag.

‘Been doing some shopping?’ she said.

‘You’re only three minutes and forty seconds late, good going kid,’ he said.

‘Isn’t this a bit inconvenient?’ said Ruby. ‘I mean, having to walk through a store every time you want to reach Spectrum?’

‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘It’s a convenience store.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You know what I mean.’

‘For those in the know, there are always other ways in, I just thought this one would appeal to your sense of mystery,’ said Hitch. ‘Besides, we were out of butter.’

‘I know,’ said Ruby, ‘but how do you know?’

‘Lucky guess,’ said Hitch.

Boy , thought Ruby, that’s some butler .

‘So I’ve managed to restock the dairy goodness and get to work on time,’ said Hitch, shaking the bag.

‘Where’s the door then?’ she asked.

‘Right here,’ said Hitch, pointing to a section of shelving bearing all kinds of fly sprays, fly papers and fly swatters. He reached behind a can of Fly-Be-Gone and the shelf swung open and they walked through into a very white, very cold space. Nothing was in it at all but for a tiny image of a white fly on the white wall in front of them, almost invisible but not quite. Hitch pressed his thumbprint onto it and the wall slid back and stairs were revealed.

At the bottom of the staircase – an industrial refrigerator door; on the other side – Spectrum. A hive of spies all secretly going about their business.

Hitch went over to check in with Buzz. She looked the same as always, bland and beige and looking sort of like a mushroom sitting there in the middle of her round desk surrounded by telephones. Ruby watched her as she phoned through to LB’s office.

‘Agent Hitch and Agent Redfort,’ she said.

This time there was no waiting and Ruby and Hitch were told to just go right on in to the boss’s office.

If LB had been looking tired and twitchy last month, then she seemed doubly so today. And if the dark circles around her eyes were anything to go by, perhaps her head had not been hitting the pillow as often as it should. Next to her was a man Ruby recognised as Agent Trent-Kobie, head of Spectrum 5, aka Sea Division. He was someone LB had a lot of time for and clearly trusted.

Everyone shook hands.

Ruby noticed LB’s face slightly brighten when she saw Hitch. ‘Sorry to bring you back from your vacation, Hitch, I appreciate your returning at short notice.’