Ruby Redfort Take Your Last Breath

by Lauren Child

  RUBY HEADED OFF IN THE DIRECTION OF LITTLE BAY. She needed to take a look at the ocean before she went to school; not that it was likely to tell her a whole lot, but she just felt it might help to go and sort of drink it in.

  She climbed on her bike and whistled to Bug — he liked to run alongside, and a sprint out to the ocean was nothing for him. When they got within a quarter mile, they both sensed something pretty strange.

  It was a sound, a sort of clacking sound.

  As they got nearer, Ruby figured out what it was. Hundreds upon hundreds of crabs, all making their way along the sands. “That’s kinda weird, huh Bug?”

  The dog went to investigate, sniffing at the creatures and backing off as they snapped their tiny claws at his nose.

  Ruby let go of her bike and slowly picked her way through the crabs, expecting to come to the place where they ended — but they didn’t end, they just kept on coming.

  Then, far, far on the other side of the beach, she saw a diver walking toward the ocean. She called out to him, but he didn’t hear her, and before she could reach him he had ducked under the sea’s surface. A few yards up the beach sat a large yellow carryall — the diver would be coming back for it, she imagined, but Ruby couldn’t wait. She had promised Mrs. Digby that she would not be late for school, and a promise in spit was a promise to be kept.

  Ruby made it into school just seconds before the bell sounded, dashed into her classroom, and slid into her seat, smiling at Mrs. Drisco, who scowled back. She looked for Clancy, but he wasn’t there. He was never late for class, so she guessed he must be off sick, or (more likely) was still faking it.

  Still freaked out? she wondered. Or avoiding something?

  It didn’t take her long to figure it out.

  The bell rang, and Ruby spilled out of her homeroom with all the other kids. She made her way to physics, and as she turned the corner, heard a familiar voice shouting.

  “Hey, Redfort, are you planning on showing for swim practice this evening?”

  Ruby turned to see Del Lasco, tall, sporty, and kind of in your face, coming down the main stairway.

  “I said I would, didn’t I?” replied Ruby.

  “Yeah, well, you say a lotta things, and I haven’t seen you show for practice once this season.”

  Ruby had been kind of busy with Spectrum, and it was true she had simply not had time for Junior High commitments.

  “I did the swimathon, didn’t I?”

  “Sure. And got beaten by Clancy Crew. He isn’t even on the swim team! You need to train. Sharpen up.”

  “I’ll be there tonight, OK?” assured Ruby as she made for the door.

  “I notice Crew’s skipping off today too, which is just swell.”

  “And how is that my fault, buster?” called Ruby, disappearing into class.

  If you didn’t know it, you might imagine that Ruby Redfort and Del Lasco weren’t even friends at all — but they were. Good friends in fact. Del Lasco had a mouth on her, that was for sure, but she was also very loyal. No one could deny that if the chips were down, you could count on Del to wade in and punch someone on your behalf, even if you didn’t want them punched.

  Mr. Endell was talking about white noise today. Which was pretty interesting, as it turned out, and sort of helpful given what Ruby was investigating for Spectrum. White noise, according to Mr. Endell, was a kind of noise produced by combining every frequency together, from high to low — like someone playing every key on a piano at the same time.

  What was interesting to Ruby was that white noise could be used to mask other sounds, including voices. This was because the ear was so busy dealing with so many different notes and tones, all sounding at once, that it couldn’t manage to tune in to just one voice.

  Mr. Endell demonstrated this by turning on his desk fan, which he pointed out produced a kind of white noise, and then speaking at a normal volume.

  He said, “ .”

  “What?” chorused the class.

  “I was saying,” said Mr. Endell, turning off the fan, “that spies and secret agents have actually manufactured white-noise machines to stop other spies and secret agents from listening in to their conversations. Think of white noise as thousands of voices all talking at the same moment. It’s possible to tune in to one voice in a group of chatting people. But there’s no way you can tune into one voice in a crowd of a thousand.”

  Kinda fascinating, thought Ruby. Could someone be using something like this to block Mayday calls and cargo signals and reroute shipping? There was a good chance.

  It was three o’clock, and Ruby grabbed her swim bag out of her locker and hurried out to the waiting bus. Swim practice was going to be at the municipal pool due to the Dillon Flannagon Twinford Junior High pool incident. Ruby went to get changed, stuffed her bag in the locker, and walked toward the Olympic-size pool. She could hear Coach Newhart shouting instructions and generally bossing the team into shape.

  Ruby got into the water and did a couple of lengths to warm up. She had her swimming goggles on and couldn’t see too well, but she was aware that the lifeguard was blowing his whistle. Someone had committed some pool misdemeanor, and she looked up to see who the culprit was. Through the blur of the water she saw the lifeguard frantically signaling to her to get out of the pool. “Man! What have I done!” she muttered to herself. These municipal pool lifeguards were a royal pain in the behind. Ruby swam to the side and immediately began to remonstrate with the whistle-blowing bozo.

  “What? I didn’t use the verruca footbath with enough due care and attention, or was I splash . . .?” Her voice tailed off as she lifted her goggles and found herself staring at a familiar face.

  “Oh, brother! It’s you.”

  “Hey, kid,” said Hitch. He was wearing the blue shorts and logo-printed T-shirt just like all the other lifeguards, and with his suntanned skin he blended in perfectly and no one gave him a second look.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to suggest that you go tell your coach that you need to get the nurse to take a look at that bump on your head.”

  “What bump on my head?” said Ruby.

  “The bump you need to convince Coach Newhart is giving you so much grief that you have to see the nurse about it.”

  “Oh, man! You know Del Lasco is going to actually kill me. You want that on your conscience?”

  He threw her a towel.

  “I’d be more worried about Coach Newhart if I were you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate your concern,” said Ruby.

  “You signed up for this, kid. I warned you, but you wouldn’t listen; this job can play fast and loose with your social life.”

  “It’s not my social life that I’m concerned about; Del can punch, man. I mean really punch.”

  Hitch pulled Ruby out of the water, and she staggered off to try and act her way out of swim practice. Ruby Redfort was a first-rate actress, and she did a good job of persuading Coach Newhart that she would be dead in the water if she so much as doggy-paddled. Then she made for the changing rooms; she could feel Del Lasco’s eyes boring into her back as she limped away.

  Hitch and Ruby met in the corridor, both now changed, Hitch in a suit and tie and Ruby in jeans, jacket, and bozo T-shirt. Hitch raised an eyebrow when he saw it, but didn’t comment.

  He led her through a door marked MAINTENANCE, which housed various pieces of equipment and pipes and tanks and all kinds of things that presumably kept the swimming pool clean and warm and full of water. Almost invisible behind one of the largest pipes was another door. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in quite a while, and several dead flies were clustered on the floor in front of it.

  He took out a key chain holding several identical-looking keys.

  “This is a door to Spectrum? You’re kidding me,” said Ruby. She was well aware of Spectrum’s ability to create tunnels and entrances to the agency HQ — and all seemingly at a moment’s notice — but this was the Twinford City swimming p
ool.

  “You know Spectrum, always likes to keep you on your toes,” said Hitch as he unlocked the door. It was made of thick steel, and it closed behind them with a satisfying clunk. They were at the top of a pure white spiral staircase, not an open-tread iron one. This staircase was completely enclosed and made of a material like molded stone. Without a word, Hitch descended.

  THEIR FEET SOUNDED LIKE TAP SHOES on the hard steps. The staircase seemed to be endless, almost dizzying, and Ruby had to concentrate so as not to lose her footing. Hitch was already out of sight.

  “I hope you’re not gonna ask me to return the same way!” shouted Ruby, her voice spilling after him.

  “Don’t worry. There’s an elevator,” he called.

  “What? So why are we using the stairs?” Ruby whined.

  “All part of the training,” said Hitch. “You never do know when running down stairs really fast is going to save your life.”

  “Or kill you,” said Ruby flatly.

  They finally walked through a small white curved door so discreet that you might never discover it if you didn’t already know it was there. It opened into the vast Spectrum atrium, the white floor covered in black concentric circles.

  While Ruby waited for Hitch to sort out her authorization band, she tiptoed along the lines, pretending that her life depended on keeping her balance. And then she noticed something she had never noticed before: a tiny mosaic right in the center of the final circle. She bent down to take a closer look; it was a perfect little housefly.

  In the far corner sat a woman who seemed to be growing up through the middle of a round desk, rather like a mushroom. The desk was dotted with telephones of every color. Ruby called out to her.

  “Hey there, Buzz.”

  The mushroom paused mid-dial and peered over the top of her ugly glasses. For such a young woman she really did dress very dowdily. She raised her hand, a lazy attempt at a wave, as if she could hardly be bothered with the effort of it, and continued to make her call. Buzz was sitting doing what Buzz was supposed to do, answering brightly colored telephones and speaking down the receivers in every possible language. Hitch strode over and announced Ruby’s arrival.

  “He’s not here yet,” said Buzz, her voice nasal, her tone unapologetic.

  “You’re saying he’s late?” said Hitch.

  “I am,” said Buzz. The orange phone rang and she picked it up and began speaking Portuguese.

  “Who’s he?” asked Ruby.

  “You’ll see,” said Hitch.

  “Great, now you’re being covert about a meeting I’m about to have in two minutes,” muttered Ruby.

  “Let’s go see Blacker while we wait,” said Hitch. “He’ll be glad to see you. I told him I was bringing you in.” He beckoned Ruby to follow him. “Looks like you might be here a while; seems like you’re in demand today, kid.”

  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.”
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  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.

  THE BREATHING BUCKLE.

  To be used underwater. Slip buckle off belt, place between teeth, and breathe comfortably for twenty-seven minutes, two seconds.

  WARNING! NO RESERVE AIR CANISTER.

  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.