Blink and You Die

by Lauren Child

  Hitch held her gaze for several seconds. He said nothing and then,

  ‘You can’t stay here, you have to go. You’ll be safer surrounded by all those people, you all will.’

  ‘Wouldn’t I be safer here?’ suggested Ruby. ‘With all these alarms and security features? It’s completely safe, you said so.’

  ‘Nothing is completely safe, kid. Go to the Eye Ball with your folks, try to have a good time and forget about spiders just for one night.’

  Some chance, thought Ruby.

  ‘I’ll be there,’ said Hitch.

  She smiled. ‘You will?’

  ‘Sure I will, you can count on it,’ he said.

  Ruby went up to find her mother, who was talking to her father about the car and the driver and her outfit and a whole lot more.

  She caught sight of Ruby, standing in the doorway. ‘You’d better get changed, honey, we have to leave in a half hour.’

  Ruby ran upstairs to her room and was surprised to see her laundry strewn across the floor.

  What’s going on? she wondered. There was a strange gnawing sound coming from the bathroom. She found Bug chewing on something.

  ‘What have you got there?’

  She peered at him and then she saw it.

  ‘Bug! Drop it, will you drop it!’

  He let go and the blue rubber bone fell to the floor.

  ‘Jeepers Bug, what’s got into you?’ She picked it up and saw that the husky had chewed right through it.

  There was something inside: a piece of paper.

  What’s that? she wondered. She found some tweezers and pulled it free.

  The piece of paper was a note written in a wobbly hand. It said:

  Dear Ruby Redfort,

  I chose you because you are the smartest child I ever knew and I predicted that one day you would grow up and achieve great things.

  Many years ago I developed a way of extracting memories, an invention intended for good but lately I have begun to fear it will be used for ill. For this reason I encoded the formula, split it in half and hid it in two places. The first is a Lucite rectangle, disguised as a key-tag. If the Lucite reaches freezing point it will reveal the image of two eyes.

  The second part of the formula is hidden in the pattern of your irises. I don’t need to explain to you how all eyes are unique, much like a fingerprint. If these Lucite eyes are placed directly over your own what’s imbedded in the tag can be perfectly read.

  It is essential that if the code tag gets into the wrong hands you deactivate the code – this you can do by wearing the contact lenses hidden in this container.

  Once in place these lenses will ensure that whoever looks through the tag into your eyes will be given a scrambled reading, though they will believe it to be accurate. I cannot stress how vital it is that you use the lenses if you fear the tag is stolen.

  Ruby picked up the blue rubber bone and peered inside. There was no contact lens blister or jar or tube or pouch, nothing.

  She looked at the husky and rightly concluded that Bug had eaten them.

  ‘Great, just great Bug.’

  Hearing his name, he pottered over to where she sat, a little piece of paper hanging from his mouth. She took it, and unfolding it, saw that it was another note. This one said:

  In case of emergency and these lenses fail you or become lost there is a second pair. I asked SJ to put them in the Ghost Files, in a folder marked ‘Blink’.

  Ruby turned and ran, right down to the apartment at the bottom of the house, as quickly as her legs would carry her, but when she got there, there was no sign of her protector.

  ‘If you’re looking for Hitch, he left ten minutes ago,’ shouted her mother. ‘He said he’d received an urgent message and he had to go – he didn’t say why.’

  Ruby’s heart began to race. ‘He just left us?’ she said.

  ‘It’s a shame, I know,’ said her mother, ‘but it won’t spoil your evening – you’re going to have a high old time,’

  Ruby couldn’t believe it. What kind of bodyguard did this, what kind of agent was he? She was alone.

  Don’t panic, she told herself. What she needed to do was act quickly, make contact with someone at Spectrum. She ran up to her room and clicked on the Escape Watch and set it to transmit – maybe she could bring him back. But when she clicked “contact” nothing happened, it just wouldn’t connect.

  She tried SJ too but it was the same story.

  This can’t be happening.

  It was the same with LB, and Blacker and Gill. She began randomly pressing buttons, but to no avail.

  Finally, in utter despair, Ruby triggered the emergency bluebottle SOS symbol – still nothing. Her agent locator had been deactivated. She felt for the fly-barrette and pulled it from her hair and clicked the radio transmit switch, but found it wouldn’t engage, and when she took a closer look she saw why: it had got bent out of shape, probably due to Olive’s manhandling.

  That kid is nothing but one big pain in the derièrre, she cursed.

  And then she had an idea. She wasn’t sure if it was brilliant or totally stupid, but it was the only one she had – and good ideas were getting hard to come by. She pressed the HQ call button, held her breath and waited.

  Would the call go through?

  ‘Yes,’ said a voice.

  ‘It’s me,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Yes,’ came the reply.

  ‘I need your help,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I can’t reach anyone else,’ said Ruby.

  ‘All systems are down.’

  ‘I figured that,’ said Ruby, ‘which is why I’m calling you – you’re the only one who can help me.’

  Silence.

  ‘Look, I mean I know we’ve never actually really gotten along or anything … OK, so you probably don’t actually like me, I mean do you like anyone? But could we just let bygones be bygones? OK, how about just for today, just this one day, try to be interested in what I have to say, after that you can go back to being totally bored.’

  Silence.

  ‘Look, I’m begging you, I need your help, OK, simple as that. What I need to know is in a file called “Blink” – it’s hidden in the Prism Vault.’ Ruby paused before continuing. ‘Only the thing is, I can’t get inside the Vault because I can’t make contact with anyone, but you can.’

  ‘I don’t have the authority to enter. I need a written request or good reason.’

  ‘I have good reason!’ said Ruby. ‘The reason is, if we don’t figure out how to obscure the code which I hold then it has a good chance of getting into the wrong hands. If you want an instruction in writing then I’ll gladly write it down. Could you at least try to be helpful?’

  She was getting desperate now, pleading, almost begging.

  ‘You gotta see, this isn’t only about me, it’s about you, it’s about Spectrum and Twinford and maybe everything. If Casey Morgan gets his hands on this code then …’

  ‘Who is Casey Morgan?’

  ‘That’s the thing,’ said Ruby, ‘I don’t know, no one knows, how can you avoid someone if you don’t know what they look like?’

  Silence.

  ‘Are you there? Will you help me?’

  Pause. ‘All right,’ came the reply, ‘I will look for this file. When I find it I’ll contact you – where will you be?’

  ‘The Eye Ball,’ said Ruby.

  ‘I’ll come find you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Buzz.’

  She was no longer alone.

  HER MOTHER WAS CALLING.

  ‘Ruby! Are you changed? We’re about ready to go. Mouse and Elliot are already here.’

  Ruby looked at herself, standing there in her jeans and T-shirt, the word swat printed across it.

  Her space costume, lost somewhere between Everglade and Cedarwood – she would have to come up with an alternative or her mom would be on her tail. She pulled out the black jumpsuit and correctly predicted her mother’s r
eaction.

  When she arrived downstairs Sabina looked at her and said, ‘Ruby, what on earth are you wearing?’

  ‘Don’t you mean, what in space are you wearing?’ said Elliot.

  ‘Well, if I do then I can’t imagine what she is meant to be,’ said Sabina, looking at Ruby’s all-black clothes.

  ‘I’m infinite space,’ said Ruby, ‘isn’t that obvious?’

  ‘Not to me,’ said her mother. ‘So I’m wondering: a) are you actually infinite space or b) is infinite space just an excuse to wear that black jumpsuit I told you I didn’t like?’

  ‘Quite a heavy question,’ said Ruby, ‘but I swear it’s option a.’ Ruby really didn’t want this conversation; wearing the right party outfit was way down her priority list. Tonight pleasing her mother came a long way behind moles and madmen and mushrooms.

  Mrs Digby was all dolled-up and wearing one of Cousin Emily’s hair ornaments. It looked a little dangerous, precariously sticking out of her bun at a troubling angle: a long, jewelled, silver chopstick.

  ‘So what are you dressed as, Mrs D?’ asked Brant.

  ‘I’m an earthling,’ said Mrs Digby. ‘An earthling who works all the hours God sends and doesn’t have time to waste trying to cobble together some crazy costume.’ She turned to fetch her coat, almost taking Ruby’s left eye with her.

  ‘Yeeks! Careful with that, Mrs Digby, you almost got me with your killer chopstick.’ But Mrs Digby wasn’t hearing; she was checking the rouge on her cheeks.

  ‘You’d be safer wearing your glasses,’ said Mouse. ‘That way she wouldn’t be able to prong you in the eye.’

  ‘I’m trying to make my mom happy,’ said Ruby. ‘She’s not a fan of my glasses.’

  ‘It’s because you have such beautiful green eyes,’ said her mother. ‘A girl needs beautiful eyes and it’s such a shame to keep them behind those big black frames.’

  ‘What are you, some kind of Victorian?’ exclaimed Ruby. ‘You do know we are on the cusp of 1974? What happened to all your feminist talk?’

  Sabina looked torn. Ruby had a point. She sighed. ‘You’re probably right, wear whatever you like.’

  ‘Actually, Mrs Redfort, I really like Ruby’s glasses,’ said Elliot. ‘I think they are kinda cool. They give her an edge, you know what I’m saying? They make her eyes look big – like when you look at fish in a tank.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Ruby, ‘you’re quite the smooth talker. Maybe I’ll stick with the lenses.’

  Mr Redfort clapped his hands. ‘So are we all ready to go, folks?’

  ‘Where are Red and Del?’ asked Sabina.

  ‘We’re picking them up on the way,’ said Mouse.

  ‘OK, so let’s make like bananas and split,’ said Brant.

  Sabina looked concerned. ‘Bananas?’

  ‘Let’s get out of here, let’s go!’ explained Brant.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Ruby, ‘I just have to fetch Bug.’

  ‘For the last and final time, we are not bringing Bug. Mrs Hassensack is allergic,’ said Sabina.

  ‘I’m not leaving him on his own,’ said Ruby. ‘The vet said he needs to be reassured; she said don’t let him get anxious.’

  ‘Why would he get anxious?’ asked Brant.

  ‘New Year’s Eve,’ said Ruby, ‘and you know what that means?’

  ‘Champagne and caviar?’ said her mother.

  ‘Fireworks,’ said Ruby. ‘Bug hates fireworks. We can’t leave him alone, he’ll totally freak out.’

  ‘But he’s been alone before,’ said Sabina.

  ‘Yes, but he’s suffered a trauma,’ argued Ruby. ‘He’s vulnerable and if he freaks out with this injury then he could really do himself some damage.’

  ‘I know Bug broke his leg,’ said her mother. ‘That’s awful of course, but I don’t see what that has to do with fireworks.’ She looked confused. ‘Bug has never liked loud noises, but he’ll just lie under the table like always, won’t he?’

  Ruby would have liked to have explained, make her mom really understand what Bug had been through, but that would mean telling her about the incident in the Northern Mountains on the edge of the frozen lake, and how could she do that? So instead she just looked at her mom with her most pleading expression and said, ‘You do know Bug saved my life?’

  She knew her mother would be unable to say no to that.

  ‘Brant, what do you think? Ruby’s concerned about leaving Bug and maybe she’s right, that poor hound has been through the wringer.’

  ‘I’ll square it with the Hassensacks,’ said Brant. ‘Bring him along, Ruby, one condition – don’t let that dog leave your side. Got it?’

  ‘I swear on my life,’ said Ruby.

  Meanwhile,

  eleven years earlier …

  … he could only hear the voice; his blindfold prevented him from seeing his captor, but he knew who it was, he knew without a single word being spoken – his sixth sense told him.

  ‘You?’ he said. ‘Of all Spectrum, it’s you?’

  ‘You are surprised?’

  ‘Who would have thought you capable?’ said the old man.

  ‘Of murder?’ said the voice.

  The old man shook his head. ‘No, of deception. I saw you many times in Spectrum, but never once did I ever consider you a risk. What a clever disguise.’

  ‘You have no imagination,’ said the voice.

  ‘Perhaps you are right,’ said the Professor, ‘or perhaps I saw someone I could trust.’

  ‘People see what they want to see.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said the old man. ‘Sometimes you have to close your eyes to see the truth.’

  ‘And sometimes you have to look beyond the face to see the man – you disguised yourself well,’ said the voice. ‘It took me years to find you.’

  ‘And was it Victor von Leyden who sent you searching?’

  ‘The Count – yes, it was his idea to seek you out, but the dog-napping, that idea was all mine.’

  ‘Where is she – where is Mnemosyne?’ asked the old man, anxiety in his voice.

  ‘Oh, so that’s its name, how wry – you named your dog after your life’s work. How old is the mutt, by the way – thirty, forty? Such a long time to own a dog, you must be very attached to her, very attached indeed.’

  The professor felt a pang to his heart.

  ‘Is this what it’s all about? You want the location of the Hypocrea asteroidi?’ I’m afraid I no longer know, plucked out that memory, but you’ll find the answer you’re looking for in the eyes of the Jade Buddha of Khotan.’

  ‘It’s Victor who wants to prolong life and stave off senility; my only interest in the so-called Mars Mushrooms is to see him beg. His time is marked, he’s greedy for life.’

  ‘So what do you want?’ asked the old man.

  ‘I want the power to wipe memories,’ said the voice, ‘to destroy the only things we humans can truly hold.’

  ‘For without memories, what are we …?’ mused the old man.

  ‘Nothing,’ replied the voice. ‘Without memories we are no one, we are lost.’

  ‘Poor little Casey Morgan, did life deal you an unfair hand?’

  ‘Just tell me what I want to know, and save your little dog’s life,’ hissed the voice. ‘I’m afraid I will not be able to promise you yours.’

  ‘I will tell you what you ask, but first you must free Mnemosyne.’

  His captor laughed. ‘Your wish is my command, old man. What use have I for some wretched hound?’

  The dog was fetched and the old man reached to stroke her head and then bent to whisper something in her ear.

  ‘Go find Mrs Beesman,’ he said.

  And the dog licked the tears from the old man’s cheek and, with one last lingering look, turned and ran.

  ‘How touching,’ said the voice. ‘Now tell me where it is, this SME coder.’

  ‘You’ll find it in two parts: the first is in a Lucite tag. The second is hidden in the eyes of a child.’

  �
�And how do I find this child?’ asked the voice.

  ‘You need to find the man who holds the tag.’

  ‘And who is this man?’ said the voice.

  ‘The man you killed,’ said Professor Pinkerton. ‘Your nemesis – Bradley Baker.’

  THERE WERE MAYBE TWO HUNDRED CARS inching along in double rows down 3rd Avenue, all waiting to pull up in front of the City Eye Hospital. It had been billed as ‘an exclusive event’ but it looked to Ruby as if the entire city had been invited. It felt like the Eye Ball really was the only party in town. The gowns were phenomenal and the costumes suitably out of this world. Some guests had taken the space theme on whole-heartedly: Freddie and Marjorie Humbert, for example, who had come as the constellation Gemini. They were dressed elegantly in black. Freddie’s suit and Marjorie’s gown were threaded with fibre optics so when they stood against a dark backdrop what you saw were the little white points of light denoting the arrangement of stars. Other guests just nodded to the theme, with a subtle hair decoration or patterned tie or item of jewellery.

  Brant and Sabina had opted for glamour, Brant sporting a silver tux, Sabina stunning in a gown embroidered with silver sequins – when the light caught her she beamed so brightly that it was possible to imagine that, were she floating in outer space, she might just outshine the planet Venus.

  ‘I swear there are more people dressed as stars than there are stars in the whole galaxy,’ said Sabina.

  ‘That would be somewhat impossible,’ said Ruby dryly, ‘I mean considering there are more stars in the sky than grains of sand on the beach.’

  But her mother wasn’t listening, she was too busy taking in the scene.

  ‘How do you even know that?’ asked Elliot.

  ‘She reads stuff,’ said Mouse.

  ‘Yeah, but how do the people who write stuff down know this stuff. I mean, has anyone actually gone into space and counted every star?’

  Ruby rolled her eyes. ‘It’s an estimate,’ she said. ‘There are approximately 100 to 400 billion stars in a galaxy. There are estimated to be around 100 billion galaxies in our universe, which means that there are approximately 10 sextillion stars in our universe. Maybe around 8,000 grains of sand can be packed into one cubic centimetre, 10 sextillion grains of sand could create a sphere with a radius of 10.6 kilometres. Some say there are give or take 700 trillion cubic metres of beach on our planet, which could hold approximately 5 sextillion grains of sand. So basically it means there are twice the number of stars in the sky as there are grains of sand on the beach – give or take.’