by Lauren Child
‘Don’t sweat it,’ said Clancy, ‘it’s not your style.’ He turned, walked out the door and down the stairs, his footsteps loud and angry-sounding.
‘Clance!’ she called. ‘Jeepers, what’s with you? Are you having some type of crisis?’ She wasn’t really up to chasing him down the street; her head was throbbing and she thought she might throw up if she moved too fast.
Instead she went and had a good long soak in the tub, and washed her face thoroughly. She could explain about the trip to Ada’s when he had calmed down. Geez, it was amazing the effect a little make-up could have – as far as Ruby could see it seemed to send sensible folks crazy.
Chapter 40.
The risk/fear equation
RUBY HAD SPENT THE BEST PART OF THE NIGHT THINKING about the thing Ada had said about the photographs: it’s all there in the photograph if you care to look.
She had thought a lot about the whole big picture, willing the edges to come back into focus. She was thinking about the skywalker, the window thief, the robberies and – in particular – Mr Norgaard and his paperweight collection.
Ruby took the subway downtown to Spectrum and went to seek out Blacker. Then she set about pinning up every single photo taken at Norgaard’s place – not just her pictures of the desk but also the pictures taken by TCPD – and she was now sort of standing back there in the screenwriter’s virtual room, scanning it for clues.
‘What are you looking for?’ said Blacker.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ruby, ‘something I missed.’
She looked and looked, like she had all the time in the world. She scanned every part of every photograph, taking in the furniture, the drapes, the ornaments, the books, the lamps and the rugs. An hour or so later, it was a row of old photographs on the wall above the couch that she was most interested in – they were clearly taken many years ago. The picture she was particularly drawn to was of two men – one sitting behind a large desk looking at a script, the other standing behind him. It was a very posed photograph, the title of the script wasn’t in focus but there was no doubt it was a script.
The seated man in the suit and tie, she recognised as the producer and director George Katsel, ‘the Cat’, as Frederick Lutz had referred to him. The Cat that Got the Canary was but one of a whole list of Katsel’s box-office successes.
The other man, the one standing behind him, she was pretty sure must be Mr Norgaard senior, Mr Norgaard’s screenwriter father. But what really caught her eye was the round glass object on George Katsel’s desk. It was a paperweight containing a single yellow feather. She surveyed the other photographs and found another in which the paperweight appeared but this time it was shown on Norgaard senior’s desk, Mr Norgaard himself looking much older in this photo. George Katsel must have gifted it to him at some point, thought Ruby.
She looked at every picture she and the cops had taken very, very carefully, but in none of them did the yellow feather paperweight appear. It was no certainty, but she couldn’t help but feel this could be the missing item; stolen object number one.
‘You figured something out?’ said Blacker.
‘As a matter of fact, I think I just mighta, but I’m not a hundred per cent on it.’
‘OK, so tell me when you’re ready,’ said Blacker. There was a buzz from his watch. He checked it. ‘That’s kinda weird.’
Ruby looked up. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
Blacker showed her his watch. ‘A message from you.’
Ruby just stared. It said:
Xb8fnghsmKKshgg
‘Is this some kind of a test?’ Blacker asked.
‘I didn’t send it,’ said Ruby. ‘The thing is, I lost my watch. I think maybe someone found it.’
Blacker kind of winced.
‘OK,’ said Ruby. ‘I mean someone obviously found it, but it beats me who it could be.’
‘So where did you lose the watch?’
‘Somewhere 300 feet up in the air,’ said Ruby.
‘Sounds like a long story,’ said Blacker.
‘Kinda,’ said Ruby. ‘Look, if I start trying to figure out what the message means,’ she paused, looking him in the eye, ‘do you think there’s any chance you could buy me some time? Before you. . . you know.’
‘Report the watch activity?’
She nodded.
‘I’ll give you a head start,’ agreed Blacker, ‘but don’t leave it too long.’
Ruby smiled. Blacker was about as cool a partner as one could wish for and at that moment she felt pretty lucky.
‘Now you better head on home,’ said Blacker, waving her out the door, ‘catch you later.’
Ruby was almost at the elevator when Buzz called her back and handed her a note, which read:
Meet me at the Charles Burger, Hitch
Ruby knew the Charles Burger, an up-market burger grill place, with green leather banquette seating and polished wood tables. It was very Hitch somehow. She pushed in through the brass and glass door and found him sitting at a lamplit table towards the back of the room.
‘I got your message,’ said Ruby. ‘Are you still thinking of strangling me? It’s just if you are I might keep my distance.’
‘You’ve got enough problems kid,’ said Hitch. ‘I was thinking about what you said, about someone trying to kill you.’
‘At the Hauser Ink Building?’
‘Yes, when you were monkeying along that piece of cable.’
‘And?’
‘It couldn’t have been the guy you were chasing because, as you explained, the cable came loose from the other side. But it couldn’t have been an accident either – one of our guys took a look at the wire and it would appear that the steel was cut through with cable cutters. Took whoever did it a while, that stuff is strong – lucky for you – but it means they were determined.’
‘You’re saying someone was following me?’
‘I think someone was tracking the skywalker, just like you were, and they ended up on the same rooftop. I don’t think it was you they had their sights on, not to begin with – I think he was the target, you just got in the way.’
‘Still,’ said Ruby, ‘it doesn’t make them an awful nice kind of a person if they are prepared to kill a thirteen-year-old kid who happens to be going about her business.’
Hitch looked at her, eyebrow raised in a now I’ve heard it all expression. ‘I think what you got to expect here, Redfort, is that people who are prepared to track a guy, and if necessary kill him, aren’t going to spend a lot of time grieving about the demise of a nosey school kid.’
‘That is most likely true,’ said Ruby.
‘Your way of going about things I am not crazy about, but your detective work is sharp,’ said Hitch, taking a slug of his coffee, ‘so I’ve got a proposal.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘The thing is, you are meant to be an agent, not just any agent, a Spectrum agent, a trainee agent maybe, but an agent nonetheless. This means you have to look at things like an agent would – you don’t dive in without testing the water, you don’t jump without looking at where you’re going to land, and you don’t make decisions without thinking things through. Agents think about consequences – we have to because that’s the point of what we do.’
Ruby wasn’t arguing.
‘You, Redfort, are acting like some kind of movie agent, like there’s a writer out there in the real world penning some book all about you and your giant ego. You need to use that brain of yours and jump script. Make a decision: are you some kid playing superhero in the schoolyard or are you an intelligent force for good, set on making a difference? I guess what I’m saying is, are you for real Redfort?’
For once Ruby found she had no smart repost, she had nothing to come back with, her mind was a scribbled mess of questions – too many to ask.
‘Look kid, I’m going to have to level with you here – no one’s too crazy about the idea of a fearless teenager on the loose taking insane risks and possibly leading the rescue crew
into unnecessary danger.’
‘So you’re saying don’t take risks?’
‘What I’m saying is, there’s risk and there’s risk.’
‘You mean big risks and small risks,’ said Ruby. ‘Well. . .’
‘No, that’s not it – you are completely and one hundred per cent missing the point. I’m talking about dumb risks and not dumb risks. Calculated risks and impulsive risks. Risks you have no choice about and risks which only a madman would take. You getting this?’
Ruby said nothing.
‘OK, because what I’ve been seeing is a school kid making a whole lot of dumb moves and bypassing the brain function – and Redfort, FYI, you were recruited for your brain not your overweight ego.’
Ruby still said nothing.
‘Come outside a minute.’
Chapter 41.
Two across
THEY LEFT THE CHARLES BURGER and Hitch walked ahead of her, turning the corner into a grubby-looking alleyway, full or trash cans and fire-escape ladders, the brick walls rising high on each side of the narrow space between the buildings.
‘Kid, I’m going to explain something to you so listen up. OK, I’m bending the rules here so help me out.’
She shrugged, unsure what he was about to divulge. ‘OK.’
‘I have this idea, now it might be a wrong one but call it a gut feeling if you will.’
She looked at him.
‘Frankly, I don’t see you ever staying out of trouble – am I headed in the right direction here?’
Ruby sort of winced.
‘So we’re agreed that you will continue to behave like a numbskull action hero at least some of the time.’
Ruby tried not to smile.
‘My deal,’ said Hitch, ‘is that I don’t bring up the other day’s efforts to get yourself squashed and dead, so long as you meet me halfway.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘OK, I’m going to have to square it with the doc and I’m going to have to convince Agent Gill – and let’s not forget the whole team at Spectrum 8 – but I have an idea.’
Ruby didn’t ask what it was but hoped it was a good one. ‘What about LB?’ was all she said.
‘She’ll back me if everyone else is onboard,’ said Hitch.
Ruby gave a slow nod. ‘So what is this idea of yours?’
‘You ever been on an assault course?’ said Hitch, indicating the alleyway, trash cans and fire-escape ladder.
‘Yeah,’ she said slowly.
‘So this is like an assault course but with a twist.’
Ruby looked around. ‘I don’t see any course; just buildings and walls and stuff.’
‘You heard of parkour, kid?’
Ruby looked blank.
‘Let me explain.’ Without warning, Hitch ran. He was across the parking lot in the blink of any eye and headed straight towards a high brick wall – but he didn’t stop, he didn’t slow his pace, he ran at the wall and then up the wall, and when he got to the top he didn’t stop running, he jumped a narrow gap, grabbed a ledge, hauled himself easily onto a narrow pediment, leapt from the pediment onto a sloped roof, ran along the ridge tiles, vaulted onto a wall, ran to where the wall ended, did a handspring from the wall onto the ground, rolled, and landed back on his feet.
‘OK, that’s cool,’ said Ruby. ‘The last bit was a bit showy-offy but all in all, cool.’
Hitch rolled his eyes. ‘Always the smart mouth but you’re right, this isn’t about handsprings and acrobatics; it’s not about adrenalin or competition – leave that to the free runners. This is a discipline. You have to train and you have to understand the mindset.’
‘And you’re telling me that’s not risky?’ said Ruby.
‘Sure there’s risks, but these are risks you assess, you work up to. Never take a risk that isn’t worth taking. Be aware of your body’s own capabilities. Fear should be respected but should not control you. These are some of the principles of parkour.’
‘OK,’ said Ruby.
‘You have to feel it – the sensation of moving fluidly through space, mind and body as one. It’s almost like meditation. It’s not like crane-hanging or one of those daredevil pursuits. It is not you pitting yourself against the urban landscape, not you against fear. It is you harnessing your fear, overcoming physical and psychological challenge through training. The more you practise the stronger you will become both in body and mind. If your fear is telling you no, then you listen. The aim is not to lose your fear but to work through it – fear is your friend.’
‘OK,’ said Ruby.
‘You want to know how to run up a wall?’ Hitch asked but before Ruby could answer they were interrupted by a small buzzing sound and Hitch looked at his watch and then at Ruby.
‘A message from me?’ asked Ruby.
‘Well, a message from your watch,’ said Hitch.
Ruby made a face. ‘The skywalker, you think?’
‘Could be anyone,’ said Hitch.
‘Anyone who can encode a message,’ corrected Ruby.
‘Doesn’t exactly narrow the field as far as the villains we know go,’ said Hitch. ‘For all you know we might have the Count on our tail.’
Ruby shivered. She didn’t like to think the Count’s name, let alone hear it spoken out loud. ‘So what are you gonna do?’
He shook his head. ‘Whoever this bozo is, it would seem he wants our attention but for now he can’t have it.’ Then he looked up. ‘So where were we?’
‘You were running up a wall,’ said Ruby.
‘So I was,’ said Hitch. ‘Any questions?’
‘Yeah, are you going to teach me how to do that or what?’
‘Are you going to stop behaving like a numbskull at least some of the time?’ asked Hitch.
‘It’s a strong possibility,’ said Ruby.
‘OK, that’ll have to do,’ said Hitch, rolling his eyes heavenwards. ‘I’ll teach you.’
Ruby didn’t go to school on Monday, nor Tuesday, nor Wednesday. Hitch had written a very convincing letter explaining that Ruby had suffered a road traffic accident (which wasn’t actually a lie) and was suffering psychological trauma (which may have been a tiny one). Instead of sitting at her desk in Twinford Junior High, Ruby spent her time in parking lots, shopping malls, alleys and low-rises, devoting the days to parkour, to practising the skills and getting into the mindset. Parkour was about moving in harmony with the city. It was about challenging the self – mind and body adapting to the urban environment, rather than competing with anyone else. Running and climbing, jumps, drops and vaults, fluid balanced moves and above all staying in the now – something that fear actually helped with.
Ruby understood why Hitch had wanted her to learn the principles, because it was all about dealing with obstacles in the most efficient way possible, never taking unnecessary risks. She found, training with him, that she could drop great distances – further than she would have thought possible – by perfecting a move called a “roll”, turning downward force into forward momentum. She learned the importance of building strength and working towards the more challenging jumps, drops and vaults. Without training and proper preparation you could injure yourself badly, possibly permanently, and for Ruby that would mean kissing goodbye to her dream of making it as a field agent. She listened to everything Hitch told her; she did not want to blow this chance.
Soon she was leaping from building to building, rolling when landing, running up walls and swinging herself round stairwells, using her agility and momentum to traverse the city. Her vocabulary now included wall runs, swinging lachés, feet first underbars, monkey vaults and tic-tacs.
The more she focused on keeping herself in the moment, the more she began to tune into the rhythm of the city, to see the buildings and parks as spaces she could interact with. No longer were the buildings separate from her, they were her domain, an urban landscape she was now connected to. The amazing thing was that the more Ruby practised parkour, the clearer things became. The fragment
s were coming together; she was beginning to see things as a whole again.
It was when she jumped from the Beyer Building, landing neatly on one of its several flagpoles, allowing herself to drop from it and catch the flagpole directly below, spinning herself around it like a gymnast might, using the momentum to somersault herself down and land gracefully on the sidewalk, that she looked up and saw it.
It was an old faded sign on the side of a building, a ghost sign, with an address and a phone number at the bottom. But it wasn’t those that caught Ruby’s eye, it was the letters above. They spelled out:
Suddenly, Ruby had an idea about the numbers she’d given to Hitch, the numbers from the cards.
The poetry book was the key to it all.
Chapter 42.
Click, click, click
RUBY ARRIVED AT SPECTRUM, her mind free of the fog it had been clouded in. She grabbed a drink from the canteen and made her way to her desk. She took out the four sets of numbers and the book of poems and then she began to work.
She looked again at all four cards, the numbers of each clear to her.
3 14 1 10 14 8 15 14 13 17 14 15
And now she thought the meaning was clear too.
The paperweight, the shoes, the book of poems, the tie-clip. Of these the poetry book had been the most mysterious item. It was a book written to hold secrets; the poet had designed it that way – there was the missing poem 14 for one thing, or rather the hidden poem, which Ruby had found as soon as she’d figured out that the title gave the clue.
Looking at it now, she felt sure that perhaps this hidden poem also held the key to unlocking the loyalty card codes.
Blacker found Ruby staring at the poetry book and sitting in exactly the same place she had been sitting in five hours earlier. She was so intent on what she was doing that she didn’t even hear him enter the room. Spread out in front of her and around her and even under her were scatterings of paper, all scrawled with black ink: lines, numbers, words.
He dropped a brown paper bag onto the desk; the bag oozed donuts and on any other day the smell of them would have brought Ruby round like a dose of smelling salts.