Ruby Redfort 1 - Look Into My Eyes (14 page)

“Well, that’s where we got lucky, I guess. We stumbled on something.”

Agent Blacker walked over to the files, picked up a folder labeled
FOOL’S GOLD — FILE ONE
, and placed it on the desk where Lopez must have sat for all those years. It was a dated-looking piece of furniture, perhaps designed in the 1950s, and it had little colored drawer pulls, a built-in pencil holder, and a cool-looking pale-blue lamp. He switched the lamp on and motioned for Ruby to sit down.

“Take a look for yourself — you’ll get the idea. Might as well make yourself comfortable, you’re gonna be sitting here for a while. Don’t rush it. Remember, there has to be something that Lopez missed, and she was careful, so you need to be extra careful.” He handed her a crumpled brown paper bag, inside was a donut.

“You must be a mind reader,” she said.

“Who
doesn’t
like a jelly donut?” shrugged Blacker.

The file was full of newspaper clippings, lots and lots of newspaper clippings.

They were all from the personals. They seemed innocent enough:

Silently, Ruby read page after page. There were hundreds of these absurd clippings, every one from the
Twinford Mirror.
There was nothing remotely suspicious or sinister about any of them.

What was it that Lopez saw?

After about an hour of reading Ruby shouted out to Blacker. “So what made you look out for personals in the
Twinford Mirror
?”

“Well, that’s an interesting story,” said Blacker, walking out of his room and sitting down on a box next to Ruby. “The police picked up a known felon by the name of Fingers Macgraw. He was driving an expensive car that didn’t belong to him and he couldn’t really explain how he had come by it. Anyway, when the car was searched it had a whole batch of these personal ads stuffed in the glove compartment.”

“So? Fingers read the personals — there’s no law against it.”

“Right, but there was no way they belonged to Fingers; there wasn’t a single fingerprint of his on them. It was obvious he didn’t even know they were there. In any case what would he be doing with newspaper cuttings? Fingers can barely read — he is strictly a feel it and steal it kinda fellow — nothing complicated about him.”

“And this looked complicated?” said Ruby.

“It looked like it was
something,
” said Blacker. “A whole lot of carefully collected newspaper ads and tips from the
Twinford Mirror
— I mean why? What do they mean?”

“They look pretty random,” said Ruby.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s just it — they are
so
random, it made us wonder if they
were
random, if you get my drift. And why didn’t the person they belonged to ever contact the police to report the car
missing
? It was a good car — almost new.”

“But the police must have run a check on the license plates, found the owner?” said Ruby.

“Sure they did. We know who the car was registered to but it turned out to be the same dead woman who supposedly visited the bank.”

“Well, I agree that
is
pretty suspicious,” said Ruby.

Blacker nodded. “So we ran the ads past Lopez to see what she thought.”

“And how long before you knew you were on to something?” asked Ruby.

Blacker pointed at another whole row of files. “Lopez started reading the
Twinford Mirror
very closely — wasn’t until she had filled all of these before we began to see exactly what was going on with the personal ads.”

“Boy, you people must really have patience” said Ruby, pulling the next file from the shelf. “What was it she worked out?”

Agent Blacker smiled. “Sorry, but LB wants to see if you can find that out for yourself.”

For the next couple of hours Ruby barely moved from her chair. She just sat there, reading clipping after clipping.

Most of the clippings were personal ads. Some were titled
TOP TIPS;
people would write in from all over to suggest ways of, for instance, getting a cat down from a tree, or how to get shoe polish off a pair of corduroy pants. The pieces were at worst boring and at best faintly amusing but there was nothing suspicious about them — nothing, that is, until Ruby spotted the pattern. They were using a number of different variations on the same code, taking the first letter of the ad and then letters at fixed intervals, discarding the rest. The first code Ruby deciphered used every fifth letter or number to convey the secret message. After some tinkering, Ruby also discovered something else: three dots in a personal ad seemed to indicate a question mark in the coded message. After that you started with the first letter again.

As Ruby deciphered each short piece, it became clear to her what was going on: five or more people were communicating with one another about something, and it wasn’t about how to get shoe polish off a pair of corduroy pants.

At around lunchtime Blacker ordered pizza.

“So, is it beginning to make sense, Ruby?” he asked.

“I can see where it’s headed.” She showed him what she had deciphered.

“Not bad,” said Blacker. “I think you’re gonna prove me right.”

“So where is the security device?” asked Ruby.

“That’s the thing, the gold vault at the bank doesn’t have a security device — not as such. It has a two-part code: Freddie Humbert, the bank manager, has one half, and his security chief has the other. There’s no way anyone can get their hands on the code without kidnapping
both
of them, and since LB’s brought in around-the-clock high security protection — kidnapping is near impossible.”

Ruby frowned. If the Fool’s Gold Gang were worthy of Spectrum’s concern, then why hadn’t the Gang noticed that Twinford City Bank security had been tightened? Why didn’t they know that they had to get their hands on a code, not a device? They didn’t stand a chance with a plan like this. These bozos might well know how to get shoe polish off a pair of corduroy pants but they had no idea how to go about robbing the safest safe in the U.S.A.

Ruby pondered all this for a while. Something didn’t make sense . . . unless, of course, the gang had something much bigger in mind.

Was this plan only the beginning of things?

Was the real plan way more cunning? Is that what Lopez had discovered? Did the Fool’s Gold Gang know more about the Twinford City Bank than anyone gave them credit for?

At three o’clock Hitch called to see how she was doing. “Look, kid, I’m sorry but I’m going to be a little late picking you up. Something has come up at HQ. Just hang on till seven and I’ll be there.”

Ruby was exhausted and the idea of staying into the early evening was not very appealing. To make things worse, Blacker poked his head around the door and said, “I’m sorry Ruby, I’ve been called in to HQ. Got to deal with a crisis. A replacement agent is coming over to watch over you. I’ll stick around till they get here.”

“Oh,” said Ruby. “OK.”

She started reading, and ten minutes later a voice broke her concentration. She looked up to see the smug face of the Silent G.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Ruby Redfort.”

“Oh, brother!”
sighed Ruby.

“Believe me, little girl,” Froghorn said, “I’m not exactly turning somersaults to be here.”

Blacker frowned. “You play nice, Froghorn, you hear? Ruby, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” He grabbed his jacket and made for the door, calling out, “Be nice, Froghorn! You remember how to be nice, don’t you?”

Froghorn pinched his lips together like he had just sucked a lemon.

“Never fear,” he said. “Your little babysitter friend will be back to keep you company tomorrow. And I’m sure Hitch will make you an ice-cream sundae when you get home.”

Geez, this potato head was really winding her up, but she decided to keep her cool.

Keep a lid on it, Ruby.

That day Ruby did about as much reading as she had ever done, and Ruby was a big reader. She had once read one hundred and two
Spy-Scoundrel
comic books in one day, but this was a whole different type of reading.

By six o’clock she was exhausted — she had barely looked up all afternoon. She stretched back in the chair and absentmindedly pulled the key-ring puzzle out of her jeans pocket. She stared at it without thought — she was too tired to think. She sat there motionless for a few moments before being brought back into focus by a buzzing sound — a housefly had roused itself and was hovering over in the corner of the office. She watched as it settled on the seat of a bike that was propped against the wall. It was a woman’s bike; she guessed it must have belonged to Lopez. Ruby looked at the door and looked over at Froghorn — he was chatting on the phone. She paused for one whole split second just weighing something up.

“Excuse me,” she said, “but I gotta be going. Hitch phoned to say I could ride home if I liked. He’s not gonna be finished for a while.”

Froghorn put his hand over the receiver. “Sure, sure, run along home, little girl, what do I care?” He motioned for her to go. “Maybe you’ll be allowed to watch some TV before bedtime.”

Ruby thought she might just do that — she had done enough reading to last her a week.

She was without her beloved paperbacks, which had apparently been rejected by the burglars and left in her basement apartment. Mrs. Digby was a voracious reader and loved her crime fiction even more than she loved her TV thrillers.

If they had to go and steal everything, including me, then why in tarnation couldn’t they have the decency to steal my valuables too?

Then she stopped to think.

Aha! But they will have stolen Ruby’s valuables, and I can count on that kid to have a little old thriller I can settle down with.

Then she noticed the clock — nearly seven.

Quick, not much time.

Although unable to escape her luxury prison, Mrs. Digby could at least make herself a cup of tea — although the milk had gone bad. “Rats!” she muttered, before settling down in an armchair to watch her favorite game show,
What’s Your Poison?

She was just getting comfortable when she was startled by an alarming, high-pitched scream.

Before Mrs. Digby could turn around, she heard the voice of a woman. “Stay right where you are, lady. Don’t move a muscle. Don’t even twitch an eyelash.”

Mrs. Digby was a tough old bird, but even she knew when it was wise to twitch an eyelash and when it was not.