Читать книгу The Complete Ruby Redfort Collection: Look into My Eyes; Take Your Last Breath; Catch Your Death; Feel the Fear; Pick Your Poison; Blink and You Die - Lauren Child - Страница 82

NOW, THERE ARE A FEW LOGISTICAL PROBLEMS involved in being a school kid secret agent, the most obvious one being: how to get enough time off class to carry out your secret agenting missions.

Not easy. But Ruby Redfort was a good persuader: she could convince most people of most things. She avoided ‘complete’ untruths if at all possible, preferring to steer clear of certain topics. Her tactic was to leave out various details, keep the picture blurry; this wasn’t so much lying as being economical with the facts. As far as this particular trip went, Ruby’s friends believed her to be on spring break family vacation. She hadn’t told them that she was with her family; she hadn’t told them she was on vacation; they had just put two and two together and come to this conclusion.

As far as Ruby’s parents were concerned, Ruby was on a school dive trip: ‘An opportunity not to be missed,’ this was how Ruby had sold it to them. She had not actually told them that it was a school dive trip, but they had naturally made this assumption.

RULE 65: PEOPLE BELIEVE WHAT THEY WANNA BELIEVE.

In other words if they expect you to be on a school dive trip then they’ll assume that that’s where you are.

Ruby’s personal dive instructor was called Agent Kekoa. Ruby had never seen Kekoa in anything but swim gear or dive suits, and her hair – black, long and sleek – was always tied neatly back from her face in a practical way.

Kekoa was the strong, silent type, not what you would on the whole call blabby; she only spoke if there was something she really needed to say. Perhaps this was a habit developed in the ocean where talking was not an option. Or perhaps she had found the career that perfectly suited a person who didn’t particularly need to ‘share’.

Ruby on the other hand was indeed a talker – she often found it hard to keep her mouth shut and so to her, Agent Kekoa was a conundrum.

‘But what if I need to tell you something – urgently I mean?’ said Ruby.

‘Signal,’ replied Kekoa.

‘Yeah, but I mean how many signals are there?’

‘Enough,’ said Kekoa.

‘But I mean what if I need to say something that there isn’t a signal for?’

‘Then keep it for later.’

‘So you’re saying there’s no gadget for underwater talking?’

‘There is,’ replied Kekoa, ‘but I don’t use it. Much better to listen with your ears, your eyes, your hands; use all your senses and keep your mouth shut. Just…’ Kekoa drew her fingers across her lips. Her meaning couldn’t have been clearer: keep it to yourself, zip it, or shut your cake hole, depending on how polite you thought she was being.

Ruby shrugged, put her breathing tube in her mouth and sank beneath the waves. Of course, Kekoa was right. Signals did the job fine – there was no need for words down here and Ruby, despite her talkative nature, enjoyed this watery universe full of sounds rather than voices.

As they swam deeper into the ocean, they saw some incredible marine life, passed cities of coral, met creatures that were beautiful, a few that were lethal and several that were both. Useful to know the difference, but the general rule seemed to be, don’t touch! A lot of these things could sting and some of these stings could kill.

If you were unfortunate enough to brush tentacles with something unfriendly, then there was still hope. Each Spectrum agent was equipped with a tiny phial of anti-sting Miracle antidote, just enough to save a life if administered at once. It came in a little fluorescent orange envelope bearing a tiny logo of a fly, with a picture showing the canister attached to the zip of a dive suit. It was very discreet and looked like it was just part of the design, a tag or something.

The label said:

ANTIDOTE SERUM FOR SEVERE UNDERWATER STINGS

Administer fast for successful results.

CONTAINS ONE DOSE.

Followed by the caution:

Attach canister to wetsuit zipper and DO NOT REMOVE.

Kekoa repeated this particular instruction more than once. ‘Keep it attached to the zip on your dive suit and never be without it. These few drops could be the most important liquid you ever tasted. You understand?’

Ruby had nodded. She had no intention of letting go of the tiny life-saving tincture – why would she? Only a total bozo would deliberately part company with a piece of kit that could prevent his or her death.

Once the dive basics had been mastered, Ruby picked up other skills. She learned how to navigate underwater, in daylight and in moonlight, and, finally, in pitch-dark swimming through underwater caves. It was here that Ruby came up against the one thing she was truly afraid of.

Small confined spaces. Spaces that might be short on air. Spaces where you might find yourself gasping for breath. Spaces where you were highly likely to die.

They brought on her deepest fear: her claustrophobia.

As Ruby discovered, claustrophobia made cave navigation particularly challenging. A large part of underwater caving was about discovering ways in: fissures in rocks that led to secret caves, to spaces inhabited only by sealife. Sometimes the rock entrance would appear impossibly small, but with a certain amount of contortion and expertise one could make it in and hopefully out. How to look for telltale signs of ways out was a key part of the training, for obvious reasons. Ruby had rarely been so grateful to learn anything before.

The less time she had to spend in underwater caves, the better – in fact she wished quite fervently never to have to go in one again.

It was a wish that wasn’t going to be granted.