Читать книгу Blink and You Die - Lauren Child - Страница 32

RUBY WAS JUST TRYING to figure out where Hitch might have got to when she spotted a note on the table in the waiting area.

Meet me in Froghorn’s coding room – he will be expecting you.

She was surprised that he had arranged for them to meet there, and it was odd that Froghorn had agreed to it – with the exception of Blacker, Froghorn generally made it clear that no one was welcome in his coding room. Seeing him so soon after she had stepped back into Spectrum was an unpalatable idea, but then she remembered Clancy’s words – ‘talk to Froghorn, I bet you anything he’ll tell you whatever you wanna know, just to make you feel small.’ It was true, Froghorn couldn’t resist bragging about all the secrets he knew, and let’s face it, she thought, he loves nothing better than to drone on about the late great Bradley Baker.

All I gotta do is get him talking, that’s not so difficult.

Knowledge was her only weapon, the only superpower she really had. And if she was going to find out the truth about how Spectrum’s most revered agent met his end then Froghorn was her only option.

The door to his coding room was unlocked, so she was puzzled when she discovered it empty of people. Miles Froghorn was usually very careful about security. Ruby took the opportunity to have a snoop around and she found a lot of interesting things.

There were numerous files stacked neatly on tables, and code books marked with post-its and bookmarks, and notes carefully written in ink. There were several books on data transmission, particularly error-correcting codes that allowed computers to know whether there were mistakes in information they received. It was a subject that fascinated Ruby.

She flipped open a book.

Parity bits are one of the simplest systems for ensuring error-free transmission of binary data. Note though that as they indicate only whether the information contains an even or odd number of 1s or 0s, they are vulnerable to bits in the chain being swapped rather than lost, which is something they cannot …

She stopped reading when she heard footsteps coming down the corridor. She moved away from the table and listened, but whoever it was walked right on by. She continued to peruse Froghorn’s papers. There was a whole hand-written list of what must be ideas for locking devices: swipe card, iris lock, thumbprint, keypad, image lock, bolt key, 5 key, pressure key, voice key.

It rather looked like he had been working on some sort of multi-coded security system, because there was a diagram which was basically three squares arranged like an upside-down L, with letters and numbers marked at particular intervals, and to the side of each of the blocks: E1 E2 E3. In the middle of the third square he had written FC1 FC2 FC3. Next to these were six small pieces of coloured paper; each one was labelled with one of the sets of letters on the diagram, E1, E2, E3 etc., and on each paper was written a word or words, some crossed out, some replaced. E1, for example, said: MUSCA. E2: SWAT; E3: TRANSMISSION, F1: THE SPECTRUM. FC2 said: ROTOR MACHINE and then this was crossed out and had been replaced with CHROMATIC. FC3 was just a?

It looked as if he had been trying to figure out the best method of securing each part of a building, or series of rooms.

There was a beep on Ruby’s watch and she very nearly jumped out of her skin. A YELLOW FLY, meaning ATTENTION! A message flashed across the screen.

HUGE MISTAKE, I MEANT TO SAY MEET ME IN FROGHORN’S OFFICE! IF YOU HAPPEN TO HAVE MADE IT INTO HIS CODING ROOM THEN GET OUT!

PS MEETING CANCELLED.

Ruby did as instructed and got out of there quick, just in time as it turned out, because as she speed-walked along the corridor she ran into Froghorn coming the other way.

‘Oh, you’re back,’ he said slowly, drawing the words out as if he’d just found something unpleasant on the underside of his shoe.

‘Hey, Froghorn,’ she said, deliberately ignoring the silent G so the word ‘Frog’ sounded out very clearly. His irritation could not be missed.

‘What a shame, did kiddie camp not work out for you?’

‘Genius Camp, you mean?’ said Ruby. ‘Yes, that was fun, but you know what they say, too much fun can get you bored, so I guess it’s good to run into you.’

‘I thought it was going to be a bad day,’ said Froghorn. ‘Viridian days are always a total drag.’

‘What are you bleating on about – viridian days? Jeepers, Froghorn, maybe you need to leave the building for an hour or two.’

‘I would if there was anyone who could possibly handle my job, but since we lost Lopez we’ve had a tough job recruiting anyone with half a brain.’

‘I’m surprised you didn’t bring up Bradley Baker again, you guys seem to think the sun shone out of him.’

‘The sun did shine out of him,’ said Froghorn. ‘That’s exactly it, he was a sun ray. And even though he’s dead and gone to grey he never was and never will be some pale imitation of an agent, some little girl living a little pastel-pink life.’

‘Boy, Froghorn, that’s a very colourful picture you paint. So if you’re saying Baker was sunshine yellow and I’m insipid pink – which, by the way, I take great exception to – then what are you? Potato-head beige?’

‘I’m someone authorised to be here, what are you? Some little girl who needs to go back to school?’ He checked his watch theatrically.

‘No one said that about Bradley Baker and wasn’t he just some little kid when he started out?’ said Ruby. Her comment had the desired effect.

‘Bradley Baker was never just some little kid. He was extraordinary, a talent the like of which we will never see again.’

‘What is it with you guys and Bradley Baker? I’ve yet to hear one actual thing which makes this bozo so different from anyone else.’

Froghorn stepped back like he’d been slapped. ‘What?’ he said.

RUBY: ‘You people talk about him like he’s some kinda super-agent, but he took orders same as you, same as me, same as every agent in this building.’

FROGHORN: ‘Baker took orders because it was his job to take orders. It didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of making his own decisions.’

RUBY: ‘So you’re saying he did make his own decisions?’

FROGHORN: ‘Of course he did, he was highly qualified, lived by his own rules.’

RUBY: ‘So he was a maverick, a renegade … took authority into his own hands, that sorta thing?’

FROGHORN: ‘No! That’s not what I’m saying, not at all! He never did anything to undermine the agency.’

RUBY: ‘I don’t get it, now you’re telling me he was a zip-it and toe-the-line type of a guy? Make your mind up, Froghorn, either he had guts and initiative or he was just another listen-up-and-do-as-you’re-told team player.’

FROGHORN: ‘The sheer magnitude of what you don’t know about Agent Baker’s guts and heroism would fill this atrium. Baker was an agent in a million.’

RUBY (YAWNING): ‘Yeah, right, so everyone keeps telling me, but it all sounds like a lot of hot air if you want my opinion.’

FROGHORN: ‘No one wants your opinion.’

RUBY: ‘Yeah, and why is that? I’m guessing because no one is tough enough to hear the truth.’

FROGHORN: ‘And what is that “truth”?’

RUBY: ‘Simply that there are other agents just as talented as him.’

Froghorn narrowed his eyes. ‘Are you actually suggesting that you are even close to being in the same league as Agent Baker?’

Ruby made a face to suggest, maybe she was. Froghorn’s reaction was as she’d hoped – very gabby. ‘Come with me,’ he said.

‘Where are we going?’ They were heading in the opposite direction now and Ruby had a job to keep pace with him. When he reached his office he opened the door and waved her in with an irritated gesture.

Her visits to this room were rare and usually very brief, so it wasn’t perhaps so surprising that she had never before noticed how everything was colour-coded, and not just in a Spectrum way, but in a Froghorn way. His calendar for instance: Mondays green, viridian green, Tuesdays yellow. December dark blue.

Froghorn looked like he was wearing a brand-new suit. It was ever so slightly shiny and he had a new shiny steel pen to match; it was attached to a silver cord which hung around his neck. Who does that? she thought. Who actually wears a pen? OK, Mrs Drisco does, but she’s Mrs Drisco, what else would you expect? But this guy should know better. Boy, is he ever a potato head.

FROGHORN: ‘You think that cracking a five-way-thought code which led us to prevent the leaking of secret government dossiers isn’t of value?’

RUBY: ‘Of course it’s of value, I’m just saying, is it remarkable? I mean he was a code cracker, right, so wouldn’t that be all in a day’s work to someone of his agent rank?’

FROGHORN: ‘So how about confronting the Count when he was a junior agent, getting up close and personal with this monster and living to tell the tale? He was the first Spectrum agent to walk away with his life.’

RUBY: ‘What, you mean like I did?’ She studied her nails. ‘More than once actually.’

FROGHORN: ‘You got lucky, little girl, hardly heroic. Baker was captured by the Count and rescued by the Spectrum special agent squad.’

RUBY: ‘I rescued myself, surely that counts for something.’

FROGHORN: ‘State of the art Spectrum gadgets are what allowed you to escape.’

RUBY: ‘Isn’t that how Baker got himself out of trouble a whole bunch of times? I’m sure he would have been toast without the Escape Watch.’

FROGHORN: ‘He was issued with them; you took them without permission.’

RUBY: ‘So that’s the difference between being a hero and not being a hero – a signature on a slip of paper?’

FROGHORN: ‘If you want to be a Spectrum agent then you have to behave like one.’

Ruby had quite a few things she wouldn’t have minded saying in reply to this patronising remark, but was aware that it might not serve her well to get Froghorn so mad that he slammed the door in her face.

RUBY: ‘So name an occasion where Baker actually went above and beyond his job description.’

FROGHORN: ‘You think that leaping from an aircraft without a Spectrum aero-pack in order to save a fellow agent from certain death doesn’t make him a hero?’

RUBY: ‘Can I ask, was the plane moving at the time?’

FROGHORN: ‘Try fourteen thousand feet. And it wasn’t a regular plane.’

Ruby shrugged. ‘I don’t know, Froghorn, I mean, is jumping without a parachute really such a big deal?’

FROGHORN: ‘You should try it sometime.’

RUBY: ‘Maybe I will.’

FROGHORN: ‘I’d be thrilled to arrange it.’

RUBY: ‘If there was actually any evidence that Baker had actually done it then I would be only too happy to give it a try.’

FROGHORN: ‘You should read the files; what’s contained in them would make your head spin.’

RUBY: ‘Oh, so there are files?’

FROGHORN: ‘Of course there are files!’

RUBY: ‘OK, so I’ll read them.’

FROGHORN: ‘You don’t have authority to read files, least of all the Ghost Files.’

RUBY: ‘Ghost Files?’

Silence.

RUBY: ‘Oh, come on, Froghorn, you’re making this up. Ghost Files? I mean Spectrum’s not gonna use a dumb name like that.’

FROGHORN: ‘You know so little of Spectrum. You arrive here thinking you’re some kind of wonder-child, but you’re not even a shadow of Agent Baker.’

RUBY: ‘Show me the files and I’ll devote some minutes to reading them.’

FROGHORN: ‘It would take you more than a few hours to read a list of his achievements.’

RUBY: ‘So point me in the right direction and I’ll get started.’

FROGHORN: ‘Why would I ever tell you where the Prism Vault is?’

RUBY: ‘Why would you, when you don’t know?’

FROGHORN: ‘Of course I know. I’ve just this week completed the task of updating the code lock system.’

So that’s what he’s up to.

But what she said was, ‘So where is it?’

FROGHORN: ‘Like I’d ever tell you.’

RUBY: ‘You should, it might help me understand this little love-in Spectrum has with old Bradley.’

FROGHORN: ‘If you ever see the inside of that place then I’ll eat my hat.’

RUBY: ‘Really? I’ll work on it then, I’ve always wanted to see someone eat their hat.’

FROGHORN: ‘I’m sure one of your kindergarten friends would oblige – little kids are always eating things they shouldn’t.’

RUBY: ‘You not concerned that someone might crack your new vault codes?’

‘No, little girl.’

‘No, and why’s that?’

‘Because first you’d have to understand what code you are dealing with and that’s something you aren’t ever going to know.’

‘Even if you made it there,’ continued Froghorn. ‘Even if you figured out the location, you would still require permission to get inside, and we both know that’s never going to happen, or you would need to get hold of a Superskin.’

‘What’s a Superskin?’ asked Ruby.

‘Exactly,’ said Froghorn. ‘Then you would need to hold your breath for at least three minutes and we both know you have no talent for that, am I right?’

Boy, is this guy’s colour potato-head beige.

‘Even if you punched in the correct door code and got inside the vault, even if you did all that, just how many layers of files could you reach? One? Two?’

‘Um,’ said Ruby, ‘is there a three?’

‘Layer three you might as well dream about because there’s not a chance you’d make it into that.’ As he said ‘three’ he gripped the steel pen and turned it round and round in his hand.

‘Careful with that,’ said Ruby. ‘You don’t want to strangle yourself with that little necklace of yours.’

He suddenly looked awkward, self-conscious even, and he barked at her, saying, ‘All file layers are code-protected. I set them myself … think about it, little girl.’

‘Oh, believe me I am,’ said Ruby. ‘So you say breath-holding’s involved; is this vault underwater or something?’

Froghorn’s mouth snapped shut. He had said too much. He began fiddling with his stupid neck pen, nervously wrapping his tie round and round as he tried to backtrack. ‘Dream on, you’ll never lay eyes on the Ghost Files, let alone read them.’ He was confident about that, Ruby could see it: the look on his face said the Prism Vault is nowhere you’ll ever go.

‘You sound very certain,’ said Ruby.

‘I am,’ said Froghorn. ‘I spent a lot of time coding those files and I did an excellent job.’

‘I’m sure you did your best, Froghorn, but remember what they say: pride comes before a fall, or wait a minute, is it once a potato head always a potato head? I can never remember.’