with the words dying of boredom here, looked about as far from being a ‘commercial kid’ as any kid could.
At the same time that Ruby was cleaning her room, Hitch got out of his car and looked out to sea. He could make out the Humberts’ cruise yacht, the Golden Albatross, coming in from the west. As it got nearer, he couldn’t help noticing that the vessel was looking less than shipshape – a little battered, a little worse for wear, a little war-torn.
Hitch had been casually leaning against the car, arms folded, drinking in the sun, but now he was suddenly alert. As the boat moved into the harbour, he could make out the faces of those aboard and no one was looking very happy. He cast his eyes over all the passengers, but could not see the faces of Brant and Sabina. He began to walk towards the yacht, picking up the pace with each step – by the time he got to the quayside, he was flat-out running.
He watched as Freddie and Marjorie Humbert wearily disembarked.
‘What happened?’ he asked.
Marjorie Humbert looked at him. ‘Pirates,’ she uttered.
Hitch scanned her face. ‘Is everyone OK?’
The Humberts looked at each other.
‘The Redforts?’ asked Hitch.
Freddie turned to him, his eyes welling up. ‘They didn’t…’ His voice caught in his throat. ‘They didn’t make it,’ he stammered.
‘What do you mean, “didn’t make it”?’ said Hitch, a sudden fear shooting through him. ‘You’re saying they’re not with you?’
‘Sabina was pitched overboard. Brant dove in to save her, but then…’ Poor Freddie, he couldn’t find the words.
‘The pirates shot them,’ said Marjorie, her voice barely audible. ‘Right there in the water. They didn’t stand a chance.’
‘You saw them get shot?’ asked Hitch.
Marjorie looked at him with her kind eyes. ‘No, we did not see that, and I’m grateful we didn’t.’ She was ashen-faced and looked close to collapse.
But Hitch needed more; he needed to know for sure. ‘But you didn’t see them, see their bodies I mean; you never saw them dead?’
Marjorie winced, but bravely held his gaze. Freddie looked away. ‘No,’ she said in a whisper. ‘We never saw them dead, but we never saw them again. I want to tell you something good Hitch, something hopeful. But I can’t.’
Freddie nodded, took her by the arm, guided her down the gangplank and together they staggered safely to shore.
Hitch didn’t miss a beat: before he had got five feet from the quayside he had radioed in to Spectrum and was put through to LB. He explained the situation and then put in his request.
‘We need to conduct a search,’ he said.
‘I’ll get someone to contact the coastguard at once,’ said LB.
‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ said Hitch firmly. ‘This is the kid’s parents we’re talking about. We need to conduct a search. Alert Sea Division, we need backup. If they’re alive at all, then they won’t be for long.’
‘Hitch, this isn’t what we do; this isn’t part of Spectrum’s remit. I’m sorry for the Redforts, I’m sorry for the kid, but these people are not part of our work here. The Twinford air-sea rescue squad will deal with the situation; they’re professionals when it comes to general civilian safety.’
‘You know these folks don’t stand a chance if we don’t step in; they’re more than likely dead already.’
‘Yes, my point exactly, they’re most likely dead already. So why would we rally our agents, and in so doing possibly blow our cover by making such an obvious and overblown search of the area? I respect your desire to make things right for the kid, but sometimes it just isn’t possible. Sometimes we have to take it on the chin and move on.’
Hitch knew she was right. No one in Spectrum could afford to get sentimental; you start getting mushy and it was time to hang up your agent-issue watch.
‘I hear you,’ said Hitch. ‘But listen – how do we know this doesn’t have something to do with Agent Trilby? How do we know the pirates who threw the Redforts overboard aren’t the same people who are causing all this marine disturbance?’
Silence from LB. Then: ‘Go on,’ she said slowly.
‘How about if I get Zuko to go in?’ said Hitch. ‘Undercover I mean, as relief air-sea rescue – he knows what he’s doing and can fly one of our helicopters dressed up like it’s air rescue, and he can search with the best equipment. No one need know and it’s just one agent.’
LB was quiet for a moment and then said, ‘OK. That could work. The fine detail is your business. Keep it covert and keep it untraceable, no link to Spectrum. Anything goes wrong, it’s your head not mine.’
‘I appreciate it LB.’ He hung up, got back in his vehicle, locked the doors and mirror-glassed the windows, then he pressed a button on the dashboard. The dash front slid up to reveal high-tech Spectrum equipment. He fed in Agent Zuko’s code name and badge number and was instantly given his co-ordinates.
Zuko was not on mission; instead he was relaxing upstate, on standby and awaiting orders. Hitch buzzed him and not ten seconds later Agent Zuko’s image appeared on the miniature screen. He was wearing a blue check shirt and looked like he might be fishing. Zuko was an old buddy of Hitch’s – they had been through some tough times, gotten each other out of plenty of scrapes, rescued each other from certain death on numerous occasions, and there wasn’t a favour too big to ask of one another.
Hitch told him the deal and in just a few minutes it was all arranged and agreed. Zuko would conduct the most thorough search of the Sibling waters; he had twenty-four hours, that was all.
With a heavy heart, the Redfort ‘house manager’ drove back to Cedarwood Drive and to Mrs Digby.
Now for the hard part, he thought.
Mrs Digby took the news stoically. She didn’t interrupt, she didn’t let out a cry nor did she move a muscle. She just stood there in the middle of the kitchen, her feet planted firmly on the floor. She didn’t breathe a word until Hitch had said everything he was going to say.
‘They’ll be right as rain,’ she said. ‘Mr R doesn’t give up so easily and Mrs R doesn’t give up at all. Most tenacious woman I ever met. Besides, they met while diving in Italy. They know how to swim. I’m not a water person myself, can’t abide swimming about in the ocean. If God wanted us in the ocean, he wouldn’t have made the land.’ She was burbling on while she busied herself like nothing was amiss. ‘Those two, they could swim in treacle.’
Hitch didn’t contradict her, but he wasn’t feeling so confident. There had been shots into the water, a whole lot of bullets. It wasn’t the swimming he was worrying about. If they were swimming, then that meant they had survived the pirates and that seemed unlikely. Pirates were not nice people, never had been. All those books you read about them, all those films that made them out to be funny and romantic, they weren’t true. Pirates were cold-blooded killers only interested in what they could steal.
