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.’
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