Agent Crew

Spies don't snoop, they observe

Mrs Digby's room wasn't at all what Clancy was expecting. He'd had the vague impression that it would be back-to-basics. Rustic, even.

It was not.

There weren't any decorations on the wall, but there was a pile of violent-looking crime books beside the bed, and the bed itself was covered in more blankets than seemed strictly necessary. There was a duvet, what looked like a hand-crocheted rainbow blanket, and a lacy throw with a faded stain in the middle, among others.

After closing the door, Hitch glanced around the room. He went straight for the crime novels, examining the spines.

"These are from Ruby's collection," he said.

Clancy resisted the urge to ask Hitch how he knew the books were Ruby's. Still, he bookmarked the information to tell Ruby later. (Because there would be a later. There would be.)

So Clancy watched in silence as Hitch worked his way methodically around the room.

Clancy couldn't resist the urge to say, "I thought you didn't approve of snooping." He still remembered all the terrifying hotel rooms he had broken into for Ruby. And the dressing down they had both received from Hitch (once he had made sure they were okay).

"Spies don't snoop," Hitch said without looking away from the armchair he was examining. "They observe."

"Sure." Clancy couldn't keep a touch of incredulity out of his voice (after all, if Ruby wasn't here to do it, he felt someone should point out Hitch's hypocrisy).

"Don't mix up agents and kids playing pretend, Clancy," said Hitch, still acting as if he were completely absorbed by the armchair (which must have yielded all it could by now, considering Hitch had made a big show if carefully feeling inside the cushion).

"Ruby doesn't play," mumbled Clancy quietly. He thought of all the crazy schemes he had been dragged into last year. Necessary, it turned out. All of them.

"No," said Hitch quietly, finally rising from his position in front of the armchair. "She didn't."

Not feeling particularly jokey any more, Clancy watched as Hitch searched (or observed) the rest of the room. He barely moved anything after the armchair, but spent a while staring at Mrs Digby's scattered possessions. Finally, he opened her wardrobe.

A shocked exhale of breath sent Clancy running over, hopeful for a clue. He peered over Hitch's shoulder into the narrow wardrobe.

There wasn't an overflow of clothes inside. A couple of hats on the top shelf, some thickly practical dresses neatly spaced out on hangers, and a pair of crusted galoshes on the bottom.

"What are you looking at?" asked Clancy, confused by Hitch's brief loss of composure. He wasn't the dramatic gasp type.

After a second, Hitch pointed to a forest-green raincoat.

"See that, kid?" he said. Clancy waited for him to explain.

"That's an agent-issue coat."

Clancy felt his breath sucked out of him too.

"Like, Spectrum agent-issue?" he clarified, sure he must have misunderstood.

"Yeah," said Hitch grimly, erasing any doubt.

They both stood in silence for a second, absorbing what this could possibly mean.

Or, at least, Clancy hoped Hitch was absorbing it, because his mind was currently on a panicked loop of 'Mrs Digby? Mrs Digby?!'

Hitch reached into the wardrobe and pulled down the jacket collar to reveal a black label with no name, make, or size on it. Just the outline of a tiny, white fly.

And Clancy knew what that meant. Ruby would have too, if she really had been in here before them.

"I haven't seen one of these in a while," said Hitch, as he let the coat swing back into place. "They were decommissioned years ago. Before my time, even."

"How did it get here?" asked Clancy. He had a pretty good hunch, but for once he was reluctant to trust himself.

Hitch didn't answer immediately, instead focussing on carefully shutting the wardrobe door.

"If Ruby found that..." He trailed, seemingly unsure how to finish.

The funny feeling in Clancy's stomach twisted into an ugly knot.

"When was the last time you saw Mrs Digby?" he asked.