The Secret Life of Kitty Granger Page 3

  Someone was shouting “No! No! No!” It took Kitty a few moments to realize it was her.

  “Christ!” the boss swore. “Someone shut her up!”

  Mark grabbed Kitty by the chin, forcing her mouth shut and pinning her head in place. He glared into Kitty’s eyes. “I say we just kill her,” he said. “Less trouble.”

  Before anyone else could speak, there was a loud knock on the side door. The kidnappers turned around, and Kitty looked past Mark to see what was happening.

  A man stood just inside the doorway, holding an umbrella, which he tapped against the door to get everyone’s attention. The man was in his late forties and a little jowly, giving him the look of an English bulldog. He was very smartly dressed in a tweed suit and a matching bowler hat, and he smiled politely when everyone turned toward him.

  “I say! Roughing up a young lady? Quite unacceptable. A gentleman can’t stand for that.”

  The boss made a face. “Pryce.”

  “Ivan.”

  The man named Pryce advanced into the garage, walking with the air of a man out for an afternoon stroll. “I heard shouting and I thought I’d take a look,” he said. “Lucky I did. Why don’t you let the young lady go, Ivan? This is between us.”

  “She’s not one of yours?” The boss sounded surprised.

  “She most certainly is not.” Mr. Pryce nodded to Kitty and tipped his hat politely. “Don’t worry, miss, we’ll have you safe and sound in just a moment.”

  The boss pressed the barrel of his revolver against Kitty’s temple. Kitty clenched her eyes shut and waited for the gunshot.

  “Wishful thinking, Pryce,” the boss said. “But if you try anything, the girl dies. Now drop your weapons.”

  Kitty opened one eye. The boss was making threats. He didn’t plan to kill her. Yet.

  Mr. Pryce tossed his umbrella away and held up his empty hands. “I’m unarmed, Ivan,” he said. “Why don’t you return the favor? Let’s settle this like gentlemen.”

  The boss scoffed and nodded at his men. “Take him.” But as two of the kidnappers approached Mr. Pryce, the boss hesitated. “Just a minute. You said ‘We’ll have you safe and sound.’ What did you mean, we?”

  The answer came from behind him, spoken by a woman with a cool tone and a crisp Mayfair accent: “He meant you shouldn’t leave your windows unlocked, Ivan.”

  Kitty looked up, and the boss turned to see the lady in blue standing behind him. One of her hands was already balled into a fist. As the boss turned, the lady punched him across the face and laid him out on the floor of the garage. His revolver went skittering across the floor and disappeared under the car.

  “Perfect timing, Mrs. Singh!” Mr. Pryce exclaimed.

  “One tries to be punctual, Pryce,” Mrs. Singh called back.

  The two men holding Kitty released her and backed away, reaching for the nearest weapons to hand. One pulled out a knife, while the other grabbed a crowbar from a nearby table.

  Mrs. Singh stepped in front of Kitty. “Find someplace to hide,” she said quietly as she faced the two men. She put her hands on her hips and called to them, “Come along then. Who’s first?”

  It was a silly question because both of the men attacked her at once, but they seemed unnerved by Mrs. Singh’s bravado. Their apprehension was well-founded. As they came at her, she ducked under the crowbar and met the knife-wielding man with two fists to the gut. Across the garage, three of the kidnappers had rushed at Mr. Pryce, while the last one ran to help the two fighting Mrs. Singh.

  Kitty was surrounded by noise and violence. She ducked and covered her head with her arms, flinching each time she heard someone get hit. It wasn’t like in the films. The sound was softer, but more visceral. Kitty could practically feel each blow. She tried to work up the courage to peek out at the fighting, but she couldn’t. Her mind was caught in circles, divided between the impulses to hide and to flee, and the confusion left her rooted in place.

  The fear paralysis was suddenly broken when one of the kidnappers fell to the floor in front of her. Kitty cried out and bolted, knocking over the chair.

  The fighting had devolved quickly. Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh were now back to back, surrounded by the remaining five men, who seemed dead set on killing both of them, through weight of numbers if necessary.

  Kitty’s gaze turned toward the side door. It was open. She could make a run for it. But then, what about her mysterious rescuers? They hadn’t come there to save her, but they had saved her all the same. Kitty knew that if she ran, she’d never forgive herself.

  But what to do?

  Her eyes snapped toward the stack of boxes across the room. It was quite near the brawl. A good push would bring the whole thing down and hit at least two of the kidnappers. That would even things up a little.

  One, two, three, go, Kitty thought.

  She didn’t move.

  One, two, three, go! she repeated silently.

  She remained rooted to the spot. The haze of panic was too strong. Her body felt like it was made of lead. It was all she could do to keep from cowering, let alone run toward danger.

  No, you have to do this! Kitty insisted to herself. You can’t hide and you can’t do nothing!

  Kitty shook herself and dashed to the boxes. The kidnappers weren’t paying any attention to her. They were now down to four, but Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh had been hit a few times too. There was blood on Mrs. Singh’s nice white sweater, and Mr. Pryce’s fancy suit had been slashed here and there by knives.

  You can do this, Kitty. So do it.

  Kitty braced her hands against the box at eye level and pushed as hard as she could. There was something heavy inside that resisted her, but she planted her feet and kept pushing. The box started to slide forward.

  There was movement by the chair. Kitty looked and saw the boss get up, rubbing his face where Mrs. Singh had punched him. He and Kitty stared at each other, and for a moment Kitty was certain he was going to come for her. Instead, the boss took advantage of the opening and ran across the room. A moment later, Kitty heard the rattle of the garage door opening. The boss was fleeing like a coward.

  Stay focused. The boxes.

  Kitty gave a last hard push and the stack of boxes tumbled over onto the fight. The top two boxes landed with a crash, hitting three of the kidnappers and knocking down two. Mr. Pryce jumped backward to avoid being hit as well, but he looked relieved when he turned toward Kitty.

  “Much obliged, miss,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  Mrs. Singh knocked the final kidnapper down with a quick one-two punch and looked in Kitty’s direction. “I thought I told you to hide.”

  “Yes, miss,” Kitty answered meekly. She paused and added, “I didn’t.”

  “I see that,” Mrs. Singh said.

  They were interrupted by the roar of an engine. Kitty and her rescuers turned in time to see one of the cars drive out into the yard, its tires squealing and leaving rubber marks on the floor. The boss was behind the wheel. He looked afraid but determined.

  Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh ran to the garage door and watched it go.

  “Dammit!” Mrs. Singh exclaimed. “If we’ve lost Ivan, the whole operation’s gone up.” She swept her hand in the direction of the kidnappers sprawled out on the floor. “These fellows are all replaceable.”

  Mr. Pryce frowned and pulled a notepad and pencil out of his jacket pocket. “Did you get any of the license number? I think there was an A in there.”

  Mrs. Singh shook her head. “There was a five or a two, I think. He was going too fast for me to see more.”

  “Well, at least it’s something to go on.” Mr. Pryce tried to look positive, but Kitty felt the defeat on him.

  “Um . . .” Kitty began hesitantly. She wasn’t sure if she should interrupt.

  “Yes?” Mr. Pryce asked.

  “I—um—I saw the license plate,” Kitty explained. “All of it, I think.”

  “Really?” Mrs. Singh asked, giving Kitty a look caught
between skepticism and suspicion. “You only saw it for a moment. Can you be sure?”

  “Absolutely sure, miss. I sometimes ’ave trouble with names, but I always remember faces and numbers.”

  “Faces and numbers?” Mrs. Singh repeated, still staring at Kitty.

  Kitty glanced away. Mrs. Singh had a very intense stare, which was hard for Kitty to meet. But she did remember the plate number exactly. She closed her eyes to picture it, like a photograph imprinted in her head, and recited it aloud. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Mr. Pryce scribbling in his notebook, looking very pleased.

  “It’s worth a try anyway,” he said. “I’ll call from the telephone in the street in case this one’s been tapped. Don’t want to alert Ivan’s compatriots, do we?”

  “Not if we can avoid it,” Mrs. Singh agreed. “Go. I’ll keep an eye on our new friend here.” She turned to Kitty. “Who are you, by the way?”

  “Um,” Kitty stammered, “Katherine Granger, but everyone calls me Kitty.”

  Mr. Pryce smiled at this and raised his hat. “Kitty Granger, very nice to meet you. I am Mr. Pryce, this is Mrs. Singh. We work for Her Majesty’s government.”

  Chapter 5

  “You’re spies!” Kitty exclaimed, too excited to hold her tongue. Ivan and his men were probably spies too, but these were British spies! Queen and country and all that! That meant they were on her side and this whole wretched ordeal was finally over.

  Mr. Pryce drew himself up like a bird with ruffled feathers. “Certainly not! Spying is what the other side does. Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have a telephone call to make.”

  Mr. Pryce hurried outside with a spritely gait. Kitty watched until he was out of sight, and then flicked her eyes toward Mrs. Singh. The woman was studying her with folded arms and an arched eyebrow.

  “Am I in trouble, miss?” Kitty asked nervously.

  “Missis,” came the correction. “And that remains to be seen. You were on the bus with me, weren’t you? The girl who wanted my newspaper.”

  “Just the crossword,” Kitty said.

  “How did you come to be here?”

  Kitty fidgeted, playing with her fingers nervously. Everything had been so completely overwhelming a few moments ago, but direct conversation really was the worst.

  “Well, um, you see, that man Higgins, ’e got back on the bus after you followed ’im off.”

  “I know. I was there,” Mrs. Singh said.

  “An’ I got curious,” Kitty explained.

  Mrs. Singh arched both eyebrows this time. “Curious?”

  Kitty nodded. “Curious. I do that sometimes. So when Mr. Higgins got off the bus a few minutes later, I followed to see what ’e were about.” She twisted her face into an awkward expression of embarrassment. She knew exactly how absurd it sounded.

  Whatever Mrs. Singh thought of the explanation, she didn’t react. Instead, she asked, “And that’s how they caught you? Higgins saw you?”

  “Oh, no, miss—er, missis.” Kitty shook her head. “Higgins never saw me, not for the five blocks I followed ’im. I’m good at not bein’ seen, you see.”

  Mrs. Singh considered Kitty’s words, looking skeptical. On the ground, one of the men started to groan and shift in place, so Mrs. Singh knelt, removed his belt, and used it to hog-tie his wrists before he could wake properly. Then she began tying up the other kidnappers while she continued her questioning.

  “How did you get caught?”

  “Well, that man Higgins got ahead of me a ways, on account of me needin’ to stay outta sight, and I were goin’ to give up followin’, only I saw this chalk mark on the wall an’—”

  “Chalk mark?” Mrs. Singh asked.

  “Just a little line of chalk on a brick. I saw it an’ I . . .”

  “And you got curious?” Mrs. Singh finished for her.

  “Yes, missis.” Kitty shrugged. “Then I noticed there were a brick loose, so I took it out the wall and inside there were this little canister of film. So I took that, only a couple of that fellow Ivan’s ruffians was waitin’ in a car down the block an’ saw me. I tried to get away but they nabbed me an’ took me ’ere. I think they meant to kill me till you an’ Mr. Pryce showed up. They thought I were workin’ for you.”

  “I can see how they got that idea,” Mrs. Singh said. She folded her arms and cocked her head at Kitty. “What were you doing on the bus anyway? Shouldn’t you be in school?”

  “I’m sixteen,” Kitty explained.

  Mrs. Singh frowned at her. “I understand that you’re legally allowed to leave school if you want. I said shouldn’t you be there?”

  Kitty sighed. “It’s me da, you see. Needs me to work in the family shop ever since me mum’s passed.” The moment she said it, she knew it was too much information, and she clammed up.

  Mrs. Singh’s expression softened. “My condolences for your loss.” She paused as Mr. Pryce rejoined them. “Good news?”

  “The police are on the lookout for Ivan’s car,” Mr. Pryce replied. “He’ll abandon it before long, but hopefully we’ve put some pressure on him. You know, I didn’t realize he was back in the country.”

  “Ivan’s a bad penny,” Mrs. Singh said. “He always turns up. You remember Cairo?”

  Mr. Pryce smiled wistfully. “I remember a delightful sunset dinner along the Nile with a charming companion.”

  Mrs. Singh rolled her eyes. “I was thinking more about the ambush ten minutes into the second course.”

  “Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that part.” Mr. Pryce shrugged and rubbed his hands together cheerfully. “Now, what have you learned about our young friend here?”

  Mrs. Singh summarized what Kitty had told her.

  Mr. Pryce gave Kitty a stern look. “Quite a story.”

  “I think she’s telling the truth,” Mrs. Singh said.

  “I am!” Kitty exclaimed. “Honest! It were all a mistake!”

  “Perhaps,” Mr. Pryce said. He went to the staircase and climbed a few steps. “In the meantime, I think we should have a look around the place before the police arrive and make a mess of things.”

  “A capital idea, Pryce,” Mrs. Singh said.

  She took Kitty by the arm and led her up the stairs. Kitty’s gaze shifted around nervously. Neither of the spies seemed threatening, but after what had just happened Kitty found it hard to be calm about strangers.

  The upstairs office looked very commonplace, and Kitty couldn’t imagine anyone using it for illicit purposes. She sat in a chair by the wall and folded her hands in her lap, trying to keep out of the way while Mr. Pryce and Mrs. Singh searched through the desk and the room’s two filing cabinets. She watched them in silence, noticing the growing frustration on their faces. The two spies were not finding the information they wanted.

  There was something about the room that made Kitty uncomfortable, and she shifted in her chair, trying to detect what it was. This was how she felt when the silverware was crooked, or when someone left a book sticking out on a shelf. Something was out of place, like the chalk mark and the broken brick that had started all this trouble.

  Kitty’s gaze ran along the far wall, following the grain of the wood. The fingers on one hand flexed unconsciously, like she was running her fingertips against the wall, feeling the texture. She couldn’t actually feel it, of course: it was just something her hands did sometimes when she was focused on something.

  After the third pass, she found what was bothering her. The wood paneling was different midway along the wall. Kitty got up and walked across the office with slow, almost mechanical steps. Her eyes remained focused on the wall, searching for the outline of the wrong wood. The seam was nearly invisible, but it was there.

  “What are you doing?” Mrs. Singh asked.

  Kitty glanced over her shoulder and saw the two spies watching her.

  “Um . . .” Kitty shifted her feet nervously and pointed her finger at the paneling. “The wall’s different over there. I think the wood’s been replaced.”


  Mr. Pryce stepped away from the desk and joined Kitty. “Really? It looks the same to me, but . . .” He ran his fingertips across the wall where Kitty pointed. It took his a few times, but he finally found the seam that Kitty had detected. Mr. Pryce pressed his ear to the wall and tapped his knuckles against it, and what he heard made him smile with genuine delight. “Aha! I think there’s a safe back there. Clever girl.”

  Kitty, caught off guard by the compliment, bobbed her head and mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “We should be thanking you,” Mrs. Singh replied. She examined the wood paneling. “I don’t think I would’ve noticed it until we started tearing the walls apart.”

  She reached into her sleeve and pulled out something long and metal, sort of like a screwdriver but obviously a weapon. Kitty’s eyes bugged at the sight of it, and she shrank back.

  “Don’t worry, Kitty, this is for the wall, not you,” Mrs. Singh said.

  Together, Mrs. Singh and Mr. Pryce began prying the planks of wood away from the wall until a little panel sprang open, revealing a metal safe.

  “Will you look at that, Mrs. Singh?” Mr. Pryce mused.

  “I am looking, Pryce,” Mrs. Singh replied. “I see a safe and no key.”

  “Ivan must have taken it with him.”

  Mrs. Singh nodded. She tapped her wristwatch and added, “I also see an impending deadline of when the police are going to arrive and start getting in our way.”

  Mr. Pryce laughed. “Don’t be pessimistic,” he said. “I’ve been hoping for a chance to crack a safe. It’s been ages since I’ve had a go at one.”

  “That’s what concerns me,” Mrs. Singh told him.

  Mr. Pryce made a disappointed face at her, but he removed a small set of lock picks from inside his coat pocket and knelt down to examine the lock.

  “Um . . .” Kitty ventured softly, afraid to speak up and interrupt them.

  “Yes?” Mrs. Singh asked.

  “What’s gonna ’appen to me when the police get ’ere?” Kitty asked.

  “They’re going to ask you some questions about what happened,” Mrs. Singh replied. “They will be very curious about why you were following Higgins.”