Code Red Lipstick (2 page)

Jessica was wedged under a middle-aged man's armpit while the driver attempted to reach kamikaze speeds in Monday rush-hour traffic. Great. Yet another journey stuck next to someone with bad B.O. Slowly, she turned around to find today's newspaper shoved in her face, and couldn't help but read the story.

January 20

TYLER QUITS!

Supermodel Tyler Massey has shocked the fashion world by turning her back on her lucrative modelling career.

The eighteen-year-old unexpectedly quit her multimillion-pound contract with Naturissmo SkinCare Company yesterday and cancelled all her fashion commitments, including her first solo front cover of Vogue.

She'd already pulled out of a much-anticipated appearance at Paris Haute Couture Week this Thursday and hasn't been seen in public since before Christmas.

Her publicist said plans to launch her own perfume have also been put on hold indefinitely.

Lydia Hollings, boss of Emerald modelling agency, says Tyler wants to enrol at college. However, her whereabouts are currently unknown and she has not returned to her hometown in Devon.

Tyler is the last of the “famous five” supermodels to quit the fashion industry.

Olinka, Jacey, Darice and Valeriya have all left modelling in the last month, citing personal reasons. They have now retired from public life.

The “famous five” phrase was coined by Sebastian Rossini, who photographed the supermodels for a legendary
Vogue
front cover.

Jessica looked away as the woman turned the page. She'd heard of the “famous five”. Who hadn't? They were all well-known enough to be referred to by just their first names. Why were they all leaving the business? The bus suddenly braked, jolting everyone forward. The doors clattered open and a stream of people staggered off.

She clung on to the handrail and swung down into an empty seat. Digging around in her black rucksack, she pulled out her iPhone and typed the name “Tyler” and “supermodel” into the search engine. It brought up thousands of hits. The internet was buzzing with rumours about why she'd retired from modelling. They varied from her being disfigured in a car crash to falling victim to alien abduction.

Seriously? Did anyone actually believe that?

She followed links about the rest of the “famous five”. Olinka had been due to start shooting a major Hollywood movie when Lydia Hollings unexpectedly announced her retirement earlier this month. Jacey had been planning to launch her own exclusive lingerie line and perfume. Emerald had landed bookings for Darice and Valeriya from practically every top designer at Paris Haute Couture Week. They'd both recently pulled out despite being the stars of the shows. Emerald again. She clicked back. Jacey was also an Emerald model. The supermodels belonged to the same agency and they'd all walked away from exciting jobs at the peak of their careers. How strange.

She typed in the names of all the supermodels, Lydia Hollings and Emerald. She found an article from
OK!
magazine dated last December.

THE FAMOUS FIVE DAZZLE EVERYONE – AGAIN!

No one could be accused of being underdressed at Emerald modelling agency's fiftieth anniversary ball in London.

The “famous five” pulled out all the stops, wearing £20 million worth of emeralds and diamonds between them, loaned by De Beers.

They rubbed glamorous shoulders with designers, magazine editors and other celebrities, including Hollywood stars Taylor Lautner and Liam Hemsworth.

Guests paid tribute to Lydia Hollings, the head of Emerald, who has made the modelling agency the most successful in the world. She famously scouted Tyler, Olinka, Jacey, Darice and Valeriya.

Happy birthday, Emerald!

Lydia Hollings was in the centre of the photograph. Jessica enlarged the screen. What a trout pout! It was hilarious. She'd obviously had too much collagen pumped into her lips. That was Tyler, to her left, in a gorgeous ink-blue gown. The caption said it was Christian Dior. Olinka, Jacey, Darice and Valeriya were grouped around them, clutching champagne glasses and laughing. The girls all looked stunning, particularly Darice, who wore a scarlet-fringed Versace number slashed to her navel.

Why couldn't she find any more photos of the supermodels in public after the anniversary ball? After years of being in the public spotlight, they'd simply slipped away. Had they finally had enough of being followed by the paps? It had to grate, but it still didn't seem a good enough reason to give up. Tyler had years of modelling ahead of her and could have juggled her A levels with work. That was certainly what she was planning to do. The extra cash was pretty handy, particularly when her dad wasn't up to working.

Looking up, the familiar streets of west London whizzed past.

“No!” She hammered on the stop button, but the driver ignored her and whizzed through a red light. She should have got off two stops ago. It was 8.55 a.m. and she was seriously late. This was the third time a shoot had overrun in the last month. What excuse could she give this time?

A bad-tempered snake tried to drown me? Hatchet Hatcham would never buy it. She'd get a detention and a note sent home, which meant Dad would ground her, like, for ever. She'd made a pact with him that modelling wouldn't get in the way of schoolwork.

As soon as the doors swung open again, she dashed down the street, past cafés, launderettes and takeaways, not slowing until she reached St Alban's Comp. She clung on to the railings, panting. She'd just given Usain Bolt a run for his money. The front gates were open so she could still make it. She hesitated. Form prefects would be lurking about, waiting to pounce on stragglers with their dreaded “late notes”.

If she just charged in, detention would be a dead cert. She pulled out her dad's iPad from her rucksack and shoved in a headset. She turned the device on, waited for it to load and entered his secret password.

Jellybean.

Honestly. Her dad was a private detective and ex-MI6 agent. Couldn't he think of something less obvious – and hackable – than his old nickname for her?

Jessica bean – Jellybean.

She took a photograph of the school using the iPad and uploaded it on to the thermal heat-sensor application. Within seconds, she had a 3D image of the school and a seething mass of orange blobs which represented the pupils and staff inside. She didn't need every floor. She isolated the grounds, the route to the rear entrance and the whole of the ground floor just to be on the safe side, just as she'd done at a hotel in West Kensington when her dad needed her to help plant a bugging device in a target's suite.

She clicked on to “start audio” and gripped the iPad tightly. Time to play. The screen showed two orange blobs walking along the perimeter of the building: patrolling form prefects.

“Enemy approaching from east in approximately thirty seconds,” the electronic voice in her headset said. “Take a sharp left. Go now. Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven…”

Jessica tore through the gates into the deserted courtyard. She'd almost made it to the rear door.

“Stop!”

Jessica slammed against the wall, heart pounding

“Enemy passing. Five, four, three, two, one,” the voice said.

Two prefects walked towards the bicycle sheds. As soon as their backs were turned, she flung open the door and burst into the corridor. She took a deep breath, awaiting instructions.

“Head north along corridor, two hundred metres. Stationary figures ahead. Caution advised.”

She turned the corner, pressing herself against the wall as she moved slowly up the corridor. Up ahead, two boys were arguing. She reached the row of lockers and crouched behind them. Damnit. Tommy Williams, a prefect and world-class bully, blocked her escape route. No way could she talk her way round him. He'd take great delight in giving her a late note.

The instruction came. “Take corridor to left. Clear route to destination. Five, four, three, two, one.”

Jessica stared at the screen. The monitors were retreating, probably back to their own classes. She hesitated. Tommy's braces glinted menacingly as he pinned a much smaller boy against the locker. He was rifling through his pockets, snatching coins.

She flicked off the thermal imaging programme and clicked on to “magnetization”. She'd never tried this function before but it looked pretty cool. She scanned in Tommy's face and highlighted his enormous metal braces. He really did resemble a henchman in a James Bond movie.

“Let's see how you like this, Jaws.”

Click.

“What the… ?” Tommy began.

A coin flew out of his fist and stuck to his braces.

Interesting. Using the mouse, she turned up the magnetization strength. More coins shot into the air and clamped to his mouth.

“Aargh!” Tommy screamed, clutching his face. The rest of his words were incomprehensible as he picked up the smaller boy by the lapels and threw him against the locker, mumbling something threatening.

“It's nothing to do with me,” the boy protested.

As Tommy curled his fist into a punch, Jessica increased the magnetization. It tore him away from his victim and slammed him into the metal locker, mouth first. He tried to pull himself off but his braces were firmly stuck.

“Help!” His voice was muffled.

The boy seized his opportunity to escape and pegged it down the corridor. Jessica clicked the “off” button and Tommy slumped to the floor in a shower of coins. She didn't have time to gloat. She took off down the corridor to her left and burst through the door just as her form teacher snapped shut the red registration book.

Uh-oh.

“Late again, Miss Cole.” A smirk spread across Mr Hatcham's face. “We're so honoured you deigned to pay us a visit instead of gracing a catwalk.”

Now all eyes in class were on her. This was
so
embarrassing. Becky flashed a sympathetic smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a blond boy watching. Jamie. A hot red flush stole across her cheeks.

Mr Hatcham folded his arms over his large stomach. A couple of shirt buttons gave up the struggle to keep his belly inside and popped open. He was enjoying this. He always made digs about her modelling in the hope of making himself more popular with the other kids.
As if
.

“Perhaps one of these days you'll find the time to teach
me
a few things,” he continued.

He jumped to his feet and attempted to strike a modelling pose, putting his hand behind his ear and pulling a silly face. A few girls tittered. Didn't he realize they were laughing at him, not her? She really did hate him. If only she could throw him into that tank with the snake!

“I'm sorry,” she said through gritted teeth. “I can explain.”

“I'm sure you can, Miss Cole,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You can explain at your leisure during detention with me tonight. We also have the pleasure of Jamie, who is equally incapable of turning up on time.”

Jessica's heart did a somersault at the sound of Jamie's name, the way it always did. Now it was pounding faster. Did he realize the effect he had on her? His mouth widened into a smile, revealing perfect white teeth. He scraped his chair back and stood up. He was one of the few boys in the year group who was taller than her. He also had a seriously good body from all the sport he played. His shirt stretched impressively over his biceps.

“The pleasure's all mine.” He took a deep bow and grinned at Jessica.

She blushed deep crimson as the class clapped and wolf-whistled.

“That's enough. Quiet, everyone!” Mr Hatcham snapped. “Sit down, Jessica. You've caused enough disruption for one morning. Becky, take those ridiculous earrings out or you'll be joining Jessica and Jamie at detention. And remember, no one likes being a gooseberry.”

Jessica dived for her seat, next to her friend. She couldn't bring herself to meet Jamie's gaze as she sat down; she was red enough. Why was it she managed to stay calm whenever she accompanied her dad on covert assignments but when it came to Jamie she turned into a total wreck?

She looked across as her friend tucked her neat black bob behind her ears and pulled out a pair of dangly skull-and-crossbones.

“Bad journey?” Becky whispered.

Jessica sighed. “Same as ever.”

“So you've finally landed a date with Jamie,” Becky said through a mouthful of sandwich. “Congrats!”

She elbowed Jessica, who shuffled further along the bench. They always went to the local park for lunch, even in the winter, to escape from the claustrophobic classrooms and raucous younger pupils.

“It's hardly a date,” Jessica said. “It's detention.”

“But you'll be alone with him. Anything could happen…” Resting her head on Jessica's shoulder, she made smooching sounds.

“You're mad!” She shoved her friend off the bench with a laugh. “It's detention with Hatchet Hatcham, not dinner and a movie.”

“Still. He might need to leave the room for a minute and yours and Jamie's eyes could meet across Room 4B…”

“Very funny.” She extended a hand to haul her back up again. “I mean, Jamie does have nice eyes and he's super-smart and everything. He really makes me laugh too.”

“Don't forget he's got a super-hot body.”

“Has he? I hadn't noticed.”

They both erupted into giggles.

Jessica rummaged in her rucksack and pulled out her compact and a lipgloss. She clicked open the silver case.

“Oooh, let me guess what that does,” Becky said. “The compact is really a tracking device so we can find Jamie right now and the lipgloss is a bug. We'll be able to listen to him talking about you to his mates.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “You've been watching way too many spy movies. I hate to disappoint you, but the compact is actually, er, a compact, and this is a lipgloss.” She tapped Becky on the forehead with the tube before applying a peach slick to her lips.

“Not everything in here's a gadget,” she said. “Just the iPad.”

“If you say so!”

Jessica groped inside her rucksack and groaned. “I don't believe it.”

“What is it?”

“I've forgotten
Jane Eyre
. I need it for English, last period.”

“You've got time to get it, if you go now. I can cover for you with Hatchet Hatcham if you're a bit late for registration.”

Jessica hugged her and ran off. She really could try out for the next Olympics with all the sprint training she'd been doing today. She passed Ealing Studios. Usually she tried to spot anyone famous lurking about; she and Becky had even got Robert Pattinson's autograph when he was shooting a period drama. But she didn't have time to wait around for heart-throbs today. She had to get home.

She didn't stop running until she reached the corner of Chislett Street, then half-walked, half-jogged past the tall Victorian houses. They all had large sash windows and stained glass above solid oak doors. Her house, number 67, was different in one obvious respect. Beside the front door was a small gold plaque with the words:
Jack Cole Private Investigations
.
Visitors often missed the discreet sign. The other unique features of the house were even less conspicuous to the naked eye: the glass in all the windows was bulletproof, and above the ledges were slats which enabled steel shutters to roll down in an emergency.

Jessica let herself in with her key and paused. That was odd. The burglar alarm hadn't activated. A yellow light flashed on the box, indicating a fault. Her dad wouldn't like that one little bit. He was ultra security conscious after working for MI6 for twenty years. He'd retired early nine years ago after developing multiple sclerosis. That was when he'd set up his own private investigations agency, insisting he had no intention of sitting around waiting for the day when he'd end up in a wheelchair.

Jessica tapped the digits on the box to reset the alarm. A screeching noise blared out. She turned it off again. It was working now. Mattie had probably fiddled with it. Her grandma was staying over and slowly driving her nuts while Dad was away on a job all week. Mattie couldn't get her head round the DVD player, let alone any of her dad's high-tech security equipment. She was a total technophobe.

Jessica looked up. The CCTV camera had also malfunctioned. Maybe there'd been a power cut this afternoon. She dropped her rucksack on the floor and headed upstairs for her book; it was definitely by the side of her bed. She stopped. The study door was ajar, but it had been locked when she'd left this morning. Had Mattie broken the golden rule and gone in? Doubtful. She'd never dare. Jessica walked closer.

The first rule of surveillance her dad had ever drilled into her was to always take in her surroundings. Those were definitely scratch marks on the lock. The study door had been tampered with. Jessica glanced back at the burglar alarm. Someone had disabled the alarm and CCTV camera before picking open the door.

When she peeped inside, she saw that the room was tidy and ordered; a photo of her late mum from her modelling heyday was still in pride of place on the Thai oak desk. Dad's computer was still there. Jessica did a quick circuit of the ground floor; nothing seemed to have been taken. The stack of notes her dad had left still sat on the kitchen table. Surely a burglar would have snatched that booty? It was close to three hundred pounds – an easy hit for an opportunistic intruder.

Back in the hallway, she stared at the study. It was the only room that had been targeted, which was
really
bad news. Had the intruder discovered the house's biggest secret, the one that not even Mattie knew about? She had to check. It's what her dad would do if
he
were here now.

A creak startled her as she walked into the study. Someone was behind the door. Before she had time to turn around, an arm was around her chest and a cloth smothered her nose and mouth. A sweet, sickly scent filled her nostrils. She tugged at the gloved hand but her strength was gone. She felt weak and helpless, like a floppy rag doll. Why couldn't she move? She should try to kick or throw her head back to knock her attacker off guard, as she'd been taught in kick-boxing, but her limbs wouldn't obey her. Her head throbbed and her knees had given way. The painting on the wall spun round and round and the floorboards leapt up towards her. Then everything went black.

 

A sharp pain stabbed Jessica's forehead as she tried to open her eyes. The light seared her eyeballs and nausea gripped her. She fought the urge to throw up. She had to think. The intruder had been here the whole time and knocked her out. Probably with chloroform. Jessica opened her eyes, slowly this time. The study ceiling came into focus. She tried moving each arm and leg, one by one. Phew. She wasn't seriously hurt. She sat up, making her head spin.

Whoa! That was too quick. Sticking her head between her knees made her feel a lot less woozy. Jessica checked her watch. It had only been a matter of minutes, but the intruder would be long gone. Whoever had got in was a pro – bypassing Dad's high-tech burglar alarm and coming equipped with gloves and chloroform. Not your average burglar. But what were they looking for?

Jessica stared at the bookshelf, her hand hovering over the mobile phone in her blazer pocket. Should she call the police? No. Her dad might not want them involved. He'd probably call an old contact from MI6, given his security-services background and the fact this obviously wasn't a normal burglary.

It took a few minutes before she felt able to stand up. She steadied herself against the desk. When that felt OK, she focused on the bookshelves and walked straight ahead. Charles Darwin's
The Origin of Species
was centre right. She reached out for the large hardback book but it was already tipped forward. The bookcase had moved a fraction of an inch.

Someone
did
know the house's secrets and had opened her dad's hidden door. Jessica took a deep breath and pulled the bookcase wide open.