Anthony Horowitz - Evil Star

They dragged him across to the first car and one of the policemen fumbled in his pockets for his keys. That left just two of them supporting Matt. Did he have the strength left to fight back? No. They were holding him too tightly. What about his powers? Briefly Matt remembered the chandelier exploding at Forrest Hill. It felt as if it had happened a century ago. He wondered if he could do something similar now. Turn on the power and make the police car blow up. Send these two men spiralling away like puppets in the wind. But it wasn’t as easy as that. There was no switch he could throw. Whatever power he had, it still wasn’t under his control.

But then the policeman holding him on the side nearest to the car cried out and suddenly let go. Looking up, Matt saw blood pouring down his face. Had he done that to him? Matt was so shocked that for a moment he thought he had. But then he saw a fist-sized stone come flying through the air and the second policeman staggered back, his hand clutching his face. Matt was free. He fell against the car and looked away from the hotel, down towards the main street. And there was the answer.

Pedro. He was holding a slingshot made from a strip of some sort of black material – rubber or leather. He had used it twice with deadly accuracy, bringing down both policemen. But that still left one more: the one with the car keys. Matt shouted a warning as the man reached for his holster and pulled out a gun.

But before it had come halfway out, Pedro swung the slingshot a third time. Another rock flashed through the air and slammed into the third policeman, catching him just above the eye. The man swore and dropped the gun.

“Matt!” Pedro called out his name.

Matt looked back at the hotel doorway. Captain Rodriguez had appeared, alerted by the cries of his men. His own gun was in his hand. Quickly, he took in what had happened. His men were hurt. The English boy was free, leaning against the car that should have been taking him away. And there was another boy, with a catapult. Rodriguez took aim at this second boy.

Matt dived forward and snatched up the dropped gun. He rolled over on his stomach and fired six shots in the direction of the hotel. He wasn’t sure if any of them hit Captain Rodriguez but he saw the senior policeman dive for cover behind a parked car. Behind him, the glass doors of the hotel shattered. At the same time, an alarm went off inside the hotel. Matt dropped the gun and got unsteadily to his feet.

The first policeman that Pedro had hit was already recovering. Matt took one look at him and then, finding some last hidden reserve of strength, lashed out with his foot. His toecap came into contact with soft flesh. He had kicked the man right between the legs and he crumpled without a sound.

Another rock sailed past. One of the other policemen was hit a second time and knocked off his feet, stumbling into the side of his car and setting off another alarm. The third had crawled away to hide.

“Matt!” Pedro called again.

Matt didn’t need any more encouragement. With his hands gripping his stomach, he lurched forward. The Peruvian boy waited for him, another stone ready in his slingshot in case anyone tried to follow. But nobody did.

Pedro reached out and grabbed Matt and together they ran off as fast as they could. The alarm bells were still jangling and now they were joined by the scream of sirens as more police cars approached. Seconds later, they pulled up in front of the hotel. Captain Rodriguez had reappeared, his face full of fury. But they were too late. The street was empty. The two boys had disappeared.

An hour later, they were still running.

Matt was astonished at how much energy Pedro seemed to have. After all, he looked as if he hadn’t eaten for a week. But he had kept up the same pace ever since they had left the hotel, pausing only when a dirty blue van with barred windows and the words POLICIA NACIONAL painted on the side came speeding past. Then Pedro ducked behind what seemed to be an abandoned lorry, dragging Matt with him. He took one look at Matt and signalled for him to rest. The two of them sat on the pavement.

As he regained his breath, Matt remembered what Rodriguez had told him. He had no papers. He had entered Peru illegally. At the time, when the Nexus had suggested it, forged passports had sounded like a good idea. But in fact he and Richard had been delivered, gift-wrapped, into enemy hands. Matt couldn’t prove who he was. There was no record of his arrival and if he disappeared, nobody would know or care.

“Debemos apresurarnos,” Pedro said, and stood up again. Matt understood. It was time to go.

They were in a wide, busy road, somewhere on the edge of Lima, standing in front of a row of shops and a restaurant, all of them missing their front windows and front doors. In fact they had no fronts at all. They were like open boxes with their insides spilling out onto the street, the smell of food mixing with the petrol fumes. Opposite them, a row of men in jeans and baseball caps sat slumped against a low, concrete wall, seemingly with nothing to do. There were also a couple of shoeshine boys with crude, wooden boxes strapped to their backs. The sight gave Matt a jolt. They were both about six years old.

“Where are we going?” Matt asked.

Either Pedro didn’t understand or he couldn’t be bothered to answer. He was already moving along the pavement. Matt was exhausted but he forced himself to follow. What else could he do?

They came to a set of traffic lights and Pedro’s face broke into a grin. It was the first time Matt had seen him smile. There was a truck waiting, carrying a load of building materials. Pedro had recognized the driver. He ran forward and began to talk, gesturing a couple of times in Matt’s direction. The lights changed to green and at once all the cars behind began to blast their horns. But the driver wasn’t in any hurry. He waited until Pedro had finished, glanced briefly at Matt, then jerked his thumb. Pedro signalled to him and with a huge feeling of relief, Matt climbed with him into the back.

They set off again.

Matt was desperately tired. He’d only managed a few hours of troubled sleep the night before. He was also in a bad way following his encounter with Rodriguez. There was a sick pounding in his head and in his stomach and he was sure he’d broken a rib. The police had beaten him up. How could such a thing have happened – and in a public place, in the middle of a hotel? What sort of country was this?

The driver shouted something out of the window and Matt saw his hand appear, holding a small bunch of bananas. Pedro took them and broke some off, offering them to Matt. Matt shook his head. He was starving, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. He was in too much trouble, too much pain. Pedro shrugged, peeled a banana and took a bite.

Matt wasn’t sure what to make of this boy. There was no doubt that Pedro had saved him by waiting outside the hotel with his slingshot, but it was hard to know exactly why. Right now he was ignoring him completely. It was as if Matt was nothing more than an annoyance, like a stray animal following him down the street. Certainly there was nothing very friendly about the boy. Quite the opposite. Matt had to remind himself that only a few hours before, Pedro had been trying to rob him – and he was still wearing his watch! Maybe he was still interested in Matt’s ten-pound note. No, that wasn’t fair. Matt had offered him the money earlier and Pedro had refused to take it. So where were they going now? Pedro must live somewhere in this great, unwelcoming city. Perhaps he had parents. Hopefully, he would know somebody who could help.

About twenty minutes later, the truck stopped and the two of them climbed out, Pedro waving and shouting at the driver. Matt found himself standing at the foot of a hill where an ugly township – a tangle of bricks and wires – sprawled its way up the slope. He had never seen anything like it. His first impression was that this was a community that had tumbled down the hillside, getting broken and jumbled up along the way. Then he realized that it had been built like this. It was a barrio -a shanty town, home to the poorest of the poor.