Anthony Horowitz - Evil Star

“After that, things became very difficult,” Pedro went on. “I think I wanted to die. Inside me, I thought it was wrong that my parents were dead and I was still alive. But the strange thing is, I knew I was going to be all right. I had nowhere to live. There was no food. People were falling sick all around me. But I knew that whatever happened, I would make it. It was like my life was beginning all over again.

“Anyway, some of the survivors came together – there were quite a lot of them – and they decided to go to Lima. They’d heard there was work there. They thought they’d be able to build themselves a new life. I went with them. I was the youngest and they didn’t want to take me. But in the end I followed and there was nothing they could do.

“And so we came to the city but it wasn’t like we thought. Nobody wanted to see us. Nobody wanted to help us. We were the desplazados. That’s the word we use for people with no place. There were already enough poor people starving and dying in Lima. They didn’t want any more.

“There was a woman looking after me and she had a brother in one of the shanty towns and for a while I lived with them. They made me work, searching for food in dustbins. I hated it. I’d leave at five o’clock in the morning, before the dustcarts came, and I’d take anything I could find. Vegetables that weren’t too rotten. Bits of fat and gristle cut off meat. All the scrapings from rich people’s meals. That was what we lived on and if I didn’t find enough or if it was too rotten, they’d give me nothing to eat and they’d beat me. In the end, I ran away. If I stayed, I was afraid they would kill me.

“And that’s my story. Did you enjoy it? I’ll tell you the rest of it. You wanted to know about Sebastian. Nobody knows who he is exactly, Matteo, and we don’t ask too many questions. I’ve heard people say he was a university professor until his wife left him and he took to drink. But there are others who say he was a waiter in an expensive hotel and that’s where he learned to speak different languages. Anyway, I went to Poison Town to get away from the woman and her brother and I found Sebastian and he took me in.

“He’s not a bad man. He’s only ever hurt me when he’s very drunk and he always apologizes the next day. All the kids in his house work for him. He was the one who taught me how to juggle in front of tourists’ cars. Sometimes I can get five American dollars although I have to give four of them to him. We wash car windows. We sell finger puppets. Sometimes we get work collecting tickets on the buses. Sebastian knows all the drivers and that’s how he’ll get us out tomorrow.”

Pedro fell silent.

“There’s one thing you haven’t told me,” Matt said. “Did you know the river was going to flood?”

“How would I know that?”

“You didn’t get any warning… perhaps the day before?”

“No.”

“When my parents were killed, I knew it was going to happen. I saw it in a dream.”

“I never had dreams like that. Forget it, Matteo. I’m not like you. I don’t have any special powers if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not special… except that I have these stupid dreams in which I see you. And they don’t help much either.”

“You’re coming with me to Ica,” Matt said.

Pedro frowned “I don’t want to. But Sebastian says I can’t stay with him any more. It’s too dangerous. And anyway…” He relaxed a little and the frown left his face. “Now that we’ve found each other, I don’t see how I can walk away… even if I want to. So – yes. I’m coming along.”

“Thank you,” Matt said.

It was all the help he needed. He was no longer alone.

He stood up and at that very instant it was as if the entire dream world had been cut in half by a vast, white guillotine. He felt no pain. There wasn’t even any sense of shock. But suddenly the sea and the island had gone and he was sitting on the floor in the house in Poison Town and he saw that he had just woken up.

He looked across at Pedro, still fast asleep underneath the blanket. The Peruvian boy hadn’t changed but now Matt saw him differently. He knew everything about him. They could have been friends throughout their entire lives. In a way, Matt reflected, they had been exactly that.

Outside, dawn was breaking: the first ribbons of pink light bleeding through the sky, signalling the start of another day.

Midnight in London.

Susan Ashwood was sitting in the spacious living room of a penthouse flat, high above Park Lane. Floor to ceiling windows provided a panoramic view over Hyde Park, an area of dense black, with the lights of Knightsbridge twinkling far behind. She had her back to it. Sometimes she was able to sense the appearance of a city from the way its sounds travelled, from the feel of the breeze against her face, from the smell of the night air. She knew beauty. But tonight all her attention was focused on the woman who owned the penthouse and who was sitting opposite her now.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Susan Ashwood said.

“There’s no need to thank me,” Nathalie Johnson replied.

The American woman was sitting on a sofa with her legs tucked up under her, holding a glass of white wine. Her reddish hair was tied back and she was wearing a simple black dress. She had been about to go to bed when the blind medium had called. This was her home when she was in London. She had a similar apartment overlooking the Hudson River in New York.

“I didn’t know who else to come to.”

“You don’t need to worry, Susan. My door’s always open to you.”

Nathalie Johnson had been a member of the Nexus for eleven years. In that time, she had built up a huge business empire selling low-cost computer hardware, mainly to schools and youth clubs. The newspapers called her the female Bill Gates. She found the description sexist and irrelevant.

“Matthew Freeman is still lost,” Susan Ashwood continued. “But it’s now been confirmed that there was a gun fight near Jorge Chavez Airport. Richard Cole was kidnapped but Matt managed to get away. As far as we know, he hasn’t been seen since.”

“We sent him to Peru because we wanted something to happen,” the American woman said. “It seems that we got more than we bargained for.”

“None of us could have expected this.”

“What shall we do?”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m here. I was hoping you might be able to help. You have business interests in South America…”

“I could talk to Diego Salamanda if you like.”

“You said you’d had dealings with him.”

“I’ve never met him but we’ve spoken often on the telephone.” Nathalie Johnson paused. “But I think we should be careful. Salamanda is our number one suspect. It seems more than likely that he’s the one who’s trying to open the gate.”

“Fabian is trying to find Matthew,” Susan Ashwood continued. “He’s worried sick about him and blames himself for not driving personally to the airport. He’s already spoken to the police but he’s not sure he can trust them. He’s suggested an advertising campaign in the national press.”

“Like, ‘Have you seen this boy?’” The idea seemed to amuse Nathalie.

“Someone must know where he is. An English teenager on his own in Peru…”

“Assuming, of course, he’s still alive.” The American put down her wine glass. “I’ll pay for advertisements if that’s what you want,” she said. “My New York office can organize it.”

“There’s something else…” The blind woman paused, trying to collect her thoughts. Her face was grim. “I’ve been thinking about what happened,” she went on. “First there was the business with William Morton. We were the only ones who knew where he was going to be and he told us only twenty-four hours before Matthew met him. But someone still managed to follow him to St Meredith’s. They killed him and took the diary.