“No. You’re wrong.” Pedro shook his head. “That’s not possible. That’s not Scott.”
“I am not wrong.” Francesco was deadly serious. He rested his fists on the table and spoke softly, as if he didn’t want the rest of his family to hear. “Listen to me, Pedro,” he said. “Giovanni works in the kitchen but sometimes he has to serve food in the dining hall. That was what he was telling me just now. He was there two nights ago. They had a banquet, a whole load of important people eating the best food and drinking fine wine. There was a man from America there, some sort of big shot. But he wasn’t at the head of the table. Do you know who was? It was Scott Tyler. Is that right? He was wearing black trousers and a black shirt. And they all raised their glasses to toast his health. That was when Giovanni heard his name.”
“No.” Pedro refused to believe it.
“Giovanni, whose father was a doctor and who should be at school, works fifteen hours a day in that place. He sweeps and he cleans and does everything he is told and they beat him for the slightest reason. You see his face? Maybe he’ll show you his back and you can see the whip marks. Two nights ago, he bowed in front of your friend, as he had been told to do, and took the dirty plate from him. And when he thought nobody was looking, he scraped the food that was left into his own mouth. But Scott saw him. Scott smiled. It amused him. He thought it was funny.”
“I have to see him,” Pedro said. “You don’t understand. They did things to him. They hurt him. But Scott isn’t like that. He isn’t what you think.”
“So you’re just going to walk back in and ask to meet him?”
Giovanni was glaring at him. And Pedro understood why he was angry. The Italian boy had risked everything to help him escape and had brought him back to his own family because he believed in him, and because he thought that in some way Pedro could help fight back against the people who ruled over the city. But Pedro was repaying him by calling him a liar. Everything he had done was being thrown back in his face.
Could he be wrong about Scott?
Could his friend have joined the other side?
Pedro sighed. He turned to Francesco. “I have to see Scott because there is nothing any of us can do without him,” he explained. It had been a long time since he had spoken his own language at such length. “Obviously I can’t go back into the castle but if he is free, as you say, perhaps he can come to me. I don’t want to put any of you in any danger but I cannot leave here without seeing him. He is one of the Five. You seem to know what that means. We can’t do anything without him.” He thought for a moment, then glanced at Giovanni. “Is there any way that Giovanni could pass him a message? Maybe there is somewhere in the city, or outside it, where the two of us could meet. Somewhere safe. I’d have to make sure that he was on his own, but whatever you may think, I know he wouldn’t hand me over to them. All I need is to talk to him for a few minutes. After that, I’ll go anywhere you want.”
Pedro had to wait while Francesco translated all this for Giovanni. The older man, Francesco’s father, cut in a few times and one of the women joined in too. It was clear that nobody around the table was happy with what Pedro had proposed. Finally Giovanni spoke. Once again, Pedro was impressed by how confident he was. Nobody interrupted until he had finished.
“Giovanni thinks he can do what you ask. Tomorrow they change all the sheets and it’s his job to carry them down to the laundry room. That means he will go into Scott’s bedroom. Do you understand that? To change the sheets for him, like a servant.” Francesco paused. “And you realize that if they find out that Giovanni is helping you, they will kill him. He has been in the Castel Nuovo for two years and he has seen many other servants die. One of them was found stealing food. He was taken out and shot.”
But you can’t just kill people like that, Pedro thought.
Instead he said, “I promise you. You can trust Scott. He’s playing a game. It’s not what it seems.” Francesco translated again. Giovanni nodded. Pedro was relieved. It had been agreed.
“We will have to think of somewhere safe for the meeting,” Francesco said. “The police are certain to be looking for you and that will make it doubly dangerous. I still wonder why we are doing this, why we are endangering ourselves for you.”
And suddenly the old man spoke. “He is one of the Five,” he said. The words were in Spanish. “Gio found him and brought him to us. He is our one hope.”
Francesco nodded but his face was grave. “Maybe you’re right, father,” he said. “So let us hope he does not let us down.”
TWENTY-ONE
They met in the afternoon, in the very heart of the city.
Francesco Amati had considered many possibilities for the meeting point – churches, shopping arcades, gardens, the Catacombs of San Gennaro, one of the jetties stretching out from the harbour front – but he had come to the conclusion that none of them was safe. The simple fact was that if Scott chose to betray Pedro, then there was nothing that any of them would be able to do. As soon as the place had been agreed, he could have five hundred men in the streets around any part of the city. The government still had helicopters and jeeps, even if the people didn’t. With a single command he could make sure Pedro was captured and that would be that.
The police were already busy. There had been house-to-house searches in Vomero, Santa Lucia – the southern area close to the sea – and in a dozen other areas of Naples. Hundreds of arrests had been made. At the same time, notices had gone up everywhere offering a reward of ten thousand lira, an unimaginable sum of money, to anyone who came forward with information leading to the arrest of a fifteen-year-old Peruvian boy, thin with black hair, on his own somewhere in the streets. For the last six hours, Pedro’s description had been blasted out on police loudspeakers all over the city and with it had come a stark message. Anyone found guilty of helping him would be shot – and their entire family with them.
Even travelling to the meeting place would be dangerous, and in the end that had given Pedro an idea. The police would be expecting him to leave Naples. He certainly had no reason to stay there. Already there were road blocks on all the main motorways. If he was still in the city, he would surely be hiding in the darkest corner he could find. The last place they would expect him to be was in the middle of a wide open space with no protection whatsoever – so as crazy as it sounded, that had to be the best place to meet. Francesco had quickly seen the logic of it and had suggested the Piazza Dante, a public square high up on the Via Toledo, once one of the busiest streets in Naples. It would also be an easy place for Scott to find. The meeting was set for four o’clock, next to the statue of the famous poet Dante Alighieri, which stood at the very centre.
It was an unpleasantly warm and close afternoon without a breath of wind. There seemed to be more smoke in the sky than ever. Francesco had explained to Pedro that it was all down to Vesuvius, the volcano that stood ten kilometres to the east. There had been a minor earthquake followed by an eruption three months before. Nobody had been killed but the volcano had been spewing out smoke and ash ever since, poisoning the atmosphere and filling the people with dread of worse to come. And yet, strangely, the inhabitants of Naples had got used to it now. Perhaps it was because they had other things to worry about. There hadn’t been a serious eruption for almost a hundred years and even without weather forecasters and meteorologists to give their assurances, everyone had decided that there wasn’t going to be another one any time soon.
Pedro stood in front of the statue, which had once been white but which now, like everything else, had a thin coating of grey. There were tall, handsome buildings all around him and arcades which were once filled with outdoor cafés and flower stalls but now contained only a few clusters of people, slumped on the concrete, sleeping out the heat of the day. A huge gateway rose up on one side and above it there was a clock, which had stopped permanently at eleven o’clock. The eleventh hour. It was somehow appropriate.
And there was Scott, moving towards him across the
paving stones, on his own, without a bodyguard. Even before he got close, Pedro could see that he had changed. He was healthier, stronger, more sure of himself – walking as if the square and the entire city belonged to him. His hair had been cut shorter and he was wearing new clothes – an expensive shirt, jeans and trainers. He saw Pedro and raised a hand in greeting, but there was little emotion on his face and he clearly wasn’t in any hurry. Almost at once, Pedro got the impression that something had gone badly wrong. The boy approaching him was nothing like the Scott he had known. He wondered if he should turn and run.
It was too late. Scott was here. There was nobody with him, no armed soldiers or police closing in on the square. Pedro relaxed a little. At least it seemed that he had come on his own.
“Hello, Pedro,” Scott said.
“Hello, Scott.”
“I was really surprised to get your note. I didn’t even know you could write. There’s a kid called Giovanni … I think that’s his name. He cleans my room and works in the kitchen. Was he the one who helped you escape?”
“No. I don’t know who you’re talking about.” Pedro hadn’t intended to lie but even as the words left his mouth, he realized that he didn’t trust Scott and wasn’t going to give anything away. He was already wishing that he had never come to this meeting. It wasn’t just that he had put himself in danger. If Scott really had guessed how Pedro had been helped to escape from the Castel Nuovo, the whole Amati family would be killed.
“I have to say, I was impressed. The whole place went completely crazy after they found you were gone. In the end they worked out you must have gone through the sewers. That must have been pretty gross … having that crap all over you. But I’ve got to hand it to you – I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Pedro wasn’t sure what to say. He knew that Scott wasn’t really complimenting him. He was mocking him.
“Are you OK, Scott?” he asked.
Scott raised his hands, showing off his new clothes. “You can see for yourself. When they dragged me out of the cell, I was expecting the worst. But in fact they’ve been pretty good to me. I can’t complain.” He shrugged. “They’re looking after me.”
“And what have you offered them in return?”
“What makes you think I’ve offered them anything?” Pedro didn’t answer so he went on. “That’s the trouble with you. That’s the trouble with all of you. From the very start, none of you have ever rated me. I was always the weak link, wasn’t I. You think I’d turn you in right now for a steak sandwich and a can of Coke. Is that what you think, Pedro? Do you think I’ve become one of them?”
Pedro gestured. “You have everything. I have nothing.”
“That’s because of the choice you’ve made.”
“And what choice have you made, Scott?”
“I’ve chosen to stop running around and stop being hurt. I never wanted any of this hero thing in the first place. You have no idea what sort of life I’ve had, Pedro, from the very start when I was found dumped in a seed box beside Lake Tahoe. Nobody ever wanted me. I was beaten up in the orphanage. My foster parents treated me like dirt. I spent two years in a crummy theatre in Reno doing tricks without even getting paid, and if I refused I got beaten up again. And why did this all happen to me? Because I was ‘one of the Five’. I’d been chosen. Lucky me!
“Except I was never really one of you, was I. You were all over my little brother … best buddies … but I got left out of the loop. I know why Matt wanted you to be my nursemaid when he went off to London. He didn’t trust me – just like you don’t trust me now.”
“I’m here,” Pedro said.
“But you’re looking over my shoulder. I can see you twitching, Stick Insect. You think the big bad policemen are on their way any minute. You can’t believe that I’d simply come out here on my own and meet you face-to-face.”
“Why did you?” Pedro asked.
“Because I wanted you to know how I felt. I wanted you to tell the others – if you ever get to see them again, which, frankly, I doubt. Or maybe you’ll see them in the dreamworld. Do you ever go to the dreamworld, Pedro? I’ve been there quite a few times but there’s nobody ever waiting for me. It seems they’ve decided to leave me on my own.”
“I can’t find them either.”
“Then maybe they’ve dumped both of us.” Scott stopped, suddenly tired. “We were never going to win this fight,” he said. “And it’s all over anyway. Have you worked it out yet? When we went through that door in Hong Kong, we somehow jumped ten years into the future. Half the world has gone. Look at this place! Naples was once a pretty cool city. It was where all the rich people went. Now it’s just a big refugee camp and soon it won’t even be that. When Vesuvius blows a second time, it’ll be wiped out … which brings me to the point of this little meeting.”
Scott glanced at his watch. It was new, a great slab of precision engineering on a silver strap. It would have cost him two thousand dollars if he’d had to pay for it. But that was the deal he had made. He would never have to pay for anything again.
“I have to get back,” he said. “But if you want, you can tag along. I can talk to my friends. Right now they want to do a lot of bad things to you but I think I can persuade them to take you with us. I can’t promise they’ll let you travel first class but at least they won’t kill you.”
Pedro shook his head. “I can’t come with you.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“I hoped you would come with me.”
Scott laughed briefly. “Back into the sewers? No way.”
“We can get out of Naples. We can find another door.”
“You just don’t get it, Pedro.” Scott was scowling now. “I’m finished with you. I’m finished with Matt. I’m finished with the Five. I just don’t want to know about it any more. I’m flying out of here with Jonas, in comfort, and the only reason I’ve come here is to give you the chance to come with me. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll take it.”
“Who is Jonas?”
“He’s a friend. He looks after me.”
“I thought I was your friend,” Pedro said.
Scott shook his head. “You’re wrong. You and I were thrown together but I never wanted that. I don’t care if I never see you again.”
Pedro gazed at Scott and knew that there was nothing more he could say. The meeting had been a waste of time and he had never felt more depressed. He had let Matt down. Far from healing him, he had allowed Scott to slip away. The boy who stood there, lording it over him in his new clothes, wasn’t anyone he recognized. How had it happened so quickly? Pedro wondered briefly if Scott had been drugged or if he had been hurt again. He wanted to forgive the other boy. But looking into his eyes, he could see the truth. Scott had caved in. He had allowed the Old Ones to reach inside him and this was the result.
Was there any way Pedro could still reach him? Did they have any connection left? He remembered the one person Scott had always been close to. “What about Jamie?” he said.
“What about him?”
“What do you want me to tell him?”
Scott shrugged. “Don’t tell him anything.”
“You know that without you, we can’t win.”
“We could never have won anyway. That’s the whole point.”
There was nothing more to say. Pedro turned round and would have walked away but Scott called out to him, stopping him. When Pedro turned back, the other boy was holding something out: a handful of money.
“I stole this for you,” Scott said. “I don’t know if it will help you or not, but you might as well have it.”
“Thank you.” There was no point in refusing it. Pedro reached out and took it and it was then that Scott noticed the filthy bandage that was still tied around his hand.
“What happened to your hand?” he asked.
“It was the guards. They broke one of my fingers.?
??
“When?” For the first time, Scott’s voice faltered and he seemed to have lost a little of his confidence.
“I don’t know. It was the same day you left.”
There was a brief silence. Then Scott spoke once more, the words pouring out rapidly. “Listen,” he said. “This was always going to happen. The world was going to end and there was nothing any of us could have done to stop it. Me joining them or me staying with you, it would never have made any difference.”
“Is that what you believe, Scott?” Pedro asked. His voice was tired.
“The Old Ones aren’t evil. It’s the world that’s evil.”
“And what are you?”
“I’m not anything. I just want to live.”
And that was it. This time it was Scott who turned and walked off. Pedro watched him as he continued across the square, finally disappearing underneath the archway with its clock. He looked down. He was still holding the banknotes in his broken hand.
He shoved them in his pocket, then turned and walked the other way.
TWENTY-TWO
Jonas Mortlake was waiting for Scott in one of the great state rooms of the Castel Nuovo. It was a huge space that had been specially furnished for him with soft, comfortable furniture, thick rugs and a grand piano – although he couldn’t play it. Masterpieces of classical and modern art hung on all four walls; works by Rembrandt, Leonardo da Vinci and Picasso, all of them taken from famous art galleries shortly before they had been looted or demolished. There was a fire blazing in the hearth and stretched out on the flagstones in front of it, the skin of a white tiger with its paws spread, its glass eyes staring and its teeth bared in one final roar before it became extinct.