Rat-Catcher

by Chris Ryan

  Alex looked ahead at the three running boys. They were beginning to stumble on the cobbles and one was clutching at his side. ‘One more corner,’ panted Alex, sprinting after Li.

  Li was right. When they rounded the next corner, the boys were waiting for them, lined up across the street, with Hex’s palmtop lying on the cobbles in front of them. Alex, Li, Hex and Amber came to a stop and stood there, panting, looking between the three boys and the little computer. Amber shifted uneasily. The boys looked strangely calm as they stood there. The expression in their eyes was flat and dangerous.

  Hex stared down at his precious palmtop, lying on the damp cobbles. His fingers keyed the air and he took a step forward. The thin boy with the rash also took a step forward and began to talk in Spanish.

  ‘What’s he saying, Amber?’ said Hex uneasily, looking longingly at his palmtop.

  Amber frowned. The Spanish this boy spoke was very different to the Spanish she had been listening to all term on the language-lab CDs. She listened hard, picking out the few words she recognized. ‘I think he’s telling you that if you try to pick up that palmtop, you’ll regret it,’ she said.

  Hex scowled. ‘Huh. What can they do? It’s four against three and none of them looks very strong. I’m going to get it.’

  Hex stepped forward again and the three boys tensed but did not move. Slowly he bent down and closed his hand around the little computer. There was a metallic snick and suddenly three wickedly sharp flick knives were glinting in the hands of the street kids.

  EIGHT

  The leader raised his hand, preparing to stab Hex in the back of the neck, but Li was too quick for him. Before Amber could even gather breath to scream, Li was flying over Hex’s bent back with one leg stuck stiffly out in front of her. The heel of her shoe slammed solidly into the raised arm of the street kid. He yelled in pain as the knife flew from his hand and skittered across the cobbles.

  Amber darted in, picked up the knife and threw it up onto a nearby balcony before the street kid could reach it. Meanwhile Li landed, rolled and came up again in one fluid motion. She gave an explosive yell as she twisted on the spot, bringing her leg round and ramming her foot into the belly of the second boy. He doubled over, dropping his knife and Li kicked it out of reach. Then, quick as a flash, the leader snatched the third boy’s knife and lunged for Li.

  ‘Look out, Li!’ shouted Alex, but he was too late. The boy had grabbed Li from behind. He was holding her around the throat with one arm. The other hand held the sharp flick knife half a centimetre from her eye. Alex’s hand jumped to his own knife, in the leather sheath at his belt, then he thought again. There were too many knives flying about as it was.

  For a few shocked seconds everyone was still, then the boy spoke.

  Amber swallowed and started to translate in a trembling voice. ‘He says don’t move or—’

  ‘I can guess,’ interrupted Li calmly. ‘Just do as he says.’

  The boy barked an order and the third street kid walked over to Hex and took the palmtop from his hand, before going to help the second boy, who was still curled up on the cobbles, clutching his stomach. Li waited until she felt the boy behind her shift slightly. The pressure of his arm around her neck loosened a tiny amount. That was all she needed.

  She snapped her head back, butting him in the nose. The boy gasped and the arm around her neck went slack. She stepped smartly sideways, at the same time snapping her arm up to knock the knife from his other hand. Before he knew what was happening, she had grabbed him and thrown him over her outstretched leg. He landed on his back and, before he could move, Li grabbed his arm and put him into a wrist lock. Finally she fell to her knees on top of him, with one knee digging into his neck and the other into his lower ribs.

  The boy lay beneath Li with all the wind knocked out of him and blood pouring from his nose. Amber, Alex and Hex turned to face the other two street kids. Hurriedly the boy holding the palmtop laid it on the ground, then, with one hand raised in a universal gesture of surrender, he pulled the third boy to his feet and stumbled away.

  ‘Li! Are you all right?’ asked Amber as Hex retrieved his palmtop and slipped it back into his jacket.

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘How on earth did you do that?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Easy-peasy,’ grinned Li. ‘So. What do we do? Call the police?’

  ‘We can’t do that,’ said Alex. ‘We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. I think we’d better just let him go. He looks like he won’t give us any more trouble.’

  Li shrugged, released the wrist lock and removed her knees from his chest. The boy staggered to his feet, cursing and spitting. He looked at them all with eyes full of hate and growled a few words of Spanish. They looked to Amber for an explanation.

  ‘He said his name is Leo and he won’t forget us. I don’t think he meant it kindly.’

  The boy glared at them one last time, then staggered off.

  ‘That went well,’ said Hex sarcastically. ‘So much for making contact with the street kids. It looks as though it’s all down to Paulo.’

  They wandered tiredly through the streets of the Old Town and eventually found their way back to their hotel. The hotel was a comfortable, colonial-style building on the edge of the Old Town, overlooking a park. The light above the door glowed a welcome as they stumbled towards it.

  ‘I need food,’ said Amber. ‘And a bath. A nice, hot—’

  She came to a halt as a street boy stepped from the shadows. He was one of the older street kids and he stood as tall as Amber. He lifted his arm towards them and they all tensed, waiting for the knife to appear from his sleeve, but he simply held out his hand, palm upwards. His eyes were dull and watery, his hair hung in greasy tendrils and he smelled very bad. He smiled, exposing a mouthful of yellow, rotting teeth. ‘Por favor,’ he whined. ‘For favor . . .’

  Alex sighed. He had seen more than enough of the seedy side of Quito for one night. He pulled a handful of coins from his pocket and dropped them into the boy’s hand as he walked towards the front door of the hotel. The boy ducked his head in a grateful bow. ‘Thanks, Alex,’ he said.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ said Alex absently, then he froze with his hand on the door. Slowly he turned round and stared at the street kid. The boy grinned back, giving him a second view of those awful teeth.

  ‘Paulo?’ said Alex.

  Paulo nodded, smiling proudly.

  ‘That’s unbelievable!’

  Li rushed forward to hug Paulo, then changed her mind. He smelled too bad. ‘I think we fooled them,’ said Paulo, speaking into a St Christopher medal strung around his neck. The side door of a white van parked nearby slid open and Amber’s uncle stepped out with a huge grin on his face.

  A few minutes later they were all in the back of the white van. Inside, there were seats for everyone. One side of the van had shelves fitted to it, which held various pieces of electronic equipment. Paulo was sitting by himself at one end of the van. The others were crowded together at the other end, trying not to breathe too deeply.

  ‘What is that smell?’ demanded Li.

  ‘You do not want to know,’ smiled Paulo. ‘Could you hear me?’ he asked, holding up the St Christopher medal and turning to Amber’s uncle.

  ‘Every word,’ said John Middleton, pointing to the receiver on the shelf. ‘But you don’t need to hold the medal when you talk. It’ll pick up your voice very well from under your shirt there.’

  ‘There’s a tracker device too,’ said Paulo to the others. He pointed to his belt buckle, then smiled at Amber’s uncle. ‘Show them how it works.’

  John Middleton flipped up the lid of a small black box to reveal a screen about the size of a piece of A4 paper. He extended a telescopic aerial from the back of the box and flicked on the screen. A loud electronic beep filled the van and a grid appeared on the screen, with compass bearings and a distance scale in the top corner. A bright green blip was flashing right in the centre of the grid.

&n
bsp; ‘That’s me,’ said Paulo proudly.

  ‘You two have been busy,’ said Amber, looking around the van. ‘How did you get all this together so fast?’

  ‘I told you,’ said John Middleton. ‘I have a friend in Quito and—’

  ‘He owes you one,’ finished Amber.

  John Middleton gave Paulo a serious look. ‘Are you ready?’

  Paulo nodded.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Li. ‘You’re not going out there tonight, are you?’

  Paulo shrugged. ‘It is not as though I have any bags to pack,’ he said.

  ‘Now, remember what we talked about,’ said John Middleton.

  ‘I remember,’ said Paulo. ‘If the adoption men exist – if they appear – I am not to go near them.’

  ‘Not under any circumstances,’ insisted John Middleton. ‘If they’re working for the drugs baron, that means they’re killers, whatever the street kids think of them. Understand? Stay back until we can pull you out of there. Then we can follow them in the van.’

  ‘Listen, Paulo,’ said Alex urgently. ‘There’s a kid out there called Leo. If you come across him, be very careful. He’s a nasty piece of work – and he carries a knife.’

  ‘I will be careful,’ said Paulo, reaching for the door of the van.

  ‘Wait,’ said Li. She reached out and hugged him fiercely around the neck, ignoring the ripe smell that was coming off him. ‘You take care,’ she said.

  ‘He won’t be completely on his own, remember,’ said Hex. ‘We’ll be trailing him in the van.’

  Reluctantly, Li let go of Paulo’s neck. ‘But – what are you going to do?’ she asked. ‘Where are you going to go?’

  Paulo pulled a bunch of red roses from under the seat. ‘I thought I might sell a few flowers,’ he said.

  NINE

  Paulo frowned down at the roses in his hand. He could not understand it. He had been standing at this intersection for two hours and he had not sold a single flower. It had been impossible to talk to any of the other street kids. They were too busy darting back and forth between the cars. They all seemed to be having a lot more luck than he was. One little girl in particular had managed to sell at least a dozen roses. They seemed a decent enough bunch of kids, though, and Paulo had decided to wait until they packed up for the night, then follow them to where they slept.

  Paulo yawned hugely and shifted his feet. He looked down the street, checking that the white van was still parked on the corner, two blocks away. He was cold and tired and his legs ached from standing so long. The constant roar of traffic was giving him a headache and the thick fog of exhaust fumes that hung over the intersection was making his eyes and throat sting, but the little girl in the oversized woollen poncho still seemed as fresh as a daisy. Paulo stared at her, wondering how she did it. She couldn’t have been more than six years old.

  The girl turned her head and gazed at Paulo with big brown eyes. She reminded him of his youngest sister. He smiled at her fondly, and she scowled horribly at him before darting out into the traffic again as the lights changed to red.

  Paulo dropped his roses. Quickly, he gathered them up again, then hurried to the nearest car before the lights changed back to green. He stepped up to the window and gave the driver his best smile. The man flinched and slammed down the door locks before roaring off. Paulo slouched back to the kerb with his shoulders slumped and the little girl marched up to him with one loose sandal flapping.

  ‘Hello,’ said Paulo.

  The little girl scowled. ‘Why did you smile at me?’

  ‘Because you remind me of my little sister,’ said Paulo.

  The little girl stared up at him and her big brown eyes softened. ‘And you remind me of—’ She stopped in mid-sentence, then recovered herself and looked him up and down disapprovingly. ‘You are too big,’ she said.

  ‘Pardon me?’ said Paulo.

  ‘You are too big to be selling flowers. The drivers think you are going to steal their cars.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Look at the rest of us!’ said the little girl.

  Paulo looked at all the other flower-sellers. It was true. There was not one child above ten years old. Paulo looked down at his flowers. It had seemed such a good way into the street kids’ community. Now he felt very foolish.

  ‘You are new,’ said the little girl.

  Paulo nodded miserably.

  ‘In from the country?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Paulo, hoping that was the right thing to say.

  ‘Thought so,’ said the girl. ‘There’s no work here, you know.’

  Paulo shrugged. ‘My name is Paulo,’ he said.

  The little girl sighed, then seemed to come to a decision. ‘And my name is Eliza,’ she said. ‘Come with me.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ called Paulo, hurrying after Eliza and checking over his shoulder to see that the white van was following him.

  ‘To get some food,’ said Eliza. ‘You look like you could do with a hot meal.’

  She led him through the streets to a small restaurant that was just closing up for the night. A man with a white chef’s apron tied around his big belly waved through the window at Eliza, then came to the door, carrying a bowl full of chicken, rice and vegetables.

  ‘There you go, little one. Bring the bowl back when you’re finished.’

  ‘Thank you, Oscar,’ said Eliza, solemnly accepting the food. ‘This is my friend Paulo.’

  Oscar grunted and looked suspiciously at Paulo. ‘I suppose you want some for him too?’ he said.

  A few minutes later they were sitting on the kerb opposite the restaurant with a bowl of leftovers each. The chicken was dry and the vegetables overcooked, but Eliza tucked into the food as though it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. As she ate, she lectured Paulo with her mouth full, explaining some of the rules of street life.

  ‘Never try to beg at the big fast-food places,’ she said. ‘They have armed security guards. Keep away from them. The police too. They don’t like us. Oh, and never sleep alone. It’s too dangerous.’

  Eliza scraped her bowl clean and peered at Paulo’s half-finished portion. ‘Do you want that?’

  Wordlessly, he handed it over. Eliza grabbed the bowl, then froze with the spoon halfway to her mouth as a figure stopped in front of her, blocking out the soft light from the restaurant window.

  ‘Leo!’ she cried, gazing up at the thin, dark-haired boy towering over her.

  Leo? Paulo looked up sharply. This must be the boy Alex had warned him against. Paulo looked him up and down, trying to see whether he was carrying a knife.

  Leo drew his foot back and kicked Eliza on the shin. She doubled over in pain, dropping the bowl of food in the dust.

  ‘Hey!’ said Paulo, leaping to his feet. Leo ignored him, but Eliza looked up, her brown eyes brimming with tears of pain, and shook her head in warning.

  Paulo clenched his fists and fumed silently.

  ‘I’ve been waiting,’ growled Leo, glaring down at Eliza.

  ‘I – I was coming to see you, as soon as I had my food—’

  ‘Where is it?’ interrupted Leo.

  Eliza jumped up, opened the drawstring purse around her neck and pulled out the few dollars she had managed to earn that night. She handed them to Leo, who sniffed, then peeled off one dollar bill and handed it back to Eliza.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said, turning away. ‘Don’t be late.’

  Paulo scowled. Knife or not, he was not going to let this piece of dirt walk off with Eliza’s money. She had stood at those traffic lights for hours to earn those few dollars. She deserved to keep them. Paulo grabbed Leo from behind, wrapping his big arms around him and pinning his arms to his sides. Leo twisted and kicked, but he was much thinner and smaller than Paulo. Paulo simply squeezed his arms tighter. He had very strong arms and Leo soon stopped struggling. ‘Give me the money,’ said Paulo.

  Leo wheezed and shook his head. Paulo increased the pressure and Leo’s hand shot out fro
m his side, waving the dollar bills frantically.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Paulo, reaching down with one big hand and grabbing the money. He let Leo go. Leo turned, quick as a snake, and pulled a knife on him.

  Paulo took a step back, pushing Eliza behind him. He was vaguely aware of the big white van driving up the street towards them and he cursed. He did not want his cover to be blown. He wanted to stay and make sure Eliza was safe. Quickly, he took a few more steps, pushing Eliza behind him until they were blocking the road. The white van came to a stop behind them. The headlights came on full and the horn sounded, loud and sudden in the quiet street. Leo hesitated, then slipped the knife behind his back as he shielded his eyes with his other hand.

  ‘The van wants to get past,’ said Paulo. ‘You need to move on.’

  Still Leo didn’t move. Then the door of the restaurant opened and Oscar stepped out with his meaty arms folded over his belly.

  ‘Are you going to stab me in front of witnesses?’ asked Paulo.

  The van horn sounded again. Leo scowled and made the knife disappear into his sleeve. ‘Later,’ he promised, then he ran off up the street.

  Paulo sagged with relief, then pulled Eliza to the side of the road and waved the big van on. John Middleton frowned through the windscreen at him until Paulo gave him a thumbs-up, then he idled away up the street and turned the corner.

  Paulo opened Eliza’s drawstring purse and pushed the money inside. Then he picked up the two bowls and took them over to Oscar. The big man nodded approvingly. ‘You can come to my door anytime,’ he said, looking from Paulo to Eliza. ‘Anytime.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ said Eliza, later that night.

  Paulo jerked awake. ‘What?’ he muttered.

  ‘You shouldn’t have challenged Leo. He won’t forget.’

  ‘Why do you give him all your money?’ asked Paulo.

  ‘Protection,’ said Eliza briefly. ‘At least, that’s what he calls it. See, he knows something about me . . .’

  Eliza hesitated, then rested her chin on her knees and stared out at the rain, trying to decide whether to say any more. Paulo looked out at the rain too, and waited patiently for her to make up her mind. They were settled for the night in one of Eliza’s favourite sleeping places, a covered walkway running along the back of one of Quito’s many churches. There were at least twenty other street kids lined up on the concrete walkway, wrapped in an assortment of blankets, plastic sacks and pieces of cardboard. More than half of them had plastic bags and bottles of glue or solvent by their sides. Paulo supposed sniffing glue helped to dull the cold and hunger. He was heartily glad to see that Eliza did not seem to use it. He suspected that those nightly bowls of dried-up chicken were more precious than Oscar could ever know – they were probably the only thing stopping Eliza from sniffing glue.