Evil Star

llamas?"
    "We're in the middle of an airport, Richard."
    "Well. . . something." Richard closed his eyes tiredly.
    Alberto put the car into gear and they moved off.
    Matt gazed out the window. After the long journey, the hours spent Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star in the air, it was difficult to believe that he had arrived. He was in South America! Not just a foreign coun-try but a whole new continent. A different world.
    They drove past some sort of naval base — the airport had been close to the sea — and joined a six-lane motor-way, somehow blending in with about a thousand other vehicles, rushing along on all sides. Brightly colored buses, just big enough for twenty passengers but carrying twice as many, rumbled past. Toyota vans, also crammed with peo-ple, swerved in and out of the traffic, horns blaring. On each side of the road there was a wide strip of wasteland, rubble strewn with old tires, oil drums, and garbage. Broken walls covered with graffiti dotted the way, along with ancient watchtowers, some of them sprouting the red-and-white Peruvian flag. To Matt, it seemed as if a war had been fought here, but a very long time ago, and the people were still clearing up the mess.
    Somehow the tangle of dust, graffiti, traffic, and concrete managed to tumble together into something vaguely resem-bling a city. As they drew closer to the edge of Lima, Matt saw a row of modern office buildings, a garage with its name — repsol — flashing in neon, a few shops still open, with people lolling around outside.
    Signs of everyday life. Green-and-red taxi bikes buzzed past them, their own horns blasting out angry little tunes. Billboards carrying adver-tisements for computers and mobile phones sprung up, blocking out the view. And then they turned off and came back once again to the sea, gray and uninviting, breaking against sand that seemed to have been mixed with cement, forming a beach that was barely more attractive than a building site.
    "How far is it to Fabian's house?" Richard asked.
    The driver looked up nervously, meeting Richard's eyes in the Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star mirror. "We don't go to the house," he said.
    "Why not?"
    "We go to the Hotel Europa in Miraflores. Is not far. Mr. Fabian meets you there."
    Richard glanced at Matt. He was puzzled by the change of plan.
    Nobody had said anything about a hotel.
    They stopped at a traffic light, and here the noise was worse than ever. All around them, drivers were leaning on their horns, furious at being kept waiting. There was the crunch of buckled metal, a van colliding with the back of a car. The shrill scream of a whistle as a policeman in a dark green uniform tried to take control. The jangle of a boom box on the back of a motorbike. A figure stepped in front of the car. It was a boy, about his own age, dressed in filthy jeans and a T-shirt, juggling with three balls. He seemed to be enjoying himself, sending the balls spinning in a circle over his head. He performed for a few seconds, then bowed and held out a cupped hand, begging for money. The driver shook his head and at once the boy was transformed, his face contorted with anger. He swore briefly and spat at the window. The lights changed and they moved off again. Matt was relieved. He had never been anywhere like this before. What had he gotten himself into?
    Now they were driving down a quieter, more residen-tial street, moving away from the sea. Matt got the feeling they were getting close to the hotel.
    "What time is it?" he asked Richard.
    "I don't know." Richard turned his wrist to look at his watch. Matt realized he had just nodded off. Both of them were half asleep, half awake, caught somewhere between the two. "My watch is still on Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star English time. But right now it's ..."
    He never finished the sentence.
    The car stopped abrupdy. Both Matt and Richard were thrown forward. The driver rapped out something guttural in Spanish. Matt saw what had happened. A blue van had driven out of a side street at full speed, blocking the way ahead. At first, he thought it was just an accident, but then he saw the doors of the van open. Four men piled out and began to run toward them — and at that moment he knew there was nothing accidental about it. They had driven into some sort of trap. These people had been waiting for them.
    Alberto knew it, too. With a sense of unreality, Matt saw the driver reach into the glove