Evil Star

kidnapped by an unknown enemy. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know how to get to where he was sup-posed to be. It was night. And he was on his own.
    So what did he do now?

    Chapter 8 Hotel Europa
    Matt hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until he began to wake up again. He groaned quietly and curled up, not wanting to return to full consciousness. He wasn't ready to face reality quite yet. He was utterly drained. His entire body felt as if it had been hollowed out.
    Maybe it was the jet lag. More likely it was the shock of what had hap-pened. His arms and shoulders were aching and his mouth was dry. What had woken him up? Oh, yes — a hand in his jacket pocket. Just to add to his troubles, he was being robbed.
    Matt opened his eyes and saw a dark-haired boy leaning over him.
    At the same time, the boy's own eyes widened in alarm. Matt cried out and pushed the boy away. The boy had been crouching on his heels. He lost his balance and fell over backward. Matt sprang to his feet.
    "Get off me!" he shouted. "Who are you? Leave me alone!"
    The boy said nothing. Of course, it was unlikely that he spoke a word of English. Matt looked down at him and, even after everything that had happened, with all the confusion in his mind, he thought he knew him. It seemed to Matt that they had met long ago, but then he remembered. In the car, on the way from the airport. The boy who had been juggling at the traffic lights and who had sworn at Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star them.
    "No hacia cualquier cosa. Era el intentar justo ayudarte, " the boy said.
    Matt got the general sense of the words, the protesta-tion of innocence, but he didn't believe the boy. It was there in his eyes —
    deep brown and suspicious — and in the way he held himself like a cornered animal, as if he were going to lash out at any moment. The boy was all bone. If Matt grabbed hold of his arm, he was fairly sure his thumbs and fingers would meet. He was wearing a yellow T-shirt that advertised a drink called Inca Cola, but the words had faded and the fabric had worn away into holes. His jeans were disgusting, tied with a piece of rope around the waist. He was wearing sandals made out of black rub-ber. Otherwise, his feet were bare.
    The boy got to his feet and brushed himself down, as if the action could remove months of accumulated dirt. Then he looked balefully at Matt.
    "No he tornado cualquier cosa. " He showed his empty hands to make the point. He hadn't taken anything.
    Matt felt in his pockets. He'd had ten pounds when he came from England, and fortunately he had kept it in his trousers. It was still there. His passport was still in his jacket. That was something, anyway. The boy was looking at him with injured pride, as if to say
    How can you possibly mistrust me? But Matt was sure that if he'd slept for another thirty seconds, he would have woken up with nothing.
    He looked around him. He had been sitting, slumped against a low, brick wall underneath a tattered poster advertising mobile phones.
    The wasteland that he had crossed was in front of him with a row of Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star partly built houses on the other side. All the buildings looked as if they had been cut in half with a knife. Wires and metal poles sprouted out where the roofs should have been. It was still dark, the area lit by ugly arc lamps curving high above on concrete posts. But the first gray fingers of the morning light were already creeping through the sky. Matt glanced at his watch. It wasn't there. The boy shuffled uneasily.
    "I don't suppose you've got the time?" he asked.
    The boy held out his hand. Matt's watch was on his wrist.
    It was five o'clock in the morning.
    Matt didn't even try to take the watch back. He was a little surprised that the boy hadn't run off and abandoned him. Perhaps he was curious. A foreign tourist in the mid-dle of the city. And one who was about own age. Perhaps he could see a chance to make more money. Well, it was pos-sible that he might be useful — even if he was a thief. After all, he was Peruvian. He knew the city.
    It was time to think.
    Matt had to get back in contact with the Nexus . . . and in particular with Fabian, who must be searching for him even now. The trouble was, nobody had counted on Rich-ard and Matt being separated.
    Richard had money and credit cards. He had phone numbers to reach Fabian day or night. But he hadn't shared them with Matt.
    Apart from the ten pounds,