Evil Star

said.
    “Yes?" The younger of the two receptionists sounded surprised, as if helping wasn't part of her job description.
    "My name is . . ." Matt hesitated. What name should he give? He decided not to bother. "I was meant to meet some-one here."
    "Who are you meeting, please?

    Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star
    "His name is Mr. Fabian."
    The receptionist tapped at the keyboard of a computer hidden just below the level of the desk. Her nails clacked against the keys. A moment later, she looked up. "I'm sorry. There is nobody of that name staying at the hotel."
    "He may not be staying here." Matt tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. "I arrived at the airport yester-day. I was on the way here to meet him. But I got delayed."
    "Where are you from?"
    "From England." Matt took out his passport and laid it on the desk.
    He hoped the cover, with its gold lettering, would impress the girl more than he could.
    The girl opened it and looked at the name underneath the photograph. "Paul Carter?" She glanced at him strangely, as if she had been expecting him. The other girl picked up a telephone and dialed a number. "Where is your brother?" she asked.
    "My brother?" Matt realized that they were talking about Richard.
    So he was right. They were expected. "I don't know. Where is Mr.
    Fabian?"
    "Mr. Fabian is not here."
    Next to her, the second girl had been connected. She spoke briefly in Spanish, then put the telephone down.
    A side door opened.
    Four men came out, walking purposefully toward him. There was something menacing about the way they moved. They could have been coming out of a bar, half drunk, looking for a fight. If there hadn't been police cars parked outside, Matt would have assumed Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star they were soldiers. They were wearing gray trousers tucked into their boots, dark green jackets that zipped up the front, and caps.
    Their leader was a huge, potbellied man with a heavy moustache and leathery, pockmarked skin. His hair was dark. Was there a single man in Peru who didn't have dark hair? He had the body of a wrestler. His hands were enormous. Everything about him seemed brutal and oversize. Matt had to remind himself that he was the one who needed the police, that he hadn't himself committed any crime.
    Or so he thought.
    “You are Paul Carter?" the policeman asked. Even from the four words, Matt could tell that he spoke good English. He had a heavy Peruvian accent, but there was a certain rhythm to the way he spoke.
    And despite his looks, his voice was soft and intelligent.
    “Yes."
    "My name is Captain Rodriguez. I have been waiting for you. Where is your friend .. ." He smiled unpleasantly. ".. . Robert Carter?"
    "He's not here."
    "Where is he?"
    Matt was becoming increasingly nervous. The policeman had referred to Richard as his friend, not as his brother — which was what he was supposed to be. And he had spoken the names as if he already knew they were false. Pedro had warned him not to go into the hotel, and Matt was begin-ning to wish he'd listened. Certainly, he hadn't been expecting this degree of hostility. The senior policeman was standing right in front of him. The other three had moved to surround him. They weren't treating him as if he needed help. It was more as if he were a suspect, a wanted criminal.
    "Did Mr. Fabian call you?" Matt asked.

    Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star
    "Fabian? Who is Fabian?"
    "Listen ... I was attacked last night. I need help."
    “Your name is Paul Carter?"
    “Yes." Even as Matt spoke the word, it died on his lips. The policeman knew who he was. He had only asked the question to test him. Slowly, he reached for the passport and turned it round, handling it as if it were something dirty. Then he picked it up and opened it. For a long moment, he squinted at the photograph at the back.
    "Where did you get this?" he asked.
    "It's my passport." Matt felt a nameless terror opening up beneath him.
    "This passport is a forgery."
    "No.. ."
    "Tell me your true name."
    "I just told you. It's Paul Carter. Didn't you hear what I said? I was attacked last night. There were men with guns. You have to ring Mr.
    Fabian. . . ."
    The girls at the reception desk were watching all this, their eyes filled with fear. One of the policemen rapped something at them and they hurried away, disappearing down a corridor. Another policeman went over to the main door and stood there, making sure nobody was looking