Evil Star

in. It was still only six o'clock in the morning.
    There was nobody to witness what happened next.
    The senior policeman — the one who called himself Captain Rodriguez — punched him. Matt barely had time to see the huge fist Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star swing in an arc toward him before it had made contact with his stomach, throwing him off his feet. If he'd eaten anything in the past twelve hours, he would have been sick. As it was, he felt the breath explode out of him as he crashed backward onto the floor. Darkness shim-mered in front of his eyes as he hovered at the edge of consciousness and he had to fight with all his strength sim-ply to breathe again. He felt the cold marble against his cheek. He needed it. It helped fight the dark away.
    "You are lying to me," Rodriguez said, and Matt knew that he was in more trouble than he could begin to imag-ine. The policeman knew everything. He had been waiting for Matt at the hotel. Perhaps he had been there all night. “You think, perhaps, that I am an idiot?
    You think that the police officers of Peru are not worthy of your respect?"
    "No ..." Matt tried to speak, but he still hadn't caught his breath and he was in too much pain. He couldn't believe what had just happened. There was the taste of nausea in his mouth. He forced himself to go on. "I want. . ." he began. He was a British citizen. It didn't matter what he'd done. They couldn't treat him like this.
    Captain Rodriguez swung a foot almost lazily; Matt yelled out as it came into contact with his ribs. A second wave of pain exploded through his body. For a few seconds, the hotel went red and he wondered if they were going to kill him, here and now, in this upmarket hotel.
    "What do you want?" Rodriguez taunted him, imitating his voice.
    “You want to confess? I think that would be a good idea, my friend.
    I think you should tell me who you really are and why you have come here. I think you should tell me now!"
    He lashed out again. Matt saw the boot coming and was able to ride Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star with it, rolling over and over across the marble floor. The other policemen laughed.
    Rodriguez walked over to him, one slow step at a time.
    “You should not have come here, my friend," he crowed.
    "I. . . haven't. . . done .. . anything ... wrong."
    “You have no papers. You have no nationality. You have entered this country illegally." Rodriguez reached down and grabbed Matt's hair. He tugged it so hard that Matt cried out. He could feel the tears being squeezed out of his eyes. "Maybe you are a terrorist. Yes. You are young, it is true. But there are others who are younger. Are you pre-pared to tell me the truth?"
    Matt nodded. What else could he do? He would tell this man everything.
    "Where is Richard Cole?" Rodriguez asked.
    So the charade was over. The policeman knew who they were. He had known them from the start.
    "Where is he?" Rodriguez pulled even harder.
    "I don't know!" Matt screamed. He was sure the hair was going to be torn out of his skull. There was blood trick-ling from his nose and down the corner of his mouth. "He said he'd meet me here! I don't know where he went." It was a lie — but it didn't matter. He just had to say anything to stop the pain.
    He heard the sound of a bell, and the elevator doors opened. A businessman had appeared, on his way to an early meeting. He stepped out of the elevator and saw the four policemen, the boy lying on the floor between them. Nobody said anything. The businessman blinked and dis-appeared back into the elevator. Matt Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star could imagine that he wouldn't even draw breath until he was back in his room.
    But at least Captain Rodriguez had let go of his hair. Matt lay where he was, sprawled out on the floor like one of those drawings the police make after there's been a mur-der. He wondered if some of his ribs had been broken. His entire body was in pain.
    Rodriguez dropped down next to him and cupped a hand under his cheek. For a moment he could have been a father, consoling an injured son, but every word he spoke dripped with venom and hate.
    "You are a very foolish child," he muttered. “You have come, uninvited, to my country and nobody can help you. Because, you see, you are 'Paul Carter.' You do not exist. Nobody knows that you are here and nobody will know when you disappear. For that is what will happen to you, my friend. We have places here that nobody