Evil Star

of puzzlement and disbelief. The mention of Salamanda was the first thing to provoke any real reaction. His eyes nar-rowed and he allowed a trickle of cigar smoke to escape from the corner of his mouth.
    "Salamanda!" he exclaimed. "Do you know who he is?"
    "Some sort of businessman."
    "One of the richest men in South America. Certainly the richest man in Peru. They say he has more money than the rest of the population put together, with his mobile phones and his newspapers and his satellites in outer space." Sebastian rapped a few words in Spanish at Pedro, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the bed. Pedro shrugged. Then Sebastian turned back to Matt. "If I was going to have an enemy, he is not the man I would choose."
    "I think he chose me . . . not the other way round," Matt said. Then:
    "Where can I find him?"
    "Why do you want to?"
    "Because I think he must have been the one who kid-napped my friend. He knew we were coming. He got Richard first, and then he tried to get me."
    Sebastian raised the bottle to his lips and swallowed some more. The alcohol must have been strong. Matt could smell it from where he was standing. But Sebastian drank it as if it were water.
    "Salamanda News International is based here in Lima," he said.
    "They have offices all over Peru. What do you want to do? Do you Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star want to visit all of them? It doesn't mat-ter, because you won't find him there. He has his main research base near the town of Paracas.
    That's south of here. But he spends most of his time in a farm —
    what we call a hacienda — near lea. He is never seen in public. It is rumored that he is very ugly, that maybe he has three eyes or something wrong with his face. If you want to talk to Sehor Salamanda, you go to lea. I'm sure he will be delighted to see you."
    Matt ignored the sarcasm in Sebastian's voice. "Can you help me go there?" he asked.
    "No."
    "Then maybe I'm wasting my time, talking to you."
    "Is that what you believe?" Sebastian stared at Matt, now angry.
    "Well, let me give you some advice. Don't you worry about your time. Time is cheap here." He stubbed out the cigar. "I must leave you. There are things here I do not understand and there are people I must talk with. Maybe I will help you and maybe I won't. But right now, I would say you need food and you need sleep."
    "Can I sleep here?" Matt asked. He was too tired to eat.
    “You will be safe in this room. There are blankets. You can sleep on the floor. Not the bed, you understand? The bed is mine! Later today, we will talk again. And we will see what we can do."
    Sebastian said something to Pedro. Pedro nodded.
    The two of them left the building.

    • • •
    It was evening when Matt woke up. Without his watch, he had no Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star idea how long he had been asleep, and the jet lag didn't help. In England it could have been breakfast time, dinnertime, or whenever.
    It took him a couple of min-utes to work some life back into his muscles, which were cramped from lying on the hard floor. At the same dme, he tried to make sense of what had been happening. But that wasn't so easy. He was on his own, thousands of miles from home, stuck in a squalid hut in a town that was, even by name, poison. He was the guest of a man he didn't much like and a boy who had recently robbed him. The richest man in Peru wanted him dead, and it seemed that the police were all too happy to help him achieve that aim.
    It was all too much. Matt closed his eyes and groaned.
    And yet that was another strange thing. He was sud-denly aware that the pain in his head had gone. He sat up and ran a hand over his chest. His ribs and his stomach were unhurt. It was as if the beating he had received had never happened. Was this another instance of his powers? Had he in some way managed to cure himself? Matt stood up and stretched. He was starving. He wished now that he'd accepted the food he'd been offered. But apart from that, he had to admit he felt fine.
    Weird ...
    There was a movement at the door and Pedro appeared, carrying a steaming tin of food and a spoon. He handed them over. At the same time, his eyes never left Matt. He was examining him, searching for something.
    "Thank you," Matt said. He was feeling increasingly ill at ease.
    The tin contained some sort of stew. A lot of beans and very little meat. In normal circumstances, Matt might have sniffed it Horowitz, Anthony -