Evil Star

and out of the main square, the money changers in their bright green jackets, chasing the tourists who were taking pictures of all this with cameras that must have cost more than most of the local people would earn in a year.
    Sebastian had walked with them to the main square. He bought them some food — shish kebabs and rice — and sat on the curb with them as they ate.
    "I don't like these provincial towns," he said. "Lima may be a stink hole . . . but at least you know where you are. I never know what country people are thinking. Maybe they're not thinking anything.
    They're just indios." He used the abusive term for native Indians.
    "They've got nothing in their heads."
    "What do we do now?" Matt asked.
    "What do we do now? I'll tell you what I do now, Matteo."
    Sebastian had lit another cigar. It occurred to Matt that he had hardly ever seen him without one in his mouth. "I go on to Ayacucho. If you make it there alive, come to the main square. I'll have people looking out for you. They'll bring you to me."
    "Aren't you going to help us get into the hacienda?"
    Sebastian laughed unpleasantly. "I've helped you enough already.
    And besides, I enjoy living too much. I'll show you where it is. After that, you're on your own."
    After they had finished, he walked with them over a river and on to the edge of the town. He talked to Pedro as they went. He seemed to be giving him advice. Gradually the houses fell away behind them until they came to a dirt track, leading off from the main road.
    "The hacienda is five miles down this way," he said. "I hope you'll Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star find your friend there, Matteo — but I've already told you, I doubt it.
    Maybe you and I will meet again in Ayacucho. I also doubt that. But I hope so."
    "I thought you didn't like me," Matt said.
    "Pedro tells me that maybe I'm wrong about you, that you're not the same as other rich kids in the west who have everything and never think about people like Pedro and me." He shrugged. "Anyway, you are an enemy of the police, and that is enough to make you my friend."
    He reached into his pocket and took out a cloth bag.
    "I have some money for you. It's a hundred soles. That's a lot.. .
    almost twenty pounds in your currency. And before you thank me, it's Pedro's. He was the one who stole it — not me. Maybe it'll help keep the two of you alive."
    Pedro said something in Spanish. Sebastian went over to him and spoke at length. When he had finished talking, he reached out and tousled the boy's hair. Suddenly he was looking sad.
    "I had a son once," he said. He shook his head. “You know how to find me."
    He turned and walked away.
    Matt glanced at Pedro, who nodded. They still couldn't talk to each other, but they seemed to understand each other more and more.
    Together they set off.
    The track that Sebastian had showed them ran through agricultural land. Some of the fields were planted with maize, beetroot, and asparagus while others held cattle, chewing at the rough, spiky grass. Following Sebastian's advice, the two boys kept to the very Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star edge of the track, ready to drop out of sight if any cars appeared.
    Once, an open-backed truck came rattling past and they threw themselves under a low shrub and waited until it had disappeared, kicking up clouds of dust. The afternoon was swelteringly hot. Pedro had fished two plastic bottles out of a bin and filled them with water from a tap, but Matt doubted it would be enough. He could feel his bottle leaking in his pants pocket. He was tempted to drink it all now.
    As soon as the truck was out of sight, they stood up and trudged on in silence. Matt would have liked to talk — there was still so much he didn't understand — and it seemed crazy to him that they would be able to communicate only when they were asleep. They were two of the five. He won-dered what languages the others spoke. The two boys and the girl that he had seen on the beach had been white and fair-haired but they could be Russian, Scandinavian — or even Martian, for all he knew. And what happened when they did finally meet? Was that the end of the adventure or the beginning of something worse?
    So many questions, but Matt could only walk on in silence, feeling the sun as it beat down on his shoulders. He still hadn't gotten used to his own smell, to the unfamiliar shape of his hair, and the dye, dark and sticky all over his skin. His clothes no longer