Evil Star

haphaz-ardly against the walls. They were open even at this dme of the night, and a few backpackers were wandering idly between them, examining the hats and the ponchos, the rugs, beads, and bags on sale. The great mass of the cathe-dral rose up behind them.
    The two boys didn't stop. They came to a second arch-way and burst out to find themselves in another street. But this time they were not alone.
    A very old Indian woman sat facing them, squatting on the pavement with a little pile of handmade jewelry. Her hair hung down in two long pigtails, and there was a baby, wrapped in a striped blanket, nestling against her chest. She was looking straight at them, and as they stood there, panting, wondering which way to go, she suddenly smiled, showing yellow teeth that were little more than stumps. At the same time, she pointed toward an alleyway that led off behind her.
    Matt wasn't sure what to do. The old woman was behav-ing as if she knew them. It was almost as if she had been sitting there all evening, waiting for them to come so she could point out the best way. Matt fought to get more air into his system and to keep the dizziness at bay.
    "Which way?" he shouted at Pedro.
    The old woman raised a finger to her lips. This was no time for a discussion. Once again, she pointed the way. Behind them, they heard shouting. The police had entered the marketplace.

    Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star
    "Gracias, senora," Pedro muttered. He had decided to believe her.
    The two of them ran up the alleyway, disappearing into the shadows that pushed in from both sides. Tattered post-ers hung on the walls, and wooden balconies jutted out over their heads. The street was cobbled, and Matt's rubber sandals were almost torn off his feet as he tried to run.
    But was it worth going on? Matt could hear sirens and whistles echoing all over the city. With a heavy heart he knew that he and Pedro were never going to get out of this, no matter how fast they ran. They were two rats in a maze. They could scurry round the streets and passageways of Cuzco until they were exhausted or they could find a building to hide in . . . but it would make no difference.
    It might take the police all night to find them, but they would do it in the end. Cuzco was surrounded by mountains. There was no way out.
    Somewhere, just out of sight, another car pulled up. Boots stamped down on concrete. A whistle blew. Even Pedro was beginning to slow down. Sweat was dripping down his face. It would all be over very soon.
    The alleyway led to another narrow street with a Tjunction at one end. Pedro started toward it, but almost at once a blue van came skidding to a halt and three police-men piled out. One of them shouted excitedly into a radio while the other two took out their guns and began heading toward them. Matt didn't have the strength to move. His heart was about to burst. He could only watch as the two men approached.
    And then it happened again.
    Another Indian appeared, stepping out of a doorway, pushing a heavy cart laden with food and drink. He was wearing white trousers Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star and a dark jacket but no shirt. Nor did he have any shoes. Long hair hung down, obscuring most of his face. He stopped in the road, completely block-ing it, and it seemed to Matt that he had acted quite deliberately. He had known they were coming and wanted to give them more time. The policeman began shouting. One of them was trying to push past. The Indian nodded and smiled at the two boys. With renewed strength, they set off the other way.
    Something was happening in Cuzco. Someone was trying to help them. First it had been the old woman, now it was the food seller.
    But who were they? How had they even known that he and Pedro were there? Matt wondered if he was imagining things. And no matter how many peo-ple tried to help them, he still couldn't see how they were going to get away.
    They turned another corner and suddenly Matt knew where they were. This was one of the most famous streets in the city. Just a few hours earlier, it had been filled with tourist groups and guides. Now it was completely empty, lit only by the glow reflecting from the sky. One side of the street was lined by old Inca walls, ten meters high. Matt recognized the huge stones, slotted so ingeniously together. Pedro was leaning against one of them, straining for breath.
    "Which way?" Matt asked.
    Pedro shrugged. Either he was too exhausted to talk or