The Power of Five Oblivion

significance of what he was doing. He wouldn’t be coming back. Meanwhile, his uncle, Francesco Amati, was standing over him, watching both the boys anxiously.
    “We have no time,” he was saying. “The two of you should have already left.”
    The other members of the family – Giovanni’s grandfather, various aunts and cousins – were clustered together in the room next door, gazing through the open door, frightened and perplexed. Pedro understood what they were going through and knew, with a heavy heart, that it was all his fault. They hadn’t had much of a life here. Every day had been a struggle for them. But at least they had had each other. They had these rooms. They had been able to live together in relative safety. And then he had come into their lives and overnight everything had changed. Everything they had could soon be ripped away. Someone at the Castel Nuovo would work out that it was Giovanni who had passed the message to Scott. Putting two and two together, they would know that he must have helped Pedro escape. And then they would come and find him … and not just him. His family would suffer too.
    Giovanni had finished packing. He closed the case and Francesco immediately picked it up. “Angelo is waiting for you at the harbour,” he said, speaking in his own language. Angelo was the name of the brother with the boat. “He will take you up the coast. And when you get to Rome he will help you find Carla Rivera. She worked at the University of Rome with your grandfather and she has always been a friend to this family. She lives with her son and her daughter, close to the Vatican. She will know what to do.” He turned to Pedro and spoke in Spanish. “Giovanni will take care of you and you are less likely to be stopped, travelling together. You even look a little Italian. Remember, it is illegal to travel in Italy without an ID card. If you see any policemen or officials, you must try to avoid them. If you are stopped, do not try to run or they will shoot you.”
    “I’m sorry,” Pedro said, miserably. He knew the two words were useless. They didn’t begin to express what he felt.
    How could he have known about Scott? The two of them had only been apart for a week, but in that time Scott had changed to the extent that he was almost unrecognizable. He was Jamie’s brother. The two of them were twins. But something had happened that had ripped them apart and turned one of them into…
    No. Pedro still wouldn’t accept it. Scott had been hurt. He had been frightened. Any one of them might have chosen to do what he was doing now. Pedro simply refused to believe that Scott really had switched sides.
    So why was he in such a hurry to leave now? Why did he believe that armed soldiers might already be on their way to the house?
    Thinking of Scott reminded him of the money he had given him and he pulled it out of his pocket. “Here…” He offered it to Francesco. “You can have this.”
    “Where did you get it?” Francesco stared at the handful of banknotes.
    “Scott gave it to me.”
    “I don’t want it!” Francesco snapped out the words, then softened. “That’s a lot of money, Pedro. Several months’ salary.”
    “Then take it. Your family needs it.”
    Francesco stood for a moment, fighting with himself. Then he took the money, kept about half for himself and handed the rest back. “You and Gio will need money too,” he said. “Did you hear the name I told him? Carla Rivera. She is the woman you must look for in Rome.”
    “Papa … they’re here!”
    The voice came from the room next door. It was Isabella, the younger of the two girls, who had been standing at the window all this time, her face pressed against the glass. Francesco rushed in and looked over her shoulder. Outside, it was already dark, although night had not yet fallen. The sun had been obliterated by the smoke pouring out of Mount Vesuvius, thicker and blacker than ever. But even so, he could make out the uniformed men crossing the courtyard, heading for his front door. There were about twenty of them, masked and helmeted, carrying automatic weapons. Their feet were stamping in unison on the concrete.
    An old woman appeared from the side, a grandmother in a shawl and apron. She shouted at them in a high-pitched voice. What were they doing here? Why were they disturbing the neighbourhood? The soldiers ignored her. Somewhere, a baby cried. A dog began to bark.
    “You have to get out of here, now!”