“What?”
“You obviously don’t like me very much. So why are you helping me?”
“You’re wrong. It’s not true that I don’t like you very much. I don’t like you at all. The police are crawling through the shanty towns, thanks to you. They are asking questions, making arrests. Everything is going to be difficult until they find you.”
“So why don’t you just hand me over? It’s obviously what you want to do.”
“It is exactly what I want to do. But it was Pedro who dissuaded me. He tells me that you are somehow important. He says that we have to help you because you are on our side.”
“How does he know that? He doesn’t know anything about me.”
“I know,” Sebastian said. “It’s very strange. Normally he would have taken your watch and your money and anything else that was of any value and then he would have left you where he found you. He wouldn’t have risked getting into trouble with the police. And he wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“So why did he?”
“Pedro can’t understand it. And nor can I. But he tells me that he’s seen you before.” Sebastian shook his head. “He says that he’s seen you in his dreams.”
DREAM TALK
There were eight people sleeping on the floor of Sebastian’s house. The youngest of them was only five, the oldest about seventeen. They had arrived, one at a time, as the light began to fade, some carrying shoeshine boxes, some with buckets and sponges, one with a basket of brightly coloured finger puppets. Sebastian must have already told them about Matt, as none of them seemed surprised to find him there and nobody tried to talk to him. They ate dinner – more beans and stew – then spent the rest of the evening playing a game that involved cups and little wooden dice. The room was lit by fat, white candles that Matt suspected had been stolen from a church. He watched for an hour, listening to the rattle of the dice in the cups as they were shaken and then tipped onto the floor. Pedro was playing with the others. He glanced at Matt once or twice and for the first time Matt could see a sort of curiosity in his eyes.
He’s seen you before… in his dreams.
Sebastian’s words echoed in his head. Matt examined the Peruvian boy as he concentrated on his game, furiously rattling his dice, throwing them down and shielding them with both hands, his eyes fixed on the other players. Of course Matt knew who he was. How many times had the two of them sat together in the reed boat with the wildcat’s head for its prow? He was annoyed with himself for not realizing it sooner.
He remembered the moment when he’d woken up to find Pedro stealing his watch. He had recognized him there and then. But in all the confusion of what was happening, he had thought back only as far as the traffic lights, on the way from the airport. That was when he had seen Pedro for the first time. But of course he had been aware of him for many years before that.
Pedro was one of the Five. Matt could imagine Susan Ashwood saying the words. She would be delighted. Was it perhaps something of a coincidence that Matt had stepped off a plane in a country of twenty million people and Pedro had been almost the first person he’d met? No
… not at all. There were no coincidences. It was meant to happen. That was what the blind medium would have said.
So was Richard meant to be kidnapped? Was Matt meant to be beaten up at the hotel? Did Matt have any control over what was happening or was he simply being pushed around by forces that he couldn’t see and which were way outside his own comprehension? And if so, where were they taking him? What did they have in mind?
There were a thousand questions Matt wanted to ask and he didn’t have answers to any of them. But he took some comfort in the thought that somehow he and Pedro had found each other. Now there were two of them and that meant that the other three might not be far behind.
Pedro won the game. Matt saw him laugh delightedly and scoop up his dice. He wished his new friend spoke even a smattering of English. How were they supposed to fight together when they couldn’t even talk?
The game was over. The smaller children were already asleep and now the others drew up their blankets and joined them. In England, going to bed had always been a routine of getting changed, washing, brushing teeth and all the rest of it. Here it was very matter-of-fact and happened very quickly. The evening just stopped. Everyone took their places, huddled together around the single, empty bed and soon the whole floor was a sea of blankets that rose and fell while the candles spluttered, throwing strange shadows across the wall. Matt couldn’t sleep, still trapped in the wrong time zone. The room was much too warm with so many people in it and there was a mosquito droning around his ear. He hadn’t got used to the smell either, even though he was now part of it. He hadn’t showered for forty-eight hours and he could feel the grime, clinging to him. He thought about Richard. Sebastian had said he was probably dead but Matt wouldn’t even consider the possibility. He wondered how the two of them had allowed themselves to walk into all this and whether they would ever see each other again.
About an hour later, Sebastian came in. Matt saw, to his dismay, that the man was quite drunk. He staggered over to his bed and collapsed onto it without removing any of his clothes, not even his shoes. Within seconds he was fast asleep and snoring.
It took Matt much longer. Half the night seemed to slip by before his eyelids finally closed. To his relief, because this time he knew exactly where he was, he wasn’t afraid to be there. He was with Pedro on the beach. The reed boat was moored just in front of them, waiting to take them away.
“Matteo,” Pedro said.
“I’m glad to see you, Pedro.”
“Yeah. Me too. I suppose…”
And here was the strange thing. Matt was speaking in English. Pedro was speaking in Spanish. And yet somehow the words were changing in mid-air so that both boys understood each other perfectly. Did this island only exist in a dream? Matt had always thought so. But now that there were two of them, sharing the sand, the sea, the boat and all the rest of it, he wasn’t so sure. Part of him was aware that even as he stood here facing Pedro, the two of them were also lying just a metre apart in Poison Town. Perhaps this was why they were finally able to talk to each other, why they never had before.
“I don’t get any of this,” Pedro began.
“You’re one of the Five,” Matt said.
“Yes. I know. One of the Five! One of the Five! I’ve been hearing that all my life, but I don’t know what it means. Do you?”
“Some of it. There are five of us…”
“I’ve seen the others. Over there…” Pedro pointed, but there was no sign of the two boys and the girl on the mainland.
“We’re Gatekeepers.”
“What gate?”
“It’s a long story, Pedro.”
“We’ve got all night.”
Matt nodded. For the moment, they seemed to be out of any danger. In Poison Town everything would be quiet. On the island, they were alone with no sign of the swan that had twice come swooping out of the darkness. And what was the significance of that, Matt wondered? There was still so much he didn’t understand.
He told Pedro as much as he knew, starting with the death of his parents, his growing awareness that he was never going to have a normal life, his life with Gwenda Davis in Ipswich, his involvement with Raven’s Gate and everything that had happened since then.
“I came to Peru to find the second gate,” Matt concluded. “That was two days ago, although it feels a lot longer. Everything went wrong the minute we arrived. If I can find the Nexus, maybe they can help. Or they may be looking for me. I don’t know.”
Matt took a deep breath. The reed boat rocked gently on the water. He wondered if they should get into it – and if they did, where it would take them.
“I knew you’d come,” Pedro said. “I’ve always been expecting you. But there’s something I want you to know. When you were asleep… when I took your watch… I thought you were just some rich tourist kid who’d got lost. I didn’t know it was you. I’m sorry.”