The man stood up and walked back inside the building. He reappeared with a wicker washing basket and dumped it on the ground. ‘Cosa avete portato?’ he said, taking a drag of his cigarette and glaring at the children.
‘What did he say?’ Autumn whispered to Kensy. Instinctively, the four of them had stepped behind a car.
‘What did you bring?’ Kensy replied, her eyes widening as it soon became clear. The five children emptied their pockets and backpacks, a veritable avalanche of wallets and purses, phones, cameras and money raining into the basket.
‘I feel like we’ve stumbled into the pages of a Charles Dickens novel,’ Max whispered as he peered out from behind the hatchback that was shielding them from view.
The man threw his cigarette onto the ground and stubbed it out, then picked up the basket. ‘Ottimo lavoro.’ He grinned, revealing a glinting gold tooth. ‘There will be thousands out there tonight for the marches. Go, go!’
The five children turned and ran away, back down the lane. Who knew where they would find their next victims and how many there had already been that day.
‘Come on,’ Kensy said. ‘We’ve got to tell the police.’
Just as they were about to leave, the man with the basket spotted them. ‘Hey!’ he called out. ‘What are you looking at?’
He took a step inside the door, then barked something unintelligible in Italian. But his meaning soon became clear as three younger men stormed out into the street.
‘Get them!’ the older fellow shouted.
Max grabbed his sister’s hand and the four of them took off. But the men were fast and hot on their heels.
‘This way!’ Max yelled, leading them around the corner and into a narrow lane, where cars were whizzing through. The boy was trying to remember the layout of the area from the map he’d studied. He was frantically thinking about how they could double back to the hotel.
Carlos followed Max across the road, right in front of a speeding car. It screeched to a halt, gently coming to rest against the boy’s leg. Carlos grabbed Autumn’s hand and the pair leapt over the bonnet as the driver beeped his horn and shook his fist. The three thugs were still coming at them. One of them ran straight into the car door. He bounced off, grabbing the side mirror, which came away in his hand.
Max felt as if his chest was about to explode. ‘Up here!’ he yelled. ‘Hurry!’
The children reached the end of the road and were suddenly caught in a wave of people chanting and waving placards. It seemed that last night’s protesters had swollen tenfold, and the angry men and women had taken over the streets. Max wound his way through the crowd, clutching his sister’s hand, but as hard as they tried to stick together, they were soon separated. Max’s voice was drowned out by the shouting and he had no idea where Kensy had disappeared to. Among the sea of faces, he spotted Autumn being jostled behind him, but there was no sign of Carlos. He could only hope that Kensy was forging on. Max was heading towards Autumn when he stopped dead and swallowed air.
‘Dad!’ the boy screamed. He dodged the oncoming throng, his shouts rising higher and higher. For a second, he forgot all about the men pursuing them. Max’s cries caught in his throat as he lost sight of his father. ‘Dad, where are you?’ he screamed again, turning circles among the mass, hot tears pricking at his eyes.
A pair of thick arms reached out and grabbed him. Instinctively, Max kicked backwards, connecting with the fellow’s shin hard enough that he released his grip. Max dove under a nearby pair of legs like a rugby player, then scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as he could. He almost crashed into Autumn, who grabbed his hand and wrenched him sideways. They held on tight and dashed in and out of the demonstrators until they reached a building on the edge of the road, where they pressed themselves into the doorway and out of sight. It was only then that Max let go. He wiped his face with the backs of his hands.
‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
Max closed his eyes and nodded.
‘There’s Kensy!’ Autumn waved her arms and screamed as loudly as she could, but the girl was running ahead and didn’t hear her.
Fortunately, Carlos had located Max and Autumn. He reached them, puffing and panting. ‘I think we lost them,’ he called over the chanting, which had now combined with whistles and drums. There were fiery torches too.
Autumn shook her head and pointed. ‘No, there they are – right behind Kensy.’
The boys looked at each other. They had to cause a distraction so Kensy would get away, but how they were going to make themselves heard over this din was anyone’s guess. Then Max remembered something. ‘My watch has a loudspeaker on it – Mrs Vanden Boom showed me the other day.’
‘Well, hurry up and use it!’ Carlos urged.
Max fiddled with the contraption. There was a screech of feedback then the boy’s voice boomed, ‘Pickpockets! Borseggiatori!’ The crowd was briefly silenced. Carlos had climbed up a drainpipe and was pointing at the men who were dodging their way through the melee.
Kensy looked around and spotted Carlos with her brother and Autumn. She ran towards them. Almost immediately, the mob began to jostle the fellows while some of the protestors made a grab for them. The ruckus impeded their progress just long enough for the children to make their escape.
Max pointed to a small alley. ‘This way!’
‘It better not be a dead end,’ Kensy panted. She turned to look back and saw that the thugs had also emerged from the crowd and were after them again.
The children fled down the alley.
‘The hotel’s on the other side of that building,’ Max said.
‘There’s a gate!’ Kensy yelled.
Autumn grabbed the metal posts and rattled them fiercely. ‘It’s locked!’
Kensy foraged around in her messy hair, pulling out her hairclip along with several long blonde strands. She fumbled, trying to get the device into the ancient padlock.
‘Hurry, they’re coming!’ Autumn urged.
Finally, the mechanism gave way and the gate swung open. The children rushed through.
‘Close it!’ Max shouted.
One of the men reached the gate and was pushing hard, but the kids threw their weight against the metal so that Kensy could snap the lock shut. The other two men arrived just as she did, and it was clear from their size that the children would have stood no chance against the three of them.
Max stared into one of the men’s ink-coloured eyes. His chin was covered in stubble and there was a deep scar across his left cheek. He had a small tattoo on his wrist – Max thought it said ‘hero’. That was a joke. There was certainly nothing heroic about this guy.
‘Sei morto,’ the man called after the children as they fled down a steep set of stairs and into the cellar below.
‘So where are we?’ Carlos asked, his question bouncing around the walls of the dark space. It seemed they had entered a musty basement.
‘Shh!’ Autumn pressed her finger to her lips.
Max fiddled with his watch until a glow illuminated the room. Judging by the domed ceiling, crucifixes and statues of Jesus and the Madonna, they had to be in the church near the Trevi Fountain.
‘Do you think Sister Maria Regina knows the children in her orphanage are a gang of thieves?’ Kensy said.
Autumn frowned. ‘You’d hope not. Maybe those men make the children do it and she has no idea.’
‘We need to tell the police as soon as we get out of here,’ Max said. ‘And we’d better get a move on or Frizzle will never let us go anywhere alone again.’
The children began hunting around for a way out. Towards the end of the room was a narrow staircase that spiralled upwards.
‘What if they’re waiting for us outside?’ Carlos said.
‘Well,’ Max reasoned, ‘if I’ve got the right church, and I’m pretty sure I do, it’s just across the piazza from the hotel and there’ll still be hundreds of people around. We should be able to make it.’
The children ascended the stairs
into a small room. Max peered out through the red velvet fabric that formed a vestibule hiding the access point. They were standing at the side of a magnificent altar. Overhead were stunning frescos and ornate plasterwork, and a vast array of gleaming brass crosses on the walls.
‘Is anyone out there?’ Kensy mouthed to her brother.
‘A nun,’ he whispered.
‘Let me see.’ Kensy pulled back the curtain and saw the woman. She was walking down the aisle on the far side and turned to genuflect before hurrying away via the front doors.
‘That was Sister Maria Regina,’ Kensy said. ‘I’d recognise that nose anywhere. Come on, she’s gone.’
Just as the children were about to step out of their hiding spot, they heard the sound of heels clacking on the marble floor.
Carlos groaned. ‘We’re never going to get out of here.’
A woman, dressed from head to toe in black with a veil covering her face, entered one of the middle pews. She knelt down and bowed her head.
‘What should we do?’ Kensy hissed.
Max pointed to the passageways on either side of the pews. If they were quiet, and the woman kept praying, they should be able to make it past without her noticing. They were about to make a dash for it when the woman began to weep.
‘Dear Father in Heaven,’ she wailed, ‘please bring my son back to me. He is a good boy.’
A priest appeared from nowhere, his foot steps soundless, but the woman was immediately aware of his presence and raised her head. She crossed herself and stood up to greet him, wiping the tears from beneath her veil with a small handkerchief.
‘Primo Ministro,’ he said, taking her hands in his, ‘you are giving thanks for the return of Nico.’
The woman nodded her head fiercely. ‘The Lord is good.’
Autumn nudged Kensy, and Max did the same to Carlos.
‘She’s the Prime Minister,’ Max whispered. ‘She was just praying for the return of her son, but the newspapers say he’s home. What’s that all about?’
Autumn frowned. ‘Maybe he’s home in body but not in spirit? He could be difficult – after all, he did run away in the first place.’
The children willed the pair to wrap things up and leave. They had about two minutes to meet Mr Frizzle at the gallery or they’d be in big trouble.
‘Let me walk with you,’ the priest offered.
Prime Minister Vitale raised a finger in the air. ‘One more minute, please. I would like to speak with our heavenly Father.’
‘Of course, signora. I will leave you in private and meet you at the rear entrance, where I presume your car is waiting.’ The priest disappeared into one of the wings.
The children watched as the woman pulled a folded piece of paper from her handbag. She walked to the side of the church and stood by a marble urn. They were surprised to see her lift the lid and drop the page inside. She knelt and genuflected towards the altar, then hurried away in the same direction the priest had gone. Only when the children heard a door creaking did they flee from their hiding place.
Carlos was just about to take a peek outside when he realised that Kensy wasn’t with them. He was shocked to see her standing next to the urn, its lid off and her hand inside.
‘What are you doing?’ Max hissed.
‘Taking a picture. It might be important,’ she said, unfolding the piece of paper and laying it on the floor. She used her watch to snap a close-up photograph. By the time Autumn had reached her, she’d already finished and was about to drop the paper back into the urn.
‘What was it?’ the girl asked.
‘No time now,’ Kensy said as she heard whistling. Someone was coming.
Carlos opened the door. The crowd near the fountain was even bigger than before and there was no sign of the three thugs. Still, they would have to make a dash for the gallery around the corner and hope that Mr Frizzle hadn’t left yet. ‘Follow me,’ the boy said, and the four of them bolted down the front steps and into the crowd.
The priest looked up as he heard the door close. He was sure he had locked it earlier – it would not do well for the Prime Minister to be mingling with the general public at the moment. They were already baying for her blood and the lines at the soup kitchen were getting longer each day. There was talk in the newspapers of flour rationing. The biggest pasta supplier in the country, Penina, which was owned by the government, had raised its prices three times in the past month. Italy was headed for disaster if the crisis wasn’t averted soon.
The children ran around the corner, past the hotel entrance and pulled up outside the gallery. Carlos pressed his face against the window, but the store was empty.
‘He’s gone,’ the boy said. ‘And we’re dead.’
Autumn had a look too. She thought she saw some movement at the rear of the shops and broke into a grin at the sight of Mr Frizzle and the sales assistant emerging from a back room. ‘He’s still inside.’
Elliot Frizzle heard the clock on the wall chiming the quarter hour and realised that he’d taken far longer than he’d anticipated. The children had probably returned to the hotel by now, but as he glanced towards the street, there they were – as reliable as ever. He rushed to the door. ‘Sorry, kids, this place is a treasure trove – it goes on for miles! I’ve just been arranging to have some things sent home to London, but would you mind helping me carry a few bits and bobs I can pack into my suitcase?’ The man grimaced. His credit card had taken a beating and then some.
‘Of course, sir,’ the group echoed.
‘I hope you haven’t been too bored. I know I told you to stay close and you’re probably sick to death of watching the tourists,’ the man said as the children followed him around to the hotel. They were carrying an assortment of antiquities, including a Roman soldier’s helmet, an ancient pot and a Venetian glass vase.
‘No, it’s been really . . . interesting,’ Max said.
‘So much excitement you couldn’t imagine it, sir,’ Carlos added.
Kensy and Autumn nodded.
Elliot Frizzle paused to look at the children. ‘Oh, thank you for making me feel better. I shouldn’t have left you so long.’ He hoped they were telling the truth. He’d take them out for a ramble after dinner and this time they’d go somewhere interesting.
The children helped carry Mr Frizzle’s haul up to his room on the second floor before he suggested they’d best go and get ready for dinner – it was already twenty to six. But the kids had other ideas. They were dying to see the photo Kensy had taken, and it also occurred to Autumn that they hadn’t yet told the police about the pickpockets either.
‘See you soon, sir.’ Carlos gave a wave and the four of them flew upstairs to Kensy and Autumn’s room. They would most likely be left alone up there, although the hotel did seem unusually quiet. Perhaps the rest of the teachers had taken their groups out too – either that or they were all having a siesta.
Once they were safely inside, Kensy pulled out her watch and projected the note onto the wall above their beds. Max quickly copied it down on a piece of paper. At first glance, it looked like gobbledygook, but Max soon realised it was a code. Except this time it wasn’t as simple as the Caesar cipher.
‘I’ll work on it until we have to go to dinner,’ Max said.
‘I’ll help, if you like,’ Autumn offered. She and Max had both tied for first place in their code-breaking class during training last week.
‘That would be great, thanks,’ Max said. ‘I’ve never seen anything quite like it before and you’re brilliant, so, between the two of us, I’m sure we’ll crack it.’
Autumn could feel the blush rising to her cheeks. ‘We can only try.’
Kensy was jiggling from one foot to the other. Her brain was in overdrive, thinking about what the Prime Minister had said in her prayers. ‘Do you think Nico could have been kidnapped?’
‘Anything’s possible,’ Carlos replied. ‘I mean, he is the son of one of the most important people in the country.’
There
was something scratching away at the back of Kensy’s mind, but whatever it was refused to focus. ‘Maybe there’s a clue in that note.’ She looked at Max and Autumn, who were already hard at work. ‘Can you hurry up and solve it?’
‘We’re doing our best,’ Max grouched. ‘Perhaps you could find something useful to do and stop distracting us.’
Kensy tapped her foot. ‘What if Carlos and I report the pickpockets to the police?’
Carlos nodded. ‘Yeah, let’s do that.’
Autumn looked up. ‘Yes, we have to tell the authorities – it’s horrible to think about all those people who’ve lost their belongings. Hopefully, the police can raid the building and return everything to their owners.’
‘I’m not sure it’s a good idea,’ Max said. ‘If Frizzle knows you’ve gone outside without him, he’ll be furious and we just managed to avoid getting into trouble with him before – more by good luck than good planning.’
Kensy ran to the window and peered into the piazza. She could see three uniformed officers right below them. ‘Then I’ll call to them from the doorway.’
‘If you think that will work,’ Max said, returning to the code. ‘Go for it.’
Kensy and Carlos flew down the stairs. Wherever the others had been before, they were back now, as the floors were squeaking, doors were banging and they could hear voices. As they reached the entrance foyer, Mrs Vanden Boom walked inside with Misha, Lola, Graham and Alfie traipsing after her.
‘And where are you two going?’ she said sternly, glancing at her watch. ‘It’s almost dinnertime.’
‘I dropped my itinerary outside,’ Kensy said. ‘I saw it from the window, and Carlos is coming with me – it will only take a second.’
The woman nodded. ‘Straight out and back again. If you can’t find it, I think I’ve got a spare.’
Disappearing Act Page 13
