The Devil and His Boy by Anthony Horowitz

on the bag before the other man could take it. “…Do you have what
I
want?”
    “It’s not easy, damn you,” the man muttered. “I’m working on it. I’m sticking my neck out for you. Literally! I could lose my head for this!”
    “But you’re not doing it for me,” Mobius purred. He lifted the bag again. “You’re doing it for this. You’re going to be very, very rich.”
    “If anyone finds out, I’m going to be very, very dead.”
    “They won’t.”
    The man in black stood up and walked over to the window. Outside, Tom twisted away, afraid he was going to be discovered. For a nightmare moment he lost his footing and hung upside down, his neck twisted, and a sky of black ice filling his vision. But the man had turned round. Tom managed to loop the rope over his foot. He was still upside down. But he was safe.
    “What about this new boy?” the man asked. “Who is he?”
    “He’s nobody. Nothing. A creature I picked out of the gutter.” Mobius purred quietly and Tom could imagine him stroking his curling moustache.
    “He doesn’t know?”
    “Of course not. He’ll play his part and then we’ll be rid of him. But we were talking about you, Sir Richard. When will I have a result?”
    “Tomorrow. Maybe the day after. They’re meeting soon…”
    “You can take half the money now. Half later. And don’t disappoint me, Sir Richard.” There was a brief pause and Dr Mobius moved closer. Tom could just make out the side of his face and part of his body. One eye gleamed in the candlelight. “I have far-reaching friends. You may hide from me but not from them…”
    Tom sensed that the interview was coming to an end and quickly pulled himself back up the side of the ship. He thought of the rope, stretching out across the deck. He couldn’t risk Dr Mobius or the man he had called Sir Richard finding it.
    There was nobody in sight on the deck. Tom climbed over the railing and untied the rope. He was just straightening up when a hand fell on his shoulder. Tom froze, then turned softly.
    Florian was standing over him. For a moment neither of them spoke. Tom wondered if the other boy was going to raise the alarm. He must have seen what Tom had been doing. He must know that Tom had been eavesdropping.
    But then Florian began to speak, the words tumbling out as a whisper on a frosting cloud of breath. Tom couldn’t understand what he was saying. The words made no sense. At last Florian stopped, but then he grabbed hold of Tom’s sleeve.
    “Tom,” he said. “I like you. But you have to go. Don’t you see? You’re in terrible danger. You must get off this ship. Leave London. Go as far away as you can…”
    A door banged open. Mobius was showing the “monk” back to the shore. Florian turned and fled the other way. Tom stepped into the shadows, his mind whirling.
    He had barely understood a word of what Florian had said. And it wasn’t just because Tom had been taken by surprise or because all the blood had rushed to his head when he was upside down. No. It was only now that he realized. Florian had spoken to him for a minute, maybe for longer. But whatever language he had been speaking, it certainly wasn’t English.

thin ice
    There were no rehearsals on Christmas Day. Tom asked if he could leave the ship and was pleasantly surprised when Dr Mobius said yes. In fact, Mobius seemed quite keen for him to take a day’s holiday.
    Tom was glad to get back on to dry land. He walked for twenty minutes – it was easy to find his way. All he had to do was follow the river back down to London Bridge. Soon he was recognizing familiar landmarks. And it was just before midday when he found himself in front of the shoe shop over which Moll Cutpurse lived.
    He was about to call up to her when Moll came out. She stopped and stared at him and, although she did her best to hide it, Tom knew that she was pleased to see him.
    “So you decided to come back,” she scowled.
    “You did say I could look in on Christmas