The Thief Lord (12 page)

"Perhaps," Prosper replied.

But none of them really believed it.

23 Quarrels

Bo opened the door for them when they arrived back at the hideout.

"Where's Mosca?" Prosper asked him. "I told you not to come to the door!"

"I had to. Mosca's busy," Bo answered. "Victor's showing him how to repair his radio." Then he skipped away, whistling to himself.

When Prosper, Hornet, and Riccio reached the auditorium they found the door to the men's bathroom wide open. They could hear Mosca laughing.

"I don't believe it!" Riccio shouted. He planted himself in the open door. "What on earth are you up to, Mosca? Is that your idea of keeping watch? Who said you could untie him?"

Mosca turned around in surprise. He was kneeling next to Victor on the blanket and was just passing him a screwdriver from the toolbox. "Calm down, Riccio. He gave me his word of honor that he wouldn't run away," he said. "Victor knows a lot about radios and I think he can fix it."

"To heck with your radio!" Riccio shouted. "And to heck with his word of honor. He's going to be tied up again right now."

"Listen, Hedgehog." Victor struggled to get up on his stiff legs. "No one disrespects my word of honor, understood? You can always trust Victor Getz's word of honor one hundred percent."

"Exactly." Bo stood in front of Victor as if he wanted to protect him. "He's our friend now."

"Friend?" Riccio gasped for air. "Have you gone completely crazy, you silly baby? He's our prisoner, our enemy."

"Stop it, Riccio!" Hornet interrupted. "The ropes are stupid. We may as well just lock him in. He's a bit too fat to climb out of the bathroom window anyway, don't you think?"

Riccio didn't answer. He folded his arms and looked angry. "We'll see what Scipio has to say about this!" he grumbled. "Maybe you'll listen to
him."

"If he turns up," said Prosper.

"What? I thought you were going to meet him." Mosca got to his feet.

"We waited for two hours by the newsstand," Hornet replied, "but he never came."

"Well, well." Victor knelt down in front of the radio again. "Well, well, well. But I hope you didn't forget my tortoise."

"No, we even brought him with us." Prosper looked at him. "What was that 'well, well, well' supposed to mean?"

Victor shrugged and tightened another screw.

"Spit it out!" Riccio barked at him. "Or your tortoise has just had its last meal."

Victor turned around very slowly. "Aren't you a charming little fellow!" he growled. "How much do you really know about your leader?"

Hornet opened her mouth, but Victor held up his hand. "Yes, I know, he's not really your leader. I got that. But that wasn't the question. So, once more: How much do you know about him?"

The children looked at one another.

"What should we know about him?" Mosca leaned against the tiled wall. "None of us talk much about the past. Scipio grew up in an orphanage, just like Riccio. He did tell us about it once. He ran away when he was eight and since then he's been looking after himself. He lived with an old thief for a while who taught him everything he needed to survive. When the old man died, Scipio stole the best gondola from the Grand Canal and laid the old thief in it. Then he let him drift out on to the lagoon. Since then he's been by himself."

"And goes by the name of the Thief Lord," Victor said. "So he lives by stealing things. Which means you do too ..."

"As if we'd tell you that!" Riccio said coldly. "And what if we do? You could never catch Scipio, even if you tried a hundred times. No one can match him. Barbarossa gave us four hundred thousand lire for his last loot. What do you say to that?"

Mosca elbowed Riccio's side, but it was too late.

"Barbarossa, that old scoundrel. Well, well," Victor said under his breath. "So you know him too. You know what? I bet my tortoises that I can tell you where Scipio stole those things."

Riccio squinted at him suspiciously. "So? It was in all the newspapers, that's no big deal." Mosca gave him another shove, but Riccio was far too worked up to notice.

"In the newspapers?" Victor lifted his eyebrows. "Oh, you probably mean the break-in at the Palazzo Contarini?" He laughed. "Did Scipio tell you he did that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Riccio clenched his fists. He looked like he wanted to attack Victor, but Hornet held him back.

"It means," Victor answered calmly, "that your Scipio may be a clever fellow and quite a crafty liar, but he's definitely not who you think he is."

Losing his temper, Riccio freed himself from Hornet's grip. Prosper managed to get hold of him again, but only after he had punched Victor in the nose.

"Stop it, Riccio!" Prosper shouted. He had Riccio in a headlock. "Let him finish. And you," he barked at Victor, "can stop talking in riddles. Or I'll let go of Riccio."

"What a threat!" Victor grumbled. "Bo, please hand me your handkerchief."

Bo quickly pulled a grubby rag out of his pocket.

"Fine, let's talk straight," Victor agreed, wiping his stinging nose. At least it wasn't bleeding. "How did you meet Scipio?" Without looking at the children's baffled faces, he gathered a few screws and threw them into Mosca's toolbox.

Riccio had turned bright red.

"Go on, tell him," Mosca said.

"I stole something off him," Riccio muttered. "OK, I tried to steal something, and he caught me. So I threatened him with my friends and he let me go on the condition that I took him to meet my gang."

"Back then we were living in the basement of an old house," Mosca explained. "Riccio, Hornet, and me. It was over in Castello. You can always find a place there. No one wants to live there anymore. It was awful: wet and cold and we were always ill and we never had enough to eat."

"You may as well say it straight: We were in deep trouble," Riccio interrupted him impatiently. '"You can't live in a rat hole like this,' is what Scipio told us. And so he brought us here, to the Star-Palace. He picked the lock of the emergency exit and told us to barricade the front entrance. And since then we've been doing quite well. Until you turned up."

"OK, I get it. Victor the spoilsport." Victor looked at Prosper. "And when Hornet picked up you and Bo," he said to him, "the Thief Lord just fed the two of you as well."

"Scip brought us coats and blankets. And he even gave me these." Bo sat down next to Victor and held up one of his kittens. Lost in thought, Victor began to tickle it behind the ears until it started to purr and lick his fingers with its rough tongue.

"Why did you say Scipio was a liar?" Hornet asked.

"Forget what I said." Victor patted Bo's black hair. "Just tell me one more thing. Bo told me you were going to come into a lot of money soon. You're not planning to do something stupid, are you?"

"Bo, why can't you just keep your big mouth shut for once?" Riccio tore himself away from Prosper, but he quickly caught him again.

"Hey, Riccio, don't you talk to my little brother like that, understand?"

"Then you keep a better eye on him!" Riccio pushed away Prosper's hands. "Or he'll blab about everything!"

"Bo, you're not to tell him any more, OK?" Prosper said without letting Riccio out of his sight.

But Bo gave his brother a defiant look and whispered into Victor's ear, "We're going to break into a house with Scipio. But we're only going to steal some silly wooden wing."

"Bo!" Hornet shouted.

"You want to break in somewhere?" Victor was back on his feet immediately. "Are you crazy? You want to end up in the orphanage?" He placed himself in front of Prosper and looked down at him angrily. "Is that how you look after your little brother? Teaching him how to creep into strange houses?"

"That's not true!" Prosper grew quite pale. "Bo's not coming with us."

"I am!" Bo shouted.

"You're not!" Prosper barked back.

"Stop it!" Riccio shouted, pointing at Victor with trembling fingers. "It's all his fault. Everything was all right, until he started snooping around here. And now we're all fighting with one another and we need a new hideout."

"You don't need a new hideout!" Victor boomed. "Goshdarnit! I am NOT going to tell on you! But that may well change if you're going to do that burglary. Is that clear? What's going to happen to the little one if the
Carabinieri
catch you all? Housebreaking is a bit different from stealing cameras and handbags."

"Scipio knows what he's doing. The Thief Lord doesn't steal handbags." Riccio's voice cracked. "So you can just stop being horrible about him, you blown-up toad!"

Victor gasped. "Blown-up toad? Thief Lord? I'll tell
you
something!" He made a threatening step toward Riccio. Mosca and Hornet moved protectively between them, but Victor just pushed them away. "You've fallen for the biggest toad who ever lived. Why don't you take a little trip to the Fondamenta Bollani number 223. That's where you'll learn the truth about the Thief Lord. Everything you'd want to know, or maybe wouldn't want to know."

"Fondamenta Bollani?" Riccio bit his lips. "What's this? A trick?"

"As if!" Victor turned his back and crouched down next to the dismantled radio again. "Don't forget to lock up your prisoner before you leave now, will you?" he said over his shoulder. "I'll finish repairing this thing now."

24 Young Master Massimo

Nobody wanted to stay behind in the movie theater, not even Riccio, although on the entire journey he kept declaring how horrible he thought it was that they were spying on Scipio. Mosca had locked Victor in the bathroom before they had left. Now they were standing in front of the address Victor had given them: Fondamenta Bollani 223.

They hadn't expected such a grand house. Shyly, they looked up at the high-arched windows. They all felt small, grubby, and worthless. Slowly, keeping close together, they walked toward the entrance.

"We can't just ring the bell!" Hornet whispered.

"Someone has to!" Mosca hissed back. "If we just stand around, we'll never find out what the snoop meant."

Nobody moved.

"I'll say it again: Scipio'll go ballistic if he finds out we're spying on him," Riccio whispered. He looked uneasily at the golden nameplate next to the entrance. It said MASSIMO in elaborate letters.

"We'll let Bo ring!" Hornet proposed. "Bo's the least noticeable, isn't he?"

"No, I'll do it!" Prosper pushed Bo behind him and quickly pressed the golden button. Twice. He could hear the bell resound through the whole house. The others hid on either side of the entrance. So when a girl in a white apron opened the door, she saw only Prosper, with Bo smiling timidly at her from behind him.

"Buonasera,
Signorina," Prosper said. "Do you happen to know a boy called Scipio?"

The girl frowned. "What is this? Some stupid prank? What do you want with him?" She eyed Prosper from head to dusty shoe. His pants were definitely not as immaculate as her whiter-than-white apron and there were some pigeon droppings on his sweater.

"So, it's true?" Prosper's tongue suddenly felt too big for his mouth. "He lives here? Scipio?"

The girl's face became even more hostile. "I think I'd better call Dottor Massimo," she said. But at that moment Bo poked his head out from behind Prosper.

"I'm sure Scipio would like to see us," he said. "We were supposed to play today."

"Play?" The girl still looked unconvinced, but when Bo smiled at her she almost managed a smile herself. Without another word, she opened the big door. Prosper hesitated for a second, but Bo shot across the threshold. Prosper caught sight of a nervous-looking Hornet before following him.

The maid led the two boys through a dark entrance hall into the courtyard. Bo immediately made for the big staircase, but the girl gently held him back and pointed toward a stone bench at the bottom of the stairs. Then she turned without so much as another look, walked up the stairs, and vanished behind the balustrade on the first floor.

"Maybe this is a different Scipio!" Bo whispered to Prosper. "Or he sneaked in here so he can rob the house later on."

"Maybe," Prosper murmured. He looked around uneasily while Bo ran toward the fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

Ten minutes can be a long time when you're waiting with a beating heart for something you don't understand, something you don't really want to know. Bo didn't seem particularly bothered by the whole thing. He was quite happy to touch the lions' heads by the fountain and to dip his hands into the cold water. But Prosper felt terrible. He felt betrayed. Deceived. What was Scipio doing in this house? Who was he really?

When Scipio finally appeared at the top of the stairs, Prosper stared at him as if he'd seen a ghost. Scipio stared back. His face was pale and strangely unfamiliar. Then as he started down the stairs with slow and heavy steps, Bo ran toward him.

"Hey, Scip!" he called, stopping at the bottom of the flight. But Scipio didn't answer. He hesitated and looked at Prosper, who glared back at him until Scipio lowered his head. As he lifted it again to say something, a man appeared at the balustrade. He was tall and thin and had the same dark eyes as Scipio.

"What are you still doing here?" he said with a bored voice. "Don't you have a lesson today?" He glanced briefly at Prosper and Bo.

"In an hour," Scipio replied without looking up at his father. His voice sounded completely different, as if he weren't sure he'd find the right words. He even seemed smaller to Prosper, but that may have been because of the huge house or because he wasn't wearing his high-heeled boots. He was dressed like one of the rich kids Prosper had sometimes seen in expensive restaurants, sitting stiffly and eating with a knife and fork without spilling anything.

"What are you doing, just standing around there?" Scipio's father waved his hand at them impatiently as if the three children were nothing but annoying birds polluting his house. "Take your friends to your room. You know the courtyard is not a playground."

"They're leaving," Scipio answered in a small voice. "They just wanted to bring me something."

But his father had already turned away. The three boys watched in silence as he disappeared behind another door. "Is that your dad, Scip?" Bo whispered incredulously. "Have you got a mom too?"

Scipio didn't seem to know where to look. He fiddled with his silk vest. Then he nodded. "Yes, but she travels a lot." He looked Prosper in the eyes -- but immediately turned away. "Don't stare at me like that. I can explain everything. I would have told you soon anyway."

"You may as well explain it to everybody right now," Prosper answered. He took Scipio's arm. "The others are waiting outside." He wanted to lead the Thief Lord toward the door, but Scipio pulled away and stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"That snoop ratted on me, didn't he?"

"If you hadn't lied to us, there wouldn't have been anything to rat about," Prosper replied. "Come on."

"You heard my father, I've got a lesson!" Scipio's voice now sounded defiant. "I'll explain it all to you later. Tonight. I can get away tonight. My father's going away. And about the break-in -- everything stays as planned. We can do it tomorrow night. Did you check out the house like I told you?"

"Stop it, Scip!" Prosper shouted. "I bet you've never stolen anything in your whole life." He saw Scipio cast a worried look upstairs. "All the loot was probably taken from this house, wasn't it?" Prosper asked lowering his voice. "What were you thinking, taking on the Conte's job? You've never broken in anywhere. And I bet that when you turn up at the hideout you probably just let yourself in with a key through some door we don't know about. Thief Lord! My god, we were so stupid." Prosper looked at Scipio contemptuously, but inside he felt numb with sadness and disappointment. Bo held on to his hand. Scipio couldn't meet his eyes.

"Come on!" Prosper said once more. "Come out and talk to the others." He turned around, but Scipio stood still.

"No," he said, "I'll explain everything later. I haven't got time now." Scipio turned and ran up the stairs so quickly he nearly stumbled. He didn't look back.

Mosca, Riccio, and Hornet were still standing next to the entrance when Prosper came out with Bo. They were all leaning against the wall, shivering and looking depressed.

"See!" Riccio called out when Prosper and Bo came out of the house alone. "It wasn't our Scipio, was it?" He couldn't hide his relief, but then he suddenly looked alarmed. "But wait a minute, I can't believe we've been so stupid -- we've got to get back to the hideout. Don't you understand? All this has been a trick to get us out of the movie theater so that the snoop could escape."

"Why don't you just shut up for a second, Riccio?" Hornet was looking at Prosper. "Well?"

"Victor didn't lie to us," Prosper said. "Let's get away from here." Before the others could say anything, he marched off toward the nearest bridge.

"Hey, wait!" Mosca called after him, but Prosper walked so fast that the others only managed to catch up with him on the other side of the canal. He stopped by the entrance to a restaurant and leaned against the wall.

"What happened?" Hornet asked when she reached him. "You look like death warmed over."

Prosper closed his eyes so that the others wouldn't see his tears. He felt Bo's short fingers stroking his hand very softly. "Don't you understand? I told you: The snoop didn't lie," he cried. "The only one who lied was Scipio. He lives in that palace. Bo and I saw his father. They have a maid and a courtyard with a fountain. Thief Lord! Runaway from the orphanage! All his mysterious 'I can cope on my own' and his 'I don't need adults' -- they're all lies. He must have really had a laugh at us. Hey, let's play street-kid for a while, that sounds fun! And we fell for it." Prosper wiped his nose on his sleeve.

"But the loot..." Mosca's voice sounded very faint.

"Oh yeah, the loot." Prosper laughed out loud. "He probably stole those things from his parents. Thief Lord? -- Liar Lord, more like."

Riccio stood frozen like someone who'd just been knocked on the head. "He was there? You saw him?"

Prosper nodded. "He was there. But he was too afraid to come out." Bo pushed his head under Hornet's arm.

The others didn't say a word. Hornet looked over at the Casa Massimo, standing on the opposite bank, its grandeur reflected on the canal. There was light in some of the windows, although it was still early in the afternoon. It was a gray, dark day.

"It's not that bad, Prop," said Bo looking at his brother with big, worried eyes. "It's not that bad."

Hornet mumbled, "Let's go home."

Nobody said a word on the way back.