The Thief Lord Page 12

  Prosper closed all the drawers. “Have you seen any files? He’s got to have files on his cases.”

  “Nope. I bet he became a detective because he likes dressing up. He hasn’t got any files.” Riccio stuck some bushy eyebrows over his eyes, popped a hat on his head and tried to give his face a dignified expression. “Do you think I’ll look like this one day when I’m older?”

  “He’s got to write things down somewhere.”

  Prosper had just discovered Victor’s only filing cabinet when the phone rang. Hornet didn’t even lift her head. “Let it ring.” She smiled. “It’s not going to be for us, is it?”

  Ten minutes later the phone rang again, just as Prosper discovered a transparent cover with a photograph of him and his brother. Mesmerized, he stared at the picture.

  Hornet looked up from her book. “What is it?”

  “Just a photo. Of Bo and me. My mom took it on my eleventh birthday.”

  The phone rang once more and then fell silent again. “What did the snoop write down about you?” Hornet asked.

  Prosper put the picture in his jacket and pushed Victor’s notes across to her. “I can’t make it out.”

  “Let’s see.” Hornet put her book aside and leaned over the desk. “Well, he doesn’t seem to like your aunt either. I think it says ‘weasel-face’ and he’s called your uncle ‘the wardrobe.’ Not interested in the older one,” she read, “probably because he doesn’t look like a teddy bear anymore.” Hornet smiled at Prosper. “No, you definitely don’t. He’s really not that stupid, our snoop.” The phone rang again. “Good heavens! I would never have thought he had so many customers.” She grabbed the receiver. “Pronto!” she said in a low voice. “Victor Getz’s office. How can I help you?”

  Riccio had to squeeze his hands into his mouth to stop himself from bursting out laughing. But Prosper watched Hornet with a worried expression on his face.

  “What was your name?” Hornet gave Prosper a startled sign. “Hartlieb?”

  Prosper jumped as if someone had hit him in the face. Hornet pressed a button on the telephone and Esther’s voice shrilled through Victor’s office. She didn’t talk too fast, and her Italian was very good, “… have been trying for days to reach Mr. Getz. He told me he was on the boys’ trail. He even told me he would send me a picture he took of the two of them in St. Mark’s Square …”

  Hornet gave Prosper a surprised look. “I know nothing about that,” she stuttered. “That, eh, may well have been a misunderstanding. He received some new information yesterday. Brand new. Mr. Getz now believes that the boys are no longer here, I mean, in Venice. Hello?”

  There was silence at the other end.

  The three children in Victor’s office hardly dared breathe.

  “Well, that’s all very interesting,” Esther’s shrill voice replied, “but I would really rather receive that information from Mr. Getz himself. Please put me through.”

  “He, he —” Hornet began to stutter; in her panic she forgot to lower her voice. “He’s not here. I’m just his secretary. He’s out on another case.”

  “Who are you?” Esther’s voice now began to sound irritated. “I didn’t know Mr. Getz even had a secretary.”

  “Of course he has!” Hornet sounded truly offended. “I don’t know what gave you that idea. And Mr. Getz will only tell you what I’ve just told you. At the moment he’s out. Perhaps you could try again in a week’s time.”

  “Now listen, whoever you are.” Esther’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “I’ve already left a message for Mr. Getz on the answering machine, but it can’t do any harm to leave it a second time. My husband will be back in Venice on business in two days’ time. I will meet Mr. Getz on Tuesday in the Hotel Sandwirth, three o’clock sharp! Good day.” Then there was a sharp click on the line.

  Hornet replaced the receiver, looking miserable. “I don’t think I did very well,” she sighed.

  “We’ve got to go,” said Prosper. He put the files back where he found them. Hornet gave him an anxious look. But then she ran over to Victor’s shelf and stuffed a few books under her pullover.

  “Wouldn’t it be great if someone really nice was after you like that?” Riccio pushed his tongue into his tooth-gap. “Some nice filthy-rich uncle or grandfather, just like in the stories Hornet reads to us.”

  “Esther is rich,” Prosper said.

  “Really?” Riccio stuffed Victor’s beards into a backpack. He took the fake nose as well. “Could you ask her if she’d take me instead of Bo? I’m not much bigger than him and I don’t ask for much. Just as long as she doesn’t hit me too often.”

  “She wouldn’t do that,” Prosper said as he looked through the drawers once more. “What photograph was she talking about? I knew he had photographed Bo feeding the pigeons. Riccio, take the camera. Maybe the picture’s still in there.”

  Riccio hung the camera around his neck and stood once more in front of Victor’s mirror. “Buongiorno, Signora Esther!” he said, smiling and tightly closing his mouth so that no one could see his bad teeth. “Would you like to be my mother? I hear you don’t hit children and you have lots of money.”

  “Forget it!” Hornet said to him as she looked over his shoulder. “Prosper’s aunt wants a little teddy bear and not a hedgehog with bad teeth. Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll take the tortoise with us since the snoop is our prisoner.”

  “Maybe Scipio has already turned up at the hideout!” Riccio said hopefully as they pulled Victor’s door shut.

  “Perhaps,” Prosper replied.

  But none of them really believed it.

  23

  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 head-lock. “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

  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 spyi
ng 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.