The Escape - Robert Muchamore Page 0,46

Hugo asked, as Paul pulled a brown case out from beneath the bed.

‘I want to take another look at these papers,’ Paul said. ‘Dad was always moaning that he had a terrible memory. He must have written down contact details for Henderson somewhere.’

‘Please,’ Hugo whined.

‘You’ve just eaten half a tart,’ Paul said, as he flipped the suitcase open. ‘You’ll throw up if you start chasing around now.’

‘So boring,’ Hugo complained, as he slumped backwards on to the bed beside the case.

Paul perched on the edge of the bed and grabbed his father’s pocket book. He’d been through it a dozen times and could now remember the words and numbers before he came to them. Meanwhile, Hugo rummaged inside the case.

‘Don’t mess all the papers up,’ Paul warned, but he saw that Hugo had grabbed his father’s cigar tube. Mr Clarke always kept the fat tube case with compartments for six Cuban cigars in his briefcase so that he could offer them to clients. ‘Oh. You can play with that if you want,’ he added.

As Paul twisted his brains, trying to find something he’d previously missed in the pocket book, Hugo unscrewed the lid on the metal cigar case. He pulled out the largest of the wrapped cigars and placed it between his lips.

‘Look, Paul,’ Hugo grinned.

Paul tutted. ‘I’m trying to concentrate.’

‘Why can’t kids smoke?’ Hugo asked, as he blew imaginary smoke out of his lungs.

‘I don’t know.’ Paul shrugged. ‘It’s like, adults try to stop kids having all kinds of fun. Rosie lit up one of my dad’s cigars once for a dare. She puked everywhere and our mum whacked her on the bum with her hairbrush.’

Hugo laughed as he slid the cigar back into its pouch. ‘When I’m older I’m gonna smoke fifty cigars and a hundred cigarettes every day.’

‘I won’t,’ Paul said. ‘I don’t like the smell. My dad never smoked.’

‘So why did he have cigars?’

‘For his clients. My dad said if you give a client a lit cigar, they have to sit still and listen to your sales pitch until they’ve finished smoking it.’

‘What’s a pitch?’ Hugo asked, as he threw the cigar tube high into the air.

‘Hey,’ Paul said. ‘That belonged to my dad! Don’t wreck it.’

But Hugo had already thrown it up again. This time it hit the ceiling and veered wildly off course, hitting the edge of a dresser with a clang before landing on the floorboards.

‘Idiot,’ Paul said angrily, as he reached over Hugo and grabbed the cigar tube off the floor. ‘That’s it – you’re not touching any of my dad’s stuff again.’

Hugo turned towards Paul and showered him with spit as he blew a big raspberry in his face.

‘Cut it out, Hugo! Do you want me to punch you?’

‘I’m going outside,’ Hugo sulked, as he slid off the bed. ‘This is so boring.’

Hugo thumped down the stairs and Paul sighed as he noticed that the bottom was hanging off the cigar case. He was about to try pushing it back on when he noticed a loose length of insulated wire behind it. When he levered the cap the rest of the way off he unveiled a small blue bulb and another wire that linked to a slim battery.

It was obviously some kind of torch and the switch was built into the lid. But when he turned it on, Paul was disappointed by the fact that it only produced a small bluish dot. This seemed odd, but he could see no reason for hiding a torch unless it was used for something pretty special.

The only thing you can do with a torch is shine it at stuff and, as Paul was looking for a hidden message, he decided to shine it at the pocket book. The first couple of pages produced nothing, but on the third page, several faint blue lines glowed when he shone the light on the writing.

Part of Paul wanted to race downstairs and tell Rosie that he’d discovered something, but she was such a bossy-boots that he decided it would be best to carry on alone. As the glow of the markings was faint in daylight, Paul hitched the bedclothes over his head and tried again in pitch darkness. Now he could see the markings clearly, but they were just scribble. The kind of random lines that you might make if you were trying out a new pen.

There were no further markings on the next three pages, but Paul’s heart leaped when the blue light exposed an entire