Lost Worlds Read Free Page B

round and launched himself feet-first at the small opening then he could pass right through, flip in the air and land on his feet in the centre of the
living room. There were maybe fifteen people in London who could do that – eight of them were squatting in the three-storey house where he lived, and none of the others were burglars.
Trespassers, yes; risk-takers, certainly; but not burglars.
    It all went perfectly up until the point at which his feet were supposed to hit the wooden floor of his living room. His speed down the fire escape was perfectly judged; his hands gripped the
strut in the right place and didn’t slip, and his body slid right through the open window like a letter through a letter box. His clothes didn’t even touch the window frame.
    The problem was that someone had put a chair in the centre of the room.
    He hit it and his legs crumpled beneath him just as the chair toppled over, pushed by the force of his arrival. He hit the floor, tucking into an automatic roll, but feeling something in his
shoulder tear. With luck it was just a few muscle fibres, rather than a tendon.
    He came out of the roll in a crouch, hands on the wooden boards and feet braced, ready to push himself away and run. There was nowhere to run. A man stood directly in front of him, legs braced,
hands on his hips. Another man was standing by the door to the hall. The closed door.
    Both men had crew-cut hair and faces that looked like they had taken some beatings in their time. One of them was black, the other white. They both wore black jeans, T-shirts, leather jackets
and sunglasses, even though they were indoors.
    ‘Are you here to do the cable installation?’ Gecko asked. He could hear the pain and the tiredness in his voice, but he couldn’t help himself.’
    The man in front of him smiled. ‘Eduardo Ortiz,’ he said. His voice had a foreign twang – Polish, perhaps. Maybe Russian.
    ‘My name is Gecko. I have never heard of this “Ortiz”.’
    The smiling man in front of Gecko reached out his hand and took Gecko by the hair, pulling him upright. Gecko couldn’t help noticing, in the few moments before the hand vanished from his
sight and the pain began, that his knuckles were scarred and his little finger ended halfway.
    ‘It wasn’t a question. You are Eduardo Ortiz, also known as Gecko. A gecko is an annoying little reptile that can run up walls, yes? I looked it up in a dictionary.’
    ‘No, really,’ Gecko said through clenched teeth, ‘I told you, I have never heard of him.’
    The man twisted Gecko’s head left and right. Gecko’s scalp burned with the pain of the wrenched hair.
    ‘Apart from us and you, there is nobody here. If this isn’t your place, then what are you doing here?’
    ‘Burglary?’ Gecko ventured.
    The man released Gecko’s hair, pushing him backwards at the same time. Gecko stumbled, but caught himself before he could fall over.
    ‘Funny you should mention burglary. We hear from friends of ours that you are very good at climbing walls and getting through small gaps.’ He gestured to the tiny window. ‘We
would have asked for a demonstration, but we have seen the evidence ourselves. We want you to come and work for us. In a . . . private capacity.’
    ‘Installing cable?’
    The man shook his head. ‘Not installing. Taking away. Money, jewellery, passports, iPods, mobile phones . . . anything you can carry.’ He nodded towards the door. ‘People out
there take precautions if they think someone can get into their flats or houses. They lock their doors and windows, and they install alarm systems, but if they think it’s impossible then they
don’t worry so much. But someone like you, who can get into impossible places . . . well, you would be quite an asset to us.’
    ‘And who is this “us”?’ Gecko asked.
    The man shrugged. ‘We are new to this country. From Eastern Europe, you understand. It is . . . a land of opportunity. We, for instance, have the opportunity