The Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke Page B

and took a step back. "Not without my big brother."
    "Of course not!" Victor said quickly. "That's very sensible of you."
    The girl at the fountain had roused herself. She was pointing in his direction and Victor could see now that the others had returned. The masked one was carrying a basket and Prosper was looking agitated as he peered in their direction.
    He can't recognize me, Victor thought, absolutely impossible. I had that walrus mustache stuck on my face before. But he still felt uncomfortable. "I've got to go, Bo!" he said hastily as Prosper made his way toward them with a very anxious face. "Nice of you to chat with me. I'll just take a quick picture of you, as a souvenir, OK?"
    Bo smiled and posed for the camera. He still had a pigeon on his hand. As soon as Victor raised his camera, Prosper quickened his pace. He was nearly running now.
    Victor pressed the release, wound the film, and took another photograph. "Thanks, kid. It was nice talking to you," he said, ruffling Bo's ink-black hair. Yes, it was definitely dyed, no doubt about it.
    Prosper was now just a few steps away. He pushed through the crowd without ever taking his eyes off Victor.
    "Take care, and don't accept ice cream from strangers!" Victor called out to Bo. Then he took a few brisk steps backward, and slipped into the next large group wandering across the square, letting the crowd pull him away. Anybody could make himself hard to see, if he played it right. Quickly, Victor stuffed his cap into his left pocket, took off the glasses, and pulled a small beard and a pair of sunglasses out of his right pocket. Carefully, and without rushing, he sauntered back to where the two brothers were still standing among a big flock of pigeons. Victor, now squeezed between five large old ladies, discreetly moved past the boys.
    I won't let them shake me off again, he thought, oh no, I'm ready this time. But what if Prosper recognized him? Nonsense. How could he possibly know him again? He'd have to be a child genius to see through a Getz disguise!
    "Back to work, Mr. Detective," Victor reminded himself. "Now let's see where these little rascals have their den." Victor tried not to think about what he would do once he found their hiding place. Later, he thought, I'll worry about that later.
    He followed the children into the maze of alleys.

14 Premonitions

    Darn it, Bo, can't you just do as you're told for once?" Scipio scolded Bo as Prosper returned with him.
    "You were gone for ages!" Bo grumbled. "And I was bored." He looked around but Victor the pigeon man was nowhere to be seen.
    "I had him in sight all the time," Hornet said. "So calm down."
    "What's in the basket?" Bo poked his fingers under the lid, but Prosper pulled his arm back.
    "It's a carrier pigeon, so keep your hand away from it, OK?"
    "Come on, let's get back to the Star-Palace." Scipio turned away from the big square and impatiently waved to the others to follow him. "I haven't got much time today."
    "What about the job?" Bo called out, hopping excitedly after him. "What do we have to steal?"
    "Calm down, Bo!" Mosca put his hand over the boy's mouth. "We don't know yet, OK?"
    "The Conte gave us an envelope," Prosper explained quietly to Bo. "But Scipio wants to open it only when we've reached the hideout."
    "And Scipio is the boss," Riccio grumbled. His face was all gloomy and his hands dug deep into his pockets as he walked alongside the others, appearing far more interested in the pavement than this business with the Conte.
    "And who was the Conte?" Hornet pulled Scipio's ponytail. She knew how much he hated that. "Tell us about it, since we weren't allowed to come with you. What did he look like? Was he spooky?"
    Mosca laughed. "Spooky? No idea. We never saw him. Or did you see his face, Thief Lord?"
    Scipio shook his head.
    Prosper was walking right behind him, Bo's hand firmly in his, but he kept looking over his shoulder. "Thief Lord ..." Prosper's voice choked with nervousness. "You'll