Yoshi is so close to the guard that he can smell his body odour. The cheesy reek trails him like the boy himself, silently and invisibly. Every step and scratch the guard makes, Yoshi mirrors the move. Every sudden turn at the doors, the boy swivels around and out of his line of sight. It isn’t until they’re in the lift that Yoshi becomes aware of the fact that he can see himself on both sides.
One false move, he thinks to himself, this show is over.
The guard abandons the tune he’s been whistling so badly, and turns to punch the button for his floor. With no desire to look at himself too closely – given the extra pounds he’s packing – he’s happy to focus on the balcony he’s about to leave behind. Just as the doors begin to shut, however, he swears something doesn’t look quite right with the skylight. He scratches at his behind one final time, cursing the condition he’s suffering back there on account of all that sitting between shifts, and decides he’ll investigate this level later. Later. After a nice cup of tea and a biscuit.
Yoshi’s senses feel like lasers, the way he’s forced to focus on every sudden move. He feels scared being this close to someone who could do him harm, and also very stupid. If this blimp were a statue, it wouldn’t be so hard to hide behind him. But he isn’t made of stone. He’s flesh, blood and bone, like him. Flesh, blood and bone that could simply squash him flat if he knew what is going on behind his back.
The boy breathes out at the same time as the doors slide open. He’s made it to the floor he wants. He knows he is within reach of the room where the girl must have faced up to that woman in the white coat. It’s getting there that could be a problem, as the guard moves out before the boy is ready, and turns in the opposite direction. For one long moment, Yoshi is left feeling exposed and startled. Several guards occupy this floor, some of whom nod at the man he has shadowed this far. The boy’s heart begins to pound. He flexes his fingers, feeling thrilled but also chilled to be operating without cover, and then reaches for the shoes strung around his neck. There’s only one way out, the boy decides. With the shoes in one hand now, he twirls them like a pair of karate nunchucks, and then flings them as far as he can.
Yoshi watches the lace-bound shoes helicopter over the head of the guard looking out over the atrium. The crash that follows occurs one, maybe two levels down. It sounds like a display vase breaking, certainly something precious, and is enough to draw the attention of every goon the boy can see.
“What the heck was that?”
“Go check it out, Butch.”
“What if it’s one of the whacko kids? I don’t trust ’em, boss. They all must have heard the argument just now. You know what those kids can be like when it comes to settling scores. I’m not going to walk into a set-up and come back jibbering and drooling like a baby. I’ve seen what mind-tricks they can pull when they’re angry. We should go together.”
“Butch, come here a moment.”
“What is it, boss— ouch!”
“You think a poke in the eye hurts? That’s nothin’! I’m ashamed to be your superior! Now fall in behind me, and if any of those suckers look at me funny, you get me out of there sharpish. Is that clear?”
“Yessir!”
Watching this security spat from the elevator, and with a light shining on him from above, Yoshi prays these bickering guards aren’t as lazy as the sloth he just used to get this far. With baited breath, he watches them leave their posts now. To his great relief, they head for the stairs. Not only that, they skirt the balcony with their attention fixed on the point where his shoes have landed. Misdirection. That was the secret of making magic, according to Mikhail, and it might just have worked here.
With the guards out of the frame, Yoshi breaks from the elevator, and finds himself facing a whole sweep of rooms around the atrium. What’s more, all of them have doors half open and the same house lights shining from the inside. Just then, voices rise up from a floor below. The guards must be sensing that all is not as it seems, he fears, judging by their air of urgency. Instinctively, and knowing he has no time to lose, Yoshi heads for the room with an unusually bright light. The boy hesitates outside, concerned by what he might find. He even straightens out his shirt, as if conscious of the impression he’s about to make. With a deep breath, he steps over the threshold. With what sounds like a gasp from inside, the light floods and brightens.
“Yoshi?” It’s a girl’s voice, sounding familiar but cautious.
“Apparently I told you I’d be back,” he says with a grin, upon which this unusual glow begins to warm and then flicker, as if he’s found himself facing a welcoming hearth fire.