Outside the auditorium an overflowing crowd of judges, politicians, barristers, doctors, and Shakespeare fans waited in line.
“What is taking so long?” one voice yelled amidst a muster of complaints.
A group of workers rapidly climbed to the top of the scaffolding to fix the ceiling lights as fast as their hands would allow them.
Peter and Sebastian could even hear one worker puttering around the inside of the ceiling space.
“Do you see him?” Viktor called up to the workers. His voice was troubled. “What’s happened to my lights?” he demanded. “Can you see anything?”
“Of course they can’t, you great brute, the lights are still out,” Greta chastised, walking up the side steps of the stage. She steadied her cigarette holder to her lips and took a long puff. “We will deal with that indolent brat later; just get the lights working. The bouncers are ready to open the main doors. Hurry up and get that hideous thing out of here,” she added, tapping the side of the scaffolding.
“I’m gonna kill him!” Viktor grumbled back to his wife, marching backstage to ensure his workers were performing their jobs properly.
It was hard to tackle the task, for the group had hardly managed to fix the lights until half of them went out again. Viktor was left no choice but to solve the slight setback later and go on with the show without them.
As the boys waited in the large attic space of the opera house, a trembling noise of feet echoed through the airshafts like a stampede of sound. The doors had finally opened.
Sebastian wore an old crumply archer costume covered in tin foil.
“Look at me, I’m Sir Lancelot,” Sebastian laughed, swinging a piece of tinfoil and cardboard that had been shaped to resemble a sword. Its visible glue spots made the costume look cheap and shabby.
“What is Lancelot?” Peter asked. Peter’s naive expression made him appear more alien to Sebastian than anyone he had ever met.
“You really haven’t heard of any of these people, have you?” Sebastian asked, staring widely into the slits of Peter’s donkey mask.
“We should go now,” Peter replied.
“One moment. I have to make sure,” Sebastian pleaded, scrambling toward the crack in the dusty floor to spy on the unsuspecting crowd below them. Audience members kept coming by the dozen to take their seats.
Sebastian spotted the prop boy who had taken over his job, ushering in the guests that evening using a flashlight. A feeling of relief swept over him at the prospect of a new life where he would never have to show some ill-mannered aristocrat to their favorite seat again.
The loud chatter from the crowd created the very advantage they were waiting for.
“Shortcut,” Sebastian said, opening an old airshaft that led to Greta’s changing rooms backstage. Both climbed into the airshaft dropping feet first down the chute.
A group of extras in the pantomime didn’t seem to take notice of Peter and Sebastian’s raucous entrance into the changing rooms when they shot out the bottom end of the airshaft and stumbled over each other. One extra gave out a sarcastic laugh at Peter’s donkey mask that fell off his head and slid across the floor. Struggling to pick it up, Peter and Sebastian slid on the polished wet floor, appearing almost like a comedic duo act.
Luckily for him, Sebastian’s knight helmet remained securely fastened on his head and was large enough to hide his face.
“I want you all behind the curtain, now.” Greta belched from behind the changing room door. She was ready to head back out the door when she caught sight of Peter’s donkey costume from the corner of her eye. Sebastian’s heart almost stopped.
“Well, don’t you two look adorable?” she cackled back at the camouflaged fugitives. Each boy awkwardly nodded back to her at the same time. It was obvious that the woman was too drunk to talk to them further. Dropping her keys at the doorway, Greta pulled the door behind her and slammed it shut. Both boys turned their heads slowly to one another and comically shrugged.
Sebastian swiped Greta’s keys off the ground. “Now we can lock them in after we sneak out,” Sebastian said excitably. “It’ll better our chances.”
The curtains rolled and the orchestra stirred until it roared wildly. To the audience’s delight, the show started off strong. Everyone remained glued to their seats, apart from one member who sat in the upper balcony.
The Inspector’s eyes kept searching around the auditorium for any signs of Sebastian. He had ordered his policing staff to search certain back parts and out of bounds areas of the opera house. Preoccupied giving out his orders, the lethal assassin in disguise hadn’t checked an unlikely blind spot—the main stage, where Sebastian and Peter joined the rest of the extras in one of the crowded battle scenes. It was the last place anyone would think to look.
But as soon as Peter grabbed Sebastian to make a hasty run for the side exit, an extra unintentionally danced her way in front of his path and accidentally slammed into him. The unforeseen accident caused an immediate domino effect amongst the other extras on stage.
Just when Sebastian thought their situation couldn’t get much worse, Peter’s unstable donkey mask loosened again and rolled across the stage’s edge, landing directly on top of the musical conductor’s head, fitting his noggin perfectly. The audience burst into fits of roaring laughter at the unexpected and clumsy catastrophe. Even members of the orchestra laughed behind their instruments at the sudden shambles. Viktor stood at the opposite side of the curtain, cursing and shouting in Russian.
“I think it’s time to run,” Peter yelled, the moment Viktor came hurdling across the stage after him.
“He hasn’t spotted me. I’ve got the keys to lock them all in. Distract him and I’ll sneak out the side entrance,” Sebastian said.
Peter nodded and untied the rope that held the large velvet curtains in place. In one fell swoosh the left curtain came crashing down on set pieces, which fell on top of the cast, covering Viktor last. Laughter from the audience gradually changed to loud booing. The sudden disruption of the evening’s entertainment caused many in the audience to leave.
The Inspector had been too late to notice Sebastian sneak his way through the gang of extras on stage to the side exit of the auditorium. Just as his hands clamped down upon the large handle of the exit doors, Sebastian spotted his dinner suit stuffed into one of the hangers that sat behind the side of the stage. It was a snappy suit complete with newly polished shoes that he was to wear that night after the show. The Cains would usually show him off to exhibit the illusion of a perfect family to those in high society such as the Mayor of London, the press, and other aristocratic and political figures of Parliament or anyone who attended their after-celebration parties on a regular basis, before putting him to work the moment they were home. Not this time, Sebastian thought.
“Not ever again,” he whispered aloud to himself.
Folding up his dinner suit around his new shoes that Viktor had purchased for him, Sebastian tucked the light bundle under his arm and headed back toward the exit door.
As soon as he stepped foot outside the side entrance, Mr. Jennings and Mr. Porter stood in front of him, each with a cigar hanging out of their mouth. Two other policemen kept watch for any signs of suspicious activity from the side of the theater, without realizing they had just found it.
Mr. Jennings sputtered out some leftover chewing tobacco onto the wet cobblestones. “That’s a really shabby costume. Don’t they pay you actors enough to buy something a little bit more believable?”
Mr. Porter hooted when Mr. Jennings added another negative critique.
“For goodness sake, you look like an old dustbin. What cheap toot.”
Sebastian simply pointed inside to the stage through the side doors. The two policemen poked their noses through the door, curious about the loud booing and yelling from the audience. The heavy stomping and clapping from the crowd inside was enough to entice Mr. Jennings and Mr. Porter inside for a nosey look.
Once the policemen and orderlies were inside the building, Sebastian promptly pushed the side door shut behind them and locked it with the key he had picked out by touch. Sebastian had grown so accustomed to locking the theater doors and helping out with waste and rubbish that he’d learnt the shape and size of every key. Just by the sense of touch Sebastian could figure out blue prints, doors, locks and keys without giving it a single thought. It was a natural instinct, like magic.
Complaints echoed from the rowdy commoners who had paid for cheap seats at the back of the auditorium. The event had stirred an angry mob, all venting their anger at the cast and crew, but mostly at their larger-than-life Russian host.
Peter had secretly climbed to the top part of the main stage lights to reach the emergency balcony that was used as a fire exit. He was almost at the exit when the Inspector stepped in front of him on the stage rafters.
“Your disguise almost fooled me, traitor,” the Inspector growled. “What do you think about mine? How do I look?”
The assassin turned around in its human form like it was admiring itself through a mirror. Peter silently took a few steps back.
“I have felt your eyes on me the whole time,” it hissed, disgustingly. “Did I fool you…while you were spying on me?”
“Almost—you need to work on that stench.” Peter smiled, holding his own nose.
“So, you’re a protector? How pitiful. I can see this rescue isn’t as organized as His Majesty predicted. Very good.”
The false Inspector sneered at him as it took a step closer upon the rafter. Peter instantly armed himself, taking out his hidden blade from its pouch.
The assassin put its hands over its head, mimicking a surrendering stance. “You want to run little rabbit…so run. We will catch up,” the false Inspector said, confidently motioning its hand for Peter to leave.
Peter stood his ground, baffled by the villain’s gesture and irritated by the noisy crowd’s ruckus below. Luckily, the audience’s uproar distracted the assassin enough to lean over the rafter and watch the rowing multitude beneath him.
Peter took this opportunity gladly, throwing his dagger-like blade at the assassin as fast as he could. But the weapon proved feeble in its impact, bouncing back off the Inspector’s guise and flying steadily back into Peter’s open hand.
“Much too eager, little cheater,” the false Inspector teased. “It’s never that easy.”
Peter leapt off the balcony and slid down the theater’s remaining side curtain. Dashing halfway toward the front lobby amidst the crammed crowd, the daring boy squeezed through several journalists and theater goers who had spilled out onto the London streets.
“They’re just as powerful here,” Peter said out loud to a little flickering of light that had suddenly appeared from under his sweater. The light was as big as a firefly and rapidly circled the boy a few times then disappeared back into his shirt pocket.
Sebastian didn’t notice the running boy at first until Peter passed the side of the grand building.
“Peter, we made it,” Sebastian called out to the panting boy, holding the keys up high over his head.
Carrying his dinner suit under his other arm, Sebastian led the way through the back alleys and nearby side streets. Running in the middle of the moonlit night, the boys jumped for joy in victory as they crossed the London Bridge.
When they had made their way to the outskirts of the city, Peter told Sebastian of his close encounter and more about who the Inspector was; frightening information that Sebastian felt he was better off not knowing.
“Why did the Inspector let you go?” Sebastian asked.
“It’s not me he wants,” Peter panted. “He’s testing me…to see if the map is a decoy. He mustn’t be sure, or they’d have tracked down the others by now. He wants to know where I’ll lead him next. Now that he’s found you, he’ll follow us to find the others.”
“Then we shouldn’t lead him there, right?” Sebastian asked, jumping onto the first set of closed train tracks that led out of London.
“We’ve no choice. Even if we lead the assassin elsewhere, the police have the map, and so does that orderly from Gatesville. We have to get the others out of Warwickshire as soon as we can,” insisted Peter, keeping a watchful eye on their surroundings.
The journey to Warwickshire wasn’t as fast or easy for them as it had been for Benjamin and Tommy. They frequently sought refuge in different villages, resting in barns and inns where it was safest. The time each dawn approached, they found themselves further away from the city and closer to Jacob O’Malley’s farm. In the morning they would wander through different towns, stealing food from the market place and then later sneaking a ride upon the back of gypsy carriages and farmer trolleys, using the giant haystacks for cover and warmth. The pair journeyed through the great hillsides of England until they reached a train station in the country, one where its tracks led directly north.
***
“Is this Warwickshire?” Sebastian asked. The train station attendant looked hard and curious at the haggard boy.
“Near enough. One stop ahead of you, young Sirs.”
“Thank you.” Sebastian smiled nervously at the gawking attendant and scurried over to Peter on the platform.
“We have to use these tracks. It’s the only way we’ll be sure to stay on course. I can’t afford to get us lost now,” Peter spoke faintly, so that the attendant wouldn’t hear, but it didn’t work.
“You’re not supposed to travel on those tracks by foot, lads. It’s against the law,” the attendant warned, calling back to them. Peter and Sebastian bided their time and sneaked onto the tracks anyway, when the train attendant helped an inquiring elderly lady.
After they had run for almost an hour, Peter and Sebastian inhaled deeply, taking in the beautiful summer scent of the countryside’s nature around them. Sebastian’s blistered feet needed a rest but he wouldn’t show his discomfort.
Peter’s eyes dashed in all directions, feeling a presence of something heading their way; assassins, a mob or a singleton, he couldn’t tell. All they could do now was hope that their own route was enough of a diversion to make it to Benjamin and Tommy before the Inspector or Mr. Jennings would.
Another hour passed before they approached the platform for Warwickshire where Benjamin and Tommy had arrived six months prior. The moss on the tracks had grown over since then and weeds had sprouted through the cobblestone cracks on the platform. It looked like a neglected pit stop. Not much of a platform existed, for most of it had worn away due to bad weather during the winter. The station even lacked an information booth or post, and it appeared that no train station attendant patrolled the area.
“There’s no one here,” muttered Sebastian. His voice sounded coarse and groggy, for the air had grown a few degrees cooler now, affecting the boy’s stamina.
Peter hopped a few feet up from the track onto the unstable platform. Sebastian took the privacy of the derelict area to his full advantage and used the nearby gentlemen’s room.
“What are you doing?” Peter demanded.
“I was keeping this good suit for a special occasion. But now that we’ve made it here…I’m going to change out of these horrible rags. Besides, I need to change my shoes most of all. My feet are pounding.”
The moment Sebastian changed, he appeared as though he could pass for a rich child from Oxford. Peter pointed toward the daunting hill. “My friend has a farm only a few miles beyond that hill.”
“You mean we have to climb all the way up there?” Sebastian yawned. His tiredness made him grumpy and unwilling. “You could have told me before I changed.”
“It’s not so tough, I’ve done it before,” Peter said encouragingly, tapping the boy forward.
Sebastian made a puppy-dog look with his big sad eyes behind his massive spectacle frames and said pleadingly, “But these shoes are new.”
Onward they climbed for what seemed to be only a few gruelling minutes to the top. To Sebastian’s surprise, the fields behind the hill’s top proved dry and didn’t ruin or stain much of his new attire that he wore proudly. The sumptuous sun-kissed countryside lay before them almost all too opulent to be true. It was a sight Sebastian had only dreamt about when he lived in London’s West End. The scenery even astounded Peter for a brief moment, and then his sight caught something in the near distance.
A lustrous light glistened in the far secluded part of the forest opposite them. Sebastian was first to look up, but he wasn’t the first to detect the sky. Clouds started to thicken and metamorphose into something that appeared quite unnatural, unnaturally fast. A look of fear crawled over Sebastian’s face as they instinctively took off running down the hill and into the open fields.
Peter could still see the radiance of what emerged to be firelight a few miles away from them as he led the way to Jacob’s farmhouse. Mr. Jennings and the police had made their own route toward the farmland from the city.
It was now a matter of which group would reach Jacob first.