‘Did you see that kid?’ Hacket asked as we swept by. ‘We mustn’t forget him when we leave. The poor little beggar must have been deserted by his parents.’
‘Ecco!’ Zina was pointing to a big stone archway. The gates were open and we drove into a stone-paved courtyard. And there was the cabriolet. ‘Thank God!’ Hilda breathed.
Maxwell slammed on the brakes and we piled out. ‘Where now?’ he asked.
‘Through here,’ Zina cried. She made for a low stone doorway. A gleam of metal showed in Maxwell’s hand. At least he was armed. But I hung back. I was thinking what I’d do if I were Sansevino. If he could blot us out — all of us — he’d be safe then. The lava would obliterate Santo Francisco and there’d be no trace of us. I caught Hilda’s hand.
‘Wait,’ I said.
She wrenched herself free. ‘What are you afraid of?’
The contempt in her voice stung me. I caught her arm and twisted her round. ‘Max told you my story, did he?’
‘Yes. Let me go. I must get to my—’
‘You won’t reach your father any quicker than Maxwell,’ I said. ‘And if we go in a bunch we may walk straight into it.’
‘Into what? Let me go, please.’