Free Dan and the Caverns of Bone by Thomas Taylor Page A

people are missing, and at least one body has been found! Apparently, there have been rumours for a long time, but the police are only just taking it seriously.’
    On the screen now a crazed man in a pot-holing helmet is waving his arms and shouting about something. The interviewer can hardly get a word in. Then the screen is filled with the beaky nose of Commander Lavache.
    His left eye is covered by a surgical patch.
    There’s a new round of laughter from my class, and a few cries of ‘
Brain
Cabbidge – what an idiot!’
    Although Frenchy doesn’t translate what he says, when Lavache speaks it’s clear that he is a very unhappy man indeed. His good eye glares thunderand twitchy damnation out at us, before his face vanishes from the screen.
    â€˜Well, class,’ Frenchy concludes, ‘all I can say is, we’re very lucky to have visited the catacombs yesterday, because they’ve just been closed down indefinitely. They are advising everyone to keep away from them. The official line is there’s a murderer on the loose. But there are plenty who believe that Death himself really is haunting Paris.’
    I tune out of the chatter that follows. All I’m thinking of is Luci and the fact that, even if the police close the catacombs, her cellar opens straight into them.
    I’m just lifting the single remaining roll to my mouth – well, I’ve got to eat something, haven’t I? – when Simon reappears from spying on the porter. I give him the eyebrow.
    â€˜Zooks!’ he says. ‘So much for your theory. All the man did was rip open a few bags of frozen bread rolls and pour them into baskets. I’m sorry to say he was picking his nose at the time.’
    I lower my hand and put the roll back where I found it.
    But then something catches my eye. I look at the grubby window and see the Sunglasses Kid peering infrom the street outside. He spots me, and something about his fringe and chin tells me there have been developments. He points at the squat next door and vanishes.
    I get up and walk out. In the lobby I almost lift Brian off of his chair.
    â€˜What are you doing?’ he squeaks, making a grab for the homework. I knock it out of his hands.
    â€˜Leave it,’ I say. ‘Come on, we’re going out for breakfast.’

14

I Get Decisive (Sort Of)

    â€˜What are we doing on the roof?’
    â€˜Trust me, Bri. And don’t fall off.’
    We drop down through the skylight of the squat. In the big room that’s the heart of the place, the first thing I notice is that there’s a huge flat-screen TV propped against the wall, obscuring the light from the stately windows. A bundle of cables snakes outof one of those windows and head off to the hotel next door. On the screen is more news coverage of the story that Death himself is lurking beneath the pavements of Paris. In front of the screen sit the Goths and emo kids of the squat, passing round a carrier bag full of odd-shaped and reject croissants.
    â€˜Is it my imagination, or are there fewer than yesterday?’ I ask Si.
    â€˜I believe you are right,’ Simon says. ‘And indeed, I cannot see Lucifane here.’
    With a jolt I realise it’s true. The Sunglasses Kid appears in the doorway behind me and slides over.
    â€˜Bri, this is the Sunglasses Kid. Sunglasses Kid, this is Bri.’ The kid shrugs a greeting. Brian squeaks back. That’s the formalities taken care of.
    â€˜Where’s Luci?’ I ask.
    The kid snaps both index fingers at me like I’m the man with the question on everybody’s lips. I throw out a shrug to ask what the answer might be, and get a double digit downward point in reply.
    The cellar!
    And now I’m running, taking those steps three at a time, and sliding down the banister on the last straight with a shriek of leather from the coat. And the cellar door is open.
    And all the stuff that was urgently heaped against it last