Free The Alchemist in the Attic by Antonio Urias Page B

to think he’d assigned that to Wright and Layfield.”
    Walter shrugged. “Maybe he forgot.”
    “Maybe.” Atwood gave him a long, searching look.
    “The old man is losing his touch,” Walter offered after a moment.
    “Yes,” Atwood said with a frown. “That must be it.”
    They ate for a few minutes in silence, each lost in their own world. Around them the noise escalated into a dull roar. There was intermittent shouts and laughter, but they paid them no mind.
    “So,” Atwood asked at length, “how did it go, then?”
    “I didn’t find McManus and Keeler, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    Atwood frowned at him. “Careful,” he said. “You’re becoming too clever for your own good.”
    “Well, I had a good teacher,” Walter replied.
    Atwood hesitated. Walter was being entirely genuine, that much was obvious, but Atwood distrusted that sincerity. He was far more comfortable with lies.
    “I suppose you did at that,” he managed, glancing down, embarrassed. Walter gave him a small smile, which he returned awkwardly a moment later.
    “And you?” Walter asked. “Any sign of…them?” His distaste was palpable. He couldn’t even bring himself to say their names.
    “They were supposed to meet us here,” Atwood replied, glancing around.
    “So you said, though I can’t believe you’d take them here. Coffee and butter cakes are one thing, but this…”
    “Marvin won’t mind. I’ve brought my share of bummers and ruffians here.”
    “That’s not what I meant.” Walter sighed. “Are you sure they won’t just take the money and run?”
    “I’m sure.” There was no hesitation in Atwood’s voice, not even a trace of doubt. Walter was unimpressed.
    “You said that boy reminds you of yourself,” he said. “Are you saying you never took the money and ran?”
    “Only if I thought I could get away with it, and Swifty knows better than to try that with me.”
    “If you say so,” Walter muttered, clearly unconvinced.
    “I do.” Atwood smirked over Walter’s shoulder. Swifty and Little Jake were standing right behind him, with wicked grins on their faces.
    Walter turned and stared up at them glumly, as if expecting a trap. Judging by Little Jake’s crestfallen expression, he clearly had something in mind.
    “We found ’em, mister,” Swifty told Atwood.
    “Already?” Walter asked.
    “No problem.” Swifty said smugly. Atwood and Walter had wasted weeks on this, and the newsboys had managed it in a matter of days. They took no small amount of satisfaction at that, all the more so at Walter’s dour expression.
    “Where?” Atwood asked.
    “We heard it from Gibbons,” Swifty said. “Who heard it from Sparrow, who overheard Beaky sayin’ he saw your McManus and Keeler at the Ginger Midget last night.”
    It took the reporters a moment to untangle Swifty’s circumlocutions.
    “You’re sure?” Walter asked.
    “Course we’re sure,” Little Jake glared. “We wouldn’t take nothin’ to you if we wasn’t sure, would we?”
    “No,” Atwood agreed. “You wouldn’t.” It might have been hearsay, but Swifty and Little Jake were professionals. They had a reputation to protect.
    “The Ginger Midget,” Walter muttered to himself.
    “It’s off Pretorius Street, innit?” Little Jake offered helpfully.
    “I know where it is,” Walter snapped.
    “Sorry,” Little Jake said in a mockery of contrition. Beside him, Swifty’s eyes were laughing.
    “Thank you,” Atwood said, before Walter could get in further over his head.  “You’ve done well.” He handed over the remainder of their payment.
    “Anytime,” said Swifty.
    “For a price,” Little Jake interjected.
    “Of course.”
    They all shook hands like proper business partners, although Walter was reluctant and refused to meet their eyes. The newsboys left laughing.
    “We found them,” Atwood said.
    “If you believe them,” Walter replied sorely.
    “You don’t?”
    Walter looked down at his plate. “No,” he