Free The Switch by Anthony Horowitz Page A

clues.
    The desk and the filing cabinet were locked, like the door, and told him nothing. There were two posters on the wall. One showed a syringe with the line SAY NO TO DRUGS. The other was an advertisement for Crime Stoppers. Tad gazed out of the window as a train trundled past. King’s Cross . . . somehow that meant something to him but he couldn’t remember what.
    Then there was the click of a key turning in a lock. The door opened and a young woman came in, carrying a file.
    “Hello,” she said. “My name is Marion Thorn. Please sit down.”
    As Tad moved away from the window, he examined the new arrival. Marion Thorn was tall and slender with long black hair and dark skin. She was wearing a gray jacket and pants with a brooch, her only jewelry, pinned at the lapel. Her manner was businesslike, but she had a pleasant smile with the perfect white teeth of a movie star.
    Growing more puzzled by the minute, Tad sat down.
    “I imagine you’re wondering who I am,” Marion said. “The first thing is to assure you—I’m not the police.”
    Tad was relieved but said nothing.
    “What’s your name?” Marion asked.
    Tad thought for a moment. “Bob Snarby,” he said.
    “Bob Snarby.” Marion opened the file and wrote the name down. “You do realize,” she went on, “that Sir Hubert Spencer could have pressed charges. Breaking into his house, attacking his son . . . these are very serious offenses.”
    “It wasn’t like that—” Tad began.
    Marion held up a hand. “You’re very lucky, Bob. Sir Hubert is a very unusual man. A very kind man. He’s dedicated a lot of his life to helping young people like you. That’s why he decided to send you over to us.”
    “Us . . . ?” But suddenly Tad knew where he was. Suddenly it all made sense.
    “This office belongs to a charity,” Marion explained. “We’re called ACID.”
    “The Association for Children in Distress,” Tad muttered.
    “You’ve read about us?” Marion asked.
    Tad almost wanted to laugh. How could he tell her that he had known about ACID all his life? “I read about you in the papers,” he said.
    Marion Thorn nodded. “ACID was founded by Sir Hubert Spencer,” she explained. “We have a terrible situation in London. Children . . . out on the streets, some of them as young as eleven and twelve. They have nowhere to go. And there are terrible temptations.” She nodded in the direction of the poster. “Drugs. Crime. And nobody cares about them. Nobody wants to know.”
    She paused and Tad was amazed to see real tears in her eyes. Marion took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “We go out and find these children,” she said. “We search the railway stations, the backstreets, the video-game arcades . . . and we bring them in. We help them and we want to help you, Bob. But first we have to ask you some questions. Do you mind?”
    Tad shook his head. “Go ahead . . .”
    Suddenly Marion Thorn was businesslike again. She spread the file on the desk and sat with pen poised. “How old are you?” she asked.
    “Thirteen.”
    “How long have you been in London?”
    “A couple of weeks.”
    “Are you homeless?”
    “Yes.” Tad hesitated. He didn’t want to lie, but there was no way he could tell the whole truth. “I ran away from home.”
    “Your mum and dad must be very worried about you.” Marion’s voice was reproachful now.
    “They don’t care about me,” Tad replied. “I bet they haven’t told anyone I’m missing.”
    “Can you give me their address?”
    “They don’t have an address. They live in a caravan. They were in Crouch End when I left, but they could be anywhere now. I think they’ve gone north.”
    “So nobody knows where you are. You have no friends or relatives? No social workers? Nobody to look after you?”
    “I’m all on my own,” Tad said, feeling miserable.
    “Good! Good!” Marion muttered.
    Tad glanced at her. There was something in her voice that hadn’t been there before. She sounded