Read Online Bloody Horowitz by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online Page B

Romeo. The gang leader who had disappeared. He had last been seen heading for London in a stolen car—and maybe it was just a rumor, but hadn’t someone told him that the car was a BMW X3? It was a coincidence. It had to be. But even so, it was a little bit strange.
    He turned his attention to the inside of the car. The glove compartment was empty. There was a CD player but no CDs. There was also a slot for an iPod, but neither of them had brought one with them.
    â€œHey—that’s cool!” Harry muttered.
    The BMW had a satellite navigation system. Of course, it would be standard in a luxury car like this, but this one had risen out of the dashboard like something in a James Bond film, full color and high-definition screen. What was strange was that it seemed to have activated itself automatically. Neither of the boys had touched anything.
    â€œPut in our destination,” Harry commanded.
    â€œI don’t know our destination,” Jason said.
    â€œWell, think of one.”
    â€œHow about Aldeburgh?” Jason remembered that it was a town on the Suffolk coast.
    â€œYeah. Aldeburgh.” Harry frowned. “How d’you spell Aldeburgh?”
    Jason typed in the letters and pressed the button to start the guidance. At once the screen lit up to show an arrow pointing toward a cartoon roundabout, which, according to the numbers floating below, they would reach in 100 yards. A moment later, a voice emerged from the speaker system.
    â€œAt—the—roundabout—take—the—second—exit.”
    Harry and Jason looked at each other, then burst out laughing. They had heard navigation systems plenty of times. But this car seemed to be equipped with the most extraordinary voice. It was like an old woman, shrill and high-pitched, not telling them where to go but almost nagging them. The system was surely faulty. It had to be. No BMW owner would want to drive with a voice like that.
    The two of them were so amused that they almost drove straight into the roundabout even though the counter was clearly signaling its approach. 30 yards, 20 yards, 10 yards . . . at the last moment, Harry spun the wheel and they cut in front of an ambulance and veered from one lane to another. Then they had exited and they were following the A14 toward Felixstowe with two miles to go until the next turnoff. By now Jason was wondering if Harry would let him have a go behind the wheel. He had never been in a car as powerful as this. He would have liked to feel his own foot pressing down on the accelerator. But he doubted it. Harry was never very generous about anything and he liked to remind Jason of his place: number two. Jason stretched himself out in the comfortable passenger seat. Harry would probably slash the leather when they dumped the car. He might even decide to set it on fire.
    â€œLeft—turn—ahead.” The ridiculous old woman’s voice cut in again.
    â€œLeft turn ahead!” Harry mimicked the sound with a high-pitched falsetto of his own and laughed.
    â€œYou think it’s broken, Harry?” Jason asked.
    â€œTurn—left—onto—the—A—12.” It was almost as if the machine had heard him and wanted to contradict him. And sure enough, there was the signpost. The A12 to Lowestoft, the coastal road that would take them past Woodbridge and Orford and on to Aldeburgh.
    Harry made the turn, then fished in his pocket and took out a packet of ten cigarettes. He offered one to Jason and they both lit up, using the BMW’s lighter. Although Jason wouldn’t have dared admit it, he didn’t like smoking. He hated the smell and it gave him a sore throat. But generally, what Harry did, he did. Soon the inside of the car was filled with gray smoke. Jason turned on the airconditioning and allowed the electronically chilled air to rush