Read Online Public Enemy Number Two by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online Page A

toward the door. The meaning was clear. Keep Walsh talking.
    “I’m sick,” I groaned. “I need a doctor.”
    “What’s the matter with you?”
    “I don’t know. That’s why I need the doctor.”
    “You look okay to me.” Walsh was suspicious.
    “Yeah—but you’re not a doctor,” I pointed out.
    Meanwhile, Johnny had looked up and down the corridor, checking that there was no one else around. As Walsh straightened up, he moved. Suddenly the gun was pressed against his neck and Powers was right up close to him, purring like a kitten. A rabid kitten.
    “Weasel Walsh,” he muttered. “Make one false move and I’ll decorate the walls with ya brains.”
    “Powers!” The color had drained out of Walsh’s face. “Are you crazy?”
    “Sure.” Powers laughed. “That’s what my doctors say. But I ain’t so crazy about this joint, Walsh. That’s why ya’re going to be my ticket out.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Check it again, kid,” he said. I went over and looked out. The narrow corridor seemed to stretch into infinity, the dull yellow bulbs throwing sticky pools of light onto the floor.
    “It’s clear, Johnny,” I said.
    “Let’s go!” Powers pushed Walsh toward me. “Ya try anything Walsh and it’s pop goes the weasel.”
    We stepped into the corridor. It’s a strange thing about prison. After a while you get used to being locked up. To me it felt all wrong being outside the cell in the middle of the night. The shadows seemed to reach out as if to grab me. Everything was somehow too big. I could hear my heart pulsing in my ears and the hair on my forehead was damp with sweat. I wanted to go back. I wanted to hear the cell door slam shut behind me. Now I knew what our hamster must have felt like when it went AWOL one Christmas.
    Four doors stood between us and the main gate. Walsh had opened the first three without any problem. But as he turned the key in the fourth, the sirens screamed and the whole world went crazy.
    We’d climbed a flight of stairs and we were high up. We were also outside. The cold night air came at me in a rush. The sirens were everywhere, ripping into the night. Somebody switched on a spotlight. I saw a perfect circle of light glide across the courtyard far below us then ripple along the wall, counting the bricks. Then it hit us. For a horrible moment I was completely blind. It was a brilliant, exploding blindness. I thought I was going to fall, but Powers must have reached out and grabbed me because I felt myself pulled back, my shoulders slamming into the wall behind me.
    The fourth door led nowhere. We were on a small platform, about thirty feet above the ground, the same height as the wall. The platform was directly opposite one of the watchtowers. I could just make out the shape of two guards behind the curtain of light. They were pointing something at us—something long and thin. Somehow I didn’t think it was a telescope. Sitting ducks. I waited for the crackle of gunfire that would bring it all to an end.
    But it didn’t come. Instead the sirens ended, abruptly fading into silence. Now I could hear people shouting. About half a dozen guards ran into the yard, making for the shadows. I looked at Powers. Did he have any idea how he was going to get us out of here? He’d told me to tell Tim to go to Heathrow. I gazed up at the sky almost expecting to see a helicopter—but that was insane. Powers wanted a driver, not a pilot. So what happened next?
    “Listen to me!” Powers shouted. “Do what I tell ya and nobody gets hurt.”
    “Put down the gun and give yourself up, Powers.” I don’t know who said that. It was just a voice out of the darkness.
    “I got nothing to lose,” Powers called back. “If I don’t get some action, Walsh here takes a dive.” He pushed Walsh to the very edge of the platform. I had to admit, he knew what he was doing. If anybody took a potshot at him now, the guard would fall. “Lower the drawbridge,” Powers