Touch the Sky (Young Underground #8) (18 page)

             
For a second, the roof of a small car caught his eye. But he couldn
’
t tell from above. Nearly every car in
Helsingør
was black, or maybe gray....

             
“
Well, is it, Peter?
”
asked Uncle Morten. Peter hadn
’
t noticed anyone talking to him, only the rumble of people
’
s voices.

             
“
Huh?
”
Peter said, turning away from the window.

             
Uncle Morten chuckled and shook his head.
“
I wish I could tune out the world the way you do, Peter. I asked, is that tire pump of yours working? We need to make sure we have at least one to fix flats.
”

             
“
Oh, sure,
”
Peter replied. Then he stopped to think.
“
Last time I checked. Maybe I better go see, just to make sure. I
’
ll be right back.
”

             
Peter hurried down the stairs to where his family
’
s bicycles were parked in the street
-
level courtyard. Other families in the building kept their bikes there, too. Besides the bus or the train, it was the only way many Danes had to get around.

             
Peter kept his pump behind a couple of bricks in the corner, next to where he parked his own bike. The pump was a large one, as big as a baseball bat, with a big handle to grip with two hands. He undid the hose from its clip and gave the pump a couple of strokes to feel the air.

             
“
Better pack it in my bag,
”
he told himself,
“
so I don
’
t forget.
”

             
He was about to return up the stairs when he paused at the outside doorway to the street. A car passed slowly, and Peter poked his head around the corner to see.

             
The little black car!

             
Peter pulled back until only his eyes were showing, and he watched as the car stopped and backed into a parking space across the street. Peter waited for the dark Middle Eastern man to get out, but no one did.

             
That has to be him
, Peter thought, shaking even in the safety of the shady courtyard. He stepped back away from the sidewalk, yanked open their street
-
level door, and flew up the stairs two at a time.

             
“
Did you find your pump?
”
asked Uncle Morten when Peter burst into the living room. Peter
’
s uncle was sitting on the couch with Lisbeth, talking with Peter
’
s parents and Mrs. Melchior.

             
“
Works great.
”
Peter nodded and tossed the pump to his uncle. He didn
’
t stop but rushed through to find Henrik and Elise still in the kitchen.

             
“
He
’
s down there,
”
Peter whispered into Henrik
’
s ear. Henrik was hanging up his dish towel and looked at Peter as if he didn
’
t understand.

             
Peter didn
’
t step up to the window but pointed down at the street.

             
“
Who?
”
asked Henrik.

             
Elise moved toward the window. With one hand Peter grabbed her arm, and with the other hand he held a finger to his lips.

             
“
Peter!
”
Elise complained.

             
“
Shh,
”
Peter warned.
“
Now look out the window, down on the other side of the street. I just saw the man pull up in his little black car and park. Mr. Broken Nose.
”

             
“
You saw him?
”
Henrik
’
s eyes grew wide as he crawled up to the window with Peter.

             
“
Well,
”
admitted Peter.
“
Not exactly. But the car is the same one. He pulled up while I was down below, and he
’
s still in the car, I think.
”

             
“
Hard to tell,
”
judged Elise, looking down at the street.
“
All car roofs look about the same from up here.
”

             
“
It
’
s him,
”
Peter insisted.
“
I know it
’
s him. He
’
s following us now.
”

             
“
There
’
s one way to find out.
”
Henrik headed for the door between the kitchen and the living room.

             
“
Are you crazy?
”
hissed Peter, but by that time, Henrik had already disappeared. A moment later, he popped his head back into the kitchen.

             
“
Are you two coming?
”
he asked.

             
“
Wait up,
”
said Elise, following Henrik.

             
“
We
’
ll be back in a little while,
”
Peter told their parents.

             
“
No later than eight
-
thirty,
”
their mother said.
“
Just because it
’
s light out until almost ten doesn
’
t mean it
’
s not still late.
”

             
“
We
’
ll be back,
”
Elise promised.

             
At the foot of the stairs, the twins and Henrik slipped out the door into the courtyard. They kneeled on the pavement just inside the street entryway, a foot from the sidewalk and protected from view.

             
“
He
’
s still in that car,
”
Peter whispered.

             
“
I don
’
t see anyone.
”
Elise wasn
’
t convinced.

             
“
I don
’
t even see the car,
”
announced Henrik.

             
Peter looked again, but Henrik was right. The little black car had disappeared.

             
“
Aw, he
’
s gone,
”
Peter said, straightening up and stepping out on the sidewalk.

             
“
Maybe he saw you run up the stairs to get us,
”
offered Henrik, following as Peter walked. Peter could only shrug as they headed slowly in the direction of the harbor. An older couple was walking their direction, and there were several other people on the sidewalk, enjoying the warm summer evening. Window
-
shoppers, people out for walks. A block later, Peter stopped short.

             
“
Look down there,
”
he croaked, afraid to point.

             
“
Who? What?
”
asked Henrik, following the direction he was looking.

             
“
I don
’
t see anything,
”
commented Elise.

             
“
Half a block down,
”
Peter whispered.
“
Other side of the street. It
’
s his car.
”

             
“
How do you know?
”
began Henrik, looking closer.
“
I
’
m going to go see.
”

             
Peter held on to his friend
’
s shoulder.
“
Wait a minute,
”
he told Henrik.
“
You can
’
t just walk by the car. Suppose he gets out and grabs you?
”

             
“
I
’
ve got you along for protection, remember?
”

             
“
How do we really know it
’
s him?
”
Elise wanted to know.

             
Henrik walked ahead.
“
Like I said, there
’
s only one way to find out. Come on.
”

             
When they were even with the car on the other side of the street, Peter accidentally stepped on the back of Henrik
’
s shoe. While Henrik bent down to pull it back on, Peter and Elise tried to look anywhere but in the direction of the little black car.

             
“
Oh, look at that.
”
Elise paused and looked into the window of a bakery.
“
That French bread.
”

             
“
Right,
”
agreed Peter, trying to look as if he always took time to study loaves of bread. He glanced at the reflection of the car in the big window in front of them, but he still couldn
’
t make out anyone in the driver
’
s seat.

             
“
I don
’
t think he
’
s in the car,
”
Henrik said after a moment. He looked both ways and ran across the street. Peter took a deep breath and followed, with Elise close behind.

             
“
See?
”
Henrik called back to them. He pushed at the side of the car to make it rock back and forth.
“
No one
’
s here.
”

             
Peter
’
s heart still beat double time.
“
Henrik,
”
he warned,
“
he was here a minute ago. Probably got out of the car a second ago. He might be watching us right now.
”

             
“
Peter, we don
’
t even know if this is the same car,
”
replied Elise, leaning down to look more closely at the driver
’
s side door.
“
I don
’
t even see any
...
uh
-
oh.
”

             
Henrik traced his finger down a large scratch on the door.

             
“
Looks like it
’
s dented from Henrik
’
s bike,
”
Peter told them, pointing to the door.
“
You can
really see it from the side.
”

             
Elise squinted and nodded. Peter started to shake.

             
“
Now we
’
re sure.
”
Henrik tried the door of the car.