The Switch by Anthony Horowitz Read Free Book Online

square with an alleyway next to it leading, presumably, to a garden at the back. Thick ivy grew up one side of the house. Tad followed it with his eye. The ivy twisted past three windows and a balcony, stopping just short of the roof. At the very top there was a brightly colored box with a name and a telephone number. A burglar alarm.
    “It’s the London home of a real milord,” Finn explained. “A member of the harry stocracy. ’Is name is Lord Roven.”
    At least it wasn’t one of his father’s friends. But Tad still couldn’t relax. He listened with dread as Finn went on.
    “I seen ’im in the papers, Bobby-boy. Lord Roven and his lovely wife, the two of them dripping with diamonds and gold and mink.” Finn’s eyes had gone dark now. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his head. “It’s not fair, is it?” he hissed. “Them so rich and us so poor. I never had no education, Bobby-boy. Okay. It’s true. I did burn down the school. And maybe it was wrong of me to lock all the teachers inside it first. But I never ’ad a chance. Never! And that’s why it’s all right, you see. To break into ’is ’ouse and steal ’is things. Because he’s got everything and we got nothing and stealing is the only way to make things change.”
    Breaking in. Stealing. Tad’s worst fears had been realized. His mouth had gone dry and it took him a few moments to find his voice. “How do you know Lord Roven won’t be in?” he asked.
    “’E always goes out tonight,” Finn replied. “Tonight is ’is bridge night. It’ll be four in the morning before ’e gets home.”
    “And Lady Roven?”
    “In the country.”
    Finn licked his lips, then pointed again with the stick. “There’s the window, Bobby-boy. Up there by the alarm. You can get in there.”
    Now Tad understood why he had been chosen. A man wouldn’t have been able to climb up. The ivy wouldn’t hold him. He needed a boy. “How do you know the window will be open, Finn?” he asked. His mind was desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare.
    “I arranged it.”
    “But what about the alarm . . . ?”
    The stick whistled down, missing Tad’s head by less than an inch. “What’s the matter with you?” Finn demanded.
    “Nothing . . . !”
    “Nuffing, Bobby-boy? Oh yes. There’s something queer all right. Finn can smell a fish. A rotten fish.” Finn rested the stick on Tad’s shoulder and gazed into his eyes. “You been ill,” he continued. “I can respect that. I’ve made lots of people ill myself. But you’re acting like you never been on a job before. What’s happened to you?”
    “I’m all right, Finn. Nothing’s changed.”
    “I wonder.” Finn let the stick slide off Tad’s shoulder. “But you better not let me down, Bobby-boy. Stuffed with nice things this ’ouse is. Nice pictures and candlesticks. Smart jewelry and antiques. And you got to get me in!”
    Finn looked left and right, then hurried across the road. Feeling sick and frightened, Tad followed. The last time he had come to Nightingale Square it had been for crumpets and tea. Now he was back as a thief in the night. It was impossible. When he had woken up in the Snarbys’ caravan he had thought things were as bad as they could get. But this was far, far worse.
    Finn had already reached the other side of the road and was crouching down. As Tad joined him, he straightened up and now he was holding what looked like a circular section of the pavement. Looking closer, Tad saw it was the cover of a manhole. Finn grunted and set it down, then pulled out a tangle of multicolored wires, which he began to examine.
    “What are you doing?” Tad asked.
    “What do you think I’m doing?” Finn shook his head and sighed. “The alarm’s connected to the police.” He pulled out a pair of wire cutters, selected an orange-colored wire and snipped it in two. “At least, it was.”
    “You’ve cut it!”
    “Don’t disappoint me, Bobby-boy.” Finn glanced upward