The Hunchback Assignments by Arthur Slade Read Free Book Online Page A

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    “Don’t worry your head about it now,” Mr. Socrates said. “You’ll have your place in the struggle. We shall learn soon enough whether or not your training was worth the investment.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “We’ll discuss it later. Let’s just say I have an assignment for you. Now, please carry on with your reading.”
    Modo opened the paper again, but he couldn’t read a word. An assignment! His mind was buzzing with possibilities. Over the years Mr. Socrates had hinted that all his instruction was for an important, undisclosed purpose. Now Modo knew. He was to battle these secret organizations. His mouth felt dry with fright.
    It was well past sundown when they pulled into London. Gaslights flickered here and there as figures scurried along a platform, cutting through the steam belched by the train.
    “Come, Modo,” Mr. Socrates said, getting to his feet. “Paddington Station. We shall disembark here. Bring the luggage.”
    As he stepped off the train with Mr. Socrates’ suitcase in hand, Modo couldn’t believe his eyes. There were even more people at this station than the one in Lincoln, and they were bleating, squawking, shouting, all speaking atonce. A woman, who must have bathed in perfume, waddled by, her flower scent invading his nostrils. He clutched the suitcase to his chest and hurried to catch up with Mr. Socrates.
    Modo glanced up from time to time to see if people were staring at him and his mask, but they were too busy to notice him. It was all Modo could do to keep from dropping the suitcase and running away from the hurly-burly.
    They stopped on a street where tall, soot-blackened buildings were obscured by smoke and fog. Mr. Socrates raised his hand and the clomping of hooves echoed off the nearby walls. A large coach charged out of the mist, its driver dressed in a white mackintosh that made him look like a wraith.
    “You’ll ride with me now,” Mr. Socrates instructed Modo. Tharpa took the seat beside the driver.
    Modo peered out the window while the horses clopped down the street. The spectral forms of Londoners swirled up the alleys.
    “You’ve displayed an admirable capacity for tutelage,” Mr. Socrates said. “I’m pleased. Mrs. Finchley would say I’ve been hard on you, but I have my reasons.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Modo, there’s an important assignment you must complete. It is my sincere hope that all your training, all your diligent studying will result in a successful mission, for it will be, as they say, a sink or swim situation.”
    “I don’t understand, sir,” Modo croaked.
    “You must survive on the streets of London … on your own.”
    It took a few moments for the words to sink in. “On my own?”
    “Exactly.” Mr. Socrates thumped the roof with his walking stick. The coach slowed, then stopped. “This assignment is intended to cut the apron strings. You have been an exceptional student, but it is time that you learned to act independently.” Mr. Socrates swung open the door.
    “You want me to leave?”
    “Please, Modo, don’t belabor the obvious. Prove that my investment in you was well founded. I’ll find you again when you have completed your assignment. Go, at once.”
    Modo stepped hesitantly down onto the wet street.
    “Wh-when will you come for me? How long will—”
    Mr. Socrates closed the door. From his perch next to the driver, Tharpa refused to look at him. The driver cracked his whip and the horses trotted on while Modo shouted from the curb, “But wait! I have no food! No money! Mr. Socrates! I need my clothes! Tharpa! Wait!”
    Modo watched, stunned, as the coach turned down an alley and was gone. He stared after it for a long time as though at any moment it would reappear and his nightmare would be over. His heart thumped madly. Inside the coach, he’d felt safe, accustomed as he was to having walls around him. Here on the street with the sky open above him and the freedom to choose any direction he liked, Modo became