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him see his way to the church door.
    Please God it wasn’t locked!
And it wasn’t. A turn on the ring handle and he stepped out into the moon-wash of the courtyard. He kept his eyes away from the dungeons and the condemned cell, and to bring good luck he crossed himself the way the Catholics do, before running under the archway to the fort entrance. There was just a chance that it was only bolted from the inside, and he could slide the bolts.
    Some chance! As he walked towards it, squinting his eyes now that he was out of the moonshine again, he saw the big entrance door with security locks as well as bolts. He tried it just in case – and as he looked through the crack, his body froze. Outside sat a street kid, the leader, the tribal-cut daddy. His head lifted fromhis chest as the door rattled.
    Oh, no!
    Leonard scuttled away from the door.
They were waiting for him! They knew he was still in here!
He turned and ran back into the courtyard. His stomach rolled with fear. He ran beyond the courtyard on to the battlements where cannon balls were heaped behind a line of black cannons, pointing out to sea. He went to the ramparts and stared down. And there on the rocks beneath him were two more street kids, crouching and staring silently up at him. His stomach seemed to eat his heart.
    Leonard Boameh had never felt so alone in his life. Shivering on the ramparts of Elmina Castle, he looked at the heavens – but he didn’t see God; he saw the same stars and moon that are forever blind to human suffering. And he crumpled. He collapsed there on the worn flagstones, and sobbed.
    But there was another exit from this place!
There was the Door of No Return! Could that beopened from the inside without a key? And would the patrolling street kids be watching it? He pulled himself up from the flagstones and made his way, stooping, to the infamous door, pressing himself tight against the wall. He stared at the doorway. Its shape was hard to see against the moonlight sea, but there it was, firmly closed, its stunted bars letting just a glimmer of light in – and so small that only a cat could get through.
    There was no street kid beyond it, up at this level. There might be one waiting below – but for now, it was safe to try the door.
    It was locked. Of course it was locked. And although Leonard tried his head for size – because where a head and shoulders can go, don’t they say the body can follow? – there was no way that even a skinny kid could get out through here.
    He stood back. This way was hopeless, too; which meant there would be only one time to get out, and that was when people were around. Tomorrow. But how could he do that, with thefort guarded by the street kids? Even if he jumped from the battlements without breaking his legs or his neck, they would get him. He sank down on his haunches as he realised that these kidnappers were not going to give up on him. That rotten ten dollar bill had proved that he was a brother worth having…

Chapter Eight

    L eonard spent the night behind the pyramid of cannonballs furthest from the fort entrance. Desperate to keep awake, he leant uncomfortably against them and tried to work out what to do. His one big hope would be that the young woman guide would be on duty the next day. She would listen and she would help him. If that didn’t work, he could try walking out of the fort with the visitors and dodging the waiting street kids, or persuade tourists of the trouble he was in. But would they be able to listen to him if the short-fuse guide was around? There was oneother skinny hope – that a different guide altogether would be on duty tomorrow – but he was just going to have to find out.

    Next morning, the sun woke the seabirds first, terns
krik-krikking
in the distance, and the gulls screeching down where the fishing boats came in. Then light, rather than warmth, woke Leonard, who had slid into a fitful sleep despite himself. He