"Now, I don't want you to think," Jack continued, "that I had any sort of a plan. I didn't. I was too angry for that. So when I got to Rio I had no idea what I was going to do next. All I knew is that I didn't want to be found.

"I don't know if you've ever been to Rio, but it's an easy place to disappear in. Huge, crowded, busy – and not the most peaceful or law-abiding place on Earth. Also, it's a place where you can live on your wits. A smart kid – and I was smart, up to a point – can do OK. I knew the money I had with me wouldn't last for ever, so after a few days nosing about and getting a feel for the place, as it were, I got a job with a guy running a charter boat."

"Charter boat?"

"Yeah. Rich holiday-makers would hire it to go fishing or diving. I was something between a deck hand and a cabin boy – I swabbed decks, cut bait, that sort of thing. Plus I looked after the diving gear. Actually, it was the fact that I knew how to do so that got me the job in the first place. In my previous life I'd been one of the rich holiday-makers, and knew about fishing and diving."

"I see."

"Right. I  might add that the owner never asked me where I was from, or anything. He was American, and I got the impression that he'd dropped out, so to speak. Maybe he was hiding from his past and saw me as some sort of kindred spirit. Anyway, there were questions he never asked.

"Seeing things from the other side, if you see what I mean, was a bit strange at first, but it wasn't long before I began to enjoy the life. I felt free. I hadn't realised up 'til then how trapped I'd felt as a rich kid in a gilded cage, but boy it felt good once I got out. So I smiled a lot, cracked jokes, and made myself popular – and I got to dive and fish as well. Provided I didn't think about the future, I was in heaven."

"Sounds like it, too," Marine Boy said. "But how did you get from there to here?"

"Yeah, right. I said I was living on my wits. That meant that not everything I did was totally legal. In fact, some of it was downright criminal. I started out in a small way – thieving and such. It's amazing what you can get away with if you've got sharp eyes, fast hands and a dormant conscience. People would turn their backs for a second, and I would be off with their bags – or they'd leave their stuff on the beach when they went for a swim, and I'd help myself."

"If I ever find myself on a beach, I'll bear that in mind."

"Do. And remember that it's the kids you have to look out for."

"Really? How come?"

"Because they – or we, I should probably say – look innocent. There are gangs of ten to twelve year olds working the rich areas – something which I didn't discover until it was too late."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, there are rich areas and richer areas. Places where the pickings are good, and places where they're very good. One of the best was the yacht marina, which was right next to the place where the charter boats moored. See, I was only a part-time thief. I'm not saying that to make me sound less of a crook; stealing is stealing, and to pretend that I was anything other than a criminal would be dishonest. What I did was disgraceful, and I'm ashamed of myself. If we ever get out of here, I'll give myself up, I promise."

"I believe you."

"Thanks. That means a lot. Anyway, I lived on the charter boat – slept there, anyway – and whenever we were booked, that was where I'd be. But even during busy periods we only got booked five days a week or so, and rarely for the whole day. So, despite my chores and such, I had a lot of free time. Which I spent thieving."

"What did you do with the money?"

"Saved it, actually."

"Saved it?"

"Yeah." Jack gave a shrug. "I know it sounds weird. I mean, if I wanted money, all I had to do was to go home, say sorry, and claim my inheritance. I might add that I'm an only child. You are too, aren't you?"

Marine Boy nodded.

"So there's a stack of dough that lawyer is looking after for me," Jack went on, "and there's no-one I have to share it with. But I found that I didn't want my father's money. I wanted my father. His time, his attention, his advice, his company, his..."

"His love?" Marine Boy asked.

"Yeah," Jack replied, with emphasis. "Yeah, you get it, don't you?"

"I know what it is to have a busy father, and I know what it's like to feel alone in a crowd. But my father's not that tied up in his work that he has no time for me. Not as much as I'd like, sometimes, but we do talk."

"I could've lived with that, I reckon. Actually, some of my mates at school said they envied me. Envied my freedom, they said. I suppose it depends on how you look at things."

"I guess."

"So anyway, I got the idea that I wanted to make my own money. I used to fantasise about going home in a few years and telling the lawyer that I had more money in the bank than he was holding for me in trust. Which is where it is, by the way. In the bank. I've got a nice little savings account, and I was too caught up in things to care that there's a difference between honest money and dishonest money."

"I see. I think. But what about those gangs?"

"Oh, yeah. See, these gangs were quite territorial. They had their own claims staked out, as it were, and they took a pretty dim view of any outsider operating on their patch. Which, though I didn't realise it, I was. It took them a while to cotton onto me, I might add. I like to think it was because I was good at what I did, but it's more likely that I looked so little like a local. Not a lot of blond kids in Rio."

"I guess not."

"No. But they eventually work out that I'm working their patch, and form a welcoming committee for me. See – they're organised. They've got quite a slick operation, actually. There's the kids who do the actual stealing – orphans and street kids mostly – and they report to a handler."

"Like Fagin?" Marine Boy asked.

"Yeah. Hey – you've read Dickens?"

"A bit. Enough to know who Fagin is, anyway."

"Cool. I'm quite a fan of Dickens, actually. I know it sounds odd, but there are times when I've had enough of computer games and social media, and just want to curl up with a book. I mean a real book, not an e-reader. How crazy is that? But anyway, this Fagin type is basically a fence. I mean, cash is one thing, but other valuables are not to be sneezed at. So the kids bring him the stuff, and he gives them a cut. Not much of one, usually, but still. And Fagin reports to someone higher up in the organisation, who grants him and his gang the right to operate in a certain area. For a fee, I presume."

"Organised crime."

"Exactly. I never met any of the chiefs, of course, but I did come face to face with a couple of heavies that Fagin employed."

"Ah."

"Ah indeed. They caught up with me in a quiet part of the marina, and encouraged me, to put it mildly, to go with them. They take me to Fagin, and we go into some back room. I'm shitting myself, as you'll imagine, but I'm somehow calm at the same time. Still thinking clearly, if you catch my drift."

"Uh-huh."

"So Fagin reads me the riot act. All threat and bluster, actually, and it occurs to me that I might not be in as much trouble as I thought."

"How come?"

"Call it a hunch. But I reckon that if he'd seriously wanted to hurt me he'd've done it straight away, rather than jabber at me."

"It seems you were right."

"Yeah, but for the wrong reasons as it turned out. I found out later that the reason he didn't just have me knifed and dumped was because I was the sort of rich foreign kid whose disappearance would make people ask questions."

"Which you were."

"Up to a point. But his hesitation – his mistake – gave me the opening I needed. I acted all apologetic – said I didn't realise that I was treading on anyone's toes and that. Which was true, come to think of it. But anyway. Then I asked if I could join his gang. That threw Fagin – it was clearly something he hadn't expected; and while he was working out how to respond, I asked if it would be OK if I paid a fine by way of an apology."

"A fine?"

"Why not? See, like I said, cash was one thing, valuables another. I hadn't worked out a safe way of converting valuables to cash – which I told Fagin straight out. I offered him two lap-tops, six phones, two gold necklaces, four or five expensive watches and three passports – and his eyes damn near popped out of his head. He asked me where they were, and I said that I had them stashed. I took him and his heavies to the place where I'd hidden them, and handed them over."

"Wow," Marine Boy said. "But why steal stuff you couldn't get rid of?"

"Forward planning maybe? I had an idea that I'd be able to get something for them eventually, and it turned out that I was right, in a way. I might add that I'd had enough sense not to hide everything in one place, so I only handed over one stash out of three."

"Shrewd. You clearly have a talent for criminality."

"Ouch. OK, that was fair. Anyway, Fagin did some thinking, and came up with the idea that I could be his number one operative. The thing about his boys was that they looked like what they were – poor kids from Rio's slums. I, on the other hand, could look and act like a rich kid if I chose, and could wander through the wealthier areas without attracting suspicion."

"Yeah," Marine Boy said, "you can look innocent right enough."

"Innocent and convincing."

"Huh?"

"Another string to my bow. See, I spun Fagin a yarn. Basically, I told him that I was a former rich kid who'd been ripped off by his trustees, and was trying to raise the money to sue them to blazes and back. I also dropped a hint that I'd be very grateful, not to say generous, towards anyone that helped me get my hands on my millions. And Fagin bought it, or at least he seemed to. Maybe he was just prepared to believe the worst about lawyers. A lot of people are."

"I've only ever met a couple. I just thought they were boring."

"That's just them lulling you into a false sense of security. So anyway, I enter into an arrangement with Fagin, giving ne an outlet for the things I stole. And Fagin doesn't rip me off, at least not outrageously. I reckon he gave me a third of what each item was worth, which was a better deal than he gave to his other kids. But the fact that I'd got Fagin to swallow the story about my trustees got me to thinking. Perhaps I could persuade people out of their money, rather than simply stealing it."