Julius Rowan stared dumbly at the piece of scrap metal that he'd hauled up from the sea just four days ago. He had been wondering what on earth it could be before he'd noticed an invaluable mark.
Julius was only fifteen but he knew this mark quite well. In fact he'd seen it broadcasted on T.V and inked onto t-shirts.
He shook the bright red hair out of his sparkling blue eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of despair welling up in him, the mark-it couldn't be, could it?
Well, there was a chance that it was a fake mark.
Why had he even salvaged the metal from the sea around Barry Island? Why? He should have left it to rust away in the salty sea-water like every thing else that had crashed on the protruding rocks.
It was his curiosity. There was a famous saying, curiosity killed the cat. Well, it did cheer him up a little.
But the mark…
There was a gunshot behind Julius and a man dressed in exotic colours steps out of the shadows silently.
Oh, great, thought Julius suddenly.
There was another gunshot and Julius Rowan stumbled to the ground, dead. The unknown man snatched up the scrap metal and mumbled to himself:
"Another one bites the dust."
It was the mark of the doomed ship, Titanic. Julius would have lived if he hadn't meddled in things and made it worse for Barry Island.
In fact, Barry Island was used to taking warnings and murders from mysterious gangs. After all, it happened all the time…
But not for Alex Rider.