Angry hands grabbed him as soon as he climbed back through the open window. His arms were once more twisted behind his back, making him arch away in pain, and then he was pushed down to his knees. He shivered as he sat back on his heels, shoulders slumped and sweaty hair hanging in his eyes …
"What the hell did you think you were doing? Surely you did not expect that little stunt to succeed?"
The small man Alex had met in the control room was yelling down at him. Alex saw a blur of movement, and then suddenly his entire head snapped back from the force of the blow that had landed on the side of his face. His eyes smarted and his cheek burnt.
"Answer me, boy! Did you think you would try to save the world? Play the hero? Do you have any idea who I am? No? Of course, not. You're just a boy. I am Alistair Rothman. I am representing the Black Hawk Group on this mission and—"
He stopped, mid-speech, and stared at his prisoner. Alex had recoiled, as though slapped again, his eyes widening in horrified recognition. "Rothman?" Alex whispered weakly. "Rothman, like Julia Rothman?"
They stared at each other wordlessly, before the small man suddenly waved his guards out of the room. They let go of Alex, and he was finally able to press a comforting hand against his injured cheek. He was not surprised to find a smear of blood on his fingers. The blow had almost taken his head off!
Alistair Rothman's eyes were like ice … but now Alex could see the underlying similarity to Julia. They had the same emotionless face; the same chiselled cheekbones and fine features. Were it not for the twisted scar running down his face, Rothman would have been a very handsome man, taking after his mother. He could not have been much more than twenty-five years old.
"How do you know my mother?" he snapped, glaring down at Alex.
"I …"
Alex hesitated. This was his chance to save himself, but it meant coming up with a convincing lie. Perhaps he could buy the school some time, and then MI6 would be able to mount a rescue operation. Alex stared right into Rothman's eyes and said, "I met her in Venice. She worked with my father."
Rothman felt indecisive. He didn't know what to make of this situation. It was obvious to him that the boy was telling at least something of the truth – how else could he have known about Julia and about Venice?
"What else do you know?" he snapped, needing to hear more before he could decide what to do with Alex.
Alex swallowed heavily. The headmaster and secretary were listening intently, and Alex didn't want to give away too much information. Then again, unless Alex managed to pull a miracle, in an hour all the staff and students would be dead, and then they wouldn't ever be able to repeat Alex's secrets …
"I know what your mother – and my father – did. I know of her organisation and I know that she wouldn't be very impressed by this messy job—"
Alex's teeth closed with a snap as Rothman backhanded him again. He'd bitten through his lip. He shut up. Rothman smiled coldly as blood dribbled from Alex's mouth.
"Then you obviously know nothing. Cleaver!"
The heavyset guard reappeared.
"Make sure young Mr Rider here cannot escape again. The plan stays the same. I'll shoot the brat myself. Less than fifteen minutes left until we start the transmission. Those idiots in the government think they're so clever, setting us up like they did. They probably think we're bluffing. But we'll have the last laugh … and very soon they'll be able to witness exactly what they're up against."
With a short laugh, Alistair Rothman left room. Alex wiped his fringe out of his eyes – he felt grimy and helpless, condemned to spend the last minutes of his life tied up on the floor of the school secretary's office. He couldn't believe he'd survived all those adventures just to end up like this! But even as he furiously tried to think of a way to escape, at heart he knew that it was pointless. There were too many guards, too much surveillance.
His eyes kept straying to the clock mounted on the wall behind Mrs Bedfordshire's desk. The seconds were ticking by too quickly, turning into minutes. It wasn't fair. Alex managed to keep a brave face as Cleaver dragged him to the radiator and handcuffed him to it, but he could feel a knot forming in his throat and a strange prickling behind his eyelids.
He kept his eyes firmly cast down – it was too late to explain things to his headmaster, and eye contact was sure to release his tears and make him lose face. Cleaver stood alertly by the door, keeping an eye on Alex's every move. There was really no way out.
To be continued ...