THE FAREWELL

Point of view: Third person omniscient

The helicopter circled twice over Haverstock Hall before beginning its descent. It was a Robinson R44 four-seater aircraft, American-built. There was only one person – the pilot – inside. Sir David Friend had returned from London early that morning, and he and his wife came outside to watch it land in front of the house. The engine noise died down and the rotors began to slow. The cabin door slid open, and the pilot got out, dressed in a one-piece leather flying suit, helmet and goggles. The pilot walked up to them, extending a hand. "Good morning," she said. "I'm Mrs. Stellenbosch, from the academy."

If Sir David and Lady Caroline had been thrown by their first sight of Alex, the appearance of this assistant director, as she called herself, left them frozen on the spot. Sir David was the first to recover. "You flew the helicopter yourself?"

"Yes, I'm qualified." Mrs. Stellenbosch had to shout over the noise of the rotors, which were still turning.

"Would you like to come in?" Lady Caroline asked. "Perhaps you'd like some tea?"

She led them into the house and through to the living room, where Mrs. Stellenbosch sat, her legs apart, her helmet on the sofa beside her. Sir David and Lady Caroline sat opposite her. Tea was brought in on a tray.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Mrs. Stellenbosch asked. She reached into a pocket and took out a small packet of cigars without waiting for an answer. She lit one and blew smoke. "What a very beautiful house you have, Sir David. Georgian, I would say, but decorated with such taste! And where, may I ask, is Alex?"

"He went for a walk," Sir David said.

"Perhaps he's a little nervous." She smiled again and took the teacup Lady Caroline had proffered. "I understand that Alex has been a great source of concern to you."

Sir David Friend nodded. His eyes gave nothing away. For the next few minutes, he told Mrs. Stellenbosch about Alex, how he had been expelled from Eton, how out of control he had become. Lady Caroline listened to all this in silence, occasionally holding her husband's arm.

"I'm at my wit's end," Sir David concluded. He continued, "We have a daughter and she's perfect. But Alex? He hangs around the house. He doesn't read. He doesn't show any interest in anything. His appearance … well, you'll see for yourself. Point Blanc Academy is our last resort, Mrs. Stellenbosch. We're desperately hoping you can sort him out."

The assistant director poked at the air with her cigar, leaving a grey trail. "I'm sure you've been a marvellous father, Sir David," she purred. "But these modern children! It's heart-breaking the way some of them behave. You've done the right thing in coming to us. As I'm sure you know, the academy has had a remarkable success rate over the past eleven years."

"What exactly do you do?" Lady Caroline asked.

"We have our methods." The woman's eyes twinkled. She tapped ash into her saucer. "But I can promise you, we'll sort out all of Alex's problems. Don't you worry! When he comes home, he'll be a completely different boy!"

Meanwhile, Alex and Fiona were crossing a field about a kilometre away from the house. They had seen the helicopter land and knew that Alex's time had come, but Alex wasn't ready to leave yet. Mrs. Jones had telephoned him the night before. Once again, MI6 weren't going to send him into what might be enemy territory empty-handed. Alex had invited Fiona to take one last walk with him, and she had gladly accepted.

They watched as a combine harvester rumbled slowly towards them, cutting a swathe through the grass. It jerked to a halt a short distance away and the door of the cabin opened. A man got out – with difficulty. He was so fat that he had to squeeze himself out, first one buttock, then the next, finally his stomach, shoulders and head. The man was wearing a checked shirt and blue overalls – a farmer's outfit. But even if he'd had a straw hat and a blade of corn between his teeth, Alex could never have imagined him actually farming anything.

The man grinned at him. "Hello, old chap!" he said.

"Hello, Mr. Smithers," Alex replied.

"Who's this man?" Fiona asked.

Alex turned to Fiona. "Smithers works for MI6. He supplied the various devices I used on my last mission," he explained.

"Very nice to see you again!" he exclaimed. He winked. "And who's this beautiful girl?"

"This is Fiona Friend. She's supposed to be my sister," Alex explained.

"Ah, very well. A pleasure to meet you, miss. Alex, what do you think of the cover? I was told to blend in with the countryside."

"The combine harvester's a great idea," Alex said. "Except this is April. There isn't anything to harvest."

"I hadn't thought of that!" Smithers beamed. "The trouble is, I'm not really a field agent. Field agent!" He looked around him and laughed. "Anyway, I'm jolly glad to have the chance to work with you again, Alex. To think up a few bits and pieces for you. It's not often I get a teenager. Much more fun than the mature adults!"

He reached into the cabin and pulled out a suitcase. "Actually, it's been a bit tricky this time," he went on.

"Have you got another Nintendo DS?" Alex asked.

"No. That's just it. The school doesn't allow Nintendos – or any computers at all, for that matter. They supply their own laptops. I could have hidden a dozen gadgets inside a laptop, but there you are! Now, let's see…" He opened the case. "I'm told there's still a lot of snow up at Point Blanc, so you'll need this."

"A ski suit," Alex said. That was what Smithers was holding.

"Yes. But it's highly insulated and also bulletproof." He pulled out a pair of green-tinted goggles. "These are ski goggles. But in case you have to go anywhere at night, they're actually infrared. There's a battery concealed in the frame. Just press the switch and you'll be able to see for about twenty metres, even if there's no moon."

Smithers reached into the case a third time. "Now, what else would a boy of your age have with him? Fortunately, you're allowed to take a rather basic Sony Discman – provided all the CDs are classical." He handed Alex the machine.

"So while people are shooting at me in the middle of the night, I get to listen to music," Alex said.

"Absolutely. Only don't play the Beethoven!" Smithers held up the disc. "The Discman converts into an electric saw. The CD is diamond-edged. It'll cut through just about anything. Useful if you need to get out in a hurry. There's also a panic button I've built in. If the balloon goes up and you need help, just press fast forward three times. It'll send out a signal which our satellite will pick up. And then we can fast forward you out!"

"Thank you, Mr. Smithers," Alex said. But he was disappointed and it showed.

Smithers understood. "I know what you want," he said, "but you know you can't have it. No guns! Mr. Blunt is adamant. He thinks you're too young."

"He's not too young to get killed, though," Fiona cut in, concerned about Alex's safety.

"Yes, well. I've given it a bit of thought and rustled up a couple of … defensive measures, so to speak. This is just between you and me, Alex, you understand. I'm not sure Mr. Blunt would approve."

He held out a hand. There was a gold ear-stud lying in two pieces in the middle of his palm; a diamond shape for the front and a catch to hold it at the back. The stud looked tiny surrounded by so much flesh. "They told me you'd had your ear pierced," he said. "So I made you this. Be very careful after you've put it in. Bringing the two pieces together will activate it."

"Activate what?" Alex looked doubtful.

"The ear-stud is a small but very powerful explosive device. Separating the two pieces again will set it off. Count to ten and it'll blow a hole in just about anything – or anyone, I should add."

"Just so long as it doesn't blow my ear off," Alex muttered.

"No, no. It's perfectly safe so long as the pieces remain attached." Smithers smiled. "And finally – I'm very pleased with this. It's exactly what you'd expect any young man leaving for school to be given, and I bought it specially for you." He had produced a book.

Alex took it. It was a hardback edition of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. "Thanks," he said, "but I've already read it."

"This is a special edition. There's a gun built into the spine and the chamber is loaded with a stun dart. Just point it and press the author's name on the spine. It'll knock out a mature adult in less than five seconds."

Alex smiled. Smithers climbed back into the combine harvester. For a moment he seemed to have wedged himself permanently in the doorway, but then, with a grunt, he managed to go the whole way. "Good luck, old chap," he said. "Come back in one piece! I really do quite enjoy having you around!"

It was time to go.

Alex's luggage was being loaded into the helicopter and he was standing next to his "parents" and "sister," clutching the Harry Potter book. Eva Stellenbosch was waiting for him beneath the rotors. He had been shocked by her appearance, and at first he'd tried to hide it. But then he'd relaxed. He didn't have to be polite. Alex Rider might be well-mannered, but Alex Friend wouldn't give a damn about what she thought. He glanced at her scornfully now and noticed that she was watching him carefully as he said goodbye to the Friends.

Once again, Sir David Friend acted his part perfectly. "Goodbye, Alex," he said. "You will write to us and let us know you're OK?"

"If you want, father," Alex said.

Lady Caroline moved forward, embraced him and kissed him on the forehead. So did Fiona. Alex could see that both of them were genuinely saddened by his departure and were truly concerned about his safety.

"Come, Alex." Mrs. Stellenbosch was in a hurry to get away. She told him that they would need to stop in Paris to refuel. Alex climbed into the helicopter and got seated, waving goodbye to his "family." Fiona had started weeping, so her parents took her inside, out of view. Two minutes later, the helicopter took off. Alex watched through the window as Haverstock Hall got smaller and smaller and then disappeared behind them. He looked at Mrs. Stellenbosch hunched over the controls, her eyes hidden by her goggles. He eased himself into his seat and let himself be carried away into the darkening sky. Then the clouds rolled in. The countryside was gone. So was his only weapon. Alex was on his own.