NIGHT RAID
They came skiing down from the mountain. There were seven of them. Wolf was the leader. Alex was at his side. The other five men followed. They had changed into white trousers, jackets and hoods – camouflage that would help them blend into the snow. A helicopter had dropped them two kilometers north of and two hundred meters above Point Blanc and, equipped with night vision goggles, they had quickly made their way down. The weather had settled again. The moon was out. Despite himself, Alex enjoyed the journey, the whisper of the skis cutting through the ice, the empty mountainside bathed in white light. And he was part of a crack SAS unit. He felt safe.
But then the academy loomed up below him, and once again he shivered. Before they had left, he had asked for a gun – but Wolf had shaken his head.
"I'm sorry, Cub. It's orders. You get us in, then you get out of sight."
It was the same old story. When they needed him, he was a man, but when he asked to protect himself, he was just a boy.
There were no lights showing in the building. The helicopter crouched on the helipad like a glittering insect. The ski-jump stood to one side, dark and forgotten. There was nobody in sight. Wolf held up a hand and they slid to a halt.
"Guards?" he whispered.
"Two patrolling. One on the roof."
"Let's take him out first."
Mrs. Jones had made her instructions clear. There was to be no bloodshed unless absolutely necessary. The mission was to get the boys out. The SAS could take care of Dr. Grief, Mrs. Stellenbosch and the guards at a later date.
Now Wolf held out a hand and one of the other men passed him something. It was a crossbow – not the medieval sort but a sophisticated, high-tech weapon with a micro flite aluminum barrel and laser scope. He loaded it with an anesthetic dart, lifted it up and took aim. Alex saw him smile to himself. Then his finger curled, and the dart flashed across the night, travelling at one hundred meters a second. There was a faint sound from the roof of the academy. It was as if someone had coughed. Wolf lowered the crossbow.
"One down," he said.
"Sure," Alex muttered. "And about twenty-nine to go."
Wolf signaled and they continued down, more slowly now. They were about twenty meters from the school when they saw the main door open. Two men walked out, machine-guns hanging from their shoulders. As one, the SAS men veered to the right, disappearing round the side of the school. They stopped within reach of the wall, dropping down to lie flat on their stomachs. Two of the men had moved slightly ahead. Alex noticed that they had kicked off their skis at the very same moment they had come to a halt.
The two guards approached. One of them was talking quietly in Dutch. Alex's face was half buried in the snow. He knew that the combat clothes would make them invisible. He half-lifted his head just in time to see two figures rise out of the ground like ghosts from the grave. Two coshes swung in the moonlight. The guards crumpled. In seconds they were tied up and gagged. They wouldn't be going anywhere that night.
Wolf signaled again. The men got up and ran forward, making for the main door. Alex hastily pulled his own skis off and followed. They reached the door in a line, their backs against the wall. Wolf looked inside to check that it was safe. He nodded. They went in. They were in the hall with the stone dragons and the animal heads. Alex found himself next to Wolf and quickly gave him his bearings, pointing out the different rooms.
"The library?" Wolf whispered. He was totally serious now. Alex could see the tension in his eyes.
"Through here."
Wolf took a step forward, then crouched down, his hand whipping into one of the pouches of his jacket. Another guard had appeared, patrolling the lower corridor. Dr. Grief was taking no more chances. Wolf waited until the man had gone past, then nodded. One of the other SAS men went after him. Alex heard a thud and the clatter of a gun dropping.
"So far, so good," Wolf whispered.
They went into the library. Alex showed Wolf how to summon the lift and Wolf whistled softly as the suit of armor smoothly divided into two parts. "This is quite a place," he muttered.
"Are you going up or down?"
"Down. Let's make sure the boys are alright."
There was just room for all seven of them in the lift. Alex had warned Wolf about the guard at the table, within sight of the lift, and Wolf took no chances – he came out firing. In fact, there were two guards there. One of them was holding a mug of coffee, the other lighting a cigarette. Wolf fired twice. Two more anaesthetic darts travelled the short distance along the corridor and found their targets. Again, it had all happened in almost total silence. The two guards collapsed and lay still. The SAS men stepped out into the corridor.
Suddenly Alex remembered. He was angry with himself for not mentioning it before. "You can't go into the cells," he whispered. "They're wired up for sound."
Wolf nodded. "Show me!"
Alex showed Wolf the passage with the steel doors. Wolf pointed to one of the men. "I want you to stay here. If we're found, this is the first place Grief will come."
The man nodded. He understood. The rest of them went back to the lift, up to the library and out into the hall.
Wolf turned to Alex. "We're going to have to deactivate the alarm," he explained. "Do you have any idea—?"
"This way. Grief's private rooms are on the other side…"
But before he could finish, three more guards appeared, walking down the passageway. Wolf shot one of them – another anesthetic dart – and one of his men took out the other two. But this time, they were a fraction of a second too slow. Alex saw one of the guards bring his gun round. He was probably unconscious before he managed to fire. But at the last moment, his finger tightened on the trigger. Bullets sprayed upwards, smashing into the ceiling, bringing plaster and wood splinters showering down. Nobody had been hit, but the damage had been done. The lights flashed on. An alarm began to ring.
Twenty meters away, a door opened, and more guards poured through.
"Down!" Wolf shouted.
He had produced a grenade. He tugged the pin out and threw it. Alex hit the ground and a second later there was a soft explosion as a great cloud of tear gas filled the far end of the passage. The guards staggered, blind and helpless. The SAS men quickly took them out.
Wolf grabbed hold of Alex and dragged him close. "Find somewhere to hide!" he shouted. "You've got us in. We'll do the rest now."
"Give me a gun!" Alex shouted back. Some of the gas had reached him and he could feel his eyes burning.
"No. I've got orders. At the first sign of trouble, you're to get out of the way. Find somewhere safe. We'll come for you later."
"Wolf…!"
But Wolf was already up and running. Alex heard machine-gun fire coming from somewhere below. So, Wolf had been right. One of the guards had been sent to take care of the prisoners – but there had been an SAS man waiting for him. And now the rules had changed. The SAS couldn't afford to risk the lives of the prisoners. There was going to be bloodshed. Alex could only imagine the battle that must be taking place. But he was to take no part of it. His job was to hide.
More explosions. More gunfire. There was a bitter taste in Alex's mouth as he made his way back to the stairs. It was typical of MI6. Half the time they would happily get him killed. The other half, they treated him like a little boy.
Suddenly a guard appeared, running towards the sound of the fighting. Alex's eyes were still smarting from the gas and now he made use of it. He brought his hand up to his face, pretending to cry. The guard saw a fourteen-year-old boy in tears. He stopped. At that moment Alex twisted round on his left foot, driving the upper part of his right foot sideways into the man's stomach – the roundhouse kick or mawashi geri he had learned in karate. The guard didn't even have time to cry out. His eyes rolled and he went limp. Alex felt a little better after that.
But there was still nothing more for him to do. There was another round of gunfire, then the quiet blast of a second gas grenade. Alex went into the dining-room. From here he could look out through the windows at the side of the building and the helipad above. He noticed that the blades of the helicopter were turning. Somebody was inside it. He moved closer to the window. It was Dr. Grief! He had to let Wolf know.
He turned round.
Mrs. Stellenbosch was standing in front of him.
He had never seen her look less human. Her entire face was contorted with anger, her lips rolled outwards, her eyes ablaze.
"You didn't die!" she exclaimed. "You're still alive!" Her voice was almost a whine, as if somehow none of it had been fair. "You brought them here. You ruined everything!"
"That's my job," Alex said.
"What was it that made me look in here?" Mrs. Stellenbosch giggled to herself. Alex could see what little sanity she had left was slipping away. "Well, at least this is one bit of business I'm finally going to be able to finish."
Alex tensed himself, feet apart, center of gravity low. Just like he had been taught. But it was useless. Mrs. Stellenbosch lurched into him, moving with frightening speed. It was like being run over by a bus. Alex felt the full impact of her body weight, then cried out as two massive hands seized hold of him and threw him headfirst across the room. He crashed into a table, knocking it over, then rolled out of the way as Mrs. Stellenbosch followed up her first attack, lashing out with a kick that would have taken his head off his shoulders if it hadn't missed by less than a centimeter.
He scrambled to his feet and stood there, panting for breath. For a moment his vision was blurred. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Mrs. Stellenbosch charged again. Alex threw himself forward, using another of the tables for leverage. His feet swung round, scything through the air, both his heels catching her on the back of the head. Anyone else would have been knocked out by the blow. But although Alex felt the jolt of it running all the way up his body, Mrs. Stellenbosch hardly faltered. As Alex left the table, her hands swung down, smashing through the thick wood. The table fell apart and she walked through it, grabbing him again, this time by the neck. Alex felt his feet leave the floor. With a grunt, she hurled him against the wall. Alex yelled, wondering if his back had been broken. He slid to the floor. He couldn't move.
Mrs. Stellenbosch stopped, breathing heavily. She glanced out of the window. The helicopter's blades were at full speed now. The helicopter rocked forward, then rose into the air. It was time to go.
She reached down and picked up her handbag. She took out a gun and aimed at Alex. Alex stared at her. There was nothing he could do.
Mrs. Stellenbosch smiled. "And this is my job," she said.
The dining-room door swung open.
"Alex!" It was Wolf. He was holding a machine-gun.
Mrs. Stellenbosch lifted the gun up and fired three shots. Each one of them found its target. Wolf was hit in the shoulder, the arm and the chest. But even as he fell back, he opened fire himself. The heavy bullets slammed into Mrs. Stellenbosch. She was hurled backwards into the window, which smashed behind her. With a scream, she disappeared out into the night and the snow, headfirst, her heavy stockinged legs trailing behind her.
The shock of what had happened gave Alex new strength. He got to his feet and ran over to Wolf. The SAS man wasn't dead, but he was badly hurt, his breath rattling.
"I'm OK," he managed to say. "Came looking for you. Glad I found you."
"Wolf…"
"OK." He tapped at his chest and Alex saw that he was wearing body armor under his jacket. There was blood coming from his arm, but the other two bullets hadn't reached him. "Grief…" he said.
Wolf gestured and Alex looked round. The helicopter had left its launch pad. It was flying low outside the academy. Alex saw Dr. Grief in the pilot's seat. He had a gun. He fired. There was a yell and a body fell from somewhere above. One of the SAS men.
Suddenly Alex was angry. Grief was a freak, a monster. He was responsible for all this – and he was going to get away. Not knowing what he was doing, he snatched up Wolf's gun and ran through the broken window, past the dead body of Mrs. Stellenbosch and into the night. He tried to aim. The blades of the helicopter were whipping up the surface snow, blinding him, but he pointed the gun up and fired. Nothing happened. He pulled the trigger again. Still nothing. Either Wolf had used all his ammunition, or the gun had jammed.
Dr. Grief pulled at the controls and the helicopter banked away, following the slope of the mountain. It was too late. Nothing could stop him.
Unless…
Alex threw down the gun and ran forward. There was a snowmobile lying idle a few meters away, its engine still running. The man who had been riding it was lying face down in the snow. Alex leapt onto the seat and turned the throttle full on. The snowmobile roared away, skimming over the ice, following the path of the helicopter.
Dr Grief saw him. The helicopter slowed and turned. Grief raised a hand – waving goodbye.
Alex caught sight of the red spectacles; the slender fingers raised in one last gesture of defiance. With his hands gripping the handlebars, Alex stood up on the foot-grips, tensing himself for what he knew he had to do. The helicopter moved away again, gaining altitude. In front of Alex, the ski-jump loomed up. He was travelling at seventy, eighty kilometers an hour, snow and wind rushing past him. Ahead of him there was a wooden barrier shaped like a cross.
Alex smashed through it, then threw himself off. The snowmobile plunged down, its engine screaming.
Alex rolled over and over in the snow, ice and wood splinters in his eyes and mouth. He managed to get to his knees.
The snowmobile reached the end of the ski-jump.
Alex watched it rocket into the air, propelled by the huge metal slide.
In the helicopter, Dr. Grief just had time to see 225 kilograms of solid steel come hurtling towards him out of the night, its headlights blazing, its engine still screaming. His eyes, bright red, opened wide in shock.
The explosion lit up the entire mountain. The snowmobile had become a torpedo, and it hit its target with perfect accuracy. The helicopter disappeared in a huge fireball, then plunged down. It was still burning when it hit the ground.
Behind him, Alex became aware that the shooting had stopped. The battle was over. He walked slowly back to the academy, shivering suddenly in the cold night air. As he approached, a man appeared at the broken window and waved. It was Wolf, propping himself against the wall but was still very much alive. Alex went over to him.
"What happened to Grief?" he asked.
"It looks like I sleighed him," Alex replied.
On the slopes, the wreckage of the helicopter flickered and burned as the morning sun began to rise.