Chapter Three

A Trip on the Channel

Alex was picked up later that day in a white limousine. It had twelve windows, at the first count, and Alex sat in the back, well away from the driver. Crawley was in the limo, and took the time to congratulate Alex on his mission with Scorpia. He seemed quite amazed Alex was still alive. On the other hand, he was very lucky to be alive. If the killer had hesitated just one second, it would all be over.

They reached the ferry port at around three, and waited for the 3.10 ferry.

"Sorry, but for the rest of the way, we'll be in a normal car. The limo doesn't fit on the public ferry."

"It's fine." Said Alex, who really didn't like being in the limo. It made him feel pampered, and even posh. The thought of people not seeing eased the thought. If they could see him, they'd be quite shocked to see a fourteen-year-old boy in a limo by himself.

Crawley returned from the front desk at the main port.

"Out you come, Alex. We're boarding soon."

Alex crawled out of the car, and watched the chauffer drive slowly away. It took quite a while to turn the vehicle around, as it was hugely long and the vehicle boarding post was packed. But after a while, he was riding away into the distance.

Alex didn't like ferries. He got seasick. There was nothing to do. Crawley had offered to buy him a colouring book, but he politely declined. Instead, he had a wander around the shops. Lot's of duty free alcohol, things for little children, all sorts like that, but nothing for Alex.

And that was when he saw it. A glint of black metal. A long bag with a strange shape in it.

A man in an alcohol shop with a gun. He produced it around the same time Alex noticed it. He'd had it in his hand, which had given Alex the speed advantage of seeing it.

Alex weighed up the chances, and knew what he had to do. The gun was now pointed at the man on the cash register. He was young, and looked new to the job.

"Oy, you, get on the floor, or you'll be shot!" he said quite loudly, but not loudly enough to attract attention.

There was a bargain shelf behind the robber. It was piled high with silly soft toys and souveneirs.

Alex ran towards it and jumped.

He'd been planning to swing from the top shelf and kick away the gun, but it hadn't gone as planned. As he hit the top shelf, and swung towards the robber, he slipped and flew to one side. The robber immediately pointed his gun at Alex.

"That was not something you wanted to do..." he said.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

The body was found the next day. The motorbike, engine still running. The splattered blood. And the body, with the suicide note pinned to it.

DEAR BUSINESSMEN,

I FEAR I MUST LEAVE YOU. THERE IS NOTHING LEFT FOR ME IN THIS WORLD. I DO NOT BELIEVE IT FAIR TO ME, THAT YOU HAVE DONE THIS. I HAVE NOTHING. YOU HAVE TAKEN EVERYTHING – MY MONEY, MY SUCCESS. AND NOW MY LIFE. I AM BLAMING YOU, NOT WARNING YOU. GOODBYE.

MICHAEL SALATHIEL.

It was the same. They all knew instantly what had happened. But Hunter had already gone. They made a pact. The last four businessmen decided that they would each continue to carry weapons everywhere. They also had pagers. If someone suspected something, the others would be there instantly. Van Russelt, Hall, Ford and Rowlands. The last ones left.

"That was not something you wanted to do..." the robber said.

His finger tightened on the trigger.

But suddenly, something happened. As Alex had swung on the shelf it had wobbled. And now was the time it had chosen to come crashing down on him. The gun flew from his hand, and skidded to a halt in Alex's outstretched hand. He stood up, and brushed himself off. Unfortunately, the soft toys on the shelf had cushioned the robber, and he had jumped up, and proceeded to run away. But a couple of seconds later, there was a smashing sound, and the man's arm appeared, just visible in the doorway. Crawley stepped over the man and entered the shop, holding a broken bottle.

"How long have you been there?" asked Alex.

"A while." Crawley admitted.

"But – I was about to be shot!"

"Don't complain to me. I'm just your backup."

But unfortunately, the robber was up again, and before anyone could stop him, he smashed a window and jumped onto the deck. He paused for a moment, the time it took for Alex to reach the man,but then the robber was gone, jumpingsilently into the waters. At least, that's what it had looked like. But the man had landed in a speedboat. He'd had backup, and was now preparing to ride away.

"Alex-" Crawley began, but it was too late.

Alex had begun to run. He ran along a corridor, where the main shops were. Then he was in a private lounge, for VIP passengers. Then, after a lot of dodging people, he was out again, and now in the kitchen of the ship. There were shouts of protest, and a lot of spilt food as Alex darted past.

"Where the bloody hell do you think you're going?"

"Hey, you're not allowed in here!"

There were even some people shouting in mad French, and though they did not expect it, Alex could translate it all.

Finally, he reached the main deck. He had timed it perfectly. If he was right, he had a slim chance of succeeding. If not, and he had misjudged, he would die anyway. If he was going to do it, it had to be now.

He paused slightly, and then continued running, straight off the front of the boat.

He landed on the speedboat with a thud. The robber wasn't driving, he was polishing his gun. So, before he could even move, Alex swung around, powering his foot into the man's abdomen with such force that the man toppled backwards into the channel. The driver could not do much, because the speedboat was still travelling just ahead of the ferry. But he could do enough. He grabbed a gun, and, steering with one hand, he shot at him with the other. His shots kept going wide, but he wouldn't take his attention off steering. Now was Alex's chance.

He looked purposefully at the gun, as if he meant to grab it. The driver, noticing what Alex meant to do, reached forwards, grabbing the gun with one hand and pushing Alex away with the other. At the same time, Alex jumped forwards. He lightly nudged the steering wheel with his foot as he shot into the air, and turned his head to see the speedboat plummet straight into the oncoming ferry.

At the last second, the driver turned and fire a couple of shots, but there was no aim. The bullets splashed into the cold, murky water.

Alex swam quickly away. He was out of the path of the ferry, but it was near it's post, and so he didn't have far to swim. That was lucky. He remembered what had happened in Cornwall, in the underground mine. He would never do that again.

He floated in the water for a minute or two, then took a deep breath, and began to swim.