3.08 pm, Monday, 11th April

Point Blanc, the Alps

The academy at Point Blanc had been built by a lunatic.

The photograph in the brochure Blunt had given him had been artfully taken. Now that Alex could see the building for himself, he could only describe it as… crazy. It was a jumble of towers and battlements, green sloping roofs and windows of every shape and size. Nothing fitted together properly.

Landing the helicopter, Mrs Stellenbosch flicked off the controls.

"I will take you to meet the director" she shouted over the noise of the blades, "Your luggage will be brought down later".

Alex followed her through the strangely silent building. They stopped at a pair of modern glass doors that opened into the courtyard he had seen from above. A movement caught his eye, and he glanced up.

A sentry stood on one of the towers. He had a pair of binoculars around his neck and a submachine gun slung across one arm. Armed guards? In a school? Alex had been here only a few minutes and already he was unnerved.

"Through here".

Stellenbosch opened another door for him, and he found himself in the main reception hall of the academy. So far, he hadn't encountered any boys, but glancing out of the window, he saw two more guards marching slowly past, both of them cradling automatic machine guns.

Mrs Stellenbosch knocked on another door.

"Come in!"

The door opened, and they went into a huge room - that also made no sense. Like the rest of the building, its shape was irregular with none of the walls running parallel. There were three chairs next to a small fireplace. One of them was gold and antique. A man was sitting in it. His head turned as they came in.

"Good afternoon, Alex" he said, "Please come and sit down".

Alex sauntered into the room and took one of the chairs. Mrs Stellenbosch sat in the other.

"My name is Grief" the man continued, "Dr Grief. I am very pleased to meet you and to have you here".

Alex stared at the man who was the director of Point Blanc, at the white-paper skin and the eyes burning behind the red-tinted glasses - as red as the glowing beacon in his own wrist. It was like meeting a skeleton.

"To be honest, I don't really want to be here myself. So if you'll just tell me how I get down into town, maybe I can get the next train home".

"There is no way down into town". Grief lifted a hand to stop Alex from interrupting. "The skiing season is over. It's too dangerous now. There is only the helicopter, and that will take you from here only when I say so… You are here, Alex, because you have disappointed your parents. You were expelled from school. You have had difficulties with the police-"

"That wasn't my bloody fault!" Alex protested, playing his role to a tee.

"Don't interrupt the doctor!" Stellenbosch said. Alex glanced at her balefully.

"Your appearance is displeasing" Dr Grief went on, "Your language also. It is our job to turn you into a boy of whom your parents can be proud".

"I'm happy as I am" Alex said.

"That is of no relevance".

Alex shivered. There was something about this room, so big, so empty, so twisted out of shape. And this man who was both old and young at the same time but who somehow wasn't completely human.

"So what are you going to do with me?" he asked.

"There will be no lessons, to begin with" Stellenbosch said, "For the first couple of weeks we want you to assimilate".

"What does that mean?"

"To assimilate. To conform… to adapt… to become like". It was as if she were reading out of a dictionary. "There are six boys at the academy at the moment. You will meet them and you will spend time with them. There will be opportunities for sports and for being social. There is a good library here, and you will read. Soon you will learn our methods".

"We enforce strict discipline here at the academy" Grief said, "Bedtime is at ten o'clock - not a minute past. We do not tolerate bad language. You will have no contact with the outside world without our permission. You will not attempt to leave. And you will do as you are told instantly without hesitation. And finally…"

He leaned toward Alex.

"You are permitted only in certain parts of this building". He gestured with a hand, and for the first time, Alex noticed a second door at the far end of the room. "My private quarters are through there. You will remain on the first and second floors only. That is where the bedrooms and classrooms are located. The third and fourth floors are out of bounds. The basement also. This again is for your safety".

"You're afraid I'll trip on the stairs?"

Dr Grief ignored him. "You may leave".

"Wait outside the office, Alex" Mrs Stellenbosch said, "Someone will be along to get you".

Alex stood up.

"We will make you into what your parents want" Dr Grief said.

"Maybe they don't want me at all".

"We can arrange that, too".

3.34 pm, Monday, 11th April

Point Blanc, the Alps

"An unpleasant boy … a few days … faster than usual … the Gemini Project … closing down…"

If the door hadn't been so thick, Alex would have been able to hear more. The moment he had left the room he had cupped his ear against the keyhole, hoping to pick up something that might be useful to MI6. Sure enough, Dr Grief and Mrs Stellenbosch were busy talking on the other side, but Alex heard little and understood even less.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He twisted around, annoyed with himself. A so-called spy caught listening at keyholes! But it wasn't one of the guards. Alex found himself looking up at a round-faced boy with long, dark hair and pale skin. There was a bruise around one of his eyes and a gash on his lip.

"They'll shoot you if they catch you listening at doors" the boy said, "I'm James Sprintz. They told me to show you around".

"Alex Ri- Friend" he quickly corrected, kicking himself for almost slipping up, but thankfully, the other boy didn't notice, instead gesturing down the corridor next to them. "This way".

The academy reminded Alex of a ski resort - and not just because of its setting. There was a sort of heaviness about the place, a sense of being cut off from the real world. The air was warm and silent, and despite the size of the rooms, Alex couldn't help feeling claustrophobic. Grief had said that there were only six boys currently at the school. The building could have housed sixty. Empty space was everywhere.

There was nobody in either of the living rooms - just a collection of armchairs, desks, and tables - but they found a couple of boys in the library. This was a long, narrow room with old-fashioned oak shelves lined with books in a variety of languages. A suit of mediaeval Swiss armour stood in an alcove at the far end.

"This is Tom, and Hugo" James said, "They're probably doing extra maths or something, so we'd better not disturb them".

The two boys looked up and nodded briefly. One of them was reading a textbook. The other had been writing. They were both much better dressed than James but didn't look very friendly.

"Creeps" James said as soon as they had left the room.

"In what way?"

"When I was told about this place, they said all the kids had problems. I thought it was going to be wild. Do you have a cigarette?"

"I don't smoke". Ian would have killed him himself if he did.

"Great, another one… I get here and it's like a museum or a monastery or… I don't know what. It looks like Dr Grief's been busy. Everyone's quiet, hardworking, boring. God knows how he did it. Sucked their brains out with a straw or something. A couple of weeks ago I got into a fight with a couple of them, just for the hell of it". He pointed to his face. "They beat the crap out of me and then went back to their studies. Really creepy!"

They went upstairs, where the boys had their bedrooms. Each one contained a bed, an armchair, a television, a bureau, and a desk. A second door led into a small bathroom with a toilet and shower. None of the rooms were locked.

"We're not allowed to lock them" James explained, "We're all stuck here with nowhere to go, so nobody bothers to steal anything. I heard that Hugo Vries - the boy in the library - used to steal anything he could get his hands on. He was arrested for shoplifting in Amsterdam".

"But not anymore?"

"He's another success story - flying home next week. His father owns diamond mines. Why bother shoplifting when you can afford to buy the whole shop?"

Alex's room was at the end of the corridor, with views over the ski jump. His suitcases had already been carried up and were waiting for him on the bed.

James sighed.

"I'm telling you - this is a deeply weird place, Alex. I've been to a lot of schools because I've been thrown out of a lot of schools, but this one is the pits. I've been here for six weeks now and I've hardly had any lessons. They have music evenings and discussion evenings and they try to get me to read. But otherwise, I've been left on my own".

"They want you to assimilate" Alex said, remembering what Dr Grief had said.

"That's their word for it. But this place… they may call it a school, but it's more like being in prison. You've seen the guards".

"I thought they were here to protect us".

"If you think that, you're a bigger idiot than I thought. Think about it! There are about thirty of them. Thirty armed guards for seven kids? That's not protection. That's intimidation". James paused by the door and examined Alex for a second time. "It would be nice to think that someone has finally arrived who I can relate to".

"Maybe you can" he replied.

"Yeah. But for how long?"

James left, closing the door behind him.

Alex began to unpack. The bulletproof ski suit and infrared goggles were at the top of the first suitcase. It didn't look as if he would be needing them - It wasn't as if he even had any skis, and Mrs Stellenhosch had made it quite clear that the ski jump was off-limits.

Then came the Discman. He remembered the instructions Smithers had given him.

"If you're in real trouble, just press Fast Forward three times".

He was almost tempted to do it now. There was something unsettling about the academy - he could feel it even now, in his room. He weighed the Discman in his hand. He couldn't hit the panic button… not yet. He had nothing to report back to MI6 - and they knew it, too, since they were always listening in on him.

There was nothing to connect the school with the deaths of the two men in New York and the Black Sea, but if there was anything, he knew where he would find it. Why were two whole floors of the building out of bounds? It made no sense at all. Presumably, the guards slept up there, but even though Dr Grief seemed to employ a small army, that would still leave a lot of empty rooms.

The third and fourth floors.

If something was going on at the academy, it had to be going on up there.

2.09 am, Monday, 18th April

Point Blanc, the Alps

By the following week, Alex was slowly but surely going insane.

He'd drawn up a list of the six boys with whom he shared the school, along with what little facts he knew about them. Blunt wanted him to investigate the deaths of two billionaires who had recently died in unusual circumstances. The only thing linking these deaths together was the fact that both of the men's sons had attended Point Blanc, but from what Alex could tell, that wasn't the only connection that they had.

First, all the boys attending the academy were the same age as him, fourteen, and they all came from hugely wealthy backgrounds - airlines, diamonds, politics, and movies. Each of their parents was also at the top of his or her field, and those fields covered just about every human activity. He himself, as Alex Friend, was supposed to be the son of a supermarket king.

But Alex knew that his list somehow hid more than it revealed.

With the exception of James, it was hard to pin down what made the boys at Point Blanc different. In a strange way, they all looked the same. Their eyes and hair were different colours. They wore different clothes. All the faces were different. And, of course, they spoke not only with different voices but also in several languages.

James had talked about brains being sucked out with straws, and he had a point. It was as if the same consciousness had somehow invaded them all. They had become puppets, dancing on the same string.

It was all in the details, the things you wouldn't notice unless you saw them all together. The way that they all sat with their backs straight and their elbows close to their sides, the way they held their knives and forks, the way they ate at mealtimes, even the way they laughed.

It was as if they were all mimicking each other.

Groaning, Alex rolled over in his bed, the moonlight spilling onto his covers. He had yet to attend classes at the academy; apparently, Grief thought he still needed more time to "assimilate", but he hadn't found or overheard anything suspicious in the past week either, aside from the so-called puppets.

According to James, the other boys had arrived at the academy two months before him, and Alex knew that you didn't take a bunch of delinquents and turn them into perfect students just by giving them good books. Dr Grief had to be doing something else. Brainwashing. Drugs. Hypnosis. Something-

*Click*

Alex froze, holding his breath for all of one minute, before suddenly jumping out of bed, walking over to the door and turning the handle.

The door had been locked from the outside.

Something had to be happening - and Alex was determined to see what it was. He got dressed as quickly as possible, then knelt down and examined the lock. He could make out two bolts, at least a half inch in diameter, one at the top and one at the bottom. They must have been activated automatically. One thing was sure: he wasn't going to get out through the door.

That left the window. All the bedroom windows were fastened with a steel rod that allowed them to open ten inches but no more. Alex picked up his CD player, put in the Beethoven CD, and turned it on.

The CD spun around - moving at a fantastic speed - then slowly edged forward, still spinning, until it protruded out of the casing. Alex pressed the edge of it against the steel rod, and it cut through it like scissors through paper. The rod fell away, allowing the window to swing fully open.

Alex turned the CD player off and threw it back on his bed. Then he put on his coat, climbed out the window, and dropped down. He began to move around the side of the building, making for the front.

Pushing open the main door, he slipped into the warmth and darkness of the hall. The dragon fireplace was in front of him. There had been a fire earlier in the evening, and the burned-out logs were still smouldering in the hearth. Alex held his hands against the glow, trying to draw a little warmth into himself.

"No!"

It was a boy's voice - a long, quavering shout that echoed through the school. A moment later, Alex heard feet stamping along a wooden corridor somewhere above. He looked for somewhere to hide and found it inside the fireplace, right next to the logs.

The actual fire was contained in a metal basket, and there was a wide space on each side between the basket and the brickwork. Alex crouched low, feeling the heat on the side of his face and legs. He looked out, past the two dragons, waiting to see what would happen.

Three people were coming down the stairs. Mrs Stellenbosch was the first. She was followed by two of the guards, dragging something between them - a boy! He was facedown, dressed only in his pyjamas, his bare feet sliding down the stone steps. Stellenbosch opened the library door and went in. The two guards followed. The door crashed shut. The silence returned.

It had all happened very quickly. Alex had been unable to see the boy's face - but he was sure he knew who it was. He had known just from the sound of his voice.

James Sprintz.

Alex eased himself out of the fireplace and crossed the hall, making for the library door. What should he do? If he went back upstairs, he could probably make it to his room without being seen. He could wait until the doors were unlocked and then slip into bed. Nobody would know he had been out.

But the only person in the school who had shown him any kindness was on the other side of the library door. He had been dragged down here. Perhaps he was being brainwashed… beaten, even. Alex couldn't just turn around and leave him - no matter how much he wanted this stupid bloody mission to be over with so he could go home again.

He threw open the door and walked in.

The library was empty.

He stood in the doorway, blinking. The library had only one door. All the windows were closed. There were no lights on and no sign that anyone had been there. Could he have been mistaken? Could Mrs Stellenbosch and the guards have gone into a different room?

Alex went over and looked behind the suit of armour, wondering if there might be a second exit concealed there. There was nothing. He tapped a knuckle against the wall. Curiously, it seemed to be made of metal, but there was no handle.

There was nothing more he could do here. Alex decided to go back to his room before he was discovered. He had just made it to the second floor when he heard a metallic click that seemed to stretch the full length of the corridor, and he realised that all the doors had been unlocked again.

He hurried forward. His footsteps took him past James Sprintz's room, next to his own. He noticed that the door was open - and then a voice called out from inside.

"Alex?"

It was James.

No. That wasn't possible.

Alex looked inside. The light was on.

It was James.

He was sitting up in bed, bleary-eyed as if he had just woken up. Alex stared at him. He was wearing the same pyjamas as the boy he had just seen dragged into the library… but that couldn't have been him. It must have been someone else.

"What are you doing?" James asked.

"I thought I heard something" Alex said, which wasn't, technically, a lie.

"But you're dressed. And you're soaking wet!" James looked at his watch. "It's almost three".

He was surprised that so much time had passed. It had been only a quarter past two when he'd heard the doors lock… when he'd heard, and seen, James get dragged through the school.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yeah".

"You haven't…?"

"What?"

"... Nothing. I'll see you tomorrow".

Alex crept back to his own room. If it hadn't been James he had seen being taken into the library, who was it? And yet it had been James; he was sure of it. He had heard the shout, seen the limp form on the stairs. So why was James lying now?

Alex climbed into bed, closed his eyes, and tried to get some sleep. The movements of the night had created more puzzles and had solved nothing. But at least he'd gotten something out of it all.

He now knew how to get up to the third floor.

10.02 am, Monday, 18th April

Point Blanc, the Alps

Alex had seen the way the night before when he was hiding in the fireplace. The chimney bent and twisted its way to the open air. He had been able to see a chink of light from the bottom. Moonlight.

The bricks outside the academy might be too smooth to climb, but inside the chimney, they were broken and uneven with plenty of hand- and foot-holds. Maybe there would be a fireplace on the third or fourth floors. But even if there weren't, the chimney would still lead him to the roof and - assuming there weren't any guards waiting for him there - he might be able to find a way down.

Later that morning, after breakfast, Alex returned to the fireplace with the two stone dragons. Classes would continue until lunch, so nobody would wonder where he was until then. He looked up the chimney. He could see a narrow slit of bright blue. The sky seemed a very long way away, and the chimney was narrower than he had thought. What if he got stuck?

He forced the thought out of his head, reached for a crack in the brickwork, and pulled himself up.

The inside of the chimney smelled of a thousand fires. Soot hung in the air, and Alex couldn't breathe without taking it in. Push and slide again, then again. Not too fast. If he fell from this height, he would break both his legs.

He pushed again, his arms stretching out over his head. He felt his back slide up the wall, the rough brickwork tearing at his shirt. Alex raised himself over the top and dived clumsily forward. More logs and ashes broke his fall - but he had made it!

He crawled out of the fireplace.

The third floor was as silent as the first and second. Soot trickled out of his hair, and for a moment he was blinded. He propped himself against a statue while he wiped his eyes. Then he looked again. He was leaning on a stone dragon, identical to the one on the ground floor. Across from him, where the main door was two floors down, was a large window overlooking the front courtyard below.

A door swung shut and he heard voices, two men walking down the corridor outside. Alex crept over and looked out. He had just enough time to see Dr Grief enter another room with a strange man.

Alex slipped out and followed them.

"-you have completed the work. I am grateful to you, Mr Baxter".

"Thank you, Dr Grief".

They had left the door open. He crouched down and inched forward, finding himself looking into a room with a row of sinks, and a second set of doors leading into a fully equipped operating room - which was where Grief and the stranger had stopped.

"So, I hope you're pleased with the last operation".

"Entirely" Grief replied, "I saw him as soon as the bandages came off. You have done extremely well".

"I was always the best. But that's what you paid for". Baxter chuckled; his voice was oily. "And while we're on that subject, maybe we should talk about my final payment".

"You have already been paid the sum of one million dollars".

"Yes, Dr Grief". Baxter smiled. "But I was wondering if you might not like to think about a little… bonus?"

"I thought we had an agreement". Grief turned his head very slowly. The red glasses homed in on the other man like searchlights.

"We had an agreement for my work, yes. But my silence is another matter. I was thinking of another quarter of a million. Given the size and the scope of your Gemini Project, it's not so much to ask. Then I'll retire to my little house in Spain and you'll never hear from me again".

"I will never hear from you again?"

"I promise".

Grief nodded. "Yes. I think that's a good idea".

His hand came out of his pocket. Alex saw that it was holding an automatic pistol with a thick silencer protruding from the barrel. Baxter was still smiling as Grief shot him.

Dr Grief lowered the gun. He went over to a telephone, picked it up, and dialled a number. There was a pause while his call was answered. Then…

"This is Grief. I have some garbage in the operating room that needs to be removed. Could you please inform the disposal team?"

He put down the phone and, glancing one last time at the still figure collapsed back against the operating table, walked to the other side of the room. Alex saw him press a button. A section of the wall slid open to reveal an elevator on the other side. Grief got in, and the doors closed.

Alex slowly stood, too shocked to think straight. He staggered forward and went into the operating room. He knew he had to move fast. The disposal team that Grief had called for would be on their way. But he wanted to know what sort of operations took place here. Mr Baxter had presumably been the surgeon. But for what sort of work had he been paid one million dollars?

Trying not to look at the body, Alex glanced around. On one shelf was a collection of surgical knives, as horrible as anything he had ever seen, the blades so sharp that he could almost feel their touch just by looking at them. There were rolls of gauze, syringes, and bottles containing various liquids. But nothing to say how Baxter had been employed.

Alex realised it was hopeless. He knew nothing about medicine.

And then he saw the photographs.

He recognized himself, lying on a bed that he thought he knew too. It was Paris; room thirteen at the Hotel du Monde where he had stayed. He remembered the black-and-white bed sheets, as well as the clothes he had been wearing that night.

The clothes had been removed in most of the photographs.

Every inch of him had been photographed, sometimes close up, sometimes wider. In every picture, his eyes were closed. Looking at himself, Alex knew that he had been drugged and, for the first time, remembered how the dinner with Stellenbosch had ended.

The photographs disgusted him. He had been manipulated by people who thought he was worth nothing at all. From the moment he had met them, he had disliked Dr Grief and his assistant director. Now he felt pure loathing.

The CD player Smithers had given him was still in his room, just waiting for him to hit the Fast Forward button and let MI6 know that he needed an extraction. He still didn't know what they were doing - but they had to be stopped. For the other boys' sake, for his own, for Ian's.

He knew enough.

It was time to call for the cavalry - and maybe, if he was lucky, it was time for him to finally go home.