12.34 pm, Saturday, 9th April
Lancashire Countryside, England
Alex was well and truly starting to loathe this mission - and he hadn't even arrived at the academy yet. It had been three days since the "shooting incident", as he had started to call it. When he had finally limped back to the house, soaked and freezing, Fiona had politely fetched him a towel and offered him a cup of tea, completely bypassing all mentions of her trying to kill him.
"Don't be silly" she had said, "We would never do that - It was just a game, Alex. Just a bit of fun".
And that was it. Fiona had smiled as if everything had been explained and then gone to have a swim. Alex had spent the rest of the evening with the files. He was trying to take in a fake history that spanned fourteen years, all to be prepared for whatever personal questions about his family that the head of the academy could potentially ask.
Or, at least, questions about Alex Friend's family anyway, given that his own family currently thought him dead.
Not that it couldn't happen yet, he thought grimly, given that he was currently fighting for his balance on the large black beast of a thing he'd been forced onto this morning. Every bone in his body had been rattled out of shape, and Fiona seemed to be enjoying his torment.
He even wondered if she had chosen a particularly bumpy route to add to his bruises.
Or maybe it was just a particularly bumpy horse.
There was a single railway line ahead of them, and Fiona steered her horse toward it. Alex's horse automatically followed. He assumed they were going to cross the line, but when she reached the barrier, Fiona stopped.
"There's a shortcut we can take if you want to get home" she said.
"A shortcut would be good" Alex admitted.
"It's that way".
Fiona pointed up the line toward a tunnel, a gaping black hole in the side of a hill, surrounded by dark red brick. It was like the barrel of a gun, pointing at him, warning him to keep away.
Alex looked at her to see if she was joking. She was obviously quite serious.
"The tunnel is about one mile long. There's a bridge on the other side, then another gate crossing. If we go that way, we can be home in thirty minutes. Otherwise, it's an hour and a half back the way we came".
"Then let's go the way we came".
"Oh, Alex, don't be such a scaredy-cat!" Fiona pouted at him. "There's only one train an hour on this line and the next one isn't due for twenty minutes. I've been through the tunnel a hundred times and it never takes more than five minutes. Less if you canter".
"It's still crazy to ride on a railway line".
"Well, you'll have to find your own way home if you turn back". She kicked with her heels and her horse jerked forward, past the barrier and onto the line. "I'll see you later".
Alex followed her. He would never have been able to ride back to the house on his own. He didn't know the way, and he could barely control his horse. Even now it was following Fiona with no prompting from him, and sure enough, it walked into the side of the hill without even hesitating.
Alex shivered as the light was suddenly cut off behind him. It was cold and clammy inside. The air smelled of soot and diesel - but slowly his eyes got used to the dark. A certain amount of sunshine was filtering in from behind. More comfortingly, the way out was clearly visible straight ahead, the circle of light widening with every step. He tried to relax. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so bad after all.
And then Fiona spoke.
"Are you still worried about the train, Alex?" she said scornfully, "Perhaps you'd like to go faster".
He heard the riding crop whistle through the air and felt his horse jerk as Fiona whipped it hard on the rear. The horse whinnied and leapt forward.
Alex was almost thrown backwards off the saddle. Digging in with his legs, he just managed to cling on. Fiona laughed. And then Alex was aware only of the wind rushing past him, the thick blackness spinning around his face and the horses' hooves striking heavily at the gravel as the animal careened forward. Soot blew into his eyes, blinding him. He thought he was going to fall. Minutes seemed to pass in mere seconds.
But then, miraculously, they burst out into the light.
Alex fought for his balance and then brought the horse back under control. They had come to rest on the bridge that Fiona had mentioned. There had been a lot of rain that month and, about fifty feet below him, the water was racing past, dark green and deep.
He could hear Fiona approaching. She had been cantering after him, probably laughing the entire way. He gazed into the tunnel, and that was when Fiona's grey horse burst out, raced past him, and disappeared through the gate crossing on the other side of the bridge.
But Fiona wasn't on it.
The horse had come out alone.
It took Alex a few seconds to work it out - she must have fallen off. She could be lying inside the tunnel. On the track. How long was there until the next train? Twenty minutes, she had said - but at least five of those minutes had gone, and she might have been exaggerating to begin with.
Alex swore.
Damn this wretched girl with her spoiled brat behaviour and her almost suicidal games… But he couldn't leave her.
Turning back to the tunnel, he mentally apologised to the poor animal and urged it back into the darkness. He had hoped that she would be walking toward him, but he couldn't hear any footsteps. If only he had more light - what the bloody hell use was a glowing red beacon in his wrist if it wasn't even bright to see with?!
The horse stopped and there she was, right in front of him, lying on the ground, her arms and chest actually on the line. If a train came now, it would cut her in half. It was too dark to see her face, but when she spoke he heard the pain in her voice.
"Alex, I think I've broken my ankle".
"What happened?"
"There was a cobweb or something. I was trying to keep up with you. It went in my face and I lost my balance".
She'd been trying to keep up with him! She almost sounded as if she were blaming him - as if she had forgotten that she was the one who had whipped his horse on in the first place.
"Can you get up?" he asked.
"I don't think so".
Alex sighed. Keeping a tight hold on the reins, he slid off his horse. His foot came to rest on one of the rails… and he felt something. Under his foot. Shivering up his leg. The track was vibrating.
The train was on its way.
"You've got to stand up" he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, "Can you move your toes?"
"I think so".
"Then your ankle's probably sprained, not broken. Come on".
He dragged her up, wondering if it would be possible to stay inside the tunnel, on the edge of the track. If they hugged the wall, the train might simply go past them. But Alex knew there wouldn't be enough space. And even if the train missed them, it would still hit the horse.
And then Alex heard a second sound that made his blood run cold.
The screech of a train whistle.
It was still a mile or more away, but the tunnel was acting as a sound conductor and he could feel it cutting into him. And then another sound: the rolling thunder of the diesel engine. It was moving fast toward them. Underneath his foot, the rail vibrated more violently.
Alex gulped for air and forced his legs to obey him.
"Get on the horse!" he shouted, "I'll help you!"
Not caring how much pain he caused her, he dragged Fiona next to the horse and forced her up onto the saddle. The horse whinnied and took a half step sideways, and for a dreadful moment Alex thought she was going to ride off without him. He reached up and caught hold of the horse's mane, using the thick hair to pull himself onto the saddle, in front of Fiona. The noise of the train was getting louder and louder.
"Go!"
The horse needed no encouragement. It raced for the light, galloping up the railway line. Alex didn't dare look behind him, but he felt the train as it reached the mouth of the tunnel and plunged in. A shock wave hammered into them. The horse understood the danger and burst forward with new speed, its hooves flying over the tracks in great strides. Ahead of them the tunnel mouth opened up, but Alex knew, with a sickening sense of despair, that they weren't going to make it.
Even when they got out of the tunnel, they would still be hemmed in by the sides of the bridge. The second gate crossing was a hundred yards farther down the line.
The horse passed through the end of the tunnel. The roar of the train was right behind him, and as the horse began a desperate race over the bridge, he sneaked a glance around. He just had time to see the huge, metallic beast roar out of the tunnel, towering over them, its body painted a brilliant red.
Alex knew what he had to do. He pulled on one rein, at the same time kicking with the opposite foot.
The horse jumped.
The train roared past, missing them by inches. But now they were in the air, over the side of the bridge. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as they fell. The green river rose up to receive them.
Alex just had time to snatch a breath.
They hit the surface and passed through, down into a freezing, dark green whirlpool that sucked at them greedily, threatening to keep them there forever. Fiona was torn away from him. He felt the horse kick itself free. Bubbles exploded out of his mouth and he realised he was yelling.
Finally, Alex rose to the surface again.
The water was rushing past and, dragged back by his clothes and shoes, he clumsily swam for the nearest bank. There was a splutter and a cough from behind him, and Fiona appeared. She had lost her riding hat, and her long black hair was hanging over her face. Alex looked past her. The horse had also managed to reach dry land. It trotted forward and shook itself, seemingly unharmed. Alex was glad about that. When all was said and done, the horse had saved both their lives.
He stood up. Water dripped out of his clothes. There was no feeling anywhere in his body. He wondered whether it was because of the cold water or the shock of what he had just been through. He went over to Fiona and helped her to her feet.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes".
She was looking at him... strangely. She wobbled, and he put out a hand to steady her.
"Thank you".
"That's all right".
"No". She held on to his hand. "What you did back there… it was fantastic. Alex, I'm sorry I've been so awful to you all week. I thought- But I was wrong about you. You're really great. And I know we're going to be friends now".
She half closed her eyes and moved toward him, her lips slightly parted.
"You can kiss me if you like".
Alex let go of her and turned away.
"Thanks, Fiona" he said, "But frankly I'd prefer to kiss the horse".
1.52 pm, Sunday, 10th April
Lancashire Countryside, England
The helicopter circled twice over Haverstock Hall before beginning its descent. There was only one person - the pilot - inside. Alex watched as it started to land from the edge of a field about a half mile from the house. He knew that Sir David Friend would be greeting the representative from the academy right now and that he was soon to be expected too - but first, he had someone else to meet.
He watched as a combine harvester rumbled slowly toward him, 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, 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!"
"Hello, Mr Smithers".
"Very nice to see you again!" he exclaimed before giving a wink, "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 adults!"
As much as Alex liked the jolly man, he couldn't help but wish that he'd never have to equip him ever again.
"Now, let's see…" Reaching into the cabin, he pulled out a suitcase and rifled through its contents. "I'm told there's still a lot of snow up at Point Blanc, so you'll need this".
"A ski suit?"
"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 about twenty yards, even if there's no moon".
Hopefully, he would never have to use them.
"Now, what else would a boy of your age have with him? The school doesn't allow any computers, phones, iPods, or whatnot, but fortunately, you are allowed to go rather… old school, as it were, and bring a Sony Discman, provided all the CDs are classical".
He handed Alex the strange, clunky machine.
"So while people are shooting at me in the middle of the night, I get to listen to music?"
"Absolutely. Only don't play 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 you're in real trouble and you need help, just press Fast Forward three times. It'll send out a signal that our satellite will pick up. And then we can fast-forward you out!"
Like how Blunt had gotten him out of Stormbreaker? After sending him out onto the street, under the pretence of being allowed to go home again, all the while knowing that Herod Sayle was going to try and kill him? And even then - even as Sayle pressed a gun to his head as one of the world's most notorious assassins landed a helicopter behind him, the bastard still hadn't come to his rescue. So what bloody use was a panic button if Alan bloody Blunt was just going to ignore it?!
Seeing his frustration, Smithers misinterpreted it as disappointment.
"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".
"Not too young to get killed, though".
"I know. So 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, you understand. I'm not sure Mr Blunt would approve".
Anything that would piss that lizard off, was more than okay in Alex's books.
Smithers held out a hand. A gold ear stud lay in two pieces in the middle of his palm: a diamond shape for the front and a catch to hold it at the back.
"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?"
"The ear stud is a small but very powerful explosive device. Like a miniature grenade. 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".
Way to go, Smithers!
"And finally, there is one last thing, although why Mr Blunt requested it still has me boggled". Reaching into the suitcase one last time, he pulled out a small, cylindrical bottle. "Industrial strength concealer. Apparently, Mr Blunt said that you'd know what to do with it".
Alex slowly took the bottle from him - appropriately named CamouFlaws - with a sinking feeling in his heart. He knew exactly what Blunt wanted him to use this for - it wasn't as if regular make-up was capable of covering a glowing red beacon beneath your skin, after all.
"Yeah" he finally replied, somewhat hollowly, "I know what to do with it".
"... Right". Mr Smithers looked appropriately bemused. "Well then, I best be off… Good luck, old chap. Come back in one piece - I really do enjoy having you around!"
He was, perhaps, the only one.
4.46 pm, Sunday, 10th April
Paris, France
It was raining in Paris.
The city looked tired and disappointed, the Eiffel Tower fighting against a mass of heavy clouds. There was nobody sitting at the tables outside the cafes, and for once the little kiosks selling paintings and postcards were being ignored by the tourists, who were hurrying back to their hotels. The shops and offices were emptying, but the city didn't care. It just wanted to be left alone - just like he did.
Alex's luggage had already been loaded into the helicopter when he'd made it back to the house - after carefully concealing the red glow beneath his skin - but he'd still taken his time saying goodbye. Eva Stellenbosch, one of the academy's teachers, had been impatiently waiting for him underneath the rotors but he didn't have to be polite. Alex Rider might have good manners, but Alex Friend wouldn't give a damn what she thought.
Once again, Sir David had acted his part perfectly.
"Goodbye, Alex. You will write to us and let us know you're okay?"
"If you want".
Lady Caroline had moved forward and kissed him. Alex had backed away from her as if embarrassed.
"Come, Alex!"
Mrs Stellenbosch had been in a hurry to get away. She'd told him that the helicopter had a range of only four hundred miles and that they would need to stop in Paris to refuel.
Two minutes later, the helicopter had taken off, and two hours after that, it had landed in a private area of Charles de Gaulle airport, where a car had been waiting to drive them in. Alex had said nothing during the flight and now he sat on his own in the back, watching the buildings flash by. They were following the Seine, moving surprisingly fast along a wide, two-lane road that dipped above and below the water level. Then they turned off, weaving their way through a series of back streets with smaller restaurants and boutiques fighting for space on the pavements.
"The Marais" Stellenbosch said to Alex, pointing out the window.
He pretended to show no interest, but in fact, he had spent a year living in the Marais with his uncle back when he was about seven and knew it as one of the most sophisticated and expensive sections in Paris.
The sudden thought of Ian made his heart pang painfully in his chest, and he distantly wondered just what the man was doing now - if he thought he was dead, if he was still looking for him, if he had any idea at all that Alex had just been smuggled out of the country with a fake passport to go investigate a lunatic running a boarding school for troubled boys.
Probably not.
"This is where we're staying" Stellenbosch said, regaining his attention, "The hotel is owned by the academy".
The car turned into a large square and stopped. Alex glanced out the window. He was surrounded on four sides by the tall, classical houses for which Paris is famous. But the square had been disfigured by a single modern hotel. It was a white, rectangular block, the windows fitted with dark glass that allowed no view inside. It rose up four floors with a flat roof and the name HOTEL DU MONDE in gold letters above the main door. If a spaceship had landed in the square, crushing a couple of buildings to make room for itself, it couldn't have been more out of place.
Just like Alex.
Stellenbosch and the hotel's receptionist spoke to each other in fluent French, but Alex pretended not to understand a word - Alex Rider may have been fluent in the language, but Alex Friend was decidedly not.
He was handed a key for room thirteen and reluctantly agreed to join Stellenbosch for dinner - although his hesitation wasn't entirely faked. The woman was incredibly muscular and more than a little bit intimidating, and the thought of having her trying to poke holes in his cover story set his nerves on edge.
The hotel's restaurant was a large, airless room in the basement. Soft lighting and mirrors had been used to make it feel more spacious, but it was still the last place Alex would have chosen. The restaurant could have been anywhere, in any part of the world. There were two other diners - businessmen, from the looks of them - but otherwise, they were alone.
"You must let me order for you" Stellenbosch said, a lit cigar in her hand, "Some soup to start, perhaps? And then a steak. I've never yet met a boy who doesn't like steak".
"My cousin Oliver is a vegetarian". Alex said. It was something he had read in one of the files - and the woman nodded as if she already knew this.
The waiter brought a Coke for Alex and a glass of champagne for Stellenbosch. Alex watched the bubbles rising in the two glasses, his black, hers a pale yellow.
"Santé" she said.
"I'm sorry?"
"It's French for good health".
"Oh… Cheers".
There was a moment's silence. The woman's eyes were fixed on him as if she could see right through him.
"So you were at Eton" she said casually.
"That's right".
Alex was suddenly on his guard.
"What house were you in?"
"The Hopgarden".
It was the name of a real house at the school. Alex had read the file carefully.
"I visited Eton once. I remember a statue. I think it was of a king. It was just through the main gate…"
She was testing him. Alex was sure of it. Did she suspect him? Or was it simply a precaution, something she always did?
"You're talking about Henry the Sixth" he said, "His statue's in College Yard. He founded Eton".
The first course arrived. Alex's soup was yellow and had something floating in it. He picked up his spoon and poked at it suspiciously.
"What's this?"
"Soupe de moules".
He looked at her blankly.
"Mussel soup. I hope you enjoy it".
"I'd have preferred tomato".
The steaks, when they came, were typically French: barely cooked at all. Alex took a couple of mouthfuls of the bloody meat, then threw down his knife and fork and used his fingers to eat all the french fries. Stellenbosch talked to him about the French Alps, about skiing, and about her visits to various European cities. It was easy to look bored. He was bored. And he was beginning to feel tired.
He took a sip of Coke, hoping the cold drink would wake him up. The meal seemed to be dragging on all night. But at last the desserts - ice cream with white chocolate sauce - had come and gone. Alex declined coffee.
"You're looking tired" Stellenbosch said. She lit another cigar. The smoke curled around her head and made him feel dizzy. "Would you like to go to bed? We don't need to leave until midday tomorrow. You'll have time for a visit to the Louvre, if you'd like that".
Alex shook his head. "Actually, paintings bore me".
Plus, he'd already been half a dozen times with Ian.
"Really? What a shame!"
Alex stood up. Somehow his hand knocked into his glass, spilling the rest of the Coke over the pristine white tablecloth. What was the matter with him? Suddenly he was exhausted.
"Would you like me to come up with you, Alex?" the woman asked.
She was looking carefully at him, a tiny glimmer of interest in her otherwise dead eyes.
"No. I'll be alright". Alex stepped away. "Good night".
Getting upstairs was an ordeal. He was tempted to take the elevator, but he didn't want to lock himself into that small, windowless cubicle. He would have felt suffocated. He climbed the stairs, his shoulders resting heavily against the wall. Then he stumbled down the corridor and somehow got his key into the lock.
When he finally got inside, the room was spinning. What was going on? Had he drunk more of the gin than he had intended, or was he…?
Alex swallowed.
He had been drugged.
There had been something in the Coke. It was still on his tongue, a sort of bitterness.
There were only three steps between him and his bed, but it could have been a mile away. His legs wouldn't obey him anymore. just lifting one foot took all his strength. He fell forward, reaching out with his arms.
Somehow he managed to propel himself far enough. His chest and shoulders hit the bed, sinking into the mattress. The room was spinning around him, faster and faster. He tried to stand up, tried to speak - but nothing came. His eyes closed.
Gratefully, he allowed the darkness to take him.