2.00 am, Wednesday, 20th April
Point Blanc, the Alps
It was about two o'clock in the morning, but Alex hadn't slept. He had tried to put out of his mind everything Grief had told him. That wasn't important now. He knew that he had to escape before nine thirty because - like it or not - it seemed he was on his own.
More than thirty-six hours had passed since he had pressed the panic button that Smithers had given him, and nothing had happened. Either the machine hadn't worked or for some reason, MI6 had decided not to come - Blunt already had all the information he needed from the chip in Alex's wrist after all, so maybe he'd simply decided that rescuing him wasn't worth it, and now help wasn't coming at all.
He had to get out.
Tonight.
For the twentieth time, he went over to the door and knelt down, listening carefully. The guards had dragged him back down to the basement to a small cell with a bunk bed and a heavily barred window. They had removed the handcuffs at least, but they'd also searched him - thoroughly - and now he was missing both his belt and his shoelaces. Perhaps Dr Grief had thought he would hang himself. He needed Alex fresh and alive for the biology lesson.
The one thing they hadn't taken, however, was the golden stud in his ear.
Alex reached up and unscrewed the earring, slipping both pieces into the keyhole of the door before stepping back and counting to ten.
There was a sudden flash, an intense burst of orange flame, and when he next looked, the lock had a large sizzling hole in it. Alex felt a momentary surge of excitement, but he forced himself to remain calm. He might be out of the cell, but he was still in the basement of the academy. There were guards everywhere. He was on top of a mountain with no skis and no obvious way down.
He wasn't safe yet.
Not by a long way.
He slipped out of the room and followed the corridor to the elevator, taking it back to the second floor. He knew that his only way off the mountain lay in his bedroom. Alex crept down the dimly lit corridor and into the room. And there it all was, lying in a heap on his bed. The ski suit. The goggles. Even the Discman with the Beethoven CD. Alex heaved a sigh of relief. He was going to need all of it.
He had already worked out what he was going to do. He couldn't ski off the mountain because he still had no idea where the skis were kept. But there was more than one way to take to the snow.
Alex froze as a guard walked along the corridor outside the room.
So not everyone at the academy was asleep - he would have to move fast. As soon as the broken cell door was discovered, the alarm would be raised. He waited until the guard had gone, then stole into the laundry room a few doors down.
When he came out, he was carrying a long, flat object made of lightweight aluminium. He carried it into his bedroom, closed the door, and turned on one small lamp. He was afraid the guard would see the light if he returned, but he couldn't work in the dark. It was a risk he had to take.
He had stolen an ironing board.
Alex had been snowboarding only three times in his life - each time in the Alps when he and Ian had spent a year in Austria. The first time, he had spent most of the day falling. Snowboarding is a lot harder to learn than skiing, but as soon as you get the hang of it, you can advance fast. By the third day, Alex had learned how to ride, edging and cutting his way down the beginner slopes.
He needed a snowboard now. The ironing board would have to do. Alex picked up the Discman and turned it on. The Beethoven CD spun, then slid forward, its diamond edge jutting out. He made a mental calculation and then began to cut
Twenty minutes later, his makeshift board was completed, he'd slipped into his ski suit, put the ski goggles around his neck, and torn two strips of sheet from the bed to tie one of his shoes to the ironing board. It was horribly dangerous - if he fell, he would dislocate his foot - but it was all he had.
The window still hadn't been repaired. He dropped the ironing board out and then paused for a moment. Glancing down at his left wrist - the glowing red beacon of light still covered by Smither's industrial strength concealer - he scowled.
"If anyone's still listening, just know that I'm getting myself out of here. You're taking far too long, if you're even coming at all, but I'm getting off this mountain if it's the last thing I do". Which, based on his make-shift snowboard… "Oh yeah. And tell Blunt 'fuck you' for me, would you? Consider it my dying wish".
Then he climbed out the window and landed silently in the snow next to the board.
There was no moon. Alex found the switch concealed in the goggles and turned it. He heard a soft hum as the concealed battery activated. Suddenly the side of the mountain glowed an eerie green and Alex was able to see the trees, the deserted ski run, and the side of the mountain, falling away.
Carefully, he took up his position on the ironing board, used the strips of torn sheet to tie the ironing board to his feet, and then he stood where he was, contemplating what he was about to do.
He had only travelled down green and blue runs - the colours given to the beginners' and intermediate slopes. He knew from James that this mountain was an expert black all the way down. His breath rose up in green clouds in front of his eyes. Could he do it? Could he trust himself?
An alarm bell exploded behind him. Lights came on throughout the academy. The decision had been made for him.
He pushed forward and set off, picking up speed with every second. Now, whatever happened, there could be no going back.
2.42 am, Wednesday, 20th April
The Alps, France
Alex felt the world spin around him. Wind whipped into his face. He was moving at a terrifying speed, trees and rocks passing in a luminous green blur across his night-vision goggles. The ironing board was shuddering and shaking crazily, and it took all his strength to make the turns.
He was trying to follow the natural fall line of the mountain, but there were too many obstacles in the way. What he most dreaded was melted snow. If the board landed on a patch of mud at this speed, he would be thrown and killed - and he knew that the farther down he went, the greater the danger would become.
That was when he heard the sound coming up behind him.
The scream of at least two, maybe more, engines. Alex looked back over his shoulder. For a moment there was nothing. But then he saw them, black flies swarming into his field of vision. There were guards on snowmobiles, heading his way.
Alex leapt forward, diving into the next slope. At the same time, there was a sudden chatter, a series of distant cracks, and the snow flew up all around him.
Grief's men had machine guns.
Alex yelled as he swooped down the mountainside, barely able to control the sheet of metal under his feet. The makeshift binding was tearing at his ankles. The whole thing was vibrating. He couldn't see. He could only hang on, trying to keep his balance, hoping that the way ahead was clear.
He had to get off the mountainside. Otherwise, he would be shot or run over. Or both.
He forced the board onto its edge, making a turn. He had seen a gap in the trees and he made for it. Now he was racing through the forest, with branches and trunks whipping past. Could the snowmobiles follow him through here? The question was answered by another burst from the machine gun, ripping through the leaves and branches.
Alex searched for a narrower path. The board shuddered, and he was almost thrown headfirst. The snow was getting thinner. He edged and turned, heading for two of the thickest trees. He passed between them with inches to spare.
The snowmobile had no choice. The rider had run out of paths and was travelling too fast to stop. He tried to follow the boy between the trees, but the snowmobile was too wide.
Alex heard the collision. There was a terrible crunch, then a scream, then an explosion. A ball of orange flame leapt over the trees, sending the black shadows in a crazy dance. Ahead of him, he could see that all the trails were leading into a single valley. This must be the bottleneck called La Vallee de Fer. He'd actually done it! He'd reached the bottom of the mountain - but now he was trapped.
There was no other way around. He could see lights in the distance. A city. Safety. But he could also see the railway line stretching right across the valley, from the left to the right, protected on both sides by an embankment and a barbed wire fence. The glow from the city illuminated everything. On one side the track came out of the mouth of a tunnel. It ran for about a hundred yards in a straight line before a sharp bend carried it around the other side of the valley and it disappeared from sight.
It was too late to change direction. He had come this far, but now he was finished. He felt the strength draining out of him.
Where was MI6? Why did he have to die, out here, on his own? What about Ian? What about his house in Chelsea and Tom and school and-
There was a sudden blast as a train exploded out of a tunnel in the mountain with at least thirty carriages behind it.
Barely knowing what he was doing, Alex found a last mound of snow and, using it as a launch pad, swept up into the air. Now he was level with the train… now above it. He shifted his weight and came down onto the roof of one of the cars. The surface was covered in ice, and for a moment he thought he would fall off the other side, but he managed to swing around so that he was snowboarding along the roofs of the cars, jumping from one to another while being swept along the track - away from the guns - in a blast of freezing air.
But then the train reached the bend in the track.
The board had nothing to keep it from sliding on the icy surface. As the train sped around to the left, Alex was thrown to the right. Once again he soared into the air. But he had finally run out of snow.
He hit the ground like a rag doll.
The snowboard was torn off his feet. He bounced twice, then hit a wire fence and came to rest with blood spreading around a deep gash in his head. His eyes were closed.
The train plowed on through the night.
Alex lay still.
5.04 am, Wednesday, 20th April
Grenoble, France
Mrs Jones stepped out of her taxi just as the green and white ambulance pulled up outside Service des Urgences - the emergency room of the second-largest hospital in the city. She watched as paramedics ran towards it and the back doors flew open.
A limp, unmoving body of a boy was lowered on a stretcher, transferred to a gurney, and rushed in through the double doors.
A doctor in a white coat was bending over the child. He sighed and shook his head. Mrs Jones crossed the road and followed the stretcher in.
8.17 am, Wednesday, 20th April
Grenoble, France
Mrs Jones subtly glanced up from her copy of the London Times as a large muscular woman marched up to the main reception desk in the hospital.
"Excuse me" she said, "I understand that a young boy was brought here this morning. His name is Alex Friend".
"One moment, please". The nurse entered the name into her computer. She read the information on the screen and her face became serious. "May I ask who you are?"
"Eva Stellenbosch. I am the assistant director of the Academy at Point Blanc. He is one of our students".
"Are you aware of the extent of his injuries, madame?"
"I was told that he was involved in a snowboard accident". Stellenbosch took out a small handkerchief and dabbed at her eye - a pathetically bad display of acting.
"He tried to snowboard down the mountain at night. He was involved in a collision with a train. His injuries are very serious, madame. The doctors had to operate on him as soon as he was brought in this morning… I'll call someone to speak with you".
Mrs Stellenbosch nodded, swallowing her tears, and moved to sit in the reception area, directly across from Jones. A moment later, a door opened and a doctor in a white coat came out.
"Madame Stellenbosch?" he asked.
"Yes?"
The doctor sat next to her. "I am very sorry, madame. Alex Friend died a few minutes ago".
He waited while she absorbed the news.
"He had multiple fractures: his arms, his collarbone, his leg. He had also fractured his skull. We operated, but unfortunately, there had been massive internal bleeding. He went into shock and we were unable to bring him around".
Mrs Stellenbosch nodded, struggling for words.
"I must notify his family" she whispered.
"Is he from this country?"
"No. He is English. His father… Sir David Friend… I'll have to tell him". She got to her feet. "Thank you, Doctor. I'm sure you did everything you could".
Out of the corner of her eye, Mrs Jones watched the exchange, her dark eyes tracking the larger woman's steps back to the hospital doors.
She knew that Dr Grief had many of the city's officials in his back pocket - which meant they'd have someone at the airport.
Within the hour, an ambulance would arrive at Saint-Geoirs where it would stop next to an English plane just long enough for four soldiers to carry a tragically small coffin into the back of the aircraft. There would be a Union Jack folded into a square in the middle of the pine box.
The doors of the plane would then be closed, the ambulance would leave, and the aircraft would rumble down the runway before taking off once more - with both Stellenbosch and Grief entirely convinced of the spy's death.
For now, however, Mrs Jones neatly placed the magazine on the waiting room's coffee table, took the back stairs of the hospital to the second floor, and nodded at the policeman guarding a nondescript door before stepping in.
Alex Rider was standing by the window, looking out at the view of Grenoble on the other side of the River Isere. He turned around as Jones came in. His hair was speckled with blood, scratches and bruises stained pale skin, and there was a bandage around his head - and she knew that the clothes he was wearing hid many more.
"You're lucky to be alive" she said.
"I thought I was dead" he replied.
"Let's hope that Dr Grief believes as much". Despite herself, Mrs. Jones couldn't keep the worry out of her eyes. "It really was a miracle. You should have at least broken something".
"The ski suit protected me" Alex said. He tried to think back to the whirling, desperate moment when he had been thrown off the train. "There was undergrowth. And the fence sort of caught me".
He rubbed his leg and winced.
"Even if it was barbed wire".
He walked back to the bed and sat down. After they had finished examining him, the French doctors had brought him fresh clothes. Military clothes, he noticed. Combat jacket and trousers. He hoped they weren't trying to tell him something.
"I've got three questions" he said, "But let's start with the big one. I called for help two days ago. Where were you?!"
"I'm very sorry, Alex" Jones said, sounding surprisingly genuine, "There were… logistical problems".
"Yeah? Well, while you were having your logistical problems, Dr Grief was getting ready to cut me up!"
"We couldn't just storm the academy. That could have gotten you killed. It could have gotten you all killed. We had to move in slowly - try to work out what was going on. How do you think we found you so quickly?"
"That was my second question".
Jones shrugged. "We've had people in the mountains ever since we got your signal. They've been closing in on the academy. They heard the machine-gun fire when the snowmobiles were chasing you and followed you down on skis. They saw what happened with the train and radioed for help".
"Alright. So why all the business with the funeral? Why do you want Grief to think I'm dead?"
"That's simple, Alex. From what you've told us, he's keeping fifteen boys prisoner in the academy. These are the boys that he plans to replace". She shook her head. "I have to say, it's the most incredible thing I've ever heard. And I wouldn't have believed it if I'd heard it from anyone else except you".
Except his tracker, she meant.
"You're too kind" he bit out.
"If Grief thought you'd survived last night, the first thing he would do is kill every one of those boys. Or perhaps he'd use them as hostages. We had only one hope if we were going to take him by surprise. He had to believe you were dead".
"You're going to take him by surprise?"
"We're going in tonight. I told you. We've assembled an attack squad here in Grenoble. They were up in the mountains last night. They plan to set off as soon as it's dark. They're armed and they're experienced" Mrs Jones hesitated, "There's just one thing they don't have".
"And what's that?" Alex asked, feeling a sudden sense of unease.
"They need someone who knows the building. The library, the secret elevator, the placement of the guards, the passage with the cells…"
"Oh no!" Alex exclaimed. Now he understood the military clothes. "Forget it! I'm not going back up there. I almost got killed trying to get away! Do you think I'm crazy?!"
"Alex, you'll be looked after. You'll be completely safe".
"No!"
"... Alright, I can understand your feelings".
Her gaze briefly skittered to his wrist, where the bloody makeup was still covering the tracker's light - the stupid fucking thing wasn't just water proof, pressure proof, and depth proof, but also thrown-off-a-speeding-train-through-a-barbed-wire-fence-and-into-a-pile-of-snow proof too.
"The thing is, Alex… Mr Blunt believes that you are the key to this extraction". She seemed to be choosing her words carefully, and he was suddenly conscious of the camera placed in the corner of the room. "So before you make up your mind, there's someone I want you to meet".
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. It opened to reveal a young man, also in combat dress. The man was well-built with black hair, square shoulders, and a dark, watchful face. He was in his late twenties.
He saw Alex and shook his head.
"Well, well, well. There's a surprise" he said, something unnameable flashing through his eyes, "How's it going, Cub?"
9.14 am, Wednesday, 20th April
Grenoble, France
Alex recognized him at once.
"Wolf?"
"I heard you got busted up". Wolf shrugged. "I'm sorry I forgot the flowers and the fruit basket".
"What are you doing here?!"
"They called me in to clear up the mess you left behind".
"So where were you when I was being chased down the mountain?"
"It seems you were doing fine on your own".
Mrs Jones took over.
"Alex has done a very good job up to now, but the fact is that there are fifteen young prisoners up at Point Blanc and our first priority must be to save them. From what Alex has told us, we know there are about thirty guards in and around the school. The only chance those boys have is for an SAS unit to break in. It's happening tonight". She turned to him. "The unit will be commanded by Wolf".
It hadn't been difficult to get the man onboard without Alan knowing - he was the leader of a mountain troop after all, and it didn't get much more mountain than the Alps, so even if her boss did end up questioning her choice, she could justify the selection if she had to.
Plus, Alan may have forgotten where Ian came from, but she hadn't, and if the man was even half as smart as she remembered, then he'd have already gotten Brecon Beacons on his side.
And besides - even if Ian and K-Unit had never met, a familiar face would surely provide Alex with some measure of comfort during the next few hours.
"Where does the boy come into this?" Wolf demanded.
If she could get them to both agree, that was.
"He knows the school. He knows the position of the guards and the location of the prison cells. He can lead you to the elevator."
"He can tell us everything we need to know here and now" Wolf interrupted. "We don't need a kid. He's just going to be baggage. We're going in on skis. There'll be blood. I can't waste one of my men holding his hand".
"I don't need to have my hand held!" Alex retorted angrily. "She's right. I know more about Point Blanc than any of you. I've been there - and I got out of there, no thanks to you. Also, I've met some of those boys. One of them is a friend of mine. I promised I'd help him, and I will".
"Not if you get killed".
"I can look after myself!"
"Then it's agreed " Jones said‚ "Alex will lead you in there, but then will take no further part in the operation. And as for his safety, Wolf, I will hold you personally responsible".
"Personally responsible" he growled, "Right".
Alex couldn't resist a smile. He'd held his ground, and he'd be going back in with the SAS.
Then he realized what had happened.
A few moments ago, he'd been arguing violently against doing just that. He glanced at the deputy head of Special Operations. She'd manipulated him, of course, bringing Wolf into the room. And she knew it.
"I'll let you boys figure out your attack strategy" she said brightly, turning to the door, "I'll see you in London, Alex".
Hopefully not.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Wolf looked like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders. They eyed each other warily for a moment before the man abruptly turned and marched over to the window and-
"Woah! Hey, Cub, come look at this!"
Alex frowned. "Look at what?"
"It's a robin! I didn't know they had them here".
The boy joined him at the window despite his confusion, looking out at the snow-covered barren parking lot that Wolf was pointing at. There was not a single living creature in sight - bird or otherwise.
"You're seeing things, Wolf".
"No, I'm not. Look!" His voice was strangely insistent and he seemed to be giving Alex a rather irritated look of his own. "It's a robin".
"... I still don't see it".
"Over there" he continued, refusing to let this go, "By the tree. Can't you see a little bird there? Someone told me it was a robin".
A little bird told me robin.
Alex froze.
Was he-
No.
He couldn't have-
Not a chance.
But-
… Maybe?
He swallowed thickly, heart in his throat, before stepping ever so slightly closer - the listening device in his wrist had never felt so noticeable before.
"What did you say it was?" he asked, voice hoarse even to his own ears, "A- A wren?"
"No. I am one hundred per cent positive that it's a robin".
Ian had sent him.
Alex gave the man a wide-eyed look and, head carefully turned away from the camera burning down on them, Wolf winked.
Holy fuck.
"... You're right" Alex forced out, "I can see it now. It is a robin. And- And a red one at that. But at least it's still alive, especially since it's snowing. There must be a reason for that".
Wolf frowned, clearly confused, but gave an ever-so-slight nod all the same.
Holy fuck!
Ian had sent him.
Ian knew where he was.
Ian knew about MI6 and Alan fucking Blunt and these bloody missions and-
Alex briefly wondered if he could somehow write a note to his uncle that Wolf could pass on, but the cameras in the room would make that impossible, and as soon as they left this room, they wouldn't be left alone together again. And besides - what could he even say?
Hey, your ex-employers that you never told me about are blackmailing me into working for them by holding your life on the line - and by the way, even if you could somehow go up against the entire British government and win, they'd just find me again anyway because of the tracker they injected - and probably kill you and keep me forever while they're at it.
No.
His coded message would just have to be enough.
The alternative was… simply too horrifying to even consider.