Ark Angel - Anthony Horowitz [38]
“Does this kid have a name?” someone asked.
“Alex Rider.” It was the older man who had spoken. “I think you should take a look at him.” There was an unmarked file on the table in front of him. He leant forward, flipped it open and took out a photograph. He passed it to the man sitting next to him. “This was sent to me last night,” he explained. “This is the kid we’re talking about. The woman with him is his guardian. He has no parents.”
One after another, the four men and two women examined the photo. It showed Alex Rider and Jack Starbright as they entered the Waterfront Hotel, and had been taken by a concealed camera at ground level.
“The fact that Alex Rider has gotten himself involved changes everything,” the older man went on. “I’m surprised Drevin hasn’t checked up on him. It could be his first – and his biggest – mistake.”
One of the women shook her head. “I don’t understand. Who is Alex Rider?”
“He’s no ordinary kid. And let me say straight off that this is to go no further than this room. What I’m telling you is classified – but it seems we’re in a need-to-know situation.” He paused. “Alex is an agent working with MI6 Special Operations.”
A mutter of disbelief travelled round the table.
“But, sir…” the woman protested. “That’s crazy. He can’t be more than fifteen years old.”
“He’s fourteen. And you’re absolutely right. Trust MI6 to come up with an idea like this. But it’s worked. Alex Rider is the nearest thing the Brits have to a lethal weapon.”
“So how come he’s got himself mixed up with Drevin?” the other woman asked.
The older man smiled to himself as if he knew something they didn’t. In fact, he was only just beginning to work it out. “Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe it wasn’t,” he murmured. “But either way it’s a whole new ball game. Alex Rider met Kaspar. He’s been at the heart of Force Three. And now he’s close to Drevin.”
“You think he can help us?”
“He’ll help us whether he wants to or not.” The man gazed at the photo and suddenly there was a hardness in his eyes. “If Alex Rider comes to New York, I want to see him. Do you understand? It’s a number one priority. Use any means necessary to get hold of him. I want you to bring that boy to me.”
Over three thousand miles away, at Neverglade, Alex had just finished two sets of tennis with Paul Drevin. To his surprise, he’d been thrashed.
Paul was a brilliant player. If he’d wanted to, he could have served ace after ace and Alex wouldn’t even have had a chance. He’d purposely slowed down his serve, but despite Alex’s best efforts, the score had been three–six in the first set, four–six in the next. Alex would have happily played on, but Paul shook his head. He had slumped on the grass with a bottle of water. Alex noticed he’d also brought out his inhaler again. At the end of the last set he’d been struggling to breathe.
“You should join a club or something,” Alex remarked, sitting down next to him. “Could you play competitively?”
Paul shook his head. “Two sets is all I can manage. After that my lungs pack in.”
“How long have you had asthma?”
“All my life. Luckily it’s not too bad, but then it kicks in and that’s it. My dad gets really fed up.”
“You can’t help it if you’re ill.”
“That’s not how he sees it.” Paul glanced at his watch. “He’ll be at the track by now. Come on. I’ll walk over with you.”
They left the rackets behind and walked across the lawn together. A man drove past on a tractor and nodded at them. Alex had noticed that none of the staff ever spoke to Paul; he wondered if they were allowed to.
“Aren’t you going to race?” he asked.
“Maybe later. If it was just you and me, I wouldn’t mind. But Dad…” Paul fell silent as if there was something he didn’t want to say. “Dad takes it very seriously,” he muttered.
“How fast do these karts go?”
“They can do a hundred miles an hour.” Paul saw Alex’s eyes widen. “They’re not toys, if that’s what you were expecting. My father had some business friends to stay a few months ago. One of them lost control round a