Ark Angel - Anthony Horowitz [61]
Ten minutes later, dressed in a T-shirt, knee-length shorts and sandals, Alex was back in the buggy next to Paul. It was early in the afternoon and the sun was still strong. Drevin drove them along the single track. Although the island couldn’t have been more than half a mile wide, the sea had disappeared from view, lost behind a seemingly impenetrable screen of vegetation. Here the atmosphere was damp and heavy, and Alex could hear thousands of insects already active among the leaves.
They passed the cabins that Alex had seen from the air, and immediately afterwards came to an electric gate with a checkpoint and three guards on patrol. They were the first guards Alex had seen. They were dressed in pale grey overalls with a logo – a pair of wings and a streak of light – printed on the left side of their chest. They wore combat boots and carried black Mini Uzi 19mm sub-machine guns. Seeing the vicious weapons, Alex felt a twinge of unease. Joe Byrne had made this visit to Flamingo Bay sound very safe and straightforward. He was there to make sure Drevin didn’t run away. Nothing more than that. But if something did go wrong, if Drevin found out that Alex had been in contact with the CIA, he would be trapped. He had no doubt that the motor boats would be neutralized at night. The plane had already left. Barbados and the CIA back-up team were ten miles away. Once again Alex found himself surrounded by an enemy army and, as usual, he was on his own.
The buggy stopped and a man appeared, dressed in the same grey uniform as the guards. He was an ugly man, aged in his thirties, with round cheeks, thick lips and curling, ginger-coloured hair. There was something about his face that didn’t look quite real. His skin was deathly pale, as if he never stepped out into the sun. Alex could see the man’s paunch pressing against his overalls. He wasn’t just unfit. He looked ill.
“Good afternoon, Mr Drevin,” he said. His voice suited his appearance. The words came out in a strained, unpleasant whisper as if he had something caught in his throat.
“Good afternoon.” Drevin turned to the two boys. “This is one of the most important people on the island,” he explained. “His name is Magnus Payne and he’s the head of security.” He looked at Payne. “You haven’t met my son, Paul; and his friend, Alex Rider.”
The security man nodded at Alex. “Nice to meet you, Alex,” he said, and at that moment Alex was conscious of two things. Although he knew it was impossible, he wondered if he’d met Payne before. And there was something else. Something that felt wrong. But what?
“I should warn you that Payne has complete control over this side of the island,” Drevin was explaining. “You must do what he tells you. And please don’t try to get past here without his authorization.”
“What’s the point of a security barrier?” Alex asked. “This is an island. If someone wanted to break in, they could just swim round.”
“Razor wire,” Magnus Payne rasped. “Under the water. They could try, but it would be rather painful.”
He raised a hand and the gate slid open, activated from inside the checkpoint. Payne climbed into the buggy next to Drevin and the four of them continued to the launch area.
Alex had seen many amazing things in his life, but the sight before him was something he knew he would never forget.
The rocket was right in front of him, on the edge of a flat, empty area, pointing towards the sky and supported by two steel arms reaching out from a huge gantry. It was at least fifty metres tall, slender and more beautiful than anything Alex could have imagined. He had seen rockets in museums; he had watched launches on TV. But this was different. It was surrounded by a vast, blue sky which seemed suddenly endless. And yet, sitting there, it seemed to radiate the power that was contained in the four solid rocket boosters that would, very soon, blast it into space. About twenty people were working around it. The rocket dwarfed them, making them look tiny.
“We call it Gabriel 7,” Drevin said, and he couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “It’s an Atlas