Anthony Horowitz - Skeleton Key

“Your name?” The movements of the man’s mouth didn’t quite match what he was saying, so seeing him speak was a bit like watching a badly dubbed film.

“Alex Gardiner,” Alex said.

“Your real name?”

“I just told you.”

“You lied. Your real name is Alex Rider.”

“Why ask if you think you know?”

The man nodded as if Alex had asked a fair question. “My name is Conrad,” he said. “We have met before.”

“Have we?” Alex tried to think. Then he remembered. The man he had seen limping down the boardwalk in Miami wearing sunglasses and a straw hat! It was the same man.

Conrad leaned forward. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m on vacation with my mom and dad.” Alex decided it was time to pretend he was just an ordinary fourteen year old. “Where are they?” he demanded. “Why have you brought me here? What happened to the man on the boat? I want to go home!”

“Where is your home?” Conrad asked.

“I live in LA. De Flores Street, west Hollywood.”

“No.” There was no doubt at all in Conrad’s voice. “Your accent is very convincing, but you are not American. You are English. The people you came with were called Tom Turner and Belinda Troy. They were agents of the CIA. They are now dead.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong guy.”

Conrad smiled. At least, one side of his mouth smiled. The other could only manage a slight twitch. “Lying to me is stupid and a waste of time. I have to know why you are here,” he said. “It is an unusual experience to interrogate a child, but it is one I shall enjoy. You are the only one left. So tell me, Alex Rider, why did you come to Cayo Esqueleto? What were you planning to do?”

“I wasn’t planning to do anything!” Despite everything, Alex thought it was worth one last try. He was still speaking with an American accent. “My dad’s a film producer. He’s got nothing to do with the CIA. Who are you? And why have you brought me here?”

“I am losing my patience!” Conrad took a break, as if the effort of talking was too much for him. “Tell me what I want to know.”

“I’m on vacation!” Alex said. “I’ve already told you!”

“You have told me lies. Now you will tell me the truth.”

Conrad leaned down and picked up a large metal box with two buttons-one red, one green-attached to a thick cable. He pressed the green button. At once, Alex felt a jolt underneath him. An alarm bell rang. Somewhere in the distance there was a loud whine as a machine started up. A few seconds later, the conveyor began to move.

Using all his strength, Alex fought against the drug that was in his system, forcing his head up so that he could look over his feet. What he saw sent a spasm of shock all the way through him. His head swam and he thought he was going to faint The conveyor belt was carrying him towards two huge, spinning grindstones about seven metres away. They were so close to each other they were almost touching. There was one underneath and one on top. The belt stopped just at the point where they met. Alex was slumped helplessly on the belt. There was nothing he could do. He was moving towards the grindstones at a rate of about ten centimetres a second. It would take him a little over a minute to reach them. When he did finally get there, he would be crushed. That was the death that this man had arranged for him.

“Do you know how sugar was produced?” Conrad asked. “This place, where you are now, is a sugar mill. The machinery used to be steam-powered but now it is electric. The sugar cane was delivered here by the colonos-the farmers. It was shredded and then placed on a belt to be crushed. After that it was filtered. Water was allowed to evaporate. Then the remaining syrup was placed in cauldrons and heated so that it formed crystals.” Conrad paused to draw breath. “You, Alex, are at the beginning of that process. You are about to be fed into the crusher. I ask you to imagine the pain that lies ahead of you. Your toes will enter first. Then you will be sucked in one centimetre at a time. After your toes, your feet. Your legs and your knees. How much of you will pass through before you are allowed the comfort of death? Think about it! Whatever else it is, I can promise you that it will not be sweet.”

Conrad raised the box with the two buttons. “Tell me what I want to know and I will press the red button. It stops the machine.”

“You’re wrong!” Alex shouted. “You can’t do this!”

“I am doing this. And I am never wrong. Please, do not waste any more time. You have so little of it left…”

Alex lifted his head up again. The grindstones were getting closer with every second that passed. He could feel their vibration, transmitted down the conveyor belt.

“How much did the agents know?” Conrad demanded. “Why were they here?”

Alex slumped back. The pounding of the two stones enveloped him. He looked past Conrad at the other two men. Would they let him do this? But their faces were impassive. “Please…!” he shouted. Then stopped himself. There was no mercy in this man. He had seen that at once. He gritted his teeth, biting back his fear. He wanted to cry. He could actually feel the tears in his eyes. This wasn’t what he wanted. He had never asked to be a spy. Why should he be expected to die Like one?

“You have perhaps fifty seconds more,” Conrad said.

And that was when Alex made up his mind. There was no point in going silently to this bloody and unspeakable death. This wasn’t a World War Two film with him as the hero. He was a schoolboy and everyone-Blunt, Mrs Jones, the CIA-had lied to him and played tricks on him to get him here. Anyway, Conrad already knew who he was. He had called him by his real name. Conrad knew that Troy and Turner had been American spies. There was only one piece of information he could add. The CIA were looking for a nuclear bomb. And why shouldn’t he tell Conrad that? Maybe it would be enough to stop him using it.

“They were searching for a bomb!” he cried out. “A nuclear bomb. They know Sarov bought uranium from the Salesman. They came here with a Geiger counter. They were going to break into the villa and look for the bomb.”

“How did they know?”

“I don’t know…”

“Thirty seconds.”

The rumbling and pounding was louder than ever. Alex looked up and saw the stones less than three metres away. Air was rushing between them and flowing over him. He could feel the breeze cold on his skin. The fact that he wasn’t tied down, that his arms and legs were free, only made it all the worse. He couldn’t move! The drug had turned him into a piece of living meat on its way to the mincer. Perspiration flowed down the side of his face then followed the line of his jaw and curved behind his neck.

“It was Turner!” Alex yelled. “He found out from the Salesman. He was working undercover. They found out that he’d sold you the uranium and they came here looking for the bomb.”

“Did they know the purpose of the bomb?”

“No! I don’t know. They didn’t tell me. Now stop the machine and let me go.”

Conrad considered for a moment. The box was still in his hand.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think so.”

“What?” Alex screamed the single word. He could barely hear himself above the noise of the grindstones.

“You’ve been a bad boy,” Conrad said. “And bad boys have to be punished.”

“But you said-”

“I lied. Just like you. But of course I must kill you. You are of no further use…”

Alex went mad. He opened his mouth and screamed, trying to find the strength to separate himself from the conveyor belt. His brain knew what it wanted. His body refused to obey. It was useless. He jerked upwards. His feet were moving ever closer to the spinning stones. Conrad took a step back. He was going to watch as Alex was fed through the crusher. The two workers behind him would clear up when it was over.