Anthony Horowitz - Skeleton Key

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Sharks. Assassins. Nuclear bombs. Alex Rider's in deep water.
Reluctant teenage superspy Alex Rider is useful to MI6 in ways an adult never could be. Now they need his help once again.
But a routine reconnaissance mission at the Wimbledon Tennis Championships sets off a terrifying chain of events for Alex that sees him on the run from a Chinese triad gang. Forced to hide out, Alex is sent to Cayo Esqueleto-Skeleton Key- an island near Cuba. Waiting for him there is General Alexei Sarov-a coldly insane Russian with explosive plns to rewrite history.
Alex faces his most dangerous challenge yet. Alone, equipped only with a handful of ingenious gadgets, Alex must outwit Sarov, as the secondstick away towards the end of the world…

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“No!” Alex howled.

“Goodbye, Alex,” Conrad said.

And then-another voice. In another language. One that Alex didn’t understand.

Conrad said something. Alex could no longer hear. The man’s lips moved but any sound was snatched away by the roar of the machine.

Alex’s bare toes were being battered by the wind that was forced through the stones. They were five centimetres away from being crushed. Four centimetres, three centimetres, two centimetres…

There was a gunshot.

Sparks. The smell of smoke.

The grindstones were still spinning. But the conveyor belt had stopped. Alex’s feet were jutting over the end of the belt. He could almost feel the spinning stone racing past his toes.

Then the voice came again, speaking now in English.

“My dear Alex. I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

Alex tried to reply with the worst swear-word he knew. But it wouldn’t come. He couldn’t even breathe.

With a sense of gratitude, he passed out.

***

“You will have to forgive Conrad. He is an excellent assistant and useful in so many ways. But he can also be a little… over-enthusiastic.”

Alex had woken up in the most magnificent bedroom he had ever seen. He was lying on a four poster bed opposite a floor-to-ceiling mirror in an ornate gold frame. All the furniture in the room was antique and wouldn’t have been out of place in a museum. There was a painted chest at the foot of the bed, a massive wardrobe with elaborately carved doors, a chandelier with five curving arms. The shutters on the windows had been folded back to reveal a wrought iron balustrade looking out over a courtyard.

The man, who had introduced himself as General Alexei Sarov, was sitting on a chair next to the mirror, dressed in a dark suit. His legs were crossed. His back was completely straight. Alex examined the face with its grey hair and intelligent blue eyes. He recognized his voice from the sugar mill and knew-without knowing why-that it was the general who had saved him.

It was dark outside. Alex guessed it must be after midnight. Someone had dressed him in a white nightshirt that came down to his knees. He wondered how long he had been asleep. And how long the Russian had been waiting for him to wake up.

“Do you want something to eat?” That had been his first question.

“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.”

“A drink then?”

“Some water…”

“I have some here.”

The water came in a silver jug, served in a gleaming crystal glass. General Sarov poured it himself, then handed it to Alex. Alex reached out, grateful that the drug Conrad had pumped into him had worn off while he was asleep and that he could move his arms again. He sipped. The water was ice-cold. That was when Sarov began his apology, speaking in faultless English.

“Conrad had no orders to eliminate you. On the contrary, when I found out who you were, I very much wanted to meet you.”

Alex wondered about that, but decided to ignore it for the moment. “How did you find out who I was?” he asked. There seemed no point in denying it now.

“We have a very sophisticated security system both here and in Havana.” The general seemed uninterested in explaining more. “I’m afraid you’ve had a terrible ordeal.”

“The people I came here with had a worse one.”

Again the general raised a hand, brushing aside the details. “Your friends are dead. Were they your friends, Alex?” A brief pause. “I was of course perfectly well aware of the Devil’s Chimney when I first moved into the Casa de Oro. I had a simple defence mechanism constructed. Diving is prohibited on this side of the island so when the occasional diver is foolish enough to enter the cave, he is only paying the price of his curiosity. They tell me that a shark was killed there…”

“It was a great white.”

“You saw it?”

Alex said nothing. Sarov raised his hands, resting his chin on the tip of his fingers.

“You are as remarkable as I was told,” he continued. “I have read your file, Alex. You have no parents. You were raised by an uncle who was himself a spy. You were trained by the Special Air Service, the SAS, and sent on your first mission in the south of England. And then, just a few weeks later, to France… Some would say that you have had the luck of the devil, but I do not personally believe in the devil-or in God, for that matter. But I believe in you, Alex. You are quite unique.”

Alex was getting tired of all this flattery. And he couldn’t help but feel that there was something sinister in it. “Why am I here?” he asked. “What do you want with me?”

“Why you are here should be self-evident,” Sarov answered. “Conrad wanted to kill you. I prevented him. But I cannot allow you to return to the hotel or, indeed, to leave the island. You will have to consider yourself my prisoner, although if the Casa de Oro is a prison, I hope you will find it a comfortable one. As to what I want with you…” Sarov smiled to himself, his eyes suddenly distant. “It is late,” he announced suddenly. “We can talk about that tomorrow.”

He stood up.

“Is it true that you have a nuclear bomb?” Alex asked.

“Yes.”

Part of the puzzle fell into place. “You bought uranium from the Salesman. But then you ordered Conrad to kill him! You blew up his boat!”

“That is correct.”

So Alex had been right all along. He had seen Conrad in Miami. Conrad had put some sort of explosive device on the Mayfair Lady-and it was that, not the fire, that had caused the destruction and loss of life. Turner and Troy had accused him unfairly.

“The nuclear bomb…” Alex said. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Are you afraid?”

“I want to know.”

The general considered. “I will tell you only this for now,” he said. “I do not imagine that you know a great deal about my country, Alex. The Union of Soviet Socialist Republics as it was once called. The USSR. Russia, as it is today. I do not suppose these things are taught to you in your Western schools.”

“I know that communism is finished, if that’s what you mean,” Alex said. “And it’s a bit late for a history lesson.”

“My country was once a world power,” Sarov continued, ignoring him. “It was one of the most powerful nations on the earth. Who put the first man into space? We did! Who made the greatest advances in science and technology? Who was feared by the rest of the world?” He paused. “You are right. Yes. Communism has been driven out. And what do you see in its place?” A flicker of anger appeared on his face-there only for a second and then it was gone. “ Russia has become second-rate. There is no law and order. The prisons are empty and criminals control the streets. Millions of Russians are addicted to drugs. Millions more have AIDS. Women and children find work as prostitutes. And all this so that the people can eat McDonald’s and buy Levi jeans and talk on their mobile telephones in Red Square!”

General Sarov walked over to the door.

“You ask me what I am going to do,” he said. “I am going to turn back the page and undo the damage of the last thirty years. I am going to give my country back its pride and its position on the world stage. I am not an evil man, Alex. Whatever your superiors may have told you, my only wish is to stop the disease and to make the world a better place. I hope you can believe that. It matters very much to me that you should come to see things my way.”

“You have a nuclear bomb,” Alex said, speaking slowly. “I don’t understand. How is that going to help you achieve what you want?”

“That will be revealed to you… in time. Let us have breakfast together at nine o’clock. Then I will show you around the estate.”

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