Anthony Horowitz - Skeleton Key

“This was a sugar farm once,” Sarov explained, repeating what Troy had already told him. “Slaves worked here. There were almost a million slaves in Cuba and Cayo Esqueleto.” He pointed at the tower. “That was the watch tower. They would ring a bell there at half past four in the morning for the slaves to start work. They were brought here from West Africa. They worked here. And they died here.”

They passed close to a low, rectangular building some way from the main house. Alex noticed that the single door and all the windows were barred?

“That is the barracon,” Sarov said. “The house of slaves. Two hundred of them slept in there, penned in like animals. If we have time, I will show you the punishment block. We still have the original stocks. Can you imagine, Alex, being fastened by your ankles for weeks, or even months at a time? Unable to move. Starving and thirsty…”

“I don’t want to imagine it,” Alex said.

“Of course not. The Western world prefers to forget the crimes that made it rich.”

Alex was relieved when they broke into a canter. At least it meant there was no further need to talk. They followed a dirt track that brought them to the edge of the sea. Looking down, Alex could see where Garcia’s boat had been moored the day before. It reminded him of the true nature of the man he was with. Sarov was being friendly. He evidently enjoyed having Alex as his guest. But he was a killer. And a killer with a nuclear bomb.

They came to the end of the track and continued more slowly now, with the sea on their right.

The Casa de Oro had disappeared behind them.

“I wish to tell you something about myself,” Sarov said suddenly. “In fact, I will tell you more than I have ever told anyone else.”

He rode on for a few moments in silence.

“I was born in 1940,” he began. “This was during the Second World War, the year before the Germans attacked my country. Perhaps that is why I have always been a patriot, why I have always thought my country should come first. I have spent much of my life serving it. In the army, fighting for what I believe in. I still believe I am serving it now.”

He reined in his horse and turned to Alex, who had stopped beside him.

“I got married when I was thirty. A year later, my wife gave me something I had always wanted. A son. His name was Vladimir and from the moment he drew his first breath he was the best thing in my life. He grew into a handsome boy, and let me tell you, no father could have been prouder than I was of him. He did well at school, top in almost every class. He was a first-class athlete. I think he could one day have competed at Olympic level. But that was not to be…”

Alex already knew the end of this story. He remembered what Blunt had told him.

“I believed it was right for Vladimir to serve his country, just as I had,” Sarov went on. “I wanted him to join the army. His mother disagreed. Unfortunately, that disagreement ended our marriage.”

“You asked her to leave?”

“No. I didn’t ask her to leave. I ordered her to. She departed from my house and I never saw her again. And Vladimir did join the army. This was in 1988 when he was sixteen years old. He was flown to Afghanistan where we were fighting a hard, difficult war. He had been there for just three weeks when he was sent to reconnoitre a village as part of a patrol. A sniper shot him and he died.”

Sarov’s voice cracked briefly and he stopped. But a moment later he continued in a careful, measured tone.

“The war ended a year later. Our government, weak and cowardly, had lost the spirit to fight. We withdrew. The whole thing had been for nothing. And this is what you must understand. This is the truth. There is nothing more terrible in this world than for a father to lose his son.” He took a breath. “I believed I had lost Vladimir for ever. Until I met you.”

“Me?” Alex was almost too startled to speak.

“You are just two years younger than Vladimir was when he died. But you have so much in common with him, Alex-even though you were brought up on the other side of the world! There is, first, a very slight resemblance. But it is not just your physical appearance. You too are serving your country. Fourteen years old and a spy! How rare it is to find any young person who is prepared to fight for his beliefs!”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Alex muttered.

“You have courage. That business at the sugar factory and in the cave would prove it even if your track record didn’t speak volumes more. You speak many languages and one day, soon, you could learn Russian. You ride, you dive, you fight, and you aren’t scared. I have never met a boy like you. Except one. You are like my Vladimir, Alex, and that is what I hope you will become.”

“What are you getting at?” Alex asked. They still weren’t moving and he was beginning to feel the heat of the sun. The horse was sweating and attracting flies. The sea was a long way beneath them and none of its breeze was reaching them.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’ve read your file. You have grown up on your own. You had an uncle but you didn’t even know what he was until he died. You have no parents. I have no son. We are both alone.”

“We’re a world apart, General.”

“We don’t need to be. I am planning something that will change the world for ever. When I am finished, the world will be a better, stronger, healthier place. You came here to prevent that happening. But when you understand what I’m doing, you will see that we do not need to be enemies. On the contrary! I want to adopt you!”

Alex stared. He didn’t know what to say.

“You will be my son, Alex, and you will continue where Vladimir left off. I will be a father to you and we will share the new world I create. Don’t speak now! Just consider. If I really believed you were my enemy, I would have allowed Conrad to kill you. But the moment I found out who you were, I knew that you couldn’t be. We even have the same name, you and I. Alexei and Alex. I will adopt you, Alex. I will become the father you have lost.”

“And what if I say no?”

“You will not say no!” Violence had slid into his eyes like smoke behind glass. His face was twisted as if in pain. Sarov took a deep breath and suddenly he was calm. “When you know the plan, you will join me.”

“Then why don’t you tell me the plan? Tell me what you’re going to do!”

“Not yet, Alex. You’re not ready yet. But you will be. And it will all happen very soon.”

General Alexei Sarov pulled on his reins. The horse spun round and he galloped off, leaving the sea behind. Alex shook his head in wonderment. Then he kicked at the flanks of his own horse and followed.

That evening, Alex ate on his own. Sarov had excused himself, saying he had work to do. Alex didn’t have much appetite. Conrad stood in the room watching his every mouthful and although he didn’t speak, anger and hostility radiated out of him. The moment Alex finished, Conrad signalled, a single hand pointing to the door.

He followed Conrad out of the main house, down the steps and into the slave quarters, the barracon that Sarov had shown him earlier. It seemed that this was to be his new accommodation. The inside of the building was divided into a series of cells with bare brick walls and thick doors, each with a square grille in the centre. But at least it had been modernized. There was electricity, fresh water and-mercifully in the heat of the night-air-conditioning. Alex knew he was a lot luckier than the hundreds of lost souls who had once been confined there.

There was a basin and a toilet hidden behind a screen in his cell. Alex’s case had been carried over and placed on a bed which had a metal frame and a thin mattress but which was still comfortable enough. Sarov had also provided him with books to read. Alex glanced at the covers. They were English translations of Russian classics; Tolstoy and Dostoevsky. He guessed they must have been Vladimir ’s favourite authors.