Anthony Horowitz: Skeleton Key

“It’s over, General,” Alex said. “Conrad is dead. The Russian army is here. Someone must have tipped them off.”

Sarov shook his head. “I can still detonate the bomb. There is an override. You and I will die. But the end result will be the same.”

“A better world?”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Alex. All of this…! I was only ever doing what I believed in.”

Alex felt an enormous tiredness creeping up on him. He weighed the card in his hand. It was strange really. From one Skeleton Key to another. It all came down to this.

Sarov raised the gun. The blood was spreading more rapidly now. He swayed on his feet. “Give me the card or I will shoot you,” he said.

Alex lifted the card then suddenly flicked it. It spun twice in the air, then disappeared into the water. “Go ahead then, if that’s what you want,” he said. “Shoot me!”

Sarov’s eyes flickered over to the lost card, then back to Alex. “Why…?” he whispered.

“I’d rather be dead than have a father like you,” Alex said.

There were voices shouting. Footsteps coming nearer.

“Goodbye, Alex,” Sarov said.

He raised the gun and fired a single shot.

We’ve lost Alex Rider,“ Mrs Jones said. ”I’m sorry, Alan. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. But that’s the end of it.”

The head of MI6 Special Operations and his number two were having lunch together in a restaurant near Liverpool Street Station. They ate there frequently, although not often together. The restaurant was in a basement with low, vaulted ceilings, soft lighting and bare brick walls. Blunt liked the starched white tablecloths and the old-fashioned service. Also, the food was poor so few people came there. That was useful when he wanted to have a conversation such as this.

“Alex did very well,” he muttered.

“Oh yes. I had an email from Joe Byrne in Virginia. Of course, he was upset about the loss of his own two agents in the underwater cave, but he was full of praise for Alex. He definitely owes us a favour… which will at least be useful in the future.” She took a bread roll and broke it in half. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the CIA didn’t start training their own teenage spy now. The Americans are always copying our ideas.”

“When we’re not copying theirs,” Blunt remarked.

“That’s true.”

They paused as the waiter came over with the first course. Grilled sardines for Mrs Jones, soup for Blunt. Neither dish looked particularly appetizing but that didn’t matter. Neither of them had much of an appetite.

“I’ve looked through the files and I think I have the general picture,” Blunt said. “But perhaps you can fill me in on some of the details. In particular, I’d like to know how the Russian authorities found out about Sarov in time.”

“That was because of what happened at Edinburgh Airport,” Mrs Jones explained. She looked down at her plate. There were four sardines lying side by side, complete with heads and tails. If it was possible for a fish to look unhappy, these had managed it. She squeezed lemon over them. The juice formed tears beneath the unblinking eyes.

“Alex ran into a security guard called George Prescott,” she went on. “He’d managed to escape from Sarov’s plane using a gadget Smithers had given him.”

“I don’t recall authorizing Smithers-” Blunt began.

“Alex wanted to use a telephone,” Mrs Jones cut in. “Obviously, he was going to warn us about Murmansk, what Sarov was planning. This man, Prescott, stopped him.”

“Unfortunate.”

“Yes. It must have been very frustrating. Alex actually told him that he was a spy and that he was working for us, but then Sarov caught up with him. Prescott was killed-and that was the end of it. Or it would have been… but we were extremely fortunate. Prescott had a radio transmitter clipped to his jacket. It was turned on throughout his conversation with Alex and his office heard every word that was said. Of course, they didn’t believe Alex either, but when Prescott was found with a bullet in his head they put two and two together and got on to us as fast as they could. I was the one who alerted the authorities at Murmansk and I must say that the Russians acted very promptly. They pulled a naval force together, plus two helicopter gunships, and stormed the yard.”

“What happened to the bomb?”

“They have it. According to their people, it would have been big enough to blow a sizeable hole in the Kola Peninsular. The fallout would have contaminated Norway, Finland and, for that matter, most of Great Britain. And I really do think the backlash would have been enough to force Kiriyenko out of power. Nobody likes him very much anyway.”

“Where is Kiriyenko?” Blunt’s soup was almost cold. He had forgotten what was meant to be in it.

“The Cuban authorities found him locked up on Skeleton Key. Shouting his head off and blaming everyone except himself.” Mrs Jones shook her head. “He’s back in Moscow now. Sarov gave him a bad scare, but then he gave us all a bad scare. If it hadn’t been for Alex, who knows what might have happened.”

“What do the Cubans have to say about all this?”

“They’ve disowned Sarov. Nothing to do with them. They had no idea what he was planning. What’s so terrifying is that he nearly got away with it!”

“If it hadn’t been for Alex Rider…”

The two of them finished their first course in silence.

“Where is Alex now?” Blunt asked eventually.

“He’s home.”

“How is he?”

Mrs Jones sighed. “It would seem that Sarov shot himself,” she said. “Alex was standing right in front of him. The trouble with you, Alan, is that you’ve never had children and you refuse to accept the fact that, at the end of the day, Alex is only a child. He’s already been through far more than any fourteen year old could possibly be expected to… and this last mission! I would say it was his toughest yet. And at the very end he actually saw what Sarov did!”

“I suppose Sarov didn’t want to be taken alive,” Blunt muttered.

“I wish it was as simple as that. It seems that Sarov had some sort of… attachment to Alex. He saw him as the son he had lost. Alex rejected him and it pushed him over the edge. That’s why he did it. He couldn’t live with himself any more.”

Blunt signalled and a waiter came over and poured the wine. It was unusual for the two spy-masters to drink at lunchtime but Blunt had selected a half bottle of Chablis, which had been sitting in an ice bucket beside their table. Another waiter served the main courses. The food sat on the table untouched.

“What happened with that business with the triads?” Blunt asked.

“Oh-I’ve sorted all that out. We had a couple of their people in jail and I arranged for them to be released. Flown back to Hong Kong. It was enough. They’ll leave Alex alone.”

“So why do you say we’ve lost him?”

“The truth is, we shouldn’t have used him in the first place.”

“We didn’t use him. It was the CIA.”

“You know that doesn’t make any difference.” Mrs Jones tasted the wine. “The point is, I was the one who debriefed him and all I can say is… he’s not the same. I know, I’ve said this all before. But I was seriously worried about him, Alan. He was so silent and withdrawn. He’d been badly hurt.”

“Any broken bones?”

“For heaven’s sake! Children can be hurt in other ways! I’m sorry, but I do feel very strongly about this. We can’t use him again. It isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” Blunt picked up his own glass. “I think you’re forgetting that Alex has just saved the world. That boy is fast becoming one of our most effective operatives. He’s the best secret weapon we have. We can’t afford to be sentimental about him. We’ll let him rest. I dare say he needs to catch up at school, and then there’s the summer holidays. But you know as well as I do, if the need arises, there’s nothing to discuss. We’ll use him again. And again…”