Anthony Horowitz - Point Blank

He just had to hope the horse would understand what he wanted.

And somehow it worked. The horse veered around. Now it was facing the side of the bridge. There was a final, deafening blast from the train. Diesel fumes smothered them. Alex kicked again with all his strength. The horse jumped.

The train roared past, missing them by inches. But now they were in the air, over the side of the bridge. The railcars were still thundering past, a red blur. Fiona screamed a second time.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as they fell. One moment they were next to the bridge, a moment later underneath it and still falling. The green river rose up to receive them.

The horse with its two riders plummeted through the air and crashed into the river. Alex just had time to snatch a breath. He was afraid that the water wouldn’t be deep enough, that all three of them would end up with broken necks. But they hit the surface and passed through, down into a freezing, dark green whirlpool that sucked at them greedily, threatening to keep them there forever. Fiona was torn away from him. He felt the horse kick itself free. Bubbles exploded out of his mouth and he realized he was yelling.

Finally, Alex rose to the surface again. The water was rushing past and, dragged back by his clothes and shoes, he clumsily swam for the nearest bank.

The train driver hadn’t stopped. Perhaps he had been too frightened by what had happened. Perhaps he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. Either way, the train had gone. Alex reached the bank and pulled himself, shivering, onto the grass. There was a splutter and a cough from behind him, and Fiona appeared. She had lost her riding hat, and her long black hair was hanging over her face. Alex looked past her. The horse had also managed to reach dry land. It trotted forward and shook itself, seemingly unharmed. Alex was glad about that. When all was said and done, the horse had saved both their lives.

He stood up. Water dripped out of his clothes. There was no feeling anywhere in his body.

He wondered whether it was because of the cold water or the shock of what he had just been through. He went over to Fiona and helped her to her feet.

‚Are you all right?' he asked.

‚Yes.' She was looking at him strangely. She wobbled, and he put out a hand to steady her.

‚Thank you,' she said.

‚That’s all right.'

‚No.' She held on to his hand. Her shirt had fallen open and she threw back her head, shaking the hair out of her eyes. ‚What you did back there … it was fantastic. Alex, I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you all week. I thought—because you were here only for charity and all the rest of it—I thought you were just an oik. But I was wrong about you. You’re really great.

And I know we’re going to be friends now.' She half closed her eyes and moved toward him, her lips slightly parted. ‚You can kiss me if you like,' she said.

Alex let go of her and turned away. ‚Thanks, Fiona,' he said. ‚But frankly I’d prefer to kiss the horse.'

SPECIAL EDITION

THE HELICOPTER CIRCLED twice over Haverstock Hall before beginning its descent. It was a Robinson R44, fourseater aircraft, American built. There was only one person—the pilot—

inside. Sir David Friend had returned from London, and he and his wife came outside to watch it land in front of the house. The engine noise died down and the rotors began to slow. The cabin door slid open, and the pilot got out, dressed in a one-piece leather flying suit, helmet, and goggles.

The pilot walked up to them, extending a hand. ‚Good morning,' she shouted over the noise of the rotors. ‚I’m Mrs. Stellenbosch. From the academy…'

If Sir David and Lady Caroline had been thrown by their first sight of Alex, the appearance of the assistant director left them frozen to the spot. Sir David was the first to recover. ‚You flew the helicopter yourself?'

‚Yes … I’m qualified,' Mrs. Stellenbosch answered.

‚Would you like to come in?' Lady Caroline said. ‚Perhaps you’d like some tea.'

She led them into the house and into the living room, where Mrs. Stellenbosch sat, legs apart, her helmet on the sofa beside her. Sir David and Lady Caroline sat opposite her. Tea had been brought in on a tray.

‚Do you mind if I smoke?' Mrs. Stellenbosch asked.

She reached into a pocket and took out a small packet of cigars without waiting for an answer. She lit one and blew smoke. ‚What a very beautiful house you have, Sir David.

Georgian, I would say, but decorated with such taste! And where, may I ask, is Alex?'

‚He went for a walk,' Sir David said.

‚Perhaps he’s a little nervous.' She smiled again and took the teacup Lady Caroline had proffered. ‚I understand that Alex has been a great source of concern to you.'

Sir David Friend nodded. His eyes gave nothing away. For the next few minutes, he told Mrs. Stellenbosch about Alex, how he had been expelled from Eton, how out of control he had become. Lady Caroline listened to all this in silence, occasionally holding her husband’s arm.

‚I’m at my wit’s end,' Sir David concluded. ‚We have an older daughter, and she’s perfectly delightful. But Alex’? He hangs around the house. He doesn’t read. He doesn’t show any interest in anything. His appearance … well, you’ll see for yourself. The Point Blanc Academy is our last resort, Mrs. Stellenbosch. We’re desperately hoping you can straighten him out.'

The assistant director poked at the air with her cigar, leaving a gray trail. ‚I’m sure you’ve been a marvelous father, Sir David,' she purred. ‚But these modern children! It’s heartbreaking the way some of them behave. You’ve done the right thing, coming to us. As I’m sure you know, the academy has had a remarkable success rate over the years.'

‚What exactly do you do?' Lady Caroline asked.

‚We have our methods.' The woman’s eyes twinkled.

She tapped ash into her saucer. ‚But I can promise you, we’ll straighten out all his problems.

Don’t you worry! When he comes home, he’ll be a completely different boy.'

Alex had reached the edge of a field about a half mile from the house. He had seen the helicopter land and knew that his time had come. But he wasn’t ready yet to leave. Mrs. Jones had telephoned him the night before. Once again, MI6 wasn’t going to send him empty-handed into what might be enemy territory.

He watched as a combine harvester rumbled slowly toward him, cutting a swathe through the grass. It jerked to a halt a short distance away, and the door of the cabin opened. A man got out—with difficulty. He was so fat that he had to squeeze himself out, first one buttock, then the next, and finally his stomach, shoulders, and head. The man was wearing a checked shirt and blue overalls—a farmer’s outfit. But even if he’d had a straw hat and a blade of corn between his teeth, Alex could never have imagined him actually farming anything.

The man grinned at him. ‚Hello, old chap!' he said.

‚Hello, Mr. Smithers,' Alex replied.

Smithers worked for MI6. He had supplied the various devices Alex had used on his last mission. ‚Very nice to see you again!' he exclaimed. He winked. ‚What do you think of the cover? I was told to blend in with the countryside.'

‚The combine harvester’s a great idea,' Alex said. ‚Except, this is April. There isn’t anything to harvest.'

‚I hadn’t thought of that!' Smithers beamed. ‚The trouble is, I’m not really a field agent.

Field agent!' He looked around him and laughed. ‚Anyway, I’m jolly glad to have the chance to work with you again, Alex—to think up a few bits and pieces for you. It’s not often I get a teenager. Much more fun than the adults!'