Anthony Horowitz - Point Blank

The fact was, he didn’t know enough. And by the time MI6 arrived, Dr. Baxter’s body would be buried somewhere in the mountains and there would be nothing to suggest there was anything wrong. Alex would look like a fool. He could almost imagine Dr. Grief telling his side of the story …

‚Yes. There is an operating room here. It was built years ago. We never use the top two floors. There is an elevator, yes. It was built before we came. We explained to Alex about the armed guards. They’re here for his protection. But as you can see, gentlemen, there is nothing unpleasant happening here. The other boys are fine. Baxter? No, I don’t know anyone by that name. Obviously Alex has been having bad dreams. I’m amazed that he was sent here to spy on us. I would ask you to take him with you when you leave…'

He had to find out more—and that meant going back up to the third floor. Or perhaps down. Alex remembered the letters in the elevator. R for Rez-de-chaussee. S had to stand for Sous-sol— French for basement.

He went over to the Latin classroom and looked in through the half-open door. Dr. Grief was out of sight, but Alex could hear his voice.

‚ Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causus— '

There was the sound of scratching, chalk on a blackboard. And there were the six boys, sitting at their desks, listening intently. James was sitting between Hugo and Tom, taking notes.

Alex looked at his watch. They would be there another hour. He was on his own.

He walked back down the corridor and slipped into the library. He had woken up still smelling faintly of soot and had no intention of making his way back up the chimney. Instead he crossed over to the suit of armor. He knew now that the alcove disguised a pair of elevator doors. They could be opened from inside. Presumably there was some sort of control on the outside too.

It took him just a few minutes to find it. There were three buttons built into the breastplate of the armor. Even up close, the buttons looked like part of the suit … something the medieval knight would have had to use to strap the thing on. But when Alex pressed the middle button, it moved. A moment later, the armor split in half again and he found himself looking into the waiting elevator.

This time he went down, not up. The elevator seemed to travel a long way, as if the basement of the building had been built far underground. Finally, the doors slid open again.

Alex looked out onto a curving passageway with tiled walls that reminded him a little of a London subway station. The air was cold down here. The passage was lit by naked bulbs, screwed into the ceiling at intervals.

He looked out, then ducked back. A guard sat at a table at the end of the corridor, reading a newspaper. Would he have heard the elevator doors open? Alex leaned forward again. The guard was absorbed in the sports pages. He hadn’t moved. Alex slipped out and crept down the passage, moving away from him. He reached the corner and turned into a second passageway lined with steel doors. There was nobody else in sight.

Where was he? There had to be something down here or there wouldn’t be any need for a guard. Alex went over to the nearest door. There was a peephole set in the front, and he looked through into a bare, white cell with two bunk beds, a toilet, and a sink. There were two boys in the cell. One he had never seen before, but he recognized the other. It was the red-haired boy, Tom McMorin. But he had seen Tom in Latin class just a few minutes ago! What was he doing here?

Alex moved on to the next cell. This one also held two boys. One was a fair-haired, fit-looking boy with blue eyes and freckles. Once again, he recognized the other. It was James Sprintz. Alex examined the door. There were two bolts, but as far as he could see, no key. He drew back the bolts and jerked the door handle down. The door opened. He went in.

James stood up, astonished to see him. ‚Alex! What are you doing here?'

Alex closed the door. ‚We haven’t got much time,' he said. He was speaking in a whisper even though there was little chance of being overheard. ‚What happened to you?'

‚They came for me the night before last,' James said. ‚They dragged me out of bed and into the library. There was some sort of elevator…'

‚Behind the armor.'

‚Yes. I didn’t know what they were doing. I thought they were going to kill me. But then they threw me in here.'

‚You’ve been here for two days?'

‚Yes.'

Alex shook his head. ‚I saw you having breakfast upstairs fifteen minutes ago.'

‚They’ve made duplicates of us.' The other boy had spoken for the first time. He had an American accent. ‚All of us! I don’t know how they’ve done it or why. But that’s what they’ve done.' He glanced at the door with anger in his eyes. ‚I’ve been here for months. My name’s Paul Roscoe.'

‚Roscoe! Your dad’s …?'

‚Michael Roscoe.'

Alex fell silent. He couldn’t tell this boy what had happened to his father and he looked away, afraid that Paul would read it in his eyes.

‚How did you get down here?' James asked.

‚Listen,' Alex said. He was speaking rapidly now. ‚I was sent here by MI6. My name isn’t Alex Friend. It’s Alex Rider. Everything’s going to be okay. They’ll send people in and get you all freed.'

‚You’re a spy?' James was obviously startled.

Alex nodded. ‚I’m sort of a spy, I suppose,' he said.

‚You’ve opened the door. We can get out of here!' Paul Roscoe stood up, ready to move.

‚No!' Alex held up his hands. ‚You’ve got to wait. There’s no way down the mountain.

Stay here for now and I’ll come back with help. I promise you. It’s the only way.'

‚I can’t—'

‚You have to. Trust me, Paul. I’m going to have to lock you back in so that nobody will know I’ve been here. But it won’t be for long. I’ll come back!'

Alex couldn’t wait for any more argument. He went back to the door and opened it.

Mrs. Stellenbosch was standing outside.

He barely had time to register the shock of seeing her. He tried to bring up a hand to protect himself, to twist his body into position for a karate kick. But it was already too late. Her arm shot out, the heel of her hand driving into his face. It was like being hit by a brick wall. Alex felt every bone in his body rattle. White light exploded behind his eyes. Then he was out.

HOW TO RULE THE WORLD

‚OPEN YOUR EYES ALEX. Dr. Grief wishes to speak to you.'

The words came from across an ocean. Alex groaned and tried to lift his head. He was sitting down, his arms pinned behind his back. The whole side of his face felt bruised and swollen, and the taste of blood was in his mouth. He opened his eyes and waited for the room to come into focus. Mrs. Stellenbosch was standing in front of him, her fist curled loosely in her other hand. Alex remembered the force of the blow that had knocked him out. His whole head was throbbing, and he ran his tongue over his teeth to see if any were missing. It was fortunate he had rolled with the punch. Otherwise she might have broken his neck.

Dr. Grief was sitting in his golden chair, watching Alex with what might have been curiosity or distaste or perhaps a little of both. There was nobody else in the room. It was still snowing outside, and a small fire burned in the hearth. The flames weren’t as red as Dr. Grief’s eyes.

‚You have put us to a great deal of inconvenience,' he said.

Alex straightened his head. He tried to move his hands, but they had been chained together behind the chair.

‚Your name is not Alex Friend. You are not the son of Sir David Friend. Your name is Alex Rider, and you are employed by the British secret service.' Dr. Grief was simply stating facts.