He clutched the pole more tightly against his chest and focused on the cable ahead of him. Briefly he closed his eyes, willing himself not to fight for balance, to let the laws of physics guide him.
And it worked. He wasn’t falling. He could feel the cable cutting into his feet but miraculously he was stable. Now—how many steps to the other side? The flames were warming his back. It was time to move.
One step after another, he made his way across. He wanted to look down. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do just that, and his neck and spine were rigid with tension. But that was the one thing he must not do. He tried to imagine that he was back on the sports field at Brookland School. He had walked along the painted white lines often enough. This was exactly the same—just a bit higher up.
He was about halfway across when things began to go wrong. And they went wrong spectacularly.
First, the police and fire engines arrived. Alex heard the screams of the sirens directly beneath him and, before he could stop himself, he looked down. It was a mistake. He was no longer walking across a sports field. He was standing on a wire, insanely far above the ground. He saw people in uniform pointing up at him and shouting; he could just about hear their voices. One of the fire trucks was extending its ladder towards him but he doubted it would reach him in time.
The whole world began to spin. He felt a rush of panic that seemed to dissolve every muscle in his body and left him so weak that he thought he would faint. At the same time, the wind rose and the banner began to flutter like the sail of a yacht, the cable swaying from side to side. Alex knew that only the weights on the ends of the pole were keeping him upright. He was paralysed. There was nothing he could do.
And that was when the rooftop exploded. The flames had finally broken free. A fireball burst through the tarmac. The police and firemen dived for cover as bricks and pieces of metal rained down. The whole tower block was close to collapse. Alex felt a vibration travel up through his body and realized with horror that the metal stanchion holding the top cable was about to come loose. He couldn’t wait for the firemen to reach him. He had perhaps seconds left.
The shock of the explosion broke his paralysis. Alex ran, pushing against the pole, like a sprinter breaking through the finishing line. The buckets swung madly, held fast by the bandages. Another explosion, louder this time. He didn’t dare look round.
The other building was getting nearer but it still wasn’t near enough. His arms were aching, barely able to hold the heavy weight. The cable was cutting into his feet. He was being battered by the wind. He wasn’t going to make it. And then the cable snapped. Alex heard a sound like a crack of a whip and knew that his lifeline had been severed. With a cry, he dropped the pole and threw himself forward, reaching out for the roof just a few metres away. The cable and the banner crumpled under his feet. His hands missed the edge of the building and he began to plunge down. But now he was tangled up with the banner; it was folding itself around him. Alex grabbed hold of the material and gasped as he crashed into the wall. His feet were dangling in space. The cable was unravelling beneath him. But it was still attached to the rooftop just a few metres above his head. Alex waited until he was sure nothing else was moving. Then, painfully, he began to pull himself up.
Two of the firemen had managed to reach the roof. They were standing there, watching as the building opposite completed its spectacular collapse. They heard a noise and looked down. A boy had just crawled up over the edge, right by their feet. His shirt was in rags, and a few tattered bandages trailed from his chest. His face and hands were covered in soot. His hair was black with sweat.
“What the…?” They grabbed hold of him and pulled him to safety.
Alex sat down heavily. He gazed at the remains of the building where he had been held prisoner. There was very little of it left. Sparks leapt into the darkening sky.
“Nice night for a walk,” he said, and passed out.
R&R
« ^ »
ack Starbright made the best scrambled eggs in the world. The secret, she said, was to use only free-range eggs, mix them with unsalted butter and a little milk—and then get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. She didn’t enjoy cooking and only used recipes that could be prepared in less than ten minutes.
This breakfast, for example, would go from fridge to table in exactly eight and a half.
She heaped the eggs onto two plates, added grilled bacon, tomatoes and toast, and carried them over to the kitchen table where Alex Rider was waiting. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and the two of them were back in the house in Chelsea where Alex had once lived with his uncle. Jack had first come there as a student, paying for her room by looking after Alex while Ian Rider was away. Gradually she had become a sort of housekeeper.
Now she was Alex’s legal guardian and also his best friend.
Alex was wearing tracksuit trousers and a loose T-shirt; his hair was still wet from the shower. Two days had passed since his confrontation with Force Three and he was already looking a lot like his old self—
although Jack noticed that he was still massaging his left arm. She put the plates down and poured two mugs of tea. Neither of them spoke.
Alex had been taken straight back to hospital after his dramatic escape. None of the firemen could believe what they had seen, and assumed they had been sent to rescue someone who had trained at the circus.
Once again, MI6 had been forced to clamp down on the press reports. Photographs of Alex on the wire had appeared in newspapers all over the world, but he had been too far away to be recognized and his name was kept out of it. An ambulance had rushed him away before any journalists arrived, and by ten o’clock that night he was back in his old bed at St Dominic’s. He fell asleep at once.
The next morning, he was woken by the nurse—Diana Meacher—coming into his room.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Tired,” Alex replied.
“Was that really you on the roof? I saw it on the news last night.” She went over to the window and raised the blinds. “Everyone’s talking about it—although we’ve all been told we’re not allowed to.” She came back to the bed and slipped a thermometer into his mouth. “And those men who broke in! We all know what you did and we think you’re incredibly brave.”
“ ‘Ank you,” Alex said with difficulty. “I’d watch out, though, if I were you. Dr Hayward’s hopping mad.
He says he didn’t spend hours operating on you just for you to get nearly killed a second time. He’ll be here
