smiled. “There’s no need for that. All we have to do is find the red button.” Alex looked puzzled.
“The self-destruct! If something went wrong with the launch, Drevin would have had to have a fallback.
We’ll be able to blow it up before it gets anywhere near Ark Angel.” Alex was standing at the bow of the armour-plated Mark V Special Operations Craft, the sleek, streamlined vessel used primarily to carry SEAL combat swimmers into operations. It was equipped with 7.62mm Gatling guns and Stinger missiles and the dozen men had been drafted in from the Special Operations Force, fully armed and ready to invade the island.
He was wearing combat clothes that were a little too big for him; someone had found a spare set on board.
Now he watched as the island drew closer, the familiar landmarks coming into focus. The strange thing was, deep inside, he knew that he would have wanted to come back, even if Shulsky hadn’t made any argument pointless. Tamara Knight was waiting for him. And then there was Paul Drevin. Alex wanted a chance to explain himself. He still felt bad about what he’d done.
“Two minutes!” Shulsky called out.
The men began to check their weapons and body armour. They were heading for the old wooden jetty near the house. Shulsky intended to approach the control centre through the rainforest. It would mean a forced march along the length of the island and would take longer, but after Alex had described the launch area, Shulsky had decided a frontal attack would be too risky. There was no shelter; they would be cut down the moment they left the boat.
Shulsky rejoined Alex at the bow. “I want you to stay on board until the fighting’s over,” he announced.
“What do you mean?” Alex protested. “I thought you wanted me to help.”
“You have helped. Thanks to you, we know where we’re going and what we’re going to do. But this is going to be a war, Alex. And I can’t afford to have my men worrying about you. Stay on the boat and stay out of sight.”
It was too late to argue. They had reached the jetty, and Alex had to admit that Shulsky was right about one thing. This side of the island was deserted. If Drevin had seen them coming, he had concentrated his forces around the launch site; nobody so much as blinked as the boat drew up at the jetty. Alex watched the thirteen Americans disembark. They stomped across the beach and disappeared through the palm trees.
He still wished he had gone with them. He had told them where to find Tamara but he would have liked to be the one to release her himself.
He was left behind. Forgotten. He could see Drevin’s house in the distance, the sunlight sparkling off the windows. Someone had dumped some waterskis and two tow ropes on the sand, but otherwise the beach was empty. The Cessna 195 was bobbing in the shallows but there was no sign of the pilot.
The Cessna.
It hadn’t been there when Alex had set off with the kite. He felt a sense of misgiving. If Drevin knew that the Americans were on their way, his first thought would be to save his own skin. Shulsky and his men had rushed off without stopping to think. They should have disabled the seaplane first.
Alex looked around, searching for a weapon or anything he could use to do the job himself. But the Americans had taken everything and he had no doubt that the Gatling guns would be locked in their mounting positions. What else? Nothing. Just the two canoes sitting peacefully beside the jetty, the waterskiing equipment, and a pelican watching him from a distant wooden post.
The silence was broken by a rattle of machine-gun fire and the pelican took off in fright. It had begun. Alex listened as the shooting intensified. There was an explosion and a column of flame rose up briefly above the trees. A movement caught his eye. A buggy was racing along the track. Alex glimpsed it between the palm trees. Then it broke out into the open and he froze. The buggy was being driven by Nikolei Drevin.
He was alone.
Alex assumed Drevin would make for the seaplane, but he continued to the house. Maybe there was a safe there. Maybe he needed to pick up a few last things. Or perhaps he’d come back for Paul. Alex tried to work out what to do. He wished more than ever that Shulsky had taken him with him—or at least left one of his men behind.
Five minutes later, he approached the house.
Alex knew he was making a mistake, but he had to see for himself what Drevin was doing. Anyway, it was against his nature to sit there, skulking away in an American boat while the fighting continued all around him. He could smell burning. Black smoke was drifting across the forest. There was more gunfire. Alex hurried across the hot sand, knowing that he had arrived at the endgame. The last moves were about to be played.
He reached the side of the building and pressed himself against the wall, keeping out of sight. The terrace where he had eaten breakfast with Drevin and Paul was directly above him. A wooden staircase curved up from the beach and Alex was just considering whether he could risk climbing it to look in through the window, when Drevin appeared round the side of the house, an attache case in one hand, an automatic pistol in the other.
He saw Alex and stopped. “Alex Rider!” he exclaimed. His eyes were curiously empty. In the last few hours he seemed to have shrunk. “Why did you come back?”
Alex shrugged. “I forgot to say thanks for having me.”
“I am glad to see you one last time. I wonder what it was that brought you and me together. Was it fate?
Was it destiny?”
“I think it was Alan Blunt.”
“MI6? Well, they’ve failed. Gabriel 7 will reach Ark Angel; it can’t be stopped. The bomb will explode and Washington will be destroyed, along with all the evidence against me.”
“They don’t need any evidence against you now,” Alex said. “They all know you’re mad.”
“Yes. It will be necessary for me to disappear. But it will be easy. A man with my wealth, with my contacts…”
“The world’s too small for someone like you to hide.”
“We’ll see.” Drevin raised the gun. “But one thing is certain. We won’t meet again.” He fired.
