loathed each other. The prime minister didn’t know this. They were also loathed by almost everyone else.
“Well . . . ,” the prime minister began. He licked his lips. “I’ve read your report on the situation in Kenya and it does seem to be very alarming. But the first question I really do have to ask you is—why did your agent feel it necessary to send his information via the Indian secret service?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that,” Blunt replied. “We only know what you know, Prime Minister. It’s all in the file. Our agent was kidnapped and smuggled out of the country against his will. Somehow he must have managed to break free and fell in with an agent from RAW.”
“Research and Analysis Wing,” Blackmore muttered helpfully.
“We have no idea what RAW was doing in Kenya, and so far they’ve refused to tell us. I’m afraid foreign intelligence agencies are always overcautious when it comes to protecting their own. But if I may say so, Prime Minister, it’s completely irrelevant. What matters is the report itself and the very serious threat it contains.”
The prime minister picked up a sheet of paper that had been lying in front of him. “This was sent by e-mail,” he said.
“Yes.”
“And it suggests that this man, Desmond McCain, is engaged in a plot to poison the wheat crop in Kenya for his own financial gain.”
Blunt blinked heavily. “I’m glad you had time to read it,” he muttered.
The prime minister ignored the rudeness. He put the paper down. “What makes you believe this information is reliable?” he asked.
“We have absolutely no reason to doubt it.”
“And yet I understand that this agent of yours, the one who sent the report—which, incidentally, has no fewer than three spelling mistakes—is only fourteen years old.” There was a long pause. The two advisers glanced at the prime minister, urging him on.
“Alex Rider. Is that his name?” the prime minister asked.
“He’s never let us down in the past,” Mrs. Jones cut in. She was carrying a slim leather case, which she opened. She took out a thin file marked TOP SECRET in red letters and handed it across. “These are the details of just four of the assignments he’s undertaken on our behalf,” she continued. “The most recent of them was in Australia.”
“Shouldn’t he be in school?”
“He called in sick.”
“Let me have a look . . .” The prime minister opened the file and read it in silence. “You certainly seem to have a very high opinion of him,” he remarked. “And let’s say for the sake of argument that it’s justified. Let’s assume that everything that he has told you is true—”
“Then by four o’clock this evening, the wheat field will have been activated,” Blunt said. In fact, Alex’s e-mail had crossed two time zones. He had sent it at midday. It had arrived in New Delhi at half past two, Indian time. They had kept it for three hours before they had sent it to MI6 where it arrived at noon, UK time. Four o’clock in England would be seven o’clock in Kenya, and sunset. They had less than three hours in which to act. “The wheat will have been turned into a million doses of ricin,” Blunt went on. “At the same time, the spores that McCain sprayed onto the field will take off and begin to spread across the rest of Kenya. It will settle on the next field and then the one after that. It’s impossible to say how many millions of seeds Greenfields has supplied over the past five years. All we know for sure is that within three months, the entire country will be poisoned.”
“We can let McCain know we’re onto him,” Ellis said. “There’s not going to be any charity appeal.
Once he knows that, there’ll be no point in going ahead.”
“I agree.” Blackmore nodded his head, secretly annoyed that he hadn’t spoken first.
“We don’t have any way to contact McCain, short of parachuting into Simba River Camp,” Blunt replied. “And anyway, we’re too late. There’s a biological clock that’s already ticking. The damage has been done.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We need to speak to the Kenyan government and send in troops. The field has to be neutralized, probably with flamethrowers. And we also have to find Alex Rider. We’ve heard nothing more from him. I want to know he’s safe.”
Although she didn’t show it, Mrs. Jones was surprised. It was the first time she had ever heard Blunt show any concern for Alex. Even when he had been shot, Blunt’s main concern had been keeping the story out of the newspapers.
“I’m not sure that’s possible, Mr. Blunt.” The prime minister shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “It might be a bit awkward explaining to the Kenyan authorities that a British citizen has just launched a biochemical attack on their country . . . and let’s not forget that Greenfields actually receives government funding! Of course, it wasn’t my government that agreed to it, but even so, the political fallout could be appalling. Frankly, the less said the better. And I definitely think we ought to handle the situation ourselves.”
“I have an SAS task force on standby,” Blunt said.
“It would still take too long to fly them to Africa,” Blackmore said. He glanced at the prime minister, waiting for permission to continue. The prime minister nodded. “But in my view, we can do better than that,” he said. “We have an RAF Phantom squadron in Akrotiri, Cyprus. They’re already fueling. They can be in the air in half an hour.”
“And what do you intend to do with them?” Blunt asked.
“It’s very simple, Mr. Blunt. We’re going to bomb the entire wheat field. After all, thanks to your agent, we know exactly where it is.”
“But won’t the bombs do McCain’s work for him? You’ll actually blow the spores into the air. You’ll spread them all over Africa.”
