Mrs. Jones sighed. “I can’t promise you that, I’m afraid. First of all, it’s not my decision. And anyway, as I said, this didn’t begin with us. Alex has a knack for finding trouble without any help.”
“I’m not going to let it happen again.”
“Believe me, Jack. I’ll be very happy if you can prevent it.” Mrs. Jones pulled up her collar and tightened her belt. “Anyway,” she said, “Alex is waiting for you. You’d better go up.”
“I’m going. Please thank Mr. Smithers for the chocolates.” Jack took the elevator to the second floor. She didn’t need to ask for directions. The layout of the hospital was all too familiar. As she approached the door of Alex’s room, a woman came out carrying a breakfast tray, and Jack recognized Diana Meacher, the attractive fair-haired nurse from New Zealand who had looked after Alex once before.
“Go right in,” the nurse said. “He’s been looking forward to seeing you. He’ll be so glad you’re here.” Jack hesitated, composing herself. Then she went into the room.
Alex was sitting up in bed, reading a magazine. His pajama top was open and she could see that, once again, he was heavily wrapped in bandages, this time around his neck and shoulders. His eyes were bright and he was smiling, but he looked bad. Pain had stamped its memory all over him. He was thin.
The haircut that Beckett had given him when he was smuggled out of the country didn’t help.
“Hello, Jack.”
“Hi, Alex.”
She went over to him and kissed him very gently, afraid that she would hurt him. Then she sat down beside the bed.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Terrible.”
“As terrible as you look?”
“Probably.” Alex put down the magazine, and Jack saw that even this movement made him wince.
“They’ve taken me off painkillers,” he explained. “They say they don’t want me to get addicted to them.”
“Oh, Alex . . .” Jack’s voice caught in her throat. She had been determined not to cry in front of him, but she couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes.
“I’m fine,” Alex said. “I’m already much better than I was a week ago.” In fact, Alex had spent ten days in the hospital in Nairobi before MI6 had flown him home.
“I wanted to come out and see you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
Jack understood. If he looked this bad now, she could hardly imagine what he must have looked like then. He wouldn’t have wanted her to see him like that.
“Are you angry with me?” Alex asked.
“Of course not. I’m just relieved to see you. After you went missing, I was . . .” Jack stopped herself.
“When can you come home?” she asked.
“I was talking to the nurse just now. She says that if all goes well, it should only be a couple of days.
Tuesday. Wednesday at the latest.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” Jack said. “You know what Thursday is.”
“No.” Alex had no idea.
“Alex!” Jack stared at him.
“Tell me . . .”
“Thursday, February thirteenth. It’s your birthday, Alex. You’re going to be fifteen.”
“Am I?” Alex laughed. “So, what are you going to buy me?”
“What do you want?”
“I want to go home. I want peace and quiet. And I want that new version of Assassin’s Creed . . . it’s just come out on PlayStation.”
“I’m not sure those violent computer games are good for you, Alex.” Jack didn’t tell him that she had already bought it and that a few of his closest friends were waiting for her call, hoping to come around.
Surely MI6 would leave him alone now. They had stolen almost a whole year of his life. But never again. Jack made herself that promise.
In front of her, Alex settled back into the pillows. His eyes were closed and even as she watched, he smiled and fell asleep.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
IT’S ALWAYS AMAZING how many people are willing to help me, giving up their time and opening doors that might otherwise stay closed—and it seems only right to name them here. I try to make the Alex Rider books as realistic as I can, and it simply wouldn’t be possible without them.
So to start at the beginning, Martin Pearce and Colin Tucker from British Energy showed me around the Size-well B nuclear power station in Suffolk. I’m assured that security there is rather tighter than it was at Jowada. I then visited the John Innes Center, which is part of the Norwich BioScience Institutes (and bears no resemblance at all to the Greenfields Center in this story). I was given an extensive tour by Dr. Wendy Harwood and Dr. Penny Sparrow, and they very kindly explained the principles of GM
