“And I need to stay with you—with your brother—for a while. Is that going to be all right?”
“Sure. Jerry won’t mind. Alex…”
But Alex had slumped forward, his head cradled in his hands. He was sound asleep.
The train picked up speed, curving round the Gulf of Venice and continuing its journey south.
When Alex woke up, the train was still travelling through the Italian countryside. He slowly uncurled himself.
Already he was feeling better. The train hadn’t just left Venice behind, it had carried him away from his experiences of the night before. He sat up and saw Tom staring at him. A sandwich, a bag of crisps and a Coke sat on the table between them.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” Tom said.
“I’m starving. Thanks.” Alex opened the can of Coke. It was lukewarm, but he didn’t mind. “Where are we?” he asked.
“We went through Rome about an hour ago. I think we’ll be there quite soon.” Tom waited while Alex drank.
He put his book down. “You look terrible,” he commented. “Are you going to tell me what happened last night?”
“Sure.” Alex had decided before he even got on the train that he was going to have to tell Tom everything. It wasn’t just that he needed Tom’s help. He was tired of lying. “But I’m not sure you’re going to believe it,” he added.
“Well, I’ve been reading my book for the last two and a half hours,” Tom said, “and I’m only on page nineteen.
So I think I’d prefer listening to you, whatever you’ve got to say.”
“All right…”
Alex had only ever told one other person the truth about himself, and that had been his friend Sabina Pleasure.
She hadn’t believed him—not until she’d found herself knocked out and tied up in the basement of the country mansion owned by the insane multimillionaire Damian Cray. Now Alex told Tom everything he had told her, starting with the truth behind the death of his uncle and continuing all the way up to his escape from the flooded chamber the night before. The strange thing was that he enjoyed telling his story. He wasn’t boasting about being a spy and working for secret intelligence. Quite the opposite. For too long he had been a servant of MI6, forced by them to keep quiet about everything he had done. They had even made him sign the Official Secrets Act. By telling the truth, he was doing exactly what they didn’t want him to do and it came as a relief, a great weight off his shoulders. It made him feel that he was the one in control.
“…I couldn’t go back to the hotel. Not without money. Not without shoes. But I knew you were taking the train to Naples, so I walked up to the station and waited for you. I followed you onto the train. And here I am.” Alex finished and waited nervously for Tom’s response. Tom had said nothing for the last twenty minutes.
Would he, like Sabina, walk out on him?
Tom nodded slowly. “Well, that makes sense,” he said at last.
Alex stared. “You believe me?”
“I can’t think of any other reason to explain everything that’s happened. Missing so much school. And all those injuries. I mean, I thought your housekeeper might be beating you up, but that didn’t seem likely. So, yes. You must be a spy. But that’s pretty heavy, Alex. I’m glad it’s you, not me.” Alex couldn’t help smiling. “Tom, you really are my best mate.”
“I’m happy to help. But there’s one thing you haven’t told me. Why were you interested in Scorpia in the first place? And what are you doing now, coming to Naples?”
Alex hadn’t mentioned his father. That was the one area that still troubled him. It was too private to share with anyone. “I’ve got to find Scorpia,” he began. He paused, then continued carefully. “I think my dad may have had some sort of involvement with them. I never knew him. He died shortly after I was born.”
“Did they kill him?”
“No. It’s difficult to explain. I just want to find out about him. I’ve never met anyone who knew him. Even my uncle never talked much about him. I just have to know who he was.”
“And Naples?”
“I heard Mrs Rothman talking about a company in Amalfi. That’s not too far from Naples. I think it’s called Consanto. I saw the name in a sort of brochure in her desk, and the person she was talking to had his photograph inside. She said she’d be there in two days. That’s tomorrow. I’d be interested to know why.”
“But, Alex…” Tom frowned. “You met this black guy, Nile…”
“Actually, he wasn’t exactly black. He was more sort of … black and white.”
“Well, the moment you mentioned Scorpia, he locked you in a cellar and tried to drown you. Why go back? I mean, it sounds to me like they’re not that keen to meet you.”
“I know.” Alex couldn’t deny that Tom was right. And he had learnt very little about Mrs Rothman. He couldn’t even be certain that she was connected to Scorpia. The one thing he did know was that she—or the people who worked for her—was utterly ruthless. But he couldn’t leave it. Not yet. Yassen Gregorovich had shown him a path. He had to follow it to the end. “I just want to take a look, that’s all.” Tom shrugged. “Well, I suppose you can’t be in any worse trouble than you are with Mr Grey. When you get back to school, I think he’s going to murder you.”
“Yeah. I know. He didn’t sound too happy on the phone.”
There was a brief silence. The train rushed through a station, a blur of neon and concrete, without stopping.
