machinery, a soft, rhythmic clattering. He came to a glass panel set in the wall and looked through it into a darkened room, where a second woman sat in front of a bizarre, complicated machine that seemed to be sorting hundreds of test tubes, rotating them, counting them, labelling them and finally delivering them into her hands.
What was being made at Consanto Enterprises? Chemical weapons, perhaps? And how the hell was he going to get out again? Alex glanced down and noticed his hands, still grubby from his BASE jump. He was dirty and sweaty and he was surprised he hadn’t set off every single alarm in the building.
Surrounded by these white panelled walls with the air being sucked in and sterilized, he had become the equivalent of an enormous germ and the monitors should have screamed the moment he came near.
He arrived at another set of doors and was relieved when these slid open to allow him through. Perhaps he might be able to find his way out after all. But these doors led only to another corridor, a little wider than the one he had just left, but equally unpromising. It occurred to him that he was still on the top floor. He had entered from the roof. He needed to find a lift or staircase that would take him down.
Suddenly a door about ten metres away opened and a man appeared, staring at Alex in disbelief.
“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?” he demanded.
Alex registered that the man was talking in English. At the same time, he recognized him: the bald head, the hooked nose and the thick black glasses. He was wearing a white laboratory coat hanging loose over a jacket and tie but the last time Alex had seen him he had been in fancy dress. This was Dr Liebermann, the guest he had seen talking to Mrs Rothman at the party in Venice.
“I…” Alex wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m lost,” he muttered helplessly.
“You can’t come in here! This is a secure area. Who are you?”
“My name’s Tom. My dad works here.”
“What is his name? What is his department?” Dr Liebermann wasn’t going to buy the little boy lost routine.
“How did you get here?” he asked.
“My dad brought me. But if you’d like to show me the way out, that’s fine by me.”
“No! I’m calling security. You can come with me!”
Dr Liebermann took a step back towards the room from which he’d come. Alex wasn’t sure what to do. Should he try to run? Once the alarm went off, it would only be a matter of minutes before he was caught. And what then? He had assumed that Consanto would simply hand him over to the police. But if they were hiding something here, if he had seen something secret, maybe he wouldn’t be that fortunate.
Dr Liebermann was reaching out for something and Alex saw an alarm button next to the door.
“It’s all right, Harold. I’ll deal with this.”
The voice came from behind Alex.
Alex spun round and felt his heart sink. It was like a bad dream. Nile, the man who had knocked him unconscious and left him to drown, was standing behind him, a smile on his face, totally relaxed. He too was wearing a white coat. In his case, it hung over jeans and a tight-fitting T-shirt. He had a grey attache case in one hand but, as Alex watched, he set it down on the floor beside him.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you again.” Harold Liebermann was puzzled.
“Mrs Rothman sent me back.”
“Why?”
“Well, as you can see, Dr Liebermann, there’s been a very serious breakdown in security. Before she left she asked me to deal with it.”
“Do you know this boy? Who is he?”
“His name is Alex Rider.”
“He said his name was Tom.”
“He’s lying. He’s a spy.”
Alex was caught in the middle of this conversation, one man on either side of him. He was trapped. He felt dazed, and he knew there was nothing he could do. Nile was too fast and too strong for him. He had already proved that.
“What are you going to do?” Dr Liebermann demanded. He sounded peeved, as if neither Alex nor Nile had any right to be there.
“I just told you, Harold. We can’t have security problems. I’m going to deal with it.” Nile reached under his coat and produced one of the most lethal-looking weapons Alex had ever seen. It was a samurai sword, very slightly curving, with an ivory hilt and a flat, razor-sharp blade. But it was half sized—
somewhere between a sword and a dagger. Nile held it for a moment in his hand, obviously enjoying the fine balance, then raised it to the height of his shoulder. Now he could throw it or slash with it. Either way, Alex knew instantly, he was facing a master. He had perhaps seconds to live.
“You can’t kill him here!” Dr Liebermann exclaimed in exasperation. “You’ll get blood everywhere!”
“Don’t worry, Harold,” Nile replied. “This is going through the neck and into the brain. There’ll be very little blood.”
Alex crouched down, preparing to dodge, knowing that he wouldn’t have a chance. Nile was still smiling, obviously enjoying himself.
He threw the sword.
There was a single movement. Alex hadn’t even seen Nile take aim but the blade was already a blur, flashing down the length of the passageway. It passed over Alex’s shoulder. Had Nile missed? No. That was
