impossible.
He suddenly realized that Nile hadn’t been aiming at him.
Alex turned and saw Dr Liebermann already dead, still standing, a look of surprise on his face. He had managed to bring one hand up so that it was lightly holding the blade of the sword now sticking out of his neck. He pitched forward and lay motionless.
“Straight into the brain,” Nile muttered. “Just like I said.” As Alex watched, stunned, Nile walked past him and crouched down beside Dr Liebermann. He pulled the sword free, used the dead man’s tie to wipe it clean, and returned it to its sheath, which hung from his waist beneath his lab coat. He looked up.
“Hello, Alex,” he said cheerfully. “You’re the last person I expected to see here. Mrs Rothman will be pleased.”
“You don’t want to kill me?” Alex murmured. He still couldn’t believe what had just happened.
“Not at all.”
Nile stood up and went back to the attache case and opened it. Alex was finding it very difficult to keep up with what was happening. Inside the case, he saw a keyboard, a small computer screen, two square packets and a series of wires. Nile knelt down and tapped rapidly on the keyboard. A series of codes appeared on the screen: black and white like the fingers that were typing them. He continued talking as he typed.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, Alex. I have to say, I’m terribly sorry for what happened at the Widow’s Palace. I didn’t realize who you were—John Rider’s son. I think it’s brilliant how you managed to escape, by the way.
I’d never have forgiven myself if I’d had to go in and fish you out with a boathook.” He finished typing, pressed ENTER, then closed the lid of the case. “But we can’t talk now. Mrs Rothman is just along the coast, in Positano. She’s dying to meet you. So let’s go.”
“Why did you kill Dr Liebermann?” Alex asked.
“Because Mrs Rothman ordered me to.” Nile straightened up. “Look, I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions, but I can’t answer them right now. I’ve just set a bomb to blow this place to smithereens in”—he glanced at his watch—“ninety-two seconds. So I don’t think we have time for a chat.” He slid the case near Dr Liebermann’s head, checked the dead man one last time, then walked away. Alex followed him. What else could he do? Nile came to a set of doors and tapped in a code. The doors opened and they went through. They were moving quickly. Nile had the athlete’s ability to cover a lot of ground with no apparent effort at all. Here was the staircase that Alex had been looking for. They went down three floors and came to another door. Nile punched in a number and suddenly they were in the open air. There was a car—a two-seater Alfa Romeo Spider—waiting outside with the roof down.
“Hop in!” Nile said. From the way he was talking, he and Alex could have just come from the cinema and been on their way home.
Alex got in and they drove off. How much time had passed since Nile had set the bomb? It was now completely dark outside. The sun had finally disappeared. They followed a tarmac drive to the main checkpoint. Nile smiled at the guard.
“Grazie. E’stato bello verdervi…”
Thank you. It was good to see you. Alex already knew from their first meeting that Nile spoke Italian. The guard nodded and raised the barrier.
Nile gunned the accelerator and the car shot off smoothly. Alex twisted round in his seat. A few seconds later there was an enormous explosion.
It was as if a fist of orange flame had decided to punch its way out of the main complex. Windows shattered.
Smoke and fire rushed out. Thousands of pieces of glass and steel, a deadly rainfall, showered down. Alarms —
shrill and deafening—erupted. A huge bite had been taken out of the side and the roof of the building. Alex had seen the size of the bomb. It was hard to believe that it could have caused so much damage.
Nile glanced in the mirror, examining his handiwork. He tutted.
“These industrial accidents,” he murmured. “You can never tell when one is going to happen next.” He steered the Alfa Spider along the coastal road, already doing eighty miles an hour. Behind him Consanto Enterprises burned, the flames leaping up and reflecting in the dark and silent sea.
DESIGNER LABELS
« ^ »
Alex stood on the balcony and gazed at the sweeping view of the town of Positano and the black water of the Mediterranean beyond. Two hours had passed since sunset but the warmth lingered in the air. He was dressed in a towelling robe, his hair still wet from the power shower with its jets of steaming hot water blasting him from all directions. There was a glass of fresh lime juice and ice on the table next to him. From the moment he had met Nile for the second time, he had thought he was in a dream. Now that dream seemed to have taken him in a new and very strange direction.
The hotel, first. It was called The Sirenuse and, as Nile had been eager to tell him, it was one of the most luxurious in the whole of southern Italy. Alex’s room was huge and didn’t look like a hotel room at all—more like a guest suite in an Italian palace. The bed was king-sized with pure white Egyptian cotton sheets. He had his own desk, a thirty-six-inch TV with video and DVD players, a sprawling leather sofa and, on the other side of the huge windows, his own private terrace. And the bathroom! As well as the power shower, there was a bath big enough for a football team, together with a spa bath. Everything was marble, and decorated with hand-crafted tiles. The millionaire suite. Alex shuddered to think how much it must cost a night.
Nile had driven him down here from what was left of Consanto Enterprises. Neither of them had spoken on the short journey. There were a hundred things Alex wanted to ask Nile, but the rush of wind and the roar of the Alfa Spider’s 162kW quad camshaft V6 engine made conversation impossible. Anyway, Alex got the impression that Nile wasn’t the one with the answers. It had only taken them twenty minutes, following the coastline, and suddenly they were there, parked in front of a hotel that was deceptively small and ordinary—
from the outside.
