They drove down Whitehall and then turned right, through the gates that were already open to receive them.
The car stopped and Alex got out, his head spinning. He was standing in front of probably the most famous front door in the world. And the door was open. A policeman stepped forward to usher him in. Blunt had already disappeared ahead. Alex followed.
The first surprise was how large 10 Downing Street was inside. It was two or three times bigger than he had expected, opening out in all directions, with high ceilings and a corridor stretching improbably into the distance. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Works of art, lent by major galleries, lined the walls.
Blunt had been greeted by a tall, grey-haired man in an old-fashioned suit and striped tie. The man had the sort of face that would not have looked out of place in a Victorian portrait. It belonged to another world, and like an old painting it seemed to have faded. Only the eyes, small and dark, showed any life. They flickered over Alex and seemed to know him at once.
“So this is Alex Rider,” the man said. He held out a hand. “My name is Graham Adair.” He was looking at Alex as if he knew him—but Alex was sure the two of them had never met before.
“Sir Graham is permanent secretary to the Cabinet Office,” Blunt explained.
“I’ve heard a great deal about you, Alex. I have to say, I’m pleased to meet you. I owe you a great deal. More, I think, than you can imagine.”
“Thanks.” Alex was puzzled. He didn’t know what Sir Graham meant, and wondered if the man had been involved in some way in one of his previous assignments.
“I understand you’re joining us at Cobra. I’m very glad—although I should warn you that there may be one or two people there who know less about you and may resent your presence.”
“I’m used to it,” Alex said.
“I’m sure. Well, come this way. I hope you can help us. We’re up against something very different and none of us is quite sure what to do.”
Alex followed the permanent secretary along the corridor, through an archway and into a large, wood-panelled room with at least forty people gathered around a huge conference table. Alex’s first impression was that they were all middle-aged and, with only a few exceptions, male and white. Then he realized how many faces he recognized. The prime minister was sitting at the head of the table. The deputy prime minister—fat and jowly—
was next to him. The foreign secretary was fiddling nervously with his tie. Another man who might have been the defence secretary was opposite him. Most of the men were in suits but there were also uniforms—army and police. Everyone in the room had a thick file in front of them. Two elderly women, dressed in black suits and white shirts, sat in the corners, their fingers poised over what looked like miniature typewriters.
Blunt waved Alex to an empty chair at the table and sat down next to him. Sir Graham took his seat on the other side. Alex noticed a few heads turn in his direction but nobody said anything.
The prime minister stood and Alex felt the same buzz he’d experienced when he first met Damian Cray—the realization that he was seeing, close up, a face known all over the world. The prime minister looked older and shabbier than he did on television. Here there was no make-up, no subtle lighting. He looked defeated.
“Good morning,” he said, and everyone in the room fell silent.
The meeting of Cobra had begun.
REMOTE CONTROL
« ^ »
They had been talking for three hours.
The prime minister had read out the contents of Scorpia’s letter, and copies had been placed in every file around the table. Alex had read his with a feeling of sick disbelief. Eighteen innocent people had already died and nobody in the room had any idea how it had happened. Would Scorpia go ahead with the threat to target children in London? Alex was in no doubt, but nobody had asked his opinion and the first hour had been taken up discussing the question over and over again. At least half the people in the room thought it was a bluff. The other half wanted to put pressure on the Americans—to make them agree to Scorpia’s demands.
But there was no chance of that happening. The foreign secretary had already met with the American ambassador. The prime minister had spent several hours on the telephone with the president of the United States. This was the American position: Scorpia were asking the impossible. The Americans considered their demands to be laughable, quite possibly insane. The president had offered the help of the FBI to track Scorpia down. Two hundred American agents were already on their way to London. But there was nothing more he could do. Britain was on its own.
This response caused a great deal of anger at Cobra. The deputy prime minister crashed his fist against the table.
“It’s incredible! It’s a bloody scandal. We help the Americans; we’re their closest allies. And now they turn round and tell us to jump in the lake!”
“That’s not quite what they’ve said.” The foreign secretary was more cautious. “And I don’t know what else they could do. The president has a point. These demands are impossible.”
“They could try to negotiate!”
“But the letter says there will be no negotiation—”
“That’s what it says. But they could still try!” Alex listened as the two men argued, neither really listening to what the other had to say. So this was how government worked!
Next up was a medical officer with a report on how the footballers had died. “They were all poisoned,” he announced. He was a short man, bald, with a round, pink face. He had put on a crumpled suit for the meeting but somehow Alex could tell he spent most of his life in a white coat. “We found traces of cyanide which seem to have been delivered straight to the heart. The amounts were very small—but they were enough.”
“How were they administered?” someone—a police chief—asked.
“We don’t yet know. They hadn’t been shot, that’s for sure. There were no unexplained perforations on their skin and there’s only one thing we’ve come up with that’s rather odd. We found tiny traces of gold in their blood.”
“Gold?” The director of communications spoke for the first time and Alex noticed him sitting next to the prime
