very ordinary-looking suburb of Swanbourne. The jeep drove into the SAS compound and stopped. A single soldier was waiting for him, his face set, his mouth a straight line that
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gave nothing away. Alex was shown into a comfortable room with a bed, a TV, and a view of the sand dunes. The door was closed, but it wasn’t locked.
And here he was now. At the end of a journey that had been literally out of this world. He wondered what would happen next.
There was a knock on the door. Alex opened it. A second soldier in green-and-ocher battle fatigues stood in front of him.
“Mr. Rider?”
“I’m Alex.”
“Colonel Abbott sends his compliments. He’d like to speak to you.”
Alex followed the soldier across the compound. For the moment there was nobody else around. The sun was beating down on the empty parade ground. It was almost midday, and the Australian summer was already making itself felt. They reached a bungalow, standing on its own near the edge of the complex. The soldier knocked and, without waiting for an answer, opened the door for Alex to go in.
A thin, businesslike man in his forties was sitting behind a desk, also wearing battle fatigues. He had been writing a report, but he stood up as Alex came in.
“So you’re Alex Rider!” The Australian accent came almost as a surprise. With his short, dark hair and craggy features, Abbott could have been mistaken for an En-glishman. He reached out and shook Alex’s hand firmly.
“I’m Mike Abbott, and I’m really pleased to meet you, Alex. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Alex looked surprised, and Abbott laughed. “Six months ago, there was a rumor that the Brits were using a teenage agent. Of course, nobody believed it. But it seems they’ve been keeping you busy, and after you took out Damian Cray . . . well, I’m afraid you can’t blow up Air Force One in the middle of London without someone hearing about it. But don’t worry! You’re among friends.”
Abbott gestured toward a chair and Alex sat down.
“It’s very kind of you, Colonel,” he said. “But I really want to get back home.”
Abbott returned to his own chair. “I can understand that, Alex. And I really want to send you on your way. We just need to fix a couple of things.”
“What things?”
“Well, you landed in Australia without a visa.” Abbott held up two hands before Alex could interrupt. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but it has to be sorted out. As soon as I’ve got the green light, I’ll book you on the first plane back to London.”
“There’s someone I want to call. . . .”
“I suppose you’re thinking about Jack Starbright. Your housekeeper.” Abbott smiled, and Alex wondered how he knew about her. “You’re too late, Alex. She’s been kept fully informed, and she’s already on her way. Her flight left Heathrow about an hour ago, but it’ll take her another twenty-five hours to arrive. The two of you will meet up
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in Sydney. In the meantime, you’re my guest here at Swanbourne, and I want you to enjoy yourself. We’re right on the beach, and right now it’s the start of the Australian summer. So relax. I’ll let you know as soon as there’s any news about the visa.”
Alex wanted to argue but decided against it. The Colonel seemed friendly enough, but there was something about him that made Alex think twice before speaking.
You don’t rise up the ranks of the SAS unless you’re exceptionally tough—and there was certainly steel behind that smile.
“Anything else you want to know?”
“No thanks, Colonel.”
The two of them shook hands. “I’ve asked some of the boys to look after you,” Abbott said. “They’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Just let me know if anyone gives you a hard time.”
When Alex had been training with the SAS in the Brecon Beacons in Wales, a hard time is exactly what he had been given. But from the moment he left the bungalow, he saw that things were going to be different here. There were half a dozen young soldiers waiting for him on the other side, and they all seemed to be easygoing and eager to introduce themselves. Maybe his reputation had gone ahead of him, but he could see right away that the Australian special forces were going to be the complete opposite of their British counterparts.
“It’s great to meet you, Alex.” The man who was
speaking was about nineteen and incredibly fit, with a green T-shirt stretched tight over finely chiseled pectorals and arms that filled his sleeves. “I’m Scooter. This is Texas, X-Ray, and Sparks.” At first Alex thought they were using code names. But he quickly realized that they were actually just nicknames. All the other men were in their early twenties and equally fit. “We’re just heading for lunch,” Scooter went on. “You want to join us?”
“Thanks.” Alex hadn’t been given any breakfast, and his stomach was still empty from the day before.
They moved off as a pack. Nobody had even commented on his age. There was clearly no secret who he was. Alex began to feel a little more relaxed. Maybe a day or two here wouldn’t be so bad.
