rifle. The nose of the kayak had slammed into a rock, jerking Alex around in a crazy circle, so that for the next few seconds he found himself traveling down the river backward. He jammed the paddle in,
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using the current to turn him. His arms were almost torn off by the strain, but the boat came around, then shot forward. All the water in the world fell on him. But then, like before, it was over. He was through.
Ahead of him, the river was wider, and this time the vegetation was set farther back, providing no cover. The kayak was being carried rapidly. In fact, the river seemed to be moving faster and faster. Why? Alex had no time to find an answer. He heard the thudding of the rotors, glanced up, and saw the sniper taking aim. He was so close that Alex could make out the stubble on his chin, the finger closing on the trigger.
There was only one thing he could do, one last trick he could play. It might easily kill him, but Alex was fighting back. He wasn’t just going to sit there and let this man gun him down.
The sniper fired. Alex felt the bullet crease the side of his neck, just above his shoulder. He wanted to scream.
It was as if someone had purposefully drawn a kitchen knife across his flesh. But at the same exact moment, he took a deep breath, threw himself sideways, jerked up a knee, and turned the kayak upside down.
He wanted the sniper and the helicopter pilot to think that they had gotten him. From the air, all they would be able to see was the upturned hull of the kayak. Alex was dangling beneath, his face and shoulders buffeted by the current, the paddle gripped tightly in his hands. He was still traveling very fast. If he hit a rock, he would be killed.
It was as simple as that. But it was either that or a bullet from above.
For Alex, the next minute was the longest of his life.
He could feel himself moving, but he could see nothing.
When he tried to look, everything was a swirl of dark gray, and the water beat against his eyes. He could hear strange echoes of the river and, far away, the helicopter hovering in the air. His legs were trapped, locked above his head inside the kayak. His heart was pounding. His lungs were beginning to demand fresh air.
But he had to stay underwater. How long would the helicopter follow him before the pilot decided that his work was done? His chest was getting tighter. There were bubbles escaping from his mouth and ears, precious oxygen leaking out of him. He had no idea how long he had been submerged. He felt the kayak hit something, sending a shudder down his spine. This was madness. He was drowning. If he waited much longer, he wouldn’t have the strength to flip himself back up.
At last, at the very end of his endurance, on the edge of a blackout, he acted. The move was called the hip snap.
Alex curled his face into his body and pushed with the paddle. At the same time, he rolled his hips, forcing the kayak to turn. Everything happened at once. His head and shoulders cleared the surface, water streaming down his face. Daylight burst all around him. The kayak swayed, then righted itself. Gasping, dazed, Alex found himself in the middle of the river, moving faster than ever.
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And he was alone. The helicopter had gone. He could hear it fading into the distance behind him. So it had worked. They thought he was dead.
Alex looked ahead of him. And saw that he was.
Now he understood why they had left him. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was still alive underneath the kayak because what lay in front of him would kill him anyway.
He had reached the Bora Falls.
A straight line that marked the end of the world. The river was rushing over it . . . hundreds, thousands of gallons. There was a white cloud, a mist hanging over the abyss. And beyond that nothing. He could hear the water thundering down endlessly and knew that there could be no going back. There was no power on earth that could stop him now.
Alex Rider opened his mouth and yelled as the kayak was swept helplessly over the edge.
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F O R A L O N G , D R AW N - O U T second, he hung in space with the roar of the Bora Falls in his ears, the spray in his eyes, and the certain knowledge in his mind that he couldn’t possibly survive. The water was like some huge living thing—rushing and exploding over the side of the rock face. And there would be no safe landing. Looking down, Alex saw a boiling cauldron, fifty yards below, waiting to receive him.
There was no time to think, no time to do anything but react instinctively, half remembering lessons taught long ago. Somehow he had to lessen the impact when he hit the surface below. Be aggressive! Don’t let the waterfall just take you. At the very last moment, as he began to fall, Alex tensed himself, took a deep breath, and then paddled hard with a single, powerful stroke.
The world tilted.
The roar in his ears was deafening. He was blind. His head was being hammered. He was only aware of his hands, gripping the paddle, the wrists locked, his muscles seizing up.
Lean forward. You don’t want to fight the water—you have to go with it. The higher the drop, the more angle you’ll need when you hit the bottom. And—he remem-328
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bered when it was almost to late—turn your head to one side or the impact will smash every bone in your face.
