“So it would seem. He wrote to Downing Street a few months ago: ‘My
“Well, I’m very happy for him,” Alex said. “But you still haven’t told me what this has got to do with me.”
Blunt glanced at Mrs. Jones, who had finished her meal while he was talking. She unwrapped another peppermint and took over. “For some time now, this department—Special Operations—has been concerned about Mr. Sayle. The fact of the matter is, we’ve been wondering if he isn’t too good to be true. I won’t go into all the details, Alex, but we’ve been looking at his business dealings—he has contacts in China and the former Soviet Union, countries that have never been our friends. The government may think he’s a saint, but there’s a ruthless side to him too. And the security arrangements down at Port Tallon worry us. He’s more or less formed his own private army. He’s acting as if he’s got something to hide.”
“Not that anyone will listen to us,” Blunt muttered.
“Exactly. The government’s too keen to get their hands on these computers to listen to us. That was why we decided to send our own man down to the plant. Supposedly to check on security. But, in fact, his job was to keep an eye on Herod Sayle.”
“You’re talking about my uncle,” Alex said. Ian Rider had told him that he was going to an insurance convention. Another lie in a life that had been nothing but lies.
“Yes. He was there for three weeks and, like us, he didn’t exactly take to Mr. Sayle. In his first reports he described him as short-tempered and unpleasant. But at the same time, he had to admit that everything seemed to be fine. Production was on schedule. The Stormbreakers were coming off the line. And everyone seemed to be happy.
“But then we got a message. Rider couldn’t say very much because it was an open line, but he told us that something had happened. He said he’d discovered something. That the Stormbreakers mustn’t leave the plant and that he was coming up to London at once. He left Port Tallon at four o’clock. He never even got to the freeway. He was ambushed in a quiet country lane. The local police found the car. We arranged for it to be brought up here.”
Alex sat in silence. He could imagine it. A twisting lane with the trees just in blossom. The silver BMW gleaming as it raced past. And, around a corner, a second car waiting … “Why are you telling me all this?” he asked.
“It proves what we were saying,” Blunt replied. “We have our doubts about Sayle so we send a man down. Our best man. He finds out something and he ends up dead. Maybe Rider discovered the truth—”
“But I don’t understand!” Alex interrupted. “Sayle is giving away the computers. He’s not making any money out of them. In return, he’s getting a medal and British citizenship. Fine—what’s he got to hide?”
“We don’t know,” Blunt said. “We just don’t know. But we want to find out. And soon. Before these computers leave the plant.”
“They’re being shipped out on March thirty-first,” Mrs. Jones added. “Only three weeks from now.” She glanced at Blunt. He nodded. “That’s why it’s essential for us to send someone else to Port Tallon. Someone to continue where your uncle left off.”
Alex smiled queasily. “I hope you’re not looking at me.”
“We can’t just send in another agent,” Mrs. Jones said. “The enemy has shown his hand. He’s killed Rider. He’ll be expecting a replacement. Somehow we have to trick him.”
“We have to send someone in who won’t be noticed,” Blunt continued. “Someone who can look around and report back without being seen. We were considering sending down a woman. She might be able to slip in as a cleaner or a kitchen helper. But then I had a better idea.
“A few months ago, one of these computer magazines ran a competition. ‘
“Wait a minute—”
“You’ve already shown yourself to be extraordinarily brave and resourceful,” Blunt said. “First at the junkyard … that was a karate kick, wasn’t it? How long have you been learning karate?” Alex didn’t answer so Blunt went on. “And then there was that little test we arranged for you at the bank. Any boy who would climb out of a fifteenth floor window just to satisfy his own curiosity has to be rather special, and it seems to me that you are very special indeed.”
“What we’re suggesting is that you come and work for us,” Mrs. Jones said. “We have enough time to give you some basic training—not that you’ll probably need it—and we can equip you with a few items that may help you with what we have in mind. Then we’ll arrange for you to take the place of this other boy. We’ll pack him off to Florida or somewhere … give him a holiday as a consolation prize. You’ll go to Sayle Enterprises on March twenty- ninth. That’s when the Lester boy is expected. You’ll stay there until April first, which is the day of the ceremony. The timing couldn’t be better. You’ll be able to meet Herod Sayle, keep an eye on him, tell us what you think. Perhaps you’ll also find out what it was that your uncle discovered and why he had to die for it. You shouldn’t be in any danger. After all, who would suspect a fourteen-year-old boy of being a spy?”
“All we’re asking you to do is to report back to us,” Blunt said. “April first is just three weeks from now. That’s all we’re asking. Three weeks of your time. A chance to make sure these computers are everything they’re cracked up to be. A chance to serve your country.”
Blunt had finished his lunch. His plate was completely clean, as if there had never been any food on it at all. He put down his knife and fork, laying them precisely side by side. “All right, Alex,” he said. “So what do you say?”
There was a long pause.
Alex put down his own knife and fork. He hadn’t eaten anything. Blunt was watching him with polite interest.
