By the end of the hour they were almost finished. The boxes were being repacked now into the back of the truck that Alex had vacated. And that was when it happened. One of the men, standing on the jetty, dropped one of the boxes. He managed to catch it again at the last minute, but even so it banged down heavily on the stone surface. Everyone stopped. Instantly. It was as if a switch had been thrown and Alex could almost feel the raw fear in the air.
Yassen was the first to recover. He darted forward along the jetty, moving like a cat, his feet making no sound. He reached the box and ran his hands over it, checking the seal, then nodded slowly. The metal wasn’t even dented.
With everyone so still, Alex heard the exchange that followed.
“I’m sorry,” the guard said. “I won’t do that again.”
“No. You won’t,” Yassen agreed, and shot him.
The bullet spat out of his hand, red in the darkness. It hit the man in the chest, propelling him backward in an awkward cartwheel. The man fell into the sea. For a few seconds he looked up at the moon as if trying to admire it one last time. Then the black water folded over him.
It took them another twenty minutes to finish loading the truck. Yassen got into the front seat with Nadia Vole. This time Mr. Grin went in one of the cars.
Alex had to time his return carefully. As the truck picked up speed, rumbling back up toward the road, he left the cover of the rocks, ran forward and pulled him self in. There was hardly any room with all the boxes, but he managed to find a hole and squeezed himself into it. He ran a hand over one of the boxes. It was about the size of a toaster oven, unmarked, and cold to the touch. Close up, it looked like the sort of thing you might take on a high- tech picnic. He tried to find a way to open it, but it was locked in a way he didn’t understand.
He looked back out of the truck. The beach and the jetty were already far below them. The submarine was pulling out to sea. One moment it was there, sleek and silver, gliding through the water. The next it had sunk below the surface, disappearing as quickly as a bad dream.
DEATH IN THE LONG GRASS
« ^ »
ALEX WAS WOKEN up by an indignant Nadia Vole, knocking at his door. He had overslept.
“This morning it is your last opportunity to experience the Stormbreaker,” she said.
“Right,” Alex replied.
“This afternoon we begin to send the computers out to the schools. Herr Sayle has suggested that you take the afternoon for leisure. A walk perhaps into Port TalIon? There is a footpath that goes through the fields and then by the sea. You will do that, yes?”
“Yes, I’d like that.”
“Good. And now I leave you to put on some clothing. I will come back for you in …
Alex splashed cold water on his face before getting dressed. It had been four o’clock by the time he had gotten back to his room and he was still tired. His night expedition hadn’t been quite the success he’d hoped. He had seen so much—the submarine, the silver boxes, the death of the guard who had dared to drop one—and yet in the end he still hadn’t learned much of anything.
Yassen Gregorovich was working for Herod Sayle. That much was certain. But what about the boxes? They could have contained packed lunches for the staff of Sayle Enterprises for all he knew. Except that you don’t kill a man for dropping a packed lunch.
Today was March 31. As Vole had said, the computers were on their way out. There was only one day to go until the ceremony at the Science Museum. But Alex had nothing to report, and the one piece of information that he had sent—Ian Rider’s diagram—had also drawn a blank. There had been a reply waiting for him on the screen of his Game Boy when he turned it on before going to bed.
UNABLE TO RECOGNIZE DIAGRAM OR
LETTERS /NUMBERS. POSSIBLE MAP
REFERENCE BUT UNABLE TO SOURCE
MAP. PLEASE TRANSMIT FURTHER
OBSERVATIONS.
Alex had thought of transmitting the fact that he had actually sighted Yassen Gregorovich. But he had decided against it. If Yassen was there, Mrs. Jones had promised to pull him out. And suddenly Alex wanted to see this through to the end. Something was going on at Sayle Enterprises. He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t find out what it was.
Nadia Vole came back for him as promised, and he spent the next three hours toying with the Stormbreaker. This time he enjoyed himself less. And this time he noticed when he went to the door, a guard had been posted in the corridor outside. It seemed that Sayle Enterprises wasn’t taking any more chances where he was concerned.
One o’clock arrived and with it a sandwich, delivered on a paper plate. Ten minutes later the guard released him from the room and escorted him as far as the main gate. It was a glorious afternoon, the sun shining as he walked out onto the road. He took a last look back. Mr. Grin had just come out of one of the buildings and was standing some distance away, talking into a mobile telephone. There was something unnerving about the sight. Why should he be making a telephone call now? And who could possibly understand a word he said?
It was only once he’d left the plant that Alex was able to relax. Away from the fences, the armed guards, and the strange sense of threat that pervaded Sayle Enterprises, it was as if he were breathing fresh air for the first time in days. The Cornish countryside was beautiful, the rolling hills a lush green, dotted with wildflowers.
He found the footpath sign and turned off the road. From the lay of the land, and remembering the car journey
