more powerful than any that had gone before. A helicopter had appeared, flying in low over the sea. He saw an airman sitting in the open doorway, his legs dangling, a huge gun cradled in his lap. One of Sarov’s trucks was blown off its wheels, twisted over twice and exploded in flames.
The bomb…
Alex could work out what was happening here later. Nobody would be safe until the bomb was defused. His throat was still burning. It took all his strength to draw breath. But now he ran forward and climbed into the crane. He had operated a crane before. He knew it couldn’t be too difficult. He reached out and took the controls. At the same moment, one of Sarov’s men fired at him. The bullet clanged against the metal casing of the cabin. Alex ducked instinctively and pulled a lever.
The magnetic disc stopped and swung in the air with Conrad stuck beneath it like a broken doll. Alex pushed forward and it began to drop down into the sea. No! That wasn’t what he wanted. He pulled the lever back and it stopped abruptly. How did you turn off the magnet? Alex looked around him and saw a switch. He pressed it. A light came on over his head. Wrong switch! There was a button set in the control stick he was holding and he tried that. At once, Conrad fell free. He plunged into the grey, freezing water and sank immediately. With all the metal inside him, Alex thought, it was hardly surprising.
He pulled the control stick towards him and the magnet rose again. A soldier ran across the quay towards him. There was a burst of fire from the helicopter and the man fell down and lay still. Now… concentrate! Alex tried a second lever and this time the magnet began its return journey over to the submarine. It seemed to take for ever. Alex was only partly aware of the battle still raging all around him. It seemed that the Russian authorities had arrived in force. Sarov’s men were heavily out-numbered but were still fighting back. They knew they had nothing to lose.
The magnet reached the submarine. Alex dropped it towards the silver chest, remembering how delicately it had been done by Conrad. He was less skilled-and winced as the heavy disc smashed into the top. Damn! He would set the thing off himself if he wasn’t careful. He pressed the button in the control stick a second time and actually felt the magnet come alive and knew that the nuclear bomb was in its grip. He pulled back, lifting the magnetic hoist. The silver chest came clear of the submarine.
Now, a centimetre at a time, he swung the arm of the crane over the water, bringing the nuclear bomb back towards the harbour. A second bullet slammed into the crane and the window shattered right next to his head. Alex cried out. Glass fragments showered over him. He thought he was going to be blinded. But when he next looked up, the nuclear bomb was over the quay and he knew that he was nearly finished.
He lowered it. At the very moment it touched the ground, there was another explosion, louder and closer than any that had gone before. But it wasn’t nuclear. One of the warehouses had shattered. Another was on fire. A second helicopter had arrived and it was strafing the ground, whipping dust and debris into the air. It was hard to be sure, but Alex thought that Sarov’s men were losing ground. There seemed to be less return fire. Well, in a few more seconds, it wouldn’t matter.
All he had to do was retrieve the plastic card.
He pulled the magnet clear, jumped from the crane, then ran over to the chest. He could see the card, half protruding from the slot where Sarov had inserted it. The lights were still blinking, the numbers spinning. There was less gunfire around him now. Looking over his shoulder, he saw more men in blue edging slowly into the compound, coming in from all sides. He reached down and pulled out the card. The lights on the nuclear bomb went out. The numbers disappeared. He had done it!
“Put it back.”
The words were softly spoken but each one dripped menace. Alex looked up and saw Sarov in front of him. Somehow he must have learned that the compound was under attack and had made his way back. How much time had passed since the two of them had last faced each other? Thirty minutes? An hour? However long it had been, Sarov had changed. He was smaller, shrunken. The light in his eyes had gone out and what little colour there had been in his skin seemed to have become muddied. He had been wounded fighting his way back into the harbour. There was a rip in his jacket and a slowly spreading red stain. His left hand hung useless.
But his right hand was holding a gun.
“It’s over, General,” Alex said. “Conrad is dead. The Russian army is here. Someone must have tipped them off.”
Sarov shook his head. “I can still detonate the bomb. There is an override. You and I will die. But the end result will be the same.”
“A better world?”
“That’s all I ever wanted, Alex. All of this…! I was only ever doing what I believed in.”
Alex felt an enormous tiredness creeping up on him. He weighed the card in his hand. It was strange really. From one Skeleton Key to another. It all came down to this.
Sarov raised the gun. The blood was spreading more rapidly now. He swayed on his feet. “Give me the card or I will shoot you,” he said.
Alex lifted the card then suddenly flicked it. It spun twice in the air, then disappeared into the water. “Go ahead then, if that’s what you want,” he said. “Shoot me!”
Sarov’s eyes flickered over to the lost card, then back to Alex. “Why…?” he whispered.
“I’d rather be dead than have a father like you,” Alex said.
There were voices shouting. Footsteps coming nearer.
“Goodbye, Alex,” Sarov said.
He raised the gun and fired a single shot.
AFTER ALEX
We’ve lost Alex Rider,“ Mrs Jones said. ”I’m sorry, Alan. I know it’s not what you wanted to hear. But that’s the end of it.”
The head of MI6 Special Operations and his number two were having lunch together in a restaurant near Liverpool Street Station. They ate there frequently, although not often together. The restaurant was in a basement with low, vaulted ceilings, soft lighting and bare brick walls. Blunt liked the starched white tablecloths and the old- fashioned service. Also, the food was poor so few people came there. That was useful when he wanted to have a conversation such as this.
“Alex did very well,” he muttered.
“Oh yes. I had an email from Joe Byrne in Virginia. Of course, he was upset about the loss of his own two agents in the underwater cave, but he was full of praise for Alex. He definitely owes us a favour… which will at least be useful in the future.” She took a bread roll and broke it in half. “It wouldn’t surprise me if the CIA didn’t start training their own teenage spy now. The Americans are always copying our ideas.”
“When we’re not copying theirs,” Blunt remarked.
“That’s true.”
They paused as the waiter came over with the first course. Grilled sardines for Mrs Jones, soup for Blunt. Neither dish looked particularly appetizing but that didn’t matter. Neither of them had much of an appetite.
“I’ve looked through the files and I think I have the general picture,” Blunt said. “But perhaps you can fill me in on some of the details. In particular, I’d like to know how the Russian authorities found out about Sarov in time.”
“That was because of what happened at Edinburgh Airport,” Mrs Jones explained. She looked down at her plate. There were four sardines lying side by side, complete with heads and tails. If it was possible for a fish to look unhappy, these had managed it. She squeezed lemon over them. The juice formed tears beneath the unblinking eyes.
“Alex ran into a security guard called George Prescott,” she went on. “He’d managed to escape from Sarov’s plane using a gadget Smithers had given him.”
“I don’t recall authorizing Smithers-” Blunt began.
“Alex wanted to use a telephone,” Mrs Jones cut in. “Obviously, he was going to warn us about Murmansk, what Sarov was planning. This man, Prescott, stopped him.”
