give bad news. This doctor had it now. ‚Madame Stellenbosch?' he asked.
‚Yes?'
‚You are the director of the school?'
‚The assistant director. Yes.'
The doctor sat next to her. ‚I am very sorry, madame. Alex Friend died a few minutes ago.'
He waited while she absorbed the news. ‚He had multiple fractures: his arms, his collarbone, his leg. He had also fractured his skull. We operated, but unfortunately there had been massive internal bleeding. He went into shock and we were unable to bring him around.'
Mrs. Stellenbosch nodded, struggling for words. ‚I must notify his family,' she whispered.
‚Is he from this country?'
‚No. He is English. His father … Sir David Friend … I’ll have to tell him.' Mrs. Stellenbosch got to her feet.
‚Thank you, Doctor. I’m sure you did everything you could.'
Out of the corner of her eye, Mrs. Stellenbosch noticed that the woman with the black hair had also stood up, letting her newspaper fall to the floor. She had overheard the conversation.
She looked shocked.
Both women left the hospital at the same time. Neither of them spoke.
The aircraft waiting on the runway was a Lockheed Martin C- 130 Hercules. It had landed just after midday. Now it waited beneath the clouds while three vehicles drove toward it. One was a police car, one a jeep, and one an ambulance.
The Saint-Geoirs airport at Grenoble does not see many international flights, but the plane had flown out that morning from England. From the other side of the perimeter fence, Mrs. Stellenbosch watched through a pair of high-powered binoculars. A small military escort had been formed. Four men in French uniforms had lifted up a coffin that seemed pathetically small when balanced on their broad shoulders. The coffin was simple: pine wood with silver handles. A Union Jack was folded into a square in the middle.
Marching in time, they carried the coffin toward the waiting plane. Mrs. Stellenbosch focused the binoculars and saw the woman from the hospital. She had been traveling in the police car. She stood watching as the coffin was loaded into the plane, then got back into the car and was driven away. By now, Mrs. Stellenbosch knew who she was. Dr. Grief kept extensive files and had quickly identified her as Mrs. Jones, head of Special Operations for MI6 and number two to its chief, Alan Blunt.
Mrs. Stellenbosch stayed until the end. The doors of the plane were closed. The jeep and the ambulance left. The plane’s propellers began to turn, and it lumbered forward onto the runway.
A few minutes later it took off. As it thundered into the air, the clouds opened as if to receive it, and for a moment its silver wings were bathed in brilliant sunlight. Then the clouds rolled back and the plane disappeared.
Mrs. Stellenbosch dialed a number on her cell phone and waited until she was connected.
‚The little swine has gone,' she said.
She got back into her car and drove away.
After Mrs. Jones left the airport, she returned to the hospital and took the stairs to the second floor. She came to a pair of doors guarded by a policeman, who nodded and let her pass through. On the other side was a corridor leading to a private wing. She walked down to a door, this one also guarded by a policeman. She didn’t knock, but went straight in.
Alex Rider was standing by the window, looking out at the view of Grenoble on the other side of the River Isere. High above him, five steel and glass bubbles moved slowly along a cable, ferrying tourists up to the Fort de la Bastille. He turned around as Mrs. Jones came in. There was a bandage around his head, but otherwise he seemed unhurt.
‚You’re lucky to be alive,' she said.
‚I thought I was dead,' Alex replied.
‚Let’s hope that Dr. Grief believes as much.' Despite herself, Mrs. Jones couldn’t keep the worry out of her eyes. ‚It really was a miracle,' she said. ‚You should have at least broken something.'
‚The ski suit protected me,' Alex said. He tried to think back to the whirling, desperate moment when he had been thrown off the train. ‚There was undergrowth. And the fence sort of caught me.' He rubbed his leg and winced. ‚Even if it was barbed wire.'
He walked back to the bed and sat down. After they had finished examining him, the French doctors had brought him fresh clothes. Military clothes, he noticed. Combat jacket and trousers. He hoped they weren’t trying to tell him something.
‚I’ve got three questions,' he said. ‚But let’s start with the big one. I called for help two days ago. Where were you?'
‚I’m very sorry, Alex,' Mrs. Jones said. ‚There were … logistical problems.'
‚Yes? Well, while you were having your logistical problems, Dr. Grief was getting ready to cut me up!'
‚We couldn’t just storm the academy. That could have gotten you killed. It could have gotten you all killed. We had to move in slowly—try to work out what was going on. How do you think we found you so quickly?'
‚That was my second question.'
Mrs. Jones shrugged. ‚We’ve had people in the mountains ever since we got your signal.
They’ve been closing in on the academy. They heard the machine-gun fire when the snowmobiles were chasing you and followed you down on skis. They saw what happened with the train and radioed for help.'
‚All right. So why all the business with the funeral? Why do you want Dr. Grief to think I’m dead?'
‚That’s simple, Alex. From what you’ve told us, he’s keeping fifteen boys prisoner in the academy. These are the boys that he plans to replace.' She shook her head. ‚I have to say, it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard. And I wouldn’t have believed it if I’d heard it from anyone else except you.'
‚You’re too kind,' Alex muttered.
‚If Dr. Grief thought you’d survived last night, the first thing he would do is kill every one of those boys. Or perhaps he’d use them as hostages. We had only one hope if we were going to take him by surprise. He had to believe you were dead.'
‚You’re going to take him by surprise?'
‚We’re going in tonight. I told you. We’ve assembled an attack squad here in Grenoble.
They were up in the mountains last night. They plan to set off as soon as it’s dark. They’re armed and they’re experienced.' Mrs. Jones hesitated. ‚There’s just one thing they don’t have.'
‚And what’s that?' Alex asked, feeling a sudden sense of unease.
‚They need someone who knows the building,' Mrs. Jones said. ‚The library, the secret elevator, the placement of the guards, the passage with the cells…'
‚Oh, no!' Alex exclaimed. Now he understood the military clothes. ‚Forget it! I’m not going back up there. I almost got killed trying to get away! Do you think I’m crazy?'
‚Alex, you’ll be looked after. You’ll be completely safe.'
‚No!'
Mrs. Jones nodded. ‚All right. I can understand your feelings. But there’s someone I want you to meet.'
As if on cue, there was a knock on the door. It opened to reveal a young man, also in combat dress. The man was well built with black hair, square shoulders, and a dark, watchful face. He was in his late twenties. He saw Alex and shook his head. ‚Well, well, well. There’s a surprise,'
he said. ‚How’s it going, Cub?'
Alex recognized him at once. It was the soldier he had known as Wolf. When MI6 had sent him for eleven days’ SAS training in Wales, Wolf had been in charge of his unit. If training had been hell, Wolf had only made it worse, picking on Alex from the start and almost getting him thrown out. In the end, though, it had been Wolf who had nearly lost his place with the SAS, and Alex who had saved him. But Alex still wasn’t sure where that left him, and the other man was giving nothing away.
