they are on hair-trigger alert—meaning that they can be launched at a moment's notice. It is my intention to override the NSA's system and to fire twenty-five of those missiles at targets I have carefully chosen around the globe.”
Cray smiled sadly.
“It is almost impossible to imagine the devastation that will be caused by twenty-five one-hundred-ton missiles exploding at the same time. South America, Central America, Asia, Africa
… almost every continent will feel the pain. And there will be pain, Alex. I am well aware of that.
“But I will have wiped out the poppy fields. The farms and the factories. The refineries, the trade routes, the markets. There will be no more drug suppliers because there will be no more drug supplies. Of course, millions will die. But millions more will be saved.
“That is what Eagle Strike is all about, Alex. The start of a new golden age. A day when all humanity will come together and rejoice.
“That day is now. My time has finally arrived.”
EAGLE STRIKE
There was no view. The room might once have been used to store wine; the walls were bare and undecorated, the floor concrete, and apart from a few shelves there was no furniture. A naked bulb hung on a wire from the ceiling. Alex was looking for hidden bugs. It was unlikely that Cray would want to eavesdrop on the two of them, but even so he wanted to be sure that they couldn't be overheard.
It was only when Alex had gone over every inch of the room that he turned to Sabina. She seemed amazingly calm. He thought about all the things that had happened to her. She had been kidnapped and kept prisoner—bound and gagged. She had been brought face to face with the man who had ordered the execution of her father, and had listened as he outlined his mad idea to destroy half the world. And here she was locked up again with the near certainty that she and Alex wouldn't be allowed to leave here alive. Sabina should have been terrified. But she simply waited quietly while Alex completed his checks, watching him as if seeing him for the first time.
“Are you OK?” he asked at last.
“Alex…” It was only when she tried to speak that the emotion came. She took a breath and fought for control. “I don't believe this is happening,” she said.
“I know. I wish it wasn't.” Alex didn't know what to say. “When did they get you?” he asked.
“At the hospital. There were three of them.”
“Did they hurt you?”
“They scared me. And they gave me some sort of injection.” She scowled. “God—Damian Cray is such a creep! And I never realized he was so—small.” That made Alex smile despite everything. Sabina hadn't changed.
But she was serious. “As soon as I saw him, I thought of you. I knew you'd been telling the truth all along and I felt so rotten for not believing you.” She stopped. “You really are what you said.
A spy!” “Not exactly…” “Do MI6 know you're here?” “No.”
“But you must have some sort of gadgets. You told me they gave you gadgets. Haven't you got exploding shoelaces or something to get us out of here?”
“I haven't got anything. MI6 don't even know I'm here. After what happened at the bank—in Liverpool Street—I sort of went after Cray on my own. I was just so angry about the way they tricked you and lied about me. I was stupid. I mean, I had the flash drive in my hand … and I gave it back to Cray!”
Sabina understood. “You came here to rescue me,” she said. “Some rescue!”
“After the way I treated you, you should have just dumped me.”
“I don't know, Sab. I thought I had it all worked out. I thought they'd let you go and everything would turn out all right. I had no idea…” Alex kicked out at the door. It was as solid as a rock.
“We have to stop him,” he said. “We have to do something.”
“Maybe he was making it up,” Sabina suggested. “Think about it. He said he was going to fire twenty-five missiles all around the world. American missiles. But they're all controlled from the White House. Only the American president can set them off. Everyone knows that. So what's he going to do? Fly to Washington and try to break in?”
“I wish you were right.” Alex shook his head. “But Cray's got a huge organization. He's put years of planning and millions of pounds into this. He's got Yassen Gregorovich working for him. He must know something we don't.”
He went over to her. He wanted to put an arm round her but he ended up standing awkwardly in front of her instead. “Listen,” he said. “This is going to sound really big-headed and you know I'd never normally tell you what to do. But the thing is, I have sort of been here before…”
“What? Locked up by a maniac who wants to destroy the world?”
“Well, yes. Actually I have.” He sighed. “My uncle was trying to turn me into a spy when I was still in short trousers. I never even realized it. And it's true what I told you. They made me train with the SAS. Anyway, the truth is … I know things. And it may be that we do get a chance to get back at Cray. But if that happens, you have to leave everything to me. You have to do what I say. Without arguing…”
“Forget it!” Sabina shook her head. “I'll do what you say. But it was my dad he tried to kill. And I can tell you, if Cray leaves a kitchen knife lying around, I'm going to shove it somewhere painful…”
“It may already be too late,” Alex said gloomily. “Cray may just leave us here. He could have already left.”
“I don't think so. I think he needs you; I don't know why. Maybe it's because you came closest to beating him.”
“I'm glad you're here,” Alex said.
Sabina looked at him. “I'm not.”
Ten minutes later the door opened and Yassen Gregorovich appeared carrying two sets of what looked like white overalls with red markings—serial numbers—on the sleeves. “You are to put these on,” he said.
“Why?” Alex asked.
“Cray wants you. You're coming with us. Do as you're told.” But Alex still hesitated. “What is this?” he demanded. There was something disturbingly familiar about what he was being asked to wear.
“It is a polyamide fabric,” Yassen explained. The words meant nothing to Alex. “It is used in biochemical warfare,” he added. “Now put it on.”
With a growing sense of dread, Alex put the suit on over his own clothes. Sabina did the same.
The overalls covered them completely, with hoods that would go over their heads. Alex realized that when they were fully suited up, they would be virtually shapeless. It would be impossible to tell that they were teenagers.
“Now come with me,” Yassen said.
They were led back through the house and out into the cloister. There were now three vehicles parked on the grass: a jeep and two covered trucks, both painted white with the same red markings as the suits. There were about twenty men, all in biochemical suits. Henryk, the Dutch pilot, was in the back of the jeep, nervously polishing his glasses. Damian Cray stood next to him talking, but seeing Alex he stopped and came over. He was bristling with excitement, walking jauntily, his eyes even brighter than normal.
“So you're here!” he exclaimed, as if welcoming Alex to a party. “Excellent! I've decided I want you to come along. Mr Gregorovich tried to talk me out of it, but that's the thing about Russians.
No sense of humour. But you see, Alex, none of this would have happened without you. You brought me the flash drive; it's only fair you should see how I use it.”
“I'd rather see you arrested and sent to Broadmoor,” Alex said.
Cray simply laughed. “That's what I like about you!” he exclaimed. “You're so rude. But I do have to warn you, Yassen will be watching you like a hawk. Or maybe I should say like an eagle.
If you do anything at all, if you so much as blink without permission, he'll shoot your girlfriend first. And then he'll shoot you. Do you understand?”
“Where are we going?” Alex asked.
“We're taking the motorway into London. It'll take us just a couple of hours. You and Sabina will be in the first truck with Yassen. Eagle Strike has begun, by the way. Everything is in place.
I think you'll enjoy it.”
