Almost at once they had a problem.
The guard had walked away when Alex first arrived at the accommodation block and he had been able to slip in easily. But now as he crept back to the corner and peered round to the main door, Alex saw that his luck had run out. Frankie Stallone had taken his place. He was sitting there reading the magazine that the other man had left behind. His hand was curled loosely round the cover and Alex could clearly see the flame tattoo stretching out over the back. He had a gun, lying inches away.
He was smoking a cigarette, holding it in his left hand. There was a walkie-talkie strapped to his chest. There was no question that he was fully alert. Even seeing him made Alex’s skin crawl, reminding him of what had happened at Needle Point. There was a fresh bandage on his neck where Alex had stabbed him with the nail. Hearing his voice in Jack’s room was one thing. But seeing him in the flesh was quite another. How could Alex get past?
There seemed to be no way that he could approach the front door. The passageway was wide and well lit and it would be impossible to cover the area that separated them without being seen. The moment Alex turned the corner, he would be in full sight and the man would gun him down before he had taken two paces. Somehow, he and Jack would have to distract him so that they could get close enough to take action. They still had the chisel with its heavy wooden handle. But they were up against a professional gangster, a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill.
Alex signalled, and he and Jack made their way back until they were out of earshot. Even so, they still whispered to each other. Alex was aware of the line of closed doors that ran along the corridor behind them and the children tucked away in their cells. He wondered which one of them had been chosen by the Grimaldis for execution. It wasn’t a question he wanted to consider. He was going to save them – all of them. There was going to be no compromise.
“Are you sure there’s no other way out of the building?” he asked.
Jack shook her head. “I’ve already looked. All the windows have got bars on and there are no other doors. This is the only way.” She thought for a moment. “Give me the chisel!”
“Why?”
“I can take him out. I’ll whack him with it.” She thought for a moment. “Or stab him.”
“No.” Alex shook his head. Jack might be fast but he remembered what had happened at Needle Point and knew that Stallone would be faster – and he wasn’t going to put her in danger, not having found her at last. “I’ll do it,” he said.
“You can’t, Alex. The passageway’s too long. If he sees you, you won’t have a chance and this time he’ll kill you for real. But I can take him a cup of tea. That will allow me to get close. And I can hide the chisel under the tray…”
Kill you for real. Of course, Stallone thought Alex was dead. He had actually seen him drown. Suddenly Alex had an idea. All he had to do was neutralize Stallone for two or three seconds and that would allow Jack the time to strike out. He remembered the bathroom with the five-litre bottles of water. He looked at the corridor with its freshly whitewashed walls. He smiled to himself. Would it work? Yes. He was sure of it.
Ten minutes later, Frankie Stallone looked up as the woman, Miss Starbright, approached, holding a tray with a cup of tea and a few biscuits. She was smiling but he was suspicious at once. In fact, he was always suspicious. It went with his line of work and over the years it had helped keep him alive. The woman was a prisoner. His bosses had already told him that he was to kill her the moment the ransom had been paid. The two of them had barely spoken up until now, so why was she being nice to him?
She stopped next to the table, the tray still in her hands. “I brought you some tea.”
“I don’t want tea,” Stallone said. His hand with the tattoo was stretched out on the table in a way that looked completely casual but he knew that he could snatch up the gun, aim and fire in less than a second. “I thought you said you were going to bed.”
“There’s something I want to ask you first,” Jack said.
“What’s that?”
“I have a lot of money in my bank account. Over two thousand pounds. If I paid you, would you help me? I just want to leave. If you let me go, I’ll give you everything I have.”
So that was what it was all about! She was scared. He could see that now. And she wanted to bribe him to let her go. Stallone sneered at her. Who did she think he was? She said she had a lot of money but two thousand pounds was nothing to him! It was pathetic…
He was about to tell her to get lost when he saw it. A movement in the shadows. He looked past her and for a moment he forgot everything. Even the gun went out of his mind. It was impossible. And yet it was there, standing at the end of the corridor. He had to believe it. It was in front of his eyes.
It was the ghost of the boy he had killed.
Frankie Stallone didn’t believe in ghosts. It was true that he sometimes saw the faces of the people he had killed: in moments of idleness, in his sleep. There were plenty of them. Some of them had died pleading with him. Some of them had looked shocked. But he was able to get rid of them easily enough. He just had to remind himself that they were figments of his imagination and they would disappear.
This was different. The boy was standing quite still, half naked and with no shoes, at the end of the corridor. Frankie knew he was dead. He had seen him plunge into the Mediterranean, dragged down by the weight attached to his foot. There was no possible way he could have survived. But now the boy was staring at him with empty eyes. He was completely white – the colour of the drowned. And there was water dripping from his hair, down his face, off his shoulders and arms. Frankie was gripped by something he had never felt before. It was sheer terror. It paralysed him.
It might have taken him three seconds to work out how he had been tricked. First of all, Alex had stripped off his shirt, shoes and socks. Then he had rubbed his body against the newly whitewashed walls, transferring the paint onto his own skin. Finally, as Jack had turned the corner, carrying the tray, he had poured water over his head. He had waited until she had started speaking and then he had stepped forward, making no sound. It felt odd. He was the target. He could be shot dead in an instant. But his best protection was not to move.
It had worked. Three seconds was all Jack needed. The bald man was sitting in front of her, his eyes wide. She saw that he had forgotten her and, dropping the tray, she swung her fist with all her strength. Her fingers were curled round the chisel and she lashed out. After what he had done to Alex, she had been very tempted to use the metal blade. She was quite sure the world would be a much better place without him. But it was the wooden handle that slammed into his skull, and with a grunt he fell to one side. Jack lifted the chisel, still prepared to stab him if she had to. There was no need. He was out cold.
Alex had run forward, ready to help Jack if necessary. He saw from her smile that it had worked as he had hoped. The side of the gangster’s head was starting to swell – another injury to go with the others. Jack reached into her pockets and took out several strips of torn sheet. Quickly, the two of them tied up his hands and feet, also forcing a gag into his mouth. Alex knew it would be a while before he woke up. He briefly remembered Needle Point, the camera turning. He didn’t really care if Stallone never woke up at all.
They were about to drag the body away when Alex noticed the gun on the table. He swept it up and slipped it into the waistband of his trousers.
“Are you sure you want that?” Jack whispered.
“Why not?”
“I don’t think you should have a gun, Alex. It doesn’t feel right.”
“I promise I won’t use it, Jack,” Alex said, adding under his breath, “until I have to.”
They dragged Stallone over to the storage cupboard where the two of them had met. They both knew what they had to do. Jack was going to wake the children and prepare them for what lay ahead. Alex had the more dangerous task. He had to free the security man and the drama teacher. He would need their help if he was to have any hope of starting the coach. Jack and Alex gave each other a quick high five.
“Good luck.”
“You too.”
Alex had put his clothes back on. He took the gun and the walkie-talkie, then snatched up the chisel. Finally he slipped out into the night.
Once again the compound was criss-crossed by powerful beams of light, but Alex easily slipped through them. He was full of confidence since finding Jack. He also knew that there was no going back now. Quite soon, someone would discover that Frankie Stallone had disappeared and at that moment, the element of surprise would be gone. It was a warm evening with a strange stillness in the air, as if there was about to be a storm. But there were no clouds. Looking up, Alex saw a mass of stars in an ink-black sky. The moon was reflected in the steel lines of the railway, which stretched into the distance like some sort of magical pathway. The tunnel was several miles away and out of sight, although Alex could make out the shape of the hills that rose up, surrounding them. Safety lay on the other side.
He crouched down behind an oil drum as two guards walked past, heading for the steam train which was sitting beside the platform with its tender full of coal, quietly puffing. That was one good thing about the abandoned coke works: there was no shortage of hiding places. Alex’s thoughts were already racing ahead. He needed to give the Grimaldis something to think about while he and Jack led the children out of here. He had a gun now … and – he had checked – six bullets. How could he use them? Briefly, Alex considered sneaking into the building that the two brothers occupied. Two shots and it would all be over. But, like Jack, he knew he couldn’t do it. Despite all the things that had happened to him, he was no assassin, and anyway, there were all the other guards to consider. It might be the start of a bloodbath.
He had another idea. Briefly he weighed it in his mind, balancing it against any other options – then smiled to himself. Yes. It might work. He waited until the two guards were out of sight, then crept over to the shed where he had found the chisel. He knew that time was against him but this would just take a few minutes. Sulphuric acid. The question was – how long would it take to eat through rusting metal? Well, that was certainly something that had never come up in science class.
Ten minutes later, he was approaching the block where Giovanni and Eduardo were staying. It was easy enough to find: the only brand-new building in the entire compound. There were no lights on behind the windows. The twins must have gone to bed. Nor did there seem to be any guards around at the moment. At least, that was what Alex thought. He froze. There was somebody outside after all, lying face upward in a wheelbarrow, hands hanging limply towards the ground. Drunk? Asleep? It took him about half a second to realize the answer was neither.
With a dry mouth and an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Alex drew closer. In the beams of light, it was easy to make out the drab, brown hair – lifeless in every sense – and the heavy shoulders, the stout legs. It was a woman. Bizarrely, she had her handbag resting on her lap. Although he had never met her, Alex knew that he was looking at the coach driver, Jane Vosper, another victim of the brothers and their twisted plan.
He didn’t want to go near but there was one thing he had to do. Alex went over to the wheelbarrow, doing his best not to look at her face. He was interested in her handbag. He clicked it open and looked inside. And there they were, exactly as he had hoped! He reached in and took out a bunch of keys. One of them was an ignition key, clearly marked with the Mercedes-Benz logo. He slipped the whole bunch into his pocket. Now all he had to do was to find the security man and the teacher and they could drive the coach out of here.
The outhouse that Jack had described was a short distance from the new building, close to the perimeter fence. Alex wasn’t surprised to see a man standing guard outside, a machine gun cradled in his arms. He backed away. He couldn’t risk using the gun. If a single shot was fired, the entire compound would be alerted. But he had another idea.
He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie that he had taken from Stallone and held it close to his lips. He spoke in a low voice. “Sector Five – do you copy?”
In front of him, he saw the guard reach for his own walkie-talkie. “This is Sector Five, over.”
“We have a disturbance in Sector One. Request backup.”
“Heading there now. Over.”
Alex had no idea where Sector One was but he hoped it was far away. He reckoned he would have a few minutes before the guard discovered that something was wrong and hopefully he wouldn’t realize that he had been deliberately tricked. He watched as the man walked away, then Alex crept through the shadows until he reached the door. The outhouse was made of brick with a wooden door that was fastened with two sliding bolts but no lock. Alex had brought the chisel with him in case he needed it to break in, but this was going to be easier than he’d thought. He slid the bolts across, opened the door and entered.
The room was completely bare. There were two men slumped on the concrete floor, surrounded by water bottles and a scattering of sandwich wrappers. One was small and crumpled with thinning brown hair, dressed in a suit that was hanging off him. The other was younger and tougher, with the square shoulders and cropped hair of an ex-soldier. The drama teacher and the security man. It was easy to tell which was which. They both leapt up as Alex came into the room.
“Who the hell are you?” the security man demanded.
“I’m Alex Rider,” Alex said. “Are you Ted Philby?”
“That’s right. Deputy head of school security.” Philby examined Alex suspiciously. “Where have you come from? You weren’t on the coach.”
“I can’t explain right now. We don’t have any time. I distracted the guard but he’ll be back any moment.”
“Whoa! Wait a minute!” Philby wasn’t moving. “I’m not going anywhere until you’ve told me how you got here and shown me your ID.”
Alex’s heart sank. He’d met people like this before. Philby was taking charge. He was a fully paid-up member of the school security team – the deputy head no less – and if Alex reminded him that actually, the school hadn’t been secure at all, it wouldn’t help. “I haven’t got ID,” he said.
“Then how do I know that this isn’t a trick? For all I know, you could be working for them!”
Philby didn’t even know who “they” were. Alex was about to back out and slam the door when the drama teacher came to his rescue. “I really think we should go with Alex, Mr Wilby,” he said.
“It’s Philby.”
“Whatever.” The teacher nodded at Alex. “My name is Jason Green. Have you seen the children? Are they all right?”
“They’re fine. They’re getting ready to leave.” Alex turned to Philby. He could feel the weight of the gun in his back pocket and hoped he wouldn’t have to use it to threaten the man. “Are you coming or not?”
“You’ve got the kids?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming. They’re my responsibility. And from now on, you do what I tell you. All right?”
“Sure.”
There was no time to argue. The three of them went outside and Alex slid the bolts back across the door. With a bit of luck, the guard wouldn’t notice that anything was wrong when he returned. He might even forget about the message he had received. Philby was looking around him, suddenly aware that he had no idea where the children actually were.
“They’re over there.” Alex nudged him and pointed.
“Good. Follow me.”
Keeping close together, the three of them made their way back.
Meanwhile, Jack had been busy. She had got all fifty-two children out of bed and told them to make as little noise as possible as they got dressed. The children were scared and they had lots of questions but they were also used to doing what they were told. By the time Alex and the two men had returned, they were lined up in the corridor, quietly waiting for whatever was going to happen next.
Ted Philby had led Alex and the drama teacher through the main door and along the passageway, as if it was he who had managed to break them out of prison, getting rid of the guards at the same time. He took one look at Jack Starbright, still in her nurse’s uniform, and decided to ignore her. He raised a hand to the waiting children. “Hi, kids,” he said. “You don’t have to worry. I’m in control of the situation and I’m going to get you out of here.”
Jack glanced at Alex. Alex quietly shook his head.
“You just have to do everything I tell you. You know who I am. You’ve probably seen me in the Hub. I’ve been trained for this.”
There was a long silence. The children were silent and pale in the soft light of the corridor, standing together in pairs. They did not look convinced.
Jack stepped forward. “So what exactly is your plan?” she asked.
“Who are you?”
“I’m with him.” Jack pointed at Alex.
“Right.” Philby stroked his chin, considering his options. “The first priority is to move these kids and find somewhere for them to hole up. My guess is that we’re in Cornwall or Devon.”
“We’re in Wales,” Jack told him.
“Well … that doesn’t matter. We have to bust out of here. We don’t have any transport, so that means we’re going to be on foot.”
“We have the coach,” Alex said.
“Yeah. But the coach needs keys.”
“I have those too.” Alex produced the keys he had taken from the dead woman. For a fleeting moment, he saw her, lying on her back, stretched out in the wheelbarrow.
“That’s very good,” the drama teacher muttered. He turned to the children. “We’re going to be all right, boys and girls. We’re in safe hands.”
“Thank you.” Philby assumed that the teacher had been referring to him. “The coach is out of the question,” he went on. “First of all, we’re never going to be able to reach it without being seen. Secondly, it’s noisy. The moment we start the engine, these people are going to come running. No. We need to get out there into the hills. We need to put as many miles between ourselves and this place as we can.”
“Wait a minute,” Jack said. She went over to Philby and spoke in a quiet voice. “That’s crazy. Some of the children are as young as nine. They’re already terrified and most of them are exhausted. Even assuming we can cut our way through the fence, how far do you think they’re going to get? We have no idea where we are. It’s dark. You should listen to Alex—”
Philby cut in before she could continue. “Lady – I don’t know who you are but I’m a professional. He’s just a kid. OK?” He turned to the children. “We’re leaving now!”
Nobody moved.
Then one of the children put up his hand. Alex recognized the boy he had spoken to when he first arrived. “I don’t want to go with you,” he said. “I want to go with Alex.”
There was a murmur of agreement along the line.
Philby scowled. “You don’t get any choice in the matter, son. I’m calling the shots.”
And that was when the sirens went off, echoing across the compound, howling into the sky. Perhaps the guard had returned and discovered that that his prisoners had gone. Perhaps it was Frankie Stallone who had failed to report in. Either way, it was too late for any further discussion. The alarm had been raised.
Alex stepped forward.
“I want everyone to grab a pillow,” he said. “Then follow me.”