Ark Angel (22 page)

Force Three had come to Flamingo Bay. But why? What did it mean? Magnus Payne was shaking their hands, welcoming them. This was the terrorist group that had sworn to destroy Drevin. But they were being greeted like old friends.

And then a voice crackled out of the storm, amplified by hidden speakers, echoing all around.

“Do not fire! We know you are there. Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

The five men froze. Two of them pulled out guns. But the words weren’t being addressed to them.

If Alex had any doubts that it was he and Tamara who were being targeted, they were dispelled a few seconds later. Four more buggies had come racing out of the rain. They slid to a halt, facing him, their headlights dazzling him. A dozen black shadows came tumbling out and took up positions around them.

Next to him Tamara tensed, then sprang into action, drawing her gun. There was a single shot, fired from one of the buggies. Tamara cried out. Her gun spun away. Blood began to seep from a wound in her shoulder, spreading rapidly down her sleeve.

“That was your last warning!” the voice boomed. “Stand up and move slowly forward. If you resist, you will be shot.”

How had they been found? Alex thought back and remembered Tamara stumbling. A tripwire. That had to be it. As they had run, she had triggered an alarm.

Magnus Payne pushed his way through the line of guards. The four members of Force Three followed. The whole area had been empty only minutes before; now it was swarming. Tamara was clutching her wounded shoulder. Alex stood next to her, sick at heart.

And then Nikolei Drevin appeared, dressed in a light raincoat and—bizarrely—holding a brightly coloured golfing umbrella that shielded him from the downpour. He seemed relaxed, as if he’d simply decided to go for a late-night stroll. He stood in front of Alex and Tamara. There was very little emotion in his face.

“Miss Knight,” he said, and although he spoke softly, the words carried even above the sound of the rain.

“I always did have my doubts about you. Or rather, I suspected that the CIA would try to infiltrate my operation, and you seemed the most likely choice. How very sad I am to have my fears confirmed.”

“The boy…” Magnus Payne had reached Drevin’s side.

“Yes. It seems your man didn’t quite finish the job.” Drevin stepped forward until he was centimetres away from Alex. Alex didn’t flinch; rain streamed down his face. “Tell me, Alex,” Drevin asked. “I’d be interested to know who you’re working for. Is it MI6 or the CIA? Or perhaps both?”

“Go to hell,” Alex replied quietly.

“I’m truly sorry that you chose to make yourself my enemy,” Drevin continued. “I liked you from the start.

So did Paul. But you have abused my hospitality, Alex. A great mistake.”

Alex was silent. Next to him Tamara had gone very pale. She had one hand clamped over her wound and was obviously in pain. But she was still defiant. “The CIA know we’re here, Drevin,” she said. “You do anything to us, they’re going to be crawling all over you. You’re not getting away; you’ve got nowhere to go.”

“Whatever made you think I was planning to go anywhere?” Drevin retorted. “Lock the girl up,” he ordered. “I don’t want to see her again. Magnus—bring Alex Rider to the main hangar. I want to talk to him.”

Drevin turned and walked away. It only took three paces and he had disappeared into the rain.

The main hangar was huge. Perhaps this was where the Cessna was kept when it wasn’t in use. The roof was a great curve of corrugated iron. One wall slid back to allow access to the launch site. There were various pieces of machinery and a few oil drums scattered around, but otherwise the hangar was bare. Alex was tied to a wooden chair. Drevin was sitting opposite; Magnus Payne was standing beside him. Combat Jacket, Silver Tooth, Spectacles and Steel Watch were grouped together a short distance away. They had been invited to the party but it was clear that Drevin didn’t expect them to join in.

The rain had stopped as suddenly as it had started. Alex could hear the water stilt gurgling in the gutters and there were a few last drops pattering on the roof. The air in the hangar was warm and damp. He was soaked. Payne had used a length of electrical wire to bind him to the chair and it was cutting into his flesh.

His hands and feet were numb.

Drevin was wearing a light blue cashmere jersey and cords. He was relaxed, holding a giant brandy glass in one hand, two centimetres of pale golden liquid forming a perfect circle in the bottom. He raised it to his nose and sniffed appreciatively.

“This is a Louis XIII cognac,” he said. “It’s thirty years old. A single bottle costs more than a thousand pounds. It’s the only cognac I drink.”

“I knew you were rich,” Alex said. “I also knew you were greedy. But I didn’t know you were boring as well.”

“There are five men here who would be only too glad to deal with you if I were to allow it,” Drevin replied mildly. “Perhaps you would do better to keep your mouth shut and listen to what I have to say.”

He swirled the brandy and took a sip.

“I have to confess, I’m fascinated by you.” The grey eyes studied Alex closely. “When Magnus told me you were an MI6 agent, I laughed. I simply couldn’t believe it. But when I look back over everything that’s happened, it makes perfect sense. I met Alan Blunt once and thought him a most devious and unpleasant individual. This confirms my impression. Even so, I find it hard to accept that he sent you after me. Is that what happened, Alex? Were you planted from the very start?”

“He’d been shot,” Payne growled. “I’ve seen copies of his hospital records. That was real enough.”

“Then perhaps it was no more than an unhappy coincidence. Unhappy, that is, for you. But I’m glad we have this time together. Although I’m afraid that both you and Miss Knight must be dispensed with soon, at least I’ve been given the opportunity to explain myself to you. You see, Alex, I’d like Paul to know about me. I’d like to tell him everything I’m about to tell you. But he’s weak. He’s not ready yet. He might even end up hating me for what I am. But you, I know, will understand.”

Drevin lowered his nose into the glass and breathed in deeply.

“I am, as you mentioned just now, a rich man. One of the richest men on the planet. I employ a team of accountants who work for me full-time all the year round, and even they are unsure quite how much I am worth. You have no idea what it’s like, Alex, to be able to have anything you want. I can walk into a shop to buy a suit and decide instead to buy the shop. If I see a new car or ship or plane in a magazine, it can be mine before the end of the day. At the last count I had eleven houses around the world. I can sleep in a different country every day of the week and wake up in yet another little bit of paradise.

“Of course, as you’ve probably been told, this wealth did not come to me in a way that you might describe as honest. Such terms are of no interest to me. I am a criminal; I freely admit it. I have killed many people personally and countless more have died as a result of my orders. Many of my associates are criminals.

Why should this trouble me? There’s not a successful businessman alive who has not at some time cheated or lied. We all do it! It’s just a question of degree.

“I have been hugely successful for the past twenty years, and I fully intend to become richer and more successful in the years to come. However”—Drevin’s face grew dark—“about eighteen months ago I became aware of two small problems, and these have forced me into a particular course of action. They are the reason why you are here now, Alex. They are problems that could all too easily destroy me and which I have spent a great deal of time and money seeking to overcome.”

“Why are you telling me all this if you’re planning to kill me?” Alex asked.

“It is because I’m planning to kill you that I can tell you,” Drevin replied. “There will be no danger of you repeating what you hear. But please don’t interrupt again, Alex, or I shall have to ask Magnus to hurt you.”

He closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, he was fully composed.

“The first problem,” he said, “concerns the State Department of the United States, which decided to investigate some of my financial dealings, particularly those involving the Russian mafiya. Of course, I have been aware right from the start that they were building a ease against me. I have always been a careful man. I avoid written evidence and make sure there are no witnesses who might incriminate me. But even so, it would not be possible to act on the scale that I do without leaving some trace of myself, and I knew that the Americans were squirreling away the bits and pieces, talking to anyone who’d ever met me

—and that sooner or later they were planning to bring me to court.

“The obvious solution to this seemed to be to destroy the US State Department and in particular the men and women whose job it had been to meddle in my affairs. It occurred to me that in one respect they were actually being quite helpful. They had gathered all the evidence together: a case of putting all their eggs in one basket! With a single, well-aimed missile, I could kill all the investigators and destroy all the tapes, files, scraps of paper, telephone records, computer printouts—everything! I could begin again with a completely clean sheet. The more I thought about it, the more grateful I became to the Americans for what they were doing.

“Of course, it wasn’t going to be easy. Because, you see, the investigation was based in one of the most secure buildings in the world—the Pentagon in Washington. The place is nothing more than a huge slab of concrete—and much of it underground. It employs an anti-terrorist force that operates twenty-four hours a day. Every form of monitoring device you could imagine can be found there, and since 9/11, no commercial plane can get anywhere near. The Pentagon is thoroughly protected against chemical, biological and radiological attack. I know, because I considered them all. But even a brief examination showed me that any such approach was doomed to failure.

“And now, if you’ll permit me, I’ll move on to the second problem that I mentioned. It may seem completely unrelated to the first. For a long time, I thought it was. But you will see in a minute how it all connects.”

Alex said nothing. He was aware of Magnus Payne and the men who made up Force Three watching him.

He was still wondering how they fitted into all this. And where was Kaspar, the man with the tattooed skull? Even now, nothing quite added up. Alex shifted in the chair, trying to get some feeling back into his hands and feet.

“My other problem was Ark Angel,” Drevin went on. “Space tourism has always interested me, Alex, and when the British government approached me to go into partnership with them, I must confess I was flattered. I would benefit from the money they would put into the project. I would be at the forefront of one of the most challenging and potentially profitable enterprises of the twenty-first century. And it would provide me with the one thing I most needed: respectability! The Americans might view me as a criminal, but it would give them pause for thought when they saw that I was having supper with the Queen. It occurred to me that they might find it rather more difficult to drag me off to prison when I was Sir Nikolei Drevin. Or even Lord Drevin. Sometimes it helps to have the right contacts.

“And so I agreed to become partners with your government in the Ark Angel project, the world’s first space hotel. It’s above us right now. It’s always above us. And I can never forget it. Because, you see, it has become a nightmare, a catastrophe. Even without the Americans and their investigation, Ark Angel could easily destroy me.”

Drevin frowned and took a large sip of brandy.

“Ark Angel is billions of pounds over budget. It’s sucking me dry. Even with all my wealth I can no longer support it. And it’s all the fault of your stupid government. They can’t make a decision without talking about it for months. They have committees and subcommittees. And when they do make a decision, it’s always the wrong one. I should have known from the start. Look at the Scottish parliament! The Millennium Dome! Everything the British government builds costs ten times as much as it should and doesn’t even work.

“Ark Angel is the same. It’s late, it’s leaking and it’s lost any hope of ever being completed. The whole thing is falling apart. And for months now I’ve been thinking, if only the wretched thing would simply fall out of the sky. I could scrape back at least some of my money because, like every major project, it is insured. More than that, I’d be able to wipe my hands of it. I’d be able to wake up without having it, quite literally, hanging over my head. There were days when I seriously considered paying someone to blow it up.

“And that, Alex, is when I had my big idea. It’s as I told you. Two problems that came together with one single solution.”

Drevin leant forward and at last Alex saw quite clearly the madness in his eyes.

“I wonder how much you know about physics, Alex. Even as we sit here now, there are hundreds of objects orbiting above us in outer space, from small communications satellites to giant space stations such as the ISS and Mir before that. Have you ever wondered what keeps them there? What stops them from falling down?

“Well, the answer is a fairly simple equation consisting of their speed balanced against their distance from the earth. You might be amused to know that, theoretically, it would be possible for a satellite to orbit the earth just a few metres above your head. But it would have to go impossibly fast. Ark Angel is three hundred miles away. It’s therefore able to maintain its orbital velocity at just seventeen and a half thousand miles per hour. But even so, every few months it has to be reboosted. The same was true for Mir when it was in orbit, and for the International Space Station now. Every few months, rockets which are known as progress vehicles have to push all these large satellites back into space. Otherwise they’d come crashing down.

“In fact, some of them do exactly that. The Russian space probe Mars 96 fell out of the sky on 17 November 1996 and the pieces rained down across South America. In April 2000 the second stage of a Delta rocket narrowly missed Cape Town. The world has been very lucky that so far there has been no major catastrophe. Well, almost three quarters of the planet is water. There are huge deserts and mountain ranges.