Ark Angel (24 page)

Tamara was kneeling against the door of her cage, listening closely. When he finished talking she let out a deep sigh. It seemed to Alex that even more colour had drained from her face.

“We thought he was going to cut and run,” she said. “We thought he was finished. We never figured he was going to come up with something like this.”

“Can he really do it?” Alex asked.

Tamara thought for a moment, then nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know. He’d have to work everything out right down to the last second. The explosion. All the rest of it. But, yes… I’m afraid he probably can.”

“We have to contact Joe Byrne.”

“The guards took my radio transmitter. I imagine they’ll have taken your iPod too.”

“What about the phones?”

“There are radio phones on the island but Drevin will have disabled them, just in case. And ordinary mobiles are no good; you can’t get a signal. I don’t know, Alex. Either we’re going to have to stop him ourselves or one of us is going to have to go for help.”

“Barbados…”

“It’s only about ten miles from here. Ed Shulsky is waiting at Harrison Point; he’s got plenty of back-up.

Maybe you could steal a boat.”

“Why me? Why not both of us?”

Tamara shook her head. “I’m sorry, Alex. But I’ve got a bullet in my shoulder. I’d only slow you down.”

Alex lashed out at the cage door with his foot. The bars rattled. It was obvious to him that he wasn’t going anywhere, and he said so.

“Maybe I can help you,” Tamara said. She was wearing trainers and as Alex watched, she reached down and pulled out the laces. “Catch!” She slipped her uninjured arm between the bars of her cage and threw the laces over to Alex.

“What—”

“You’re not the only one with gadgets. There’s tungsten wire inside the laces. Diamond-edged. You can cut through the bars.”

“That’s neat,” he said, though secretly he wished that the CIA had come up with something less clumsy and perhaps a little more efficient.

“They removed my exploding earrings,” Tamara added, as if reading his mind.

Alex took one of the laces and examined the door. The steel bars were strong but they were thin and he would only have to cut through three of them to squeeze through. His job wouldn’t be made easier by the fact that his hands were tied, but perhaps he could deal with that too.

“How much time do we have?” he asked.

“Not much. It gets light around six, and if you’re not out by then, I don’t think you’ll have much chance.”

“Right.”

Alex looped the lace over the wire between his wrists, then grabbed the dangling ends with his teeth. He pulled the lace tight and began to jerk his hands in a vague sawing motion. In less than a minute his wrists were free. He saw Tamara smile. Now he could begin work in earnest.

The bars weren’t so easy. It took well over half an hour to make the first cut, and Alex was disappointed to discover that even after it had been severed near its base, the bar wouldn’t bend. He had to make a second cut—another half-hour’s work—before it finally fell to the floor with a clang. Alex cursed himself. If there were any guards upstairs, the noise would have alerted them. But he was lucky. Nobody came. It seemed that the two of them were on their own.

Tamara hadn’t spoken while he was working but now she nodded at him. “Keep going!” she encouraged.

“What time is it?”

“I don’t know. They took my watch.”

That was the worst of it. As Alex started on the second bar, he had no idea how much time had passed. All he knew was that he was worn out. He needed to sleep. And he had blisters on his thumbs, his fingers and the heels of his hands where they had rubbed together.

The night dragged on. He sat hunched up in the cage, sawing back and forth. Tamara was watching him.

The orang-utan had turned his back on both of them and seemed to be asleep.

At last it was done. The third bar came loose, leaving enough space for Alex to slip through into the corridor. He went over to Tamara.

“I’m going to get you out,” he said.

“No, Alex.”

“I can’t just leave you here.”

Tamara shook her head. “You don’t have a lot of time. Get to Barbados. Find Ed.” She leant back. Although she was trying not to show it, Alex could see that she was in a lot of pain. “I’ll be all right,” she went on.

“I’ve got Arthur to keep me company. Now go, before someone comes.”

Alex knew she was right. He picked up one of the loose bars and climbed back up the stairs. Looking through the window, he was alarmed to see streaks of pink light stealing across the inky sky. It must be well after six o’clock, less than three hours to the launch.

He went over to the door and opened it a crack. There was a guard sitting in a chair, wearing grey overalls and a cap. Alex smiled to himself. For once luck was on his side. The man was fast asleep. He gripped the metal bar more tightly. He had thought it might come in useful.

Ten minutes later, dressed in the guard’s uniform and with the cap pulled down low over his forehead, Alex drove an electric buggy back towards the checkpoint. Without slowing down, he held out the guard’s ID, angling his arm so that it covered most of his face. He was prepared to crash through the gate if he had to, and he was relieved when it opened to let him pass. It seemed that security on Flamingo Bay needed a serious overhaul. But then again, he and Tamara were supposed to be locked up. The place was an island, ten miles away from the nearest land. What was there for Drevin or anyone else to worry about?

The buggy was easy to drive, with only two pedals—accelerator and brake—and no gears. He put his foot down and sped through the rainforest, aware that the sky was getting lighter all the time. Drevin’s house and the far end of the island, Little Point, appeared in the distance. Alex turned the wheel and spun off the track, steering the buggy down between the palm trees towards the beach. It made it about halfway before it got stuck in the sand. That was good enough for Alex. He jumped out and ran down to the jetty.

There were two canoes and a boat moored there—a Princess V55 motor cruiser. A canoe would be too slow.

But the boat? It was a beautiful craft, very low in the water, its bow shaped like a knife, built for speed.

Alex looked for the key in the ignition. Why not? One guard had been asleep. Another hadn’t even looked at him as he drove past. A third might have made the clumsiest mistake of all.

But this time he was disappointed. There was no key. He searched all the cupboards and lockers in the main cabin, but there was nothing. Frustrated, Alex rested his hands on the. wheel and forced himself to think calmly. Drevin’s house was in sight. He was tempted to steal in and try to get hold of a telephone. But Tamara had warned him that all the phones on the island would be disabled, and Alex believed her. Might he find a key to the Princess in the house? It was possible but the risk was too great. Alex looked up. The sky was brightening rapidly, the darkness trickling away like spilt ink. Dawn had broken. Drevin might wake up at any moment.

No phones. No boats. Barbados was ten miles away—too far to swim or to paddle in a canoe. Alex knew what he had to do. He had worked it out when he was sawing through the bars of the cage, but he’d hoped he would be able to find another way. Well, there was no other way. He might as well get on with it.

He jumped down from the boat and ran along the beach, making for the house. But he wasn’t going in.

Instead, he went round the back to the equipment store where Kolo had taken him before the dive. It occurred to Alex that he might find a key to the motor launch somewhere inside, but he wasn’t going to waste any more time looking. The store was where Paul Drevin kept his power kite and board. That was what Alex had come for.

But even as he found the kite and began to bundle it out, he wondered if it would be possible. Ten miles was a long way, and after the storm the sea might be rough. At least there was a strong breeze. Alex had felt it when he was on the jetty—and it was also blowing offshore. Most kite boarders avoid an offshore wind; it’s lumpy and difficult, and there’s always a danger it will blow you out to sea. But that was exactly what Alex wanted. He needed to get away. Fast.

He reached for the board and at that moment the door swung open behind him. Alex was already spinning round, his fists raised, preparing for a karate strike, when Paul stepped inside.

“Alex?” The other boy had obviously only just got up. He was wearing shorts and nothing else. He stared at Alex, shocked. “What are you…” He couldn’t find the words. “I thought you’d gone,” he said.

“I’m afraid not.” Alex wasn’t sure how much Paul knew, and he didn’t know what to say. He was aware that the whole situation had changed. Where did he go from here?

“What’s happened to you?” Paul asked. “What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like that?”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said. “I can’t tell you.” He desperately wished Paul hadn’t found him. “How did you know I was here?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I went to the window to get some air—and there you were, on the beach.”

“Do you have a key to the boat? Do you know where it is?”

“No.” All of a sudden Paul was angry. “Dad told me that you’d been sent here to spy on him. I said that couldn’t be true, but he was sure of it. He said he had enemies in New York and they’d paid you to come here, to make trouble.”

“Did he tell you what he did to me?” Alex cut in. He was getting angry himself. Here was Paul, accusing him. But he knew nothing.

“He said he put you on the plane out of here.” Paul looked at Alex uncertainly. “Is it true, Alex?” he demanded. “Are you spying on us?”

“I haven’t got time to talk about this now.” He took a step and Paul’s arm shot out, his hand reaching for a button built into a panel on the wall. Alex hadn’t noticed it before.

“This is an alarm,” Paul told him. “If I press it, there’ll be a dozen guards here in less than a minute. I want you to tell me the truth. What are you doing here? What’s been happening?”

“If you press that button, I’ll be killed.”

“You’re lying…”

“Your father will kill me, Paul. He’s already tried once.”

“No!” Paul was staring at Alex and now there was something else in his face. It wasn’t just disbelief. It was anger. And Alex understood. There was nothing he could say. He could tell Paul everything he knew about Nikolei Vladimir Drevin, and it would make no difference.

Drevin had lied to him. He had taunted him and shown him little affection. But he was still Paul’s father. It was as simple as that. And no matter what the feelings were between them, Paul would defend him.

Because he was Drevin’s son.

Alex knew that he had only seconds before Paul sounded the alarm. He raised his hands, palms upward, as if to prove that he meant no harm. “OK, Paul,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Don’t come any closer…” Paul’s hand hovered centimetres from the alarm.

Alex risked another step forward. “It’s not what you think. Your dad was wrong about me. So are you.

Your mother asked me to come here.”

“What?”

Alex had mentioned Paul’s mother because he knew the effect it would have. Paul froze, uncertain, and in that split second, Alex lashed out, driving his elbow into the other boy’s temple. Paul crumpled instantly; Alex caught him and lowered him to the ground. He had been learning karate since he was six years old but this was the first time he had struck anyone the same age as himself. He felt ashamed. All Paul had ever wanted was a friend, someone he could look up to—and it had come to this. But what else could he do? He had to leave the island. He had to prevent a whole city from being destroyed.

He forced himself to ignore the unconscious boy, picked up the kite and the rest of the equipment and dragged it down to the beach. The sun was already well above the horizon. Alex pumped up the kite and laid it out along the shore, all the while looking out for any approaching guards. How long would he have before Paul came round? Fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty. No matter which way he looked at it, he was running out of time.

And there was still the problem of launching the kite. With two people it had been easy. On his own it would take more time. Quickly Alex stripped off the grey uniform; underneath he was wearing swimming trunks. He picked up the harness and clipped it on. It was a Mystic Darkrider, made out of black rubber with a foam shell. Paul had chosen all the equipment himself and he’d made sure he’d got the best. If only he could have been here to help Alex with it.

How to do it?

Alex checked the wind direction, then laid the kite out on the ground with the lines stretching towards the water’s edge. He scooped up several handfuls of sand and dumped them on the upwind tip of the kite. The other tip he left free.

He picked up the board and control bar and began to walk backwards into the sea. The water, surprisingly cold, lapped around his ankles. The kite, shaped like a crescent moon, was lying flat behind him. It was already flapping like a wounded animal, trying to rise up into the air. Only the sand was holding it down.

Alex laid the board down beside him and pulled one of the lines attached to the downwind tip, gently nudging it into the breeze. Almost at once it began to rise, and the kite inflated, the wind rushing through the vents. Alex stepped deeper into the water. The kite was pulling more strongly, the fabric jerking and throwing off the sand. And then, suddenly, it rose. Alex steered it carefully into the air and neutralized it above his head. It had taken him several minutes to get to this point and he was painfully aware of the time ticking away. But he had done it. He was ready to go.

He hooked the control bar to his harness and then stepped onto the board. Carefully he lowered the kite into the wind. Almost at once he felt the pull, fierce and irresistible. He leant back, letting it take him. He was powered up. A moment later, he was away.

The kite was flying in front of him, about fifteen metres above the sea. Despite everything, Alex experienced the same exhilaration that he had felt with Paul when the two of them were fooling around.