laughed.
“…but first he met Cray for an informal discussion at the American embassy in London. Cray is a spokesman for Greenpeace and has been leading the movement to prevent oil drilling in the wilds of Alaska, fearing the environmental damage this may cause. Although he made no promises, the president agreed to study the report which Greenpeace…”
Mrs Jones turned off the television.
“Do you see? The most powerful man in the world interrupts his holiday to meet Damian Cray.
And he sees Cray before he even visits the prime minister! That should give you the measure of the man. So tell me! What earthly reason could he have to blow up a house and perhaps kill a whole family?”
“That‟s what I want you to find out.”
Blunt sniffed. “I think we should wait for the French police to get back to us,” he said. “They‟re investigating the CST. Let‟s see what they come up with.” “So you‟re going to do nothing!” “I think we have explained, Alex.” “All right.” Alex stood up. He didn‟t try to conceal his anger.
“You‟ve made me look a complete fool in front of Sabina; you‟ve made me lose one of my best friends. It‟s really amazing. When you need me, you just pull me out of school and send me to the other side of the world. But when I need you, just this once, you pretend you don‟t even exist and you just dump me out on the street…”
“You‟re being over-emotional,” Blunt said.
“No, I‟m not. But I‟ll tell you this. If you won‟t go after Cray, I will. He may be Father Christmas, Joan of Arc and the Pope all rolled into one, but it was his voice on the phone and I know he was somehow involved in what happened in the South of France. I‟m going to prove it to you.”
Alex stood up and, without waiting to hear another word, left the room.
There was a long pause.
Blunt took out a pen and made a few notes on a sheet of paper. Then he looked at Mrs Jones.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Maybe we should go over the files one more time,” Mrs Jones suggested. “After all, Herod Sayle pretended to be a friend of the British people, and if it hadn‟t been for Alex…”
“You can do what you like,” Blunt said. He drew a ring round the last sentence he had written.
Mrs Jones could see the words Yassen Gregorovich upside down on the page. “Curious that he should have run into Yassen a second time,” he muttered.
“And more curious still that Yassen didn‟t kill him when he had the chance.”
“I wouldn‟t say that, all things considered.”
Mrs Jones nodded. “Maybe we ought to tell Alex about Yassen,” she suggested.
“Absolutely not.” Blunt picked up the piece of paper and crumpled it. “The less Alex Rider knows about Yassen Gregorovich the better. I very much hope the two of them don‟t run into each other again.” He dropped the paper ball into the bin underneath his desk. At the end of the day everything in the bin would be incinerated.
“And that,” he said, “is that.”
Jack was worried.
Alex had come back from Liverpool Street in a bleak mood and had barely spoken a word to her since. He had come into the sitting room where she was reading a book and she had managed to learn that the meeting with Sabina hadn‟t gone well and that Alex wouldn‟t be seeing her again.
But during the afternoon she managed to coax more and more of the story out of him until finally she had the whole picture.
“They‟re all idiots!” Alex exclaimed. “I know they‟re wrong but just because I‟m younger than them, they won‟t listen to me.”
“I‟ve told you before, Alex. You shouldn‟t be mixed up with them.”
“I won‟t be. Never again. They don‟t give a damn about me.”
The doorbell rang.
“I‟ll go,” Alex said.
There was a white van parked outside. Two men were opening the back and, as Alex watched, they unloaded a brand-new bicycle, wheeling it down and over to the house. Alex cast his eye over it. The bike was a
“…but first he met Cray for an informal discussion at the American embassy in London. Cray is a spokesman for Greenpeace and has been leading the movement to prevent oil drilling in the wilds of Alaska, fearing the environmental damage this may cause. Although he made no promises, the president agreed to study the report which Greenpeace…”
Mrs Jones turned off the television.
“Do you see? The most powerful man in the world interrupts his holiday to meet Damian Cray.
And he sees Cray before he even visits the prime minister! That should give you the measure of the man. So tell me! What earthly reason could he have to blow up a house and perhaps kill a whole family?”
“That‟s what I want you to find out.”
Blunt sniffed. “I think we should wait for the French police to get back to us,” he said. “They‟re investigating the CST. Let‟s see what they come up with.” “So you‟re going to do nothing!” “I think we have explained, Alex.” “All right.” Alex stood up. He didn‟t try to conceal his anger.
“You‟ve made me look a complete fool in front of Sabina; you‟ve made me lose one of my best friends. It‟s really amazing. When you need me, you just pull me out of school and send me to the other side of the world. But when I need you, just this once, you pretend you don‟t even exist and you just dump me out on the street…”
“You‟re being over-emotional,” Blunt said.
“No, I‟m not. But I‟ll tell you this. If you won‟t go after Cray, I will. He may be Father Christmas, Joan of Arc and the Pope all rolled into one, but it was his voice on the phone and I know he was somehow involved in what happened in the South of France. I‟m going to prove it to you.”
Alex stood up and, without waiting to hear another word, left the room.
There was a long pause.
Blunt took out a pen and made a few notes on a sheet of paper. Then he looked at Mrs Jones.
“Well?” he demanded.
“Maybe we should go over the files one more time,” Mrs Jones suggested. “After all, Herod Sayle pretended to be a friend of the British people, and if it hadn‟t been for Alex…”
“You can do what you like,” Blunt said. He drew a ring round the last sentence he had written.
Mrs Jones could see the words Yassen Gregorovich upside down on the page. “Curious that he should have run into Yassen a second time,” he muttered.
“And more curious still that Yassen didn‟t kill him when he had the chance.”
“I wouldn‟t say that, all things considered.”
Mrs Jones nodded. “Maybe we ought to tell Alex about Yassen,” she suggested.
“Absolutely not.” Blunt picked up the piece of paper and crumpled it. “The less Alex Rider knows about Yassen Gregorovich the better. I very much hope the two of them don‟t run into each other again.” He dropped the paper ball into the bin underneath his desk. At the end of the day everything in the bin would be incinerated.
“And that,” he said, “is that.”
Jack was worried.
Alex had come back from Liverpool Street in a bleak mood and had barely spoken a word to her since. He had come into the sitting room where she was reading a book and she had managed to learn that the meeting with Sabina hadn‟t gone well and that Alex wouldn‟t be seeing her again.
But during the afternoon she managed to coax more and more of the story out of him until finally she had the whole picture.
“They‟re all idiots!” Alex exclaimed. “I know they‟re wrong but just because I‟m younger than them, they won‟t listen to me.”
“I‟ve told you before, Alex. You shouldn‟t be mixed up with them.”
“I won‟t be. Never again. They don‟t give a damn about me.”
The doorbell rang.
“I‟ll go,” Alex said.
There was a white van parked outside. Two men were opening the back and, as Alex watched, they unloaded a brand-new bicycle, wheeling it down and over to the house. Alex cast his eye over it. The bike was a