Stormbreaker by Anthony Horowitz Page A

being trained for intelligence work ... but without knowing it. I mean, he's lived abroad so he now speaks French, German, and Spanish. He's been mountain climbing, diving, and skiing. He's learned karate. Physically he's in perfect shape.“ She shrugged. ”I think Rider wanted Alex to become a spy."
    “But not so soon,” Blunt said.
    “I agree. You know as well as I do, Alan-he's not ready yet. If we send him into Sayle Enterprises, he's going to get himself killed.”
    “Perhaps.” The single word was cold, matter-of-fact.
    “He's fourteen years old! We can't do it.”
    “We have to.” Blunt stood up and opened the window, letting in the air and the sound of the traffic. The pigeon hurled itself off the ledge, afraid of him. “This whole business worries me,” he said. “The prime minister sees the Stormbreakers as a major coup ... for himself and for his government. But there's still something about Herod Sayle that I don't like. Did you tell the boy about Yassen Gregorovich?”
    “No.” Mrs. Jones shook her head.
    “Then it's time you did. It was Yassen who killed his uncle. I'm sure of it. And if Yassen was working for Sayle. . .”
    “What will you do if Yassen kills Alex Rider?”
    “That's not our problem, Mrs. Jones. If the boy gets himself killed, at least it will be the final proof that there is something wrong. At the very least it'll allow me to postpone the Stormbreaker project and take a good hard look at what's going on at Port Tallon. In a way, it would almost help us if he was killed.”
    “The boy's not ready yet. He'll make mistakes. It won't take them long to find out who he is.” Mrs. Jones sighed. “I don't think Alex has got much chance at all.”
    “I agree.” Blunt turned back from the window. The sun slanted over his shoulder. A single shadow fell across his face. “But it's too late to worry about that now,” he said. “We have no more time. Stop the training now. Send him in.”
    Alex sat hunched up in the back of the low-flying C-130 military aircraft, his stomach churning behind his knees. There were eleven men sitting in two lines around himhis own unit and two others. For an hour now, the plane had been flying at just three hundred feet, following the Welsh valleys, dipping and swerving to avoid the mountain peaks. A single bulb glowed red behind a wire mesh, adding to the heat in the cramped cabin. Alex could feel the engines vibrating through him. It was like traveling in a spin dryer and microwave oven combined.
    The thought of jumping out of a plane with an oversize silk umbrella would have made Alex sick with fear-but only that morning he'd been told that he wouldn't in fact be jumping. A message from London. They couldn't risk him breaking a leg, it said, and Alex guessed that the end of his training was near. Even so, he'd been taught how to pack a parachute, how to control it, how to exit a plane, and how to land. And at the end of the day the sergeant had instructed him to join the flight-just for the experience. Now, close to the drop zone, Alex felt almost disappointed. He'd watch everyone else jump and then he'd be left alone.
    “P minus five . . .”
    The voice of the pilot came over the speaker system, distant and metallic. Alex gritted his teeth. Five minutes until the jump. He looked at the other men, shuffling into position, checking the cords that connected them to the static line. He was sitting next to Wolf. To his surprise, the man was completely quiet, unmoving. It was hard to tell in the half darkness, but the look on his face could almost have been fear.
    There was a loud buzz and the red light turned green. The assistant pilot had climbed through from the cockpit. He reached for a handle and pulled open a door set in the back of the aircraft, allowing the cold air to rush in. Alex could see a single square of night. It was raining. The rain howled past.
    The green light began to flash. The assistant pilot tapped the first pair on their