And even today there had been clues. Perhaps it had been the heat of the sun – or the fall-out from his visit to MI6. But he had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to see them: Jack, when he got home – “I thought you’d just gone out”; Bernie, at the gate – “You again!”
They had both thought they’d just seen him. And in a sense, they had. They had seen the boy sitting opposite him now. The boy who was aiming a gun at his heart.
“I’ve been looking forward to this,” the other boy said. Despite the hatred in his voice, Alex couldn’t help marvelling. The voice wasn’t the same as his. The boy hadn’t had enough time to get it right. But otherwise he was a dead ringer.
“What are you doing here?” Alex said. “It’s all over. The Gemini Project is finished. You might as well turn yourself in. You need help.”
“I need just one thing,” the second Alex sneered. “I need to see you dead. I’m going to shoot you. I’m going to do it now. You killed my father!”
“Your father was a test-tube,” Alex said. “You never had a mother or a father. You’re a freak. Hand-made in the Alps … like a cuckoo clock. What are you going to do when you’ve killed me? Take my place? You wouldn’t last a week. You may look like me, but too many people know what Grief was trying to do. And I’m sorry, but you’ve got fake written all over you.”
“We would have had everything! We would have had the whole world!” The replica Alex almost screamed the words and for a moment Alex thought he heard Dr Grief somewhere in there, blaming him from beyond the grave. But then the creature in front of him was Dr Grief … or part of him. “I don’t care what happens to me,” he went on, “just so long as you’re dead.”
The hand with the gun stretched out. The barrel was pointing at him. Alex looked the boy straight in the eye.
And he saw the hesitation.
The fake Alex couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. They were too similar. The same height, the same build – the same face. For the other boy, it would be like shooting himself. Alex still hadn’t closed the door. He threw himself backwards, out into the corridor. At the same time, the gun went off, the bullet exploding millimetres above his head and crashing into the far wall. Alex hit the ground on his back and rolled out of the doorway as a second bullet slammed into the floor. And then he was running, putting as much space between himself and his double as he could.
There was a third shot as he sprinted down the corridor and the window next to him shattered, glass showering down. Alex reached the stairs and took them three at a time, afraid that he would trip and break an ankle. But then he was at the bottom, heading for the main door, swerving only when he realized that he would make too easy a target as he crossed the playground. Instead he dived into the laboratory, almost falling head first over Bernie’s bucket and mop.
The laboratory was long and rectangular, divided into work stations with Bunsen burners, flasks and dozens of bottles of chemicals spread out on shelves that stretched the full length of the room. There was another door at the far end. Alex dived behind the furthest desk. Would his double have seen him come in? Might he be looking for him, even now, out in the yard?
Cautiously Alex poked his head over the surface, then ducked down as four bullets ricocheted around him, splintering the wood and smashing one of the gas pipes. Alex heard the hiss of escaping gas, then there was another gunshot and an explosion that hurled him backwards, sprawling onto the floor. The last bullet had ignited the gas. Flames leapt up, licking at the ceiling. Then the sprinkler system went off, spraying the entire room. Alex tracked back on his hands and feet, searching for shelter behind fire and water, hoping that the other Alex would be blinded. His shoulders hit the far door. He scrambled to his feet. There was another shot. But then he was through – with another corridor and a second flight of stairs straight ahead.
The stairs led nowhere. He was halfway up before he remembered. There was a single classroom at the top, used for biology. It had a spiral staircase leading to the roof. The school had so little land that they’d planned to build a roof garden. Then they’d run out of money. There were a couple of greenhouses. Nothing more.
There was no way down! Alex looked over his shoulder and saw the other Alex reloading his gun, already on his way up. He had no choice. He had to continue even though he knew that he was soon going to be trapped.
He reached the biology classroom and slammed the door shut behind him. There was no lock and the tables were all bolted into the floor, otherwise he might have been able to make a barricade. The spiral staircase was ahead of him. He ran up it without stopping, through another door and out onto the roof. Alex stopped to catch his breath and see what he could do next.
He was standing on a wide, flat area with a fence running all the way round. There were half a dozen terracotta pots filled with earth. A few plants sprouted out, looking more dead than alive. Alex sniffed the air. Smoke was curling up from the windows two floors below and he realized that the sprinkler system had failed to put out the fire. He thought of the gas pouring into the room and the chemicals stacked up on the shelves. He could be standing on a time-bomb! He had to find a way down.
But then he heard feet on metal and realized that his double had reached the top of the spiral staircase. Alex ducked behind one of the greenhouses. The door crashed open.
Smoke followed the fake Alex out onto the roof. He took a step forward. Now Alex was behind him.
“Where are you?” shouted the double. His hair was soaked and his face contorted with anger.
Alex knew his moment had come. He would never have a better chance. He ran forward. The other Alex twisted round and fired. The bullet creased his shoulder, a molten sword drawn across his flesh. But then he had reached his replica, grabbing him around the neck with one hand and seizing hold of his wrist with the other, forcing the gun away. There was a huge explosion in the laboratory below and the entire building shook, but neither of the boys seemed to notice it. They were locked in an embrace, two reflections that had become tangled up in the mirror, the gun over their heads, fighting for control.
The flames were tearing through the building. Fed by a variety of chemicals, they burst through the roof, melting the asphalt. In the far distance the scream of fire engines penetrated the sunfilled air. Alex pulled with all his strength, trying to bring the gun down. The other Alex clawed at him, swearing – not in English but in Afrikaans.
The end came very suddenly.
The gun twisted and fell to the ground.
One Alex lashed out, knocking the other down, then dived for the gun.
There was another explosion and a sheet of chemical flame leapt up. A crater had suddenly appeared in the roof, swallowing up the gun. The boy saw it too late and fell through. With a yell, he disappeared into the smoke and fire.
One Alex Rider walked over to the hole and looked down.
The other Alex Rider lay on his back, two floors below. He wasn’t moving. The flames were closing in.
The first fire engines had arrived at the school. A ladder slanted up towards the roof.
A boy with short fair hair and brown eyes, wearing a denim jacket, T-shirt and jeans, walked to the edge of the roof and began to climb down.
Anthony Horowitz is one of the most popular contemporary children’s writers. Both The Power of Five and Alex Rider are number one bestselling series enjoyed by millions of readers worldwide. When Anthony launched the Alex Rider series he created a phenomenon in children’s books, spurring a new trend of junior spy books and inspiring thousands of previously reluctant readers. Hailed as a reading hero, Anthony has also won many major awards, including the Bookseller Association/Nielson Author of the Year Award, the Children’s Book of the Year Award at the British Book Awards, and the Red House Children’s Book Award. The first Alex Rider adventure, Stormbreaker, was made into a blockbuster movie in 2006.
Anthony’s other titles for Walker Books include the Diamond Brothers mysteries; Groosham Grange and its sequ
el, Return to Groosham Grange; The Devil and His Boy; Granny; The Switch; and a collection of horror stories, More Bloody Horowitz. Anthony also writes extensively for TV, with programmes including Foyle’s War, Midsomer Murders, Collision and, most recently, Injustice. His latest novel, The House of Silk, is a brand new Sherlock Holmes adventure, written with the endorsement of the Conan Doyle estate.
Although abandoned by both his sons, Anthony Horowitz continues to live in Clerkenwell with his wife, Jill Green, and the ghost of his dog, Lucky. You can find out more about Anthony and his books at:
www.anthonyhorowitz.com
www.alexrider.com
www.powerof5.co.uk
www.youtube.com/alexriderinsider
www.facebook.com/alexrideruk
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published 2001 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
This edition published 2012
Text © 2001 Anthony Horowitz
Cover design by Walker Books Ltd
Alex Rider™ & Boy with Torch Logo™
© 2001 Stormbreaker Productions Ltd
The right of Anthony Horowitz to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, taping and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data: a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-2644-4 (ePub)
www.walker.co.uk
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