And now he was going back.

It was the CIA agent, Ed Shulsky, who had made it happen.

"Alex, you know the place. I need you to tell me where they're holding Tamara. You can give me the layout of the island. Anyway, we don't have much time. You saw for yourself. The rocket is on its way, and if what you've told me is true..."

"It is." Alex felt a spurt of annoyance. Why should the American doubt, even for a moment, what he had said? Was it perhaps because he was only fourteen?

Shulsky noticed his reaction. "I'm sorry. That was out of line. But this plan of his, Ark Angel ... Washington..." He shook his head. "It's beyond anything we could have imagined. And that's why we have to take him out. Right now. We don't have time to drop you off."

"But you're too late," Alex argued. "Gabriel 7 has gone. What are you going to do? Shoot it down?" has gone. What are you going to do? Shoot it down?"

Shulsky smiled. "There's no need for that. All we have to do is find the red b.u.t.ton." Alex looked puzzled. "The self-destruct! If something went wrong with the launch, Drevin would have had to have a fallback. We'll be able to blow it up before it gets anywhere near Ark Angel."

Alex was standing at the bow of the armour-plated Mark V Special Operations Craft, the sleek, streamlined vessel used primarily to carry SEAL combat swimmers into operations. It was equipped with 7.62mm Gatling guns and Stinger missiles and the dozen men had been drafted in from the Special Operations Force, fully armed and ready to invade the island.

He was wearing combat clothes that were a little too big for him; someone had found a spare set on board. Now he watched as the island drew closer, the familiar landmarks coming into focus. The strange thing was, deep inside, he knew that he would have wanted to come back, even if Shulsky hadn't made any argument pointless. Tamara Knight was waiting for him. And then there was Paul Drevin. Alex wanted a chance to explain himself. He still felt bad about what he'd done.

"Two minutes!" Shulsky called out.

The men began to check their weapons and body armour. They were heading for the old wooden jetty near the house. Shulsky intended to approach the control centre through the rainforest. It would mean a forced march along the length of the island and would take longer, but after Alex had described the launch area, Shulsky had decided a frontal attack would be too risky. There was no shelter; they would be cut down the moment they left the boat.

Shulsky rejoined Alex at the bow. "I want you to stay on board until the fighting's over," he announced.

"What do you mean?" Alex protested. "I thought you wanted me to help."

"You have have helped. Thanks to you, we know where we're going and what we're going to do. But this is going to be a war, Alex. And I can't afford to have my men worrying about you. Stay on the boat and stay out of sight." helped. Thanks to you, we know where we're going and what we're going to do. But this is going to be a war, Alex. And I can't afford to have my men worrying about you. Stay on the boat and stay out of sight."

It was too late to argue. They had reached the jetty, and Alex had to admit that Shulsky was right about one thing. This side of the island was deserted. If Drevin had seen them coming, he had concentrated his forces around the launch site; n.o.body so much as blinked as the boat drew up at the jetty. Alex watched the thirteen Americans disembark. They stomped across the beach and disappeared through the palm trees. He still wished he had gone with them. He had told them where to find Tamara but he would have liked to be the one to release her himself.

He was left behind. Forgotten. He could see Drevin's house in the distance, the sunlight sparkling off the windows. Someone had dumped some waterskis and two tow ropes on the sand, but otherwise the beach was empty. The Cessna 195 was bobbing in the shallows but there was no sign of the pilot.

The Cessna.

It hadn't been there when Alex had set off with the kite. He felt a sense of misgiving. If Drevin knew that the Americans were on their way, his first thought would be to save his own skin. Shulsky and his men had rushed off without stopping to think. They should have disabled the seaplane first.

Alex looked around, searching for a weapon or anything he could use to do the job himself. But the Americans had taken everything and he had no doubt that the Gatling guns would be locked in their mounting positions. What else? Nothing. Just the two canoes sitting peacefully beside the jetty, the waterskiing equipment, and a pelican watching him from a distant wooden post.

The silence was broken by a rattle of machinegun fire and the pelican took off in fright. It had begun. Alex listened as the shooting intensified. There was an explosion and a column of flame rose up briefly above the trees. A movement caught his eye. A buggy was racing along the track. Alex glimpsed it between the palm trees. Then it broke out into the open and he froze. The buggy was being driven by Nikolei Drevin. He was alone.

Alex a.s.sumed Drevin would make for the seaplane, but he continued to the house. Maybe there was a safe there. Maybe he needed to pick up a few last things. Or perhaps he'd come back for Paul. Alex tried to work out what to do. He wished more than ever that Shulsky had taken him with him or at least left one of his men behind.

Five minutes later, he approached the house.

Alex knew he was making a mistake, but he had to see for himself what Drevin was doing. Anyway, it was against his nature to sit there, skulking away in an American boat while the fighting continued all around him. He could smell burning. Black smoke was drifting across the forest. There was more gunfire. Alex hurried across the hot sand, knowing that he had arrived at the endgame. The last moves were about to be played.

He reached the side of the building and pressed himself against the wall, keeping out of sight. The terrace where he had eaten breakfast with Drevin and Paul was directly above him. A wooden staircase curved up from the beach and Alex was just considering whether he could risk climbing it to look in through the window, when Drevin appeared round the side of the house, an attache case in one hand, an automatic pistol in the other.

He saw Alex and stopped. "Alex Rider!" he exclaimed. His eyes were curiously empty. In the last few hours he seemed to have shrunk. "Why did you come back?"

Alex shrugged. "I forgot to say thanks for having me."

"I am glad to see you one last time. I wonder what it was that brought you and me together. Was it fate? Was it destiny?"

"I think it was Alan Blunt."

"MI6? Well, they've failed. Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 will reach Ark Angel; it can't be stopped. The bomb will explode and Washington will be destroyed, along with all the evidence against me." will reach Ark Angel; it can't be stopped. The bomb will explode and Washington will be destroyed, along with all the evidence against me."

"They don't need any evidence against you now," Alex said. "They all know you're mad."

"Yes. It will be necessary for me to disappear. But it will be easy. A man with my wealth, with my contacts..."

"The world's too small for someone like you to hide."

"We'll see." Drevin raised the gun. "But one thing is certain. We won't meet again."

He fired.

Alex had been ready for it. He dived down onto the sand. He felt the first hail of bullets pa.s.s centimetres over his head and knew there was no way he could avoid the second.

Drevin groaned.

It was the most terrible sound Alex had ever heard, an animal cry that seemed to come from the very depths of the man's soul. He looked up, brushing sand out of his eyes. He saw Drevin standing there, quite limp, his eyes staring. Then he looked behind him.

Paul Drevin had come out of the house. He must have heard them talking, and walked round the side of the building just as Drevin had fired. Alex had dived out of the way but Paul hadn't been so lucky. He had taken the full impact of the bullets, and he was lying on his back, arms and legs spread wide, blood soaking into the sand.

"You...!" Drevin screamed the single word. Then he began to babble. Not in English but Russian. His face was white, twisted in pain and hatred. Tears were seeping out of the corners of his eyes. He pointed the gun at Alex once more. But this time Alex was ready for him.

Before Drevin could pull the trigger, Alex began to roll, spinning over and over, propelling himself towards the house. Bullets kicked up the sand, then slammed into the nearest wall. But Drevin had been caught by surprise. Still rolling, Alex disappeared into the crawl s.p.a.ce underneath the house. It was cold and damp here. There might be spiders or scorpions nestling in the foundations. But he was in the dark, out of the range of the bullets. For a moment, he was safe.

Drevin hardly seemed to notice. He fired at the house until the gun clicked uselessly in his hands. It took him a while to realize that he had run out of bullets. Then, with a curse, he threw the gun down and staggered over to his son. Paul wasn't moving. In the distance, he heard shouting. A buggy was approaching through the rainforest. Drevin turned and ran across the beach towards the waiting plane.

Lying on his stomach, Alex looked out through the gap between the bottom of the house and the sand. He saw Drevin reach the water's edge and knew that he wasn't coming back. Slowly, dreading what he was going to find, he crawled back out into the open and went over to Paul.

There was a lot of blood. Alex was certain that the boy was dead, and he was overwhelmed by a feeling of sadness and guilt. But then, to his surprise, Paul opened his eyes. Alex knelt down beside him. Now that he was looking closely he could see that, beneath the blood, the damage might not be as bad as he had feared. Paul had been shot in the shoulder and the arm but the rest of the bullets must have pa.s.sed over his head.

"Alex..." he rasped.

"Don't move," Alex said. "I'm really sorry, Paul. This is all my fault. I should never have come here."

"No. I was wrong..." Paul tried to speak but the effort was too much.

Alex heard the sound of the Cessna's engine and turned round in time to see the plane moving away from the jetty. Drevin was piloting it. Alex could make out the crazed, distorted face behind the controls. At the same time, a buggy screeched to a halt in front of the house and Ed Shulsky and two men jumped out. Alex was relieved to see that Tamara was with them, still pale but looking stronger than when he had last seen her.

"Alex!" she called out, then stopped, seeing Paul.

Shulsky signalled, and the two men sprinted over to the wounded boy, pulling out medical packs as they ran. "What happened here?" he asked.

"Drevin," Alex said. "He hit Paul instead of me."

"How bad is it?" Shulsky addressed one of the two men.

"I think he's going to be OK," the man replied, and Alex felt a surge of relief. "He's lost blood, and we're going to have to helicopter him out as soon as possible. But he'll live."

Shulsky turned to Alex. "We've taken control of the island," he told him. "Drevin's men didn't put up much of a fight. But we lost Drevin. Where is he?"

Alex pointed. The Cessna 195 had reached full speed and was rising smoothly out of the water. Bizarrely, impossibly, two canoes had risen up behind it, as if following it out of the sea and into the sky.

"What the-" Shulsky began.

It was the only thing Alex had been able to do in the time he'd had. Using the tow ropes from the waterskiing equipment, he'd tied the canoes to the seaplane's floats. He had thought about securing the Cessna to the jetty, but Drevin would have spotted that. Part of him had hoped that the plane wouldn't be able to take off, but he was disappointed. It was already high up, a bizarre sight with the two canoes dangling underneath it. Alex wondered if Drevin had even noticed. Well, whatever happened, it would make the plane easier to spot, and when it landed, with a bit of luck, the canoes might cause it to overturn.

But then Drevin made his last mistake.

Alex would never know what was in the Russian's mind. Did he think his son was dead? Did he think Alex was to blame? It seemed he had decided to take revenge. The plane swung round and suddenly it was heading back towards them. With no warning, before there was even any sound, the sand leapt up all around them and Alex realized that Drevin was firing at them, using a machine gun mounted somewhere on the plane. The detonations came a moment later. Everyone dived for cover, the two male agents crouching over the injured boy, protecting him with their own bodies. Bullets smashed into the side of the house; wood splintered and one of the great gla.s.s windows frosted and cascaded down. The plane roared overhead and continued towards the rainforest. The canoes b.u.mped and twisted just behind.

Drevin had missed them on the first pa.s.s but Alex knew they wouldn't be so lucky on the second. He looked at Shulsky, wondering what the CIA agent was planning to do. They might be able to make it into the house. But what about Paul? Moving him too quickly would kill him.

The plane began to turn. The canoes dipped down. Drevin was directly over the forest. He hadn't seen the canoes, so had no idea how low they were. There were two trees close to one another. As Alex watched with a shiver of horror the canoes collided with the trunks and became stuck between them, caught sideways on.

The plane came to an abrupt halt. It was as if it had anch.o.r.ed itself in mid-air. There was the sound of breaking wood. The canoes had smashed but so had the floats. In fact, the entire undercarriage of the plane had been torn away, and Drevin was left sitting on thin air, surrounded by half a plane. One moment he had been flying forward. The next he simply rotated ninety degrees and swooped vertically down towards the ground. There was a scream from what was left of the engine; the Cessna's propeller turned uselessly. Alex saw the plane disappear into the forest. There was a crash and then, seconds later, a ball of flame. It leapt up into the sky almost as if it was trying to escape from the devastation below. Two more explosions. Then silence.

For what seemed like an eternity, Alex stared towards the crash site. A fire still raged among the trees and he wondered if it would spread across the island. But even as he watched, the flames started to flicker and die down, to be replaced by a plume of smoke that rose up in the shape of a final exclamation mark. Drevin was dead. There could be no doubt about that.

Alex felt an immense weariness. It seemed to him that everything that had happened, from the moment he had met Nikolei Drevin at the Waterfront Hotel in London, had somehow been leading to this moment. He thought back to the luxury of Neverglade, the go-kart race, the football match that had ended in murder, the flight to America. Drevin had been a monster and he'd deserved to die. Washington was no longer in any danger. Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 and the bomb it was carrying would be blown up long before it reached Ark Angel. and the bomb it was carrying would be blown up long before it reached Ark Angel.

But Alex couldn't feel any sense of victory. He looked back at Paul Drevin. The two agents were busy working on him, one of them wrapping pressure bandages around his wounds while the other fed an IV needle into his arm. Paul's eyes were closed. Mercifully he had slipped into unconsciousness and so hadn't seen what had just happened. Alex turned back and watched the smoke spread through the air, and suddenly he wanted to be far away from Flamingo Bay. He wanted to be with Jack. The two of them would take a plane home.

It was finally over.

He realized that Ed Shulsky and Tamara were staring at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

The two CIA agents exchanged a look. Then Shulsky spoke. "I wish you hadn't done that," he said. "We wanted to have a word with Mr Drevin."

Alex shrugged. "I don't think he was planning to hang around for a chat."

"You may be right," Shulsky agreed. "But we still needed to speak to him." He paused. "You remember that red b.u.t.ton I was telling you about?"

Alex nodded. "Yes."

"Well, it seems I was wrong. There isn't one. We can't blow up Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7. There's nothing we can do to stop it."

"What?" Alex's head spun. "But you just said that you're in control of the island. There must be something you can do."

Tamara shook her head. "After the launch, Drevin locked down all the computer systems," she explained. "He was the only one with the codes. It's not your fault, Alex. By the time we'd caught up with him it probably would've been too late. But right now Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 is on its way and we can't communicate with it. We can't bring it back and we can't divert it. It's going to dock with Ark Angel in less than three hours from now. The bomb is on a timer. It's all going to happen exactly as Drevin planned." is on its way and we can't communicate with it. We can't bring it back and we can't divert it. It's going to dock with Ark Angel in less than three hours from now. The bomb is on a timer. It's all going to happen exactly as Drevin planned."

"So what are you going to do?" Alex asked.

Tamara didn't have the heart to say it. She glanced at Shulsky.

"Alex," he said. "I'm afraid we need your help."

ARK ANGEL.

"No," Alex said. "No way. Forget it. The answer is no!"

"Let's go over this again," Ed Shulsky suggested.

They were sitting in the control centre on the western stretch of Flamingo Bay. Alex had been driven there from Drevin's house and it was clear that Shulsky's men were in command. Very little damage had been done. The guardhouse and the gate had been blown up that was the explosion Alex had heard but it seemed that Drevin's men had surrendered quickly. None of them had known what Drevin was really planning. They had been paid to help launch a rocket into s.p.a.ce: Drevin had never told them what the rocket actually contained.

At least Paul Drevin was out of it. He had been flown to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital in Bridgetown, on Barbados. Alex was relieved to hear that he was going to be all right. He had already been given blood and the doctors were waiting for his condition to stabilize before he was flown to America. His mother was apparently on her way to see him. Alex wondered if the two of them would ever meet again. Somehow he doubted it.

Now there were just four people in the room, surrounded by computers, video screens and the blinking lights of the electronic display board. A series of blueprints had been spread out on the large conference table. They showed the overall design of Ark Angel with the different modules a dozen of them extending in every direction, up and down. It was like an enormously complicated toy.

Alex was slumped in a chair, his face grim, still dressed in the borrowed combat clothes. Ed Shulsky and Tamara Knight were sitting opposite him. Tamara looked exhausted, grey with pain and fatigue. She'd accepted a shot of morphine but nothing else. She wasn't leaving Alex until a decision had been made.

The fourth person in the room was Professor Sing Joo-Chan, the man in charge of the Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 launch. The flight director seemed a completely different person. He had lost his calm and self-possession and looked as if he was on the verge of a heart attack. His face was pale and he was sweating profusely, dabbing at his forehead with a large white handkerchief. Like everyone else, he claimed to know nothing about the bomb, nothing about Drevin's real plans. He had promised to cooperate, to do anything the CIA required, and for the time being Shulsky was giving him the benefit of the doubt. But Alex wasn't so sure. The professor had been recruited by Drevin; he had been in charge of the operation from the very start. Alex was certain he knew more than he was letting on. launch. The flight director seemed a completely different person. He had lost his calm and self-possession and looked as if he was on the verge of a heart attack. His face was pale and he was sweating profusely, dabbing at his forehead with a large white handkerchief. Like everyone else, he claimed to know nothing about the bomb, nothing about Drevin's real plans. He had promised to cooperate, to do anything the CIA required, and for the time being Shulsky was giving him the benefit of the doubt. But Alex wasn't so sure. The professor had been recruited by Drevin; he had been in charge of the operation from the very start. Alex was certain he knew more than he was letting on.

"This is the situation," Shulsky said. "Gabriel 7 will dock with Ark Angel at half past two this afternoon. It's carrying a bomb which will go off exactly two hours after that." He glanced at Alex. "Drevin told you that himself." will dock with Ark Angel at half past two this afternoon. It's carrying a bomb which will go off exactly two hours after that." He glanced at Alex. "Drevin told you that himself."

Alex nodded. "That's right. Half past four. That's what he said."

"Now, as I understand it, there are three docking ports on Ark Angel." Shulsky pointed to the diagram. "Two of them are positioned at the very centre ... here. But that's not where Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 is heading, because if the bomb blew up there it would simply rip the whole s.p.a.ce station apart." He reached out and tapped a section on the other side, at the end of a long corridor. " is heading, because if the bomb blew up there it would simply rip the whole s.p.a.ce station apart." He reached out and tapped a section on the other side, at the end of a long corridor. "Gabriel 7 will dock here," he explained. "Right on the edge." will dock here," he explained. "Right on the edge."

"Yes the very edge!" Sing agreed. Alex noticed that the professor's eyes were wide and unfocused. He was taking care not to look at anyone directly. "That's how it was decided. That's what Mr Drevin insisted."

"The bomb must be inside the observation module," Shulsky said. "And I guess it'll be in exactly the right position. Most of the force from the explosion will go outwards. It'll have the effect of a push in the wrong direction, propelling the entire s.p.a.ce station back to earth." He took a deep breath and for a moment something like panic flashed in his eyes. "The h.e.l.l of it is, there's nothing we can do to stop it. We can't blow up Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7. And according to Professor Sing here, we can't access the computers to reprogram it."

"You can't!" The white handkerchief was out again. "Only Mr Drevin had the codes. Only Mr Drevin-"

"I've checked it, Alex," Tamara said. "It's true. The entire system has been shut down. It would take us days possibly even weeks to hack into it."

"I know it sounds crazy, but that leaves us with just one option," Shulsky went on. "We have to send somebody up to Ark Angel. Believe me, Alex, it's the only way. Someone has to find the bomb and neutralize it by which I mean switch it off. And if that isn't possible, then they have to move it. They have to carry it into the middle of the s.p.a.ce station and leave it there. That way, the force of the explosion will have a completely different effect. It'll destroy Ark Angel. What pieces are left will scatter and burn up in the outer atmosphere."

"You will destroy Ark Angel!" Professor Sing whispered the words as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n about Ark Angel, Professor!" Shulsky almost shouted the words. "My only concern is Washington."

"Move the bomb or switch it off what difference does it make?" Alex asked. "How is anyone going to get there?"

"That's the whole point," Shulsky said. "The Soyuz-Fregat is ready for launching. It was all set to carry Arthur into s.p.a.ce." He paused. "But there's no reason why it shouldn't carry you."

"Me? You really want to send me into outer s.p.a.ce?"

"Yes."