He reached out with his hands to steady himself and found himself holding onto a lever that jutted out of the wall. It was a shutter release. Unable to contain his curiosity, he opened it, wondering if it would give him a view of the earth. But the s.p.a.ce station was facing the wrong way. Alex reeled back, almost blinded, as brilliant light burst into the module. Professor Sing had warned him not to look directly into the sun. Even in that brief instant, Alex had almost blinded himself.

He closed the shutter again and waited for his sight to return, then continued, gently flying into the sleeping area, the bunks attached vertically to the wall with straps to keep the crew members or guests from drifting off. In s.p.a.ce you could sleep sideways, standing or upside down; it made no difference. There was a long, brightly lit corridor straight ahead four or five modules bolted together. Everything was white. This was the very heart of Ark Angel, with the dining room, the exercise room, the showers and lavatories, a living room and two laboratories all laid out next to one another. Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 would have docked at the far end. would have docked at the far end.

Alex tensed himself, preparing to make the next leap. He reached out with the palms of his hands. And froze.

A man had appeared in front of him, dressed in an identical suit to his own. The man was wearing a skullcap but, seeing Alex, he tore it off, revealing a mirror image of the world three hundred miles below.

Kaspar. Of course.

Alex had forgotten about him. So had everyone else. But Professor Sing must have known that Kaspar had been on board Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7 that was the one piece of information he had been keeping to himself. Why? Had he been so scared of Kaspar that he couldn't bring himself to reveal the whole truth? that was the one piece of information he had been keeping to himself. Why? Had he been so scared of Kaspar that he couldn't bring himself to reveal the whole truth?

It looked as if Alex would never know. Kaspar had seen him. He was only twenty metres away, at the other end of the corridor. He hadn't spoken a word but now expertly, as if he had been trained he pushed forward, floating through the air towards him. He was confident, in perfect control.

And he was holding a knife.

RE-ENTRY.

It was something straight out of a nightmare. It was every nightmare rolled into one. The hideously tattooed face, the knife, Ark Angel, outer s.p.a.ce... Alex could only watch helplessly as Kaspar headed towards him, flying, arms outstretched, legs trailing behind.

What was he doing in the s.p.a.ce station?

And suddenly Alex understood.

The second rocket, the orang-utan, Drevin's so-called experiment in weightlessness they had all been part of the plan. There was no experiment. There never had been.

Kaspar had gone up in Gabriel 7 Gabriel 7. And Alex knew why. His own experience of the launch should have made him see that it would have been completely insane to try sending an armed bomb into s.p.a.ce. The terrible vibrations would have set it off before it had even left the atmosphere. Only when it was in s.p.a.ce could it be armed, and that had meant sending someone up with it. Kaspar. But now he needed to get back again. That was the point of the second rocket. Professor Sing must have known all along. The Soyuz had been sent up to collect him. And Kaspar would surely have left instructions behind. If anything went wrong, if the rocket didn't arrive, the professor would have been killed. No wonder he had looked so nervous! In the end, he had made a choice. Send the rocket and let the two of them fight it out.

That was something else Alex understood. There were now two of them in the s.p.a.ce station. But there was only one seat home.

Kaspar pa.s.sed through the first node, where he was bathed momentarily in soft, pink light before he emerged into the glare of the next module. He seemed to be adept at manipulating himself in zero gravity. He had aimed carefully and pushed off lightly. One hand touched a wall to correct himself; the other still clasped the knife. He was taking his time but then he knew Alex had nowhere to hide. Just seconds remained before they would come face to face in a module barely large enough for them both.

Alex searched around him for a weapon, anything he could use to defend himself. But everything was packed down too neatly. The cupboards and lockers were closed. He was still feeling sick and disorientated and every movement he made threatened to propel him in the wrong direction. If he lost control and went into another spin he would be finished. Kaspar would cut him to pieces.

Kaspar pa.s.sed through the next node. In a few moments he would arrive in the same module as Alex. The sleeping area. This was the place Professor Sing and Ed Shulsky had shown him on the map. The heart of Ark Angel. It seemed an appropriate meeting point. Maybe he could reason with Kaspar. The mission was pointless now surely he would see sense?

But Alex doubted it. Kaspar's eyes looked empty, mad. There was a twisted smile on his lips. The knife he was holding was a Sabatier, the blade a single piece of high carbon stainless steel, hand-honed and about ten centimetres long. Where had he got it from? He couldn't possibly have brought it with him. Then Alex remembered. Ark Angel was a hotel. One day it might have a chef cutting sirloin steak for some American multimillionaire, and someone had made sure he was properly equipped. Kaspar must have picked up the knife as he pa.s.sed through the kitchen.

As Kaspar entered the sleeping area, Alex did the only thing he could. He crouched low, then kicked out, propelling himself along, a few inches above the floor, as if he were swimming underwater in a pool. His movement caught Kaspar unawares, and the man sailed past above him. Alex realized that there was one thing you couldn't do in zero gravity: change direction. Kaspar continued to the far wall, but as he pa.s.sed him he slashed down with the knife. Alex felt the tip cut into the suit between his shoulder blades. He was lucky. Another few millimetres and it would have drawn blood. It had sliced the suit's material but hadn't pierced his skin.

Kaspar reached the far wall and clung onto one of the handholds. Alex continued through into the next module and managed to stop himself. He found himself surrounded by gym equipment: a treadmill, a pair of chest expanders, a rowing machine but nothing he could throw at Kaspar. Where were the weights? Of course, there was no point having weights in a weightless environment. Alex scrabbled for one of the lockers and the door fell open. There were tools inside. A hammer, a curiously shaped ratchet, some sort of bolt tightener. He grabbed the hammer, pulled it free and held it in front of him.

Alex turned and saw Kaspar preparing to launch a second attack. The man seemed crazed, as if he were on drugs. Perhaps he was. Or perhaps he found the experience of being in s.p.a.ce as terrifying as Alex did.

"Kaspar!" Alex wasn't sure what to call him. What was his real name? Magnus Payne? But that wasn't how the two knew each other. "It's over," he went on. "There's no point in this. Drevin is dead. The CIA's in control on Flamingo Bay."

"You're lying!"

"How do you think I got here? There's nothing for you to do. Dropping Ark Angel on Washington there's no point. Drevin's dead."

"No!"

Two continents twisted in anger and disbelief as Kaspar kicked off, this time travelling diagonally down. Alex knew there was no point trying to reason with him. Whatever had happened on Flamingo Bay, Kaspar needed the Soyuz. Alex stood in his way. So Alex had to die.

Kaspar flew towards him. Alex brought the hammer round and threw it with all his strength. For a moment he thought it would travel in slow motion. Wasn't that what happened in films? But it didn't. The hammer spun at full speed through the air and hit Kaspar on the shoulder. But would the hammer do any damage if it weighed nothing? Once again Alex thought back to his physics cla.s.s, starting work on his GCSEs. The hammer picked up energy because of motion; the energy was dispersed when it came to rest. In this instance, it came to rest because it had hit Kaspar square on. Kaspar howled and dropped the knife. Energy dispersed equalled pain!

But the forward motion was enough to send Alex stumbling back, and for a moment he lost control. His shoulders crashed into a wall. Or perhaps it was the ceiling or the floor. It made no difference. Kaspar had leapt forward. He plunged down as if he had been fired from a gun, and a second later he was on top of Alex.

The blue and green skin of the man's face was just inches away. Eyes full of hatred glared at him. Kaspar's hands closed around his throat and began to tighten. The man was strangling him. And there was nothing Alex could do. He had no gadgets, no weapons. He couldn't even move. He could feel metal plates against his shoulders, one of the lockers pressing into his back. Kaspar was floating horizontally above him, connected to Alex only by his hands. The breath was no longer reaching Alex's lungs; the grip was too tight. He felt dizzy. In a few seconds he would pa.s.s out.

Barely knowing what he was doing, he scrabbled behind him. His knuckles brushed against some sort of lever. What was it? Even as his consciousness began to leave him, Alex remembered. He knew what the lever did. But now he couldn't find it. Desperately he lashed out and his flailing hand caught hold of it. He pulled down.

The shutter opened and the light that had almost blinded him before exploded into the module a second time, shafting in over his shoulder. The window was facing directly into the sun and the light had a physical force as it burst in. Alex could feel it burning his neck and shoulders. The whole capsule seemed to disintegrate into a brilliant chaos of white and silver, all other colours sucked out.

Kaspar screamed as the light seared his eyes. It was as if he had been punched in the face by the sun itself, and his hands fell away, instinctively coming up to protect himself. Alex brought his legs up and kicked; his feet slammed into Kaspar's stomach. Alex's back was against the wall, and Kaspar was sent hurtling towards the other side of the module.

The Sabatier knife was right behind him.

It had been hovering there, its deadly point aimed at Kaspar's neck. As Kaspar travelled backwards it went with him, but then the handle came into contact with the wall. The blade entered the city of Beijing and continued its journey, burrowing into the world's surface. Kaspar's body jerked as if he had been electrocuted. Then he was still.

Lying underneath him, Alex watched in disbelief. Kaspar's arms were hanging down towards him. He was in the middle of the module, not touching any surface, suspended there. A string of bright crimson marbles appeared and began to orbit around his head. They grew larger. Now they were golf b.a.l.l.s, trailing away, glistening red.

The knife had severed an artery. Kaspar's blood hung around him like a grotesque Christmas decoration.

Alex had had enough. The module was heating up rapidly, still exposed to the sun, and he reached out and closed the shutter. A shadow fell across Kaspar's face. The marbles darkened.

With his skin crawling, wanting to get away from the obscene, floating body, Alex dragged himself into the next module using a series of Velcro grips. He found himself next to a s.p.a.ce toilet, a grey plastic box with some sort of cone device floating at the end of a pipe. He needed to use it. He was going to be sick. Grimly he swallowed, forcing himself to stay calm. He didn't want to find out what vomit looked like in outer s.p.a.ce.

The bomb...

How much time did he have left? Alex looked at his watch. One minute past four. Just twenty-nine minutes left. He had to move quickly. To have come so far, to have been through so much, only to die now! He forced himself to concentrate, to control his movements. He remembered the map he had been shown in the control centre. He knew where he had to go.

The hatch leading into the capsule that had brought Kaspar into s.p.a.ce was open, and Alex saw the bomb at once. It was shaped like a torpedo, black, with six tiny switches and a gla.s.s panel with a digital read-out. The whole thing was strapped to the wall, held in place with Velcro. With a ghastly sort of fascination, Alex lowered himself into the module and floated next to it. There was a six-figure display, rapidly counting down: 27:07:05. Alex checked it against his watch. Yes. Three minutes past four. He had just twenty-seven minutes left.

Could he turn it off? Alex examined the switches but there were no symbols, nothing to tell him what function they performed. Did he dare press one? If he made a mistake, he'd be blown to smithereens. He reached out a finger. His mouth was dry. Being so close to the bomb filled him with horror. But he had to try, didn't he? Drevin might have perverted the genius of Ark Angel but, even so, the s.p.a.ce station was a technological miracle, completely unique, the world's first hotel in orbit around the earth. Could Alex really allow it to be destroyed? His finger rested against the top switch. All he had to do was flick it. It might deactivate the bomb, but it might set it off. The question was, did he dare take the risk?

The numbers in the display were still counting down. Now they showed 25:33:00.

Alex swore. Why didn't they have some sort of rubbish chute? Then he could get rid of the bomb, jettison it into outer s.p.a.ce. There probably was an airlock on Ark Angel, but he had no idea how to operate it. Anyway, there was no time. His finger was still touching the switch. One of six switches. A one in six chance of getting it right.

Not good enough.

Alex let out a long, shuddering breath and withdrew his hand. He took hold of the still-ticking bomb and gently unfastened it, then eased it up through the hatch and back into the centre of the s.p.a.ce hotel. Ed Shulsky had told him where to leave it, but Alex made the decision for himself. The toilet. Somehow it seemed a fitting end. He lowered the nose of the torpedo into it and left it there.

It was time to go.

He pushed himself off as gently as he could and was rewarded with a slow, careful progression back towards the waiting module of the Soyuz. He pa.s.sed underneath Kaspar, taking care not to look up. In a few minutes' time, the dead man was going to be given one of the most spectacular cremations anyone could ask for. It was more than he deserved.

The docking station was ahead of him but there was one last thing he had to do. He looked at his watch. Eleven minutes past four. There were just nineteen minutes remaining, and Alex knew it was madness to waste even a few seconds. But he would never have this opportunity again. He found another window on the opposite side from the sun, opened the shutter and looked out.

And there it was.

Planet earth. Seen from outer s.p.a.ce.

His first thought was how big it was; his second, how small. Of course, he had seen images of the earth taken by astronauts. But this was different. He was seeing it with his own eyes. And he was moving. As he crouched in front of the porthole, he was travelling so fast that it would take him just ninety minutes to go all the way round. No wonder it seemed small. And yet the earth filled his vision. All the life in the universe, five billion people, was concentrated there. And the thought of that was enormous.

He was struck by the colours. No photographs could have prepared him for the sheer iridescence of the planet. It looked as if it were lit from inside. At first it seemed that everything was blue and white most of the planet was water and Alex remembered lying on his back when he was small, staring at a perfect summer sky. If he could have turned the sky into a ball, that was what he was seeing now. But as he gazed down he began to make out the shape of the coastlines, a thin line of emerald green; and then Ark Angel turned the corner of the world and there was Africa all of Africa ahead of him and suddenly he was seeing intense gold, yellow and red ... mountains and deserts but no cities. Nothing moving. And he wondered, if he was an alien and came upon the earth, could he pa.s.s by without being aware of the teeming life below?

But then day became night and he found himself over the western Mediterranean seaboard, and even from three hundred miles away he could make out thousands of electric lights that had to be man-made. Spain and Gibraltar, Turkey, Tunisia, Algeria and the Lebanon all of them were visible at once, the tiny lights blinking like fireflies. There were storms over Europe. Alex saw the lightning shimmer through the clouds.

It wasn't just that there was life on earth. The whole earth was alive. Alex could feel it pulsating beneath him, and suddenly he knew that for all its technology, Ark Angel was a sterile, dead place and he didn't care that soon it would no longer exist. He had made the right decision. At that moment, Alex felt a sense of loneliness he would remember for the rest of his life. He wanted to go home.

He made his way back to the Soyuz module, trying to control his progress but still crashing into the walls. Only by holding onto the handrails did he prevent himself from going into another sickening spin. He had a raging thirst and wished he'd found himself something to drink before he left. What happened when you opened a can of c.o.ke in s.p.a.ce? He would never find out.

Somehow he reached the entrance and folded himself in. He was operating on automatic. All he wanted was to get away. He reached up and closed the hatch, turning the lever to lock it before blastoff. This was the compartment he had travelled up in. But it was going to stay behind. There was a second hatch underneath him and he opened it, pa.s.sing into the re-entry module below. There was more room here. Of course. The re-entry module had to be big enough for Kaspar. He strapped himself into the seat, found another headset and put it on, wondering if it would work.

"Alex? What is your status?" It was Tamara's voice. He had never been happier to hear anyone.

"The bomb is still active," he said. He looked at his watch. Twenty-five past four. "Professor Sing lied to us," he went on. "Kaspar was here. And now I've only got five minutes left. Get me out of here."

Another burst of static. A disembodied voice was muttering half-words that made no sense. There had to be something wrong with the radio. Alex wondered what would happen next. How long would he have to sit here before he disengaged? And what would happen if he didn't? The second hand on his watch ticked round. It seemed to be taunting him, moving faster than it should. The time now was twenty-eight minutes past four.

Already he was sweating. Hunched up on his back with no view, he had no idea where he was, how much further he was around the world. Twenty-nine minutes past four. Had he reached the last sixty seconds of his life?

He felt a sudden jolt. For a terrible moment, he thought that the bomb had detonated. Then he realized that was impossible. He hadn't heard anything but he was suddenly aware that the module's retro-rockets must have been fired. He twisted his head round and peered through the periscope. Ark Angel was already a mile away, vanishing into s.p.a.ce like a pebble dropped into a well.

And then it exploded.

The bomb blew up, a burst of orange flame that ripped the entire s.p.a.ce station apart, sending the different modules spinning in different directions. The arms with the solar panels fell away. There were two more explosions. A shower of brilliant sparks and a dazzling burst of white light that stretched out in silence.

Alex felt a sense of euphoria. He had succeeded! He had put the bomb in exactly the right place, and instead of propelling Ark Angel towards Washington, it had simply destroyed it. There was nothing left. A few pieces were falling through s.p.a.ce but they would quickly burn up. At last it was over.

He fell.

The crackle on the radio stopped abruptly. Alex found himself in the grip of a silence so complete that for a moment he thought he might have died, and he had to remind himself he wasn't home yet. He was plummeting down, feet forward, moving at eighteen thousand miles an hour. Five miles a second. This was the most dangerous part of the entire journey. If the control centre had miscalculated, he would be incinerated. Already he was aware of a pink glow outside the window as the module began to rub against the earth's upper atmosphere.

And then he was on fire. The whole world was on fire. The very air was breaking up, being smashed to pieces, the electrons separating from the nuclei. The module had become a fireball, and Alex knew that his life depended on the hundreds of thermal tiles that surrounded him. He was in the heart of a living h.e.l.l.

He yelled out. He couldn't help himself.

Then the red disappeared, like a curtain being torn apart.

He saw blue.

There was a second, back-breaking jolt as the parachute deployed. The world seemed to shimmer on the other side of the window and Alex saw the Pacific Ocean spread out before him.

A splash. Steam. Waves lashing at the windows. Sunlight turning the water into diamonds.

And at last silence.

He was rocking back and forth, a hundred miles off the eastern coast of Australia. The wrong side of the world but that didn't matter.

Alex Rider was back.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS.

I don't usually include an acknowledgements page, but don't usually include an acknowledgements page, but Ark Angel Ark Angel has been the most complicated Alex Rider adventure to write, and this time there are a lot of people to thank. has been the most complicated Alex Rider adventure to write, and this time there are a lot of people to thank.

The last chapters couldn't have been written without Professor George Fraser, director of the University of Leicester s.p.a.ce Research Centre, and Derek Pullan at the University of Leicester Research Office. Anyone with an interest in s.p.a.ce should make a beeline for the Leicester s.p.a.ce Centre, where you will see a module very similar to the one in which Alex travelled. I was also privileged to speak with Dr Michael Foale, who has spent three hundred and seventy-four days in s.p.a.ce.

Clare Hornick, the director of operations at the Hospital of St John & Elizabeth, gave me a bloodthirsty tour of the hospital and introduced me to the Magnetom. At the same hospital, Dr Roger Hayward, MD FRCP, provided the expertise that brought Alex back to life. Simon Greenberg, Chelsea's head of communications, very kindly showed me round Stamford Bridge even into the players' showers. Simone Schehtman of Teamworks gave me a crash course in karting, and thanks to everyone at the Raceway in King's Cross for lending me their track.

The gadget that Alex uses on page 235 was designed by Jonathan Bennett, the winner of a compet.i.tion on the BBC television programme Blue Peter Blue Peter. I'm also grateful to Mark Greener, who shared his power kiting experiences with me; and to Marsha Brown, my a.s.sistant, who organized it all. And finally my thanks go to Jane Winterbotham, my editor at Walker Books, who had to read this book one hundred times without going mad.

Everything in this story is meant to be within the bounds of possibility, but please don't try out the stunt in Chapter 5, as I can take no responsibility for broken arms, legs ... or necks.

AH.

Anthony Horowitz is one of the most popular and prolific children's writers working today. His phenomenally successful Alex Rider series has sold millions of copies worldwide and Anthony has won numerous awards, including the Bookseller a.s.sociation/Nielsen Author of the Year Award 2007, the Children's Book of the Year Award for is one of the most popular and prolific children's writers working today. His phenomenally successful Alex Rider series has sold millions of copies worldwide and Anthony has won numerous awards, including the Bookseller a.s.sociation/Nielsen Author of the Year Award 2007, the Children's Book of the Year Award for Ark Angel Ark Angel at the 2006 British Book Awards, and the Red House Children's Book Award for at the 2006 British Book Awards, and the Red House Children's Book Award for Skeleton Key Skeleton Key. Stormbreaker Stormbreaker, the first Alex Rider mission, was made into a blockbuster movie starring Alex Pettyfer as the teenage superspy and featuring Ewan McGregor, Bill Nighy and Robbie Coltrane among the cast.

Anthony's other t.i.tles for Walker Books include The Power of Five, a series of supernatural thrillers which he describes as "Alex Rider with devils and witches"; Raven's Gate Raven's Gate, Evil Star Evil Star, Nightrise Nightrise and and Necropolis Necropolis are the first four books of the series. He is also the author of the Diamond Brothers mysteries; are the first four books of the series. He is also the author of the Diamond Brothers mysteries; Groosham Grange Groosham Grange and its sequel, and its sequel, Return to Groosham Grange Return to Groosham Grange; The Devil and His Boy The Devil and His Boy, The Switch; The Switch; and and Granny Granny.

Anthony also writes extensively for TV, with credits including Midsomer Murders Midsomer Murders, Poirot Poirot and the drama series and the drama series Foyle's War Foyle's War, which won the Lew Grade Audience Award. He is married to television producer Jill Green and lives in London with his two sons, Nicholas and Ca.s.sian, and their dog, Loony.

To find out more about Anthony and his books, check out: www.anthonyhorowitz.com www.powerof5.co.uk www.alexrider.com