Cannondale Bad Boy, a mountain bike that had been adapted for the city with a lightweight aluminium frame and one-inch wheels. It was silver and seemed to have come equipped with all the accessories he could have asked for: Digital Evolution lights, a Blackburn mini-pump … everything top of the range. Only the silver bell on the handlebar seemed old-fashioned and out of place. Alex ran his hand over the leather saddle with its twisting Celtic design and then along the frame, admiring the workmanship. There was no sign of any welds.
The bike was handmade and must have cost hundreds.
One of the men came over to him. “Alex Rider?” he asked.
“Yes. But I think there‟s been a mistake. I didn‟t order a bike.”
“It‟s a gift. Here…”
The second man had left the bike propped up against the railings. Alex found himself holding a thick envelope. Jack appeared on the step behind him. “What is it?” she asked.
“Someone has given me a bike.”
Alex opened the envelope. Inside was an instruction booklet and attached to it a letter.
Dear Alex,
I‟m probably going to get a roasting for this, but I don‟t like the idea of you taking off on your own without any back-up. This is something I‟ve been working on for you and you might as well have it now. I hope it comes in useful.
Look after yourself, dear boy. I‟d hate to hear that anything lethal had happened to you.
All the best,
Smithers
PS This letter will self-destruct ten seconds after it comes into contact with the air so I hope you read it quickly!
Alex just had time to read the last sentence before the letters on the page faded and the paper itself crumpled and turned into white ash. He moved his hands apart and what was left of the letter blew away in the breeze. Meanwhile the two men had got back into the van and driven away. Alex was left with the bike. He flicked through the first pages of the instruction book.
BIKE PUMP—SMOKESCREEN
MAGNESIUM FLARE—HEADLAMP
HANDLEBAR—MISSILE EJECTION
TRAILRIDER—JERSEY (BULLETPROOF)
MAGNETIC—BICYCLE CLIPS
“Who is Smithers?” Jack asked. Alex had never told her about him.
“I was wrong,” Alex said. “I thought I had no friends at MI6. But it looks like I‟ve got one.”
He wheeled the bicycle into the house. Smiling, Jack closed the door.
THE PLEASURE DOME
It was only in the cold light of morning that Alex began to see the impossibility of the task he had set himself. How was he supposed to investigate a man like Cray? Blunt had mentioned that he had homes in London and Wiltshire, but hadn‟t supplied addresses. Alex didn‟t even know if Cray was still in England.
But as it turned out, the morning news told Alex where he might begin.
When he came into the kitchen, Jack was reading the newspaper over her second cup of coffee.
She took one look at him, then slid it across the table. “This‟ll put you off your cornflakes.”
Alex turned the paper round—and there it was on the second page: Damian Cray looking out at him. A headline ran below the picture:
Cray Launches £100m Gameslayer it‟s definitely the hottest ticket in London. Today—game players get to see the eagerly anticipated Gameslayer, developed by Cray Software Technology, a company based in Amsterdam, at a cost rumoured to be in excess of one hundred million pounds. The state-of-the-art game system will be demonstrated by Sir Damian Cray himself in front of an invited audience of journalists, friends, celebrities and industry experts.
No expense has been spared on the launch, which kicks off at one o‟clock and includes a lavish champagne buffet inside the Pleasure Dome that Cray has constructed inside Hyde Park. This is the first time that a royal park has been used for a purely commercial venture and there were some critics when permission was given earlier this year.
But Damian Cray is no ordinary businessman. He has already announced that twenty per cent of profits from the Gameslayer will be going to
The bike was handmade and must have cost hundreds.
One of the men came over to him. “Alex Rider?” he asked.
“Yes. But I think there‟s been a mistake. I didn‟t order a bike.”
“It‟s a gift. Here…”
The second man had left the bike propped up against the railings. Alex found himself holding a thick envelope. Jack appeared on the step behind him. “What is it?” she asked.
“Someone has given me a bike.”
Alex opened the envelope. Inside was an instruction booklet and attached to it a letter.
Dear Alex,
I‟m probably going to get a roasting for this, but I don‟t like the idea of you taking off on your own without any back-up. This is something I‟ve been working on for you and you might as well have it now. I hope it comes in useful.
Look after yourself, dear boy. I‟d hate to hear that anything lethal had happened to you.
All the best,
Smithers
PS This letter will self-destruct ten seconds after it comes into contact with the air so I hope you read it quickly!
Alex just had time to read the last sentence before the letters on the page faded and the paper itself crumpled and turned into white ash. He moved his hands apart and what was left of the letter blew away in the breeze. Meanwhile the two men had got back into the van and driven away. Alex was left with the bike. He flicked through the first pages of the instruction book.
BIKE PUMP—SMOKESCREEN
MAGNESIUM FLARE—HEADLAMP
HANDLEBAR—MISSILE EJECTION
TRAILRIDER—JERSEY (BULLETPROOF)
MAGNETIC—BICYCLE CLIPS
“Who is Smithers?” Jack asked. Alex had never told her about him.
“I was wrong,” Alex said. “I thought I had no friends at MI6. But it looks like I‟ve got one.”
He wheeled the bicycle into the house. Smiling, Jack closed the door.
THE PLEASURE DOME
It was only in the cold light of morning that Alex began to see the impossibility of the task he had set himself. How was he supposed to investigate a man like Cray? Blunt had mentioned that he had homes in London and Wiltshire, but hadn‟t supplied addresses. Alex didn‟t even know if Cray was still in England.
But as it turned out, the morning news told Alex where he might begin.
When he came into the kitchen, Jack was reading the newspaper over her second cup of coffee.
She took one look at him, then slid it across the table. “This‟ll put you off your cornflakes.”
Alex turned the paper round—and there it was on the second page: Damian Cray looking out at him. A headline ran below the picture:
Cray Launches £100m Gameslayer it‟s definitely the hottest ticket in London. Today—game players get to see the eagerly anticipated Gameslayer, developed by Cray Software Technology, a company based in Amsterdam, at a cost rumoured to be in excess of one hundred million pounds. The state-of-the-art game system will be demonstrated by Sir Damian Cray himself in front of an invited audience of journalists, friends, celebrities and industry experts.
No expense has been spared on the launch, which kicks off at one o‟clock and includes a lavish champagne buffet inside the Pleasure Dome that Cray has constructed inside Hyde Park. This is the first time that a royal park has been used for a purely commercial venture and there were some critics when permission was given earlier this year.
But Damian Cray is no ordinary businessman. He has already announced that twenty per cent of profits from the Gameslayer will be going to
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