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Authors: Anthony Horowitz
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to go near that place again.
He was naked from the waist up. He had lost his sandals and his trousers were in tatters. Blood was running down one leg, mingling with the filthy canal water. He was soaked. He had no money and his hotel was a train ride away, outside Venice. But Alex didn’t care. He was alive.
He took one look back. There was the palace, dark and silent. The party had long ago come to an end.
Slowly he limped away.
Chapter 6: THOUGHTS ON A TRAIN
Tom Harris sat back in the second-class carriage of the pendolino—the fast train from Venice to Naples—and looked out of the window as the buildings and fields slipped by. He was thinking about Alex Rider.
Alex’s absence had, of course, been noticed the night before. Mr Grey had assumed he was late getting back to the hotel, but when his bed was still empty at half past ten, the alarm buttons had been pressed. Mr Grey had alerted the police and then telephoned Alex’s guardian—an American woman called Jack Starbright—in London. Everyone at Brookland knew that Alex had no parents; it was one of the many things that made him different. It was Jack who had calmed the situation down.
“You know what Alex is like. Sometimes he lets his curiosity get the better of him. I’m glad you called, but I’m sure he’ll show up. You really don’t need to worry.”
But Tom was worried. He had seen Alex swallowed up by the crowd at the Widow’s Palace and knew it was something more than curiosity that had led his friend there. He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to tell Mr Grey what the two of them had done. Alex might still be in the palace. He might need help. But another part of him was afraid of getting into trouble … and perhaps getting Alex into even more trouble than he was in already. In the end he decided to keep silent. They were leaving the hotel at half past ten the next morning. If by that time there was still no news from Alex, he would come forward and tell them where he was.
In fact, Alex rang the hotel at half past seven. He was, he said, on his way to England. He had got homesick and had decided to leave early. Mr Grey took the call.
“Alex,” he said. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. I’m meant to be responsible for you. When I brought you on this trip, I trusted you. You’ve completely let me down.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Alex sounded wretched and that was how he felt.
“That’s not good enough. Because of you, I may not be allowed to take other kids on future trips. You’re spoiling it for everyone.”
“I didn’t mean this to happen,” Alex said. “There are things you don’t understand. When I see you next term, I’ll try to explain it to you … as much as I can. I really am sorry, sir. And I’m grateful to you for the way you’ve helped me this summer. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be all right.”
There were a lot of things Mr Grey wanted to say but he stopped himself. He had got to know Alex well in all their hours together and liked him. He also knew that Alex was like no other boy he’d ever met. He didn’t believe for a minute that Alex was homesick. Nor did he think he was on his way back to England. But sometimes, just occasionally, it was better not to ask.
“Good luck, Alex,” he said. “Look after yourself.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The rest of the school party had been told that Alex had already left. Miss Bedfordshire had packed his bags for him, and everyone else had been too busy sorting out their own things to think about him any more. Only Tom knew that Alex was lying. They had been sharing a room in the hotel, and Alex’s passport was still on the bedside table. Acting on impulse, Tom had taken it with him. He had given Alex his brother’s address in Naples. There was still a chance he might show up there.
The scenery flashed past, as uninteresting as scenery nearly always becomes when seen through the grimy window of a train. Tom had parted
He was naked from the waist up. He had lost his sandals and his trousers were in tatters. Blood was running down one leg, mingling with the filthy canal water. He was soaked. He had no money and his hotel was a train ride away, outside Venice. But Alex didn’t care. He was alive.
He took one look back. There was the palace, dark and silent. The party had long ago come to an end.
Slowly he limped away.
Chapter 6: THOUGHTS ON A TRAIN
Tom Harris sat back in the second-class carriage of the pendolino—the fast train from Venice to Naples—and looked out of the window as the buildings and fields slipped by. He was thinking about Alex Rider.
Alex’s absence had, of course, been noticed the night before. Mr Grey had assumed he was late getting back to the hotel, but when his bed was still empty at half past ten, the alarm buttons had been pressed. Mr Grey had alerted the police and then telephoned Alex’s guardian—an American woman called Jack Starbright—in London. Everyone at Brookland knew that Alex had no parents; it was one of the many things that made him different. It was Jack who had calmed the situation down.
“You know what Alex is like. Sometimes he lets his curiosity get the better of him. I’m glad you called, but I’m sure he’ll show up. You really don’t need to worry.”
But Tom was worried. He had seen Alex swallowed up by the crowd at the Widow’s Palace and knew it was something more than curiosity that had led his friend there. He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to tell Mr Grey what the two of them had done. Alex might still be in the palace. He might need help. But another part of him was afraid of getting into trouble … and perhaps getting Alex into even more trouble than he was in already. In the end he decided to keep silent. They were leaving the hotel at half past ten the next morning. If by that time there was still no news from Alex, he would come forward and tell them where he was.
In fact, Alex rang the hotel at half past seven. He was, he said, on his way to England. He had got homesick and had decided to leave early. Mr Grey took the call.
“Alex,” he said. “I can’t believe you’ve done this. I’m meant to be responsible for you. When I brought you on this trip, I trusted you. You’ve completely let me down.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Alex sounded wretched and that was how he felt.
“That’s not good enough. Because of you, I may not be allowed to take other kids on future trips. You’re spoiling it for everyone.”
“I didn’t mean this to happen,” Alex said. “There are things you don’t understand. When I see you next term, I’ll try to explain it to you … as much as I can. I really am sorry, sir. And I’m grateful to you for the way you’ve helped me this summer. But you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be all right.”
There were a lot of things Mr Grey wanted to say but he stopped himself. He had got to know Alex well in all their hours together and liked him. He also knew that Alex was like no other boy he’d ever met. He didn’t believe for a minute that Alex was homesick. Nor did he think he was on his way back to England. But sometimes, just occasionally, it was better not to ask.
“Good luck, Alex,” he said. “Look after yourself.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The rest of the school party had been told that Alex had already left. Miss Bedfordshire had packed his bags for him, and everyone else had been too busy sorting out their own things to think about him any more. Only Tom knew that Alex was lying. They had been sharing a room in the hotel, and Alex’s passport was still on the bedside table. Acting on impulse, Tom had taken it with him. He had given Alex his brother’s address in Naples. There was still a chance he might show up there.
The scenery flashed past, as uninteresting as scenery nearly always becomes when seen through the grimy window of a train. Tom had parted
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