Read Online Skeleton Key by Anthony Horowitz - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Anthony Horowitz
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if you hurt one of them, you hurt them all.
And if one of them becomes your enemy, they all do.”
“You attack one of their people at Wimbledon,” Blunt rasped, “they send another down to Cornwall.”
“You take out their man in Cornwall, the order goes out to the other members of the triad to kill you,” Mrs Jones said.
“How many other members are there?” Alex asked. “About nineteen thousand at the last count,”
Blunt replied.
There was a long silence, punctured only by the distant traffic sixteen floors below.
“Every minute you stay in this country, you‟re in danger,” Mrs Jones said. “And there‟s not a great deal we can do. Of course, we have some influence with the triads. If we let the right people know that you‟re protected by us, it may be possible to call them off. But that‟s going to take time and the fact of the matter is, they‟re probably working on the next plan of attack right now.”
“You can‟t go home,” Blunt said. “You can‟t go back to school. You can‟t go anywhere on your own. That woman who looks after you, the housekeeper, we‟ve already arranged for her to be sent out of London. We can‟t take any chances.”
“So what am I meant to do?” Alex asked. Mrs Jones glanced at Blunt, who nodded. Neither of them looked particularly concerned and he suddenly realized that things had worked out exactly as they wanted. Somehow, without knowing it, he had played right into their hands.
“By coincidence, Alex,” Mrs Jones began, “a few days ago we had a request for your services. It came from an American intelligence service. The Central Intelligence Agency—or CIA as you probably know them. They need a young person for an operation they happen to be mounting and they wondered if you might be available.”
Alex was surprised. MI6 had used him twice and both times they had stressed that nobody was to know. Now, it seemed, they had been boasting about their teenage spy. Worse than that, they had even been preparing to lend him out, like a library book.
As if reading his mind, Mrs Jones raised a hand. “We had told them, of course, that you had no wish to continue in this line of work,” she said. “That was, after all, what you had told us. A schoolboy, not a spy. That‟s what you said. But it does seem now that everything has changed.
I‟m sorry, Alex, but for whatever reason, you‟ve chosen to go back into the field and unfortunately you‟re in danger. You have to disappear. This might be the best way.”
“You want me to go to America?” Alex asked. “Not exactly America,” Blunt cut in. “We want you to go to Cuba … or, at least, to an island just a few miles south of Cuba. It‟s called Cayo Esqueleto. That‟s Spanish. It means—”
“Skeleton Key,” Alex said. “That‟s right. Of course, there are plenty of keys off the coast of America. You‟ll have heard of Key Largo and Key West. This one was discovered by Sir Francis Drake. The story goes that when he landed there, the place was uninhabited. But he found a single skeleton, a conquistador in full armour, sitting on the beach. That was how the island got its name. Anyway, no matter what it‟s called, it‟s actually a very beautiful place. A tourist resort.
Luxury hotels, diving, sailing… We‟re not asking you to do anything dangerous, Alex. Quite the contrary. You can think of this as a paid holiday. Two weeks in the sun.”
“Go on,” Alex said. He couldn‟t help sounding doubtful.
“The CIA is interested in Cayo Esqueleto because of a man who lives there. He‟s a Russian. He has a huge house—some might even call it a palace—on a sort of isthmus, that is to say, a narrow strip of land at the very northern tip of the island. His name is General Alexei Sarov.”
Blunt pulled a photograph out of the file and turned it round so that Alex could see. It showed a fit-looking man in military uniform. The picture had been taken in Red Square, Moscow. Alex could see the
And if one of them becomes your enemy, they all do.”
“You attack one of their people at Wimbledon,” Blunt rasped, “they send another down to Cornwall.”
“You take out their man in Cornwall, the order goes out to the other members of the triad to kill you,” Mrs Jones said.
“How many other members are there?” Alex asked. “About nineteen thousand at the last count,”
Blunt replied.
There was a long silence, punctured only by the distant traffic sixteen floors below.
“Every minute you stay in this country, you‟re in danger,” Mrs Jones said. “And there‟s not a great deal we can do. Of course, we have some influence with the triads. If we let the right people know that you‟re protected by us, it may be possible to call them off. But that‟s going to take time and the fact of the matter is, they‟re probably working on the next plan of attack right now.”
“You can‟t go home,” Blunt said. “You can‟t go back to school. You can‟t go anywhere on your own. That woman who looks after you, the housekeeper, we‟ve already arranged for her to be sent out of London. We can‟t take any chances.”
“So what am I meant to do?” Alex asked. Mrs Jones glanced at Blunt, who nodded. Neither of them looked particularly concerned and he suddenly realized that things had worked out exactly as they wanted. Somehow, without knowing it, he had played right into their hands.
“By coincidence, Alex,” Mrs Jones began, “a few days ago we had a request for your services. It came from an American intelligence service. The Central Intelligence Agency—or CIA as you probably know them. They need a young person for an operation they happen to be mounting and they wondered if you might be available.”
Alex was surprised. MI6 had used him twice and both times they had stressed that nobody was to know. Now, it seemed, they had been boasting about their teenage spy. Worse than that, they had even been preparing to lend him out, like a library book.
As if reading his mind, Mrs Jones raised a hand. “We had told them, of course, that you had no wish to continue in this line of work,” she said. “That was, after all, what you had told us. A schoolboy, not a spy. That‟s what you said. But it does seem now that everything has changed.
I‟m sorry, Alex, but for whatever reason, you‟ve chosen to go back into the field and unfortunately you‟re in danger. You have to disappear. This might be the best way.”
“You want me to go to America?” Alex asked. “Not exactly America,” Blunt cut in. “We want you to go to Cuba … or, at least, to an island just a few miles south of Cuba. It‟s called Cayo Esqueleto. That‟s Spanish. It means—”
“Skeleton Key,” Alex said. “That‟s right. Of course, there are plenty of keys off the coast of America. You‟ll have heard of Key Largo and Key West. This one was discovered by Sir Francis Drake. The story goes that when he landed there, the place was uninhabited. But he found a single skeleton, a conquistador in full armour, sitting on the beach. That was how the island got its name. Anyway, no matter what it‟s called, it‟s actually a very beautiful place. A tourist resort.
Luxury hotels, diving, sailing… We‟re not asking you to do anything dangerous, Alex. Quite the contrary. You can think of this as a paid holiday. Two weeks in the sun.”
“Go on,” Alex said. He couldn‟t help sounding doubtful.
“The CIA is interested in Cayo Esqueleto because of a man who lives there. He‟s a Russian. He has a huge house—some might even call it a palace—on a sort of isthmus, that is to say, a narrow strip of land at the very northern tip of the island. His name is General Alexei Sarov.”
Blunt pulled a photograph out of the file and turned it round so that Alex could see. It showed a fit-looking man in military uniform. The picture had been taken in Red Square, Moscow. Alex could see the
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