unit. He felt safe.
But then the academy loomed up below him, and once again he shivered. Before they had left, he had asked for a gun, but Wolf had shaken his head.
‚I’m sorry, Cub. It’s orders. You get us in, then you get out of sight.'
It was the same old story. When they needed him, he was a man. When he asked to protect himself, he was just a kid.
There were no lights showing in the building. The helicopter had arrived back from Paris, crouching on the helipad like a glittering insect. The ski jump stood to one side, dark and forgotten. There was nobody in sight. Wolf held up a hand and they sliced to a halt.
‚Guards?' he whispered.
‚Two patrolling. One on the roof.'
‚Let’s take him out first.'
Mrs. Jones had made her instructions absolutely clear. There was to be no bloodshed unless absolutely necessary. The mission was to get the boys out. The SAS could take care of Dr. Grief, Mrs. Stellenbosch, and the guards at a later date.
Now Wolf held out a hand and one of the other men passed him something. It was a crossbow—not the medieval sort but a sophisticated, high-tech weapon with a microflite aluminium barrel and laser scope. He loaded it with an anesthetic dart, lifted it up, and took aim. Alex saw him smile to himself. Then his finger curled and the dart flashed across the night, traveling at three hundred feet per second. There was a faint sound from the roof of the academy. It was as if someone had coughed. Wolf lowered the crossbow.
‚One down,' he said.
‚Sure,' Alex muttered. ‚And about twenty-nine to go.'
Wolf signaled and they continued down, more slowly now. They were about twenty yards from the school when they saw the main door open. Two men walked out, machine guns hanging from their shoulders. As one, the SAS men veered to the right, disappearing around the side of the school. They stopped within reach of the wall, dropping down to lie flat on their stomachs. Two of the men had moved slightly ahead. Alex noticed that they had kicked off their skis at the very same moment they had come to a halt.
The two guards approached. One of them was talking quietly in German. Alex’s face was half buried in the snow. He knew the combat clothes would make him invisible. He half lifted his head just in time to see two figures rise out of the ground like ghosts from the grave. Two blackjacks swung in the moonlight. The guards crumpled. In seconds they were tied up and gagged. They wouldn’t be going anywhere that night.
Wolf signaled again. The men got up and ran forward, making for the main door. Alex hastily pulled his own skis off and followed. They reached the door in a line, their backs against the wall. Wolf looked inside to make sure it was safe. He nodded. They went in.
They were back in the hall with the stone dragons and the animal heads. Alex found himself next to Wolf and quickly gave him his bearings, pointing out the different rooms.
‚The library?' Wolf whispered. He was totally serious now. Alex could see the tension in his eyes.
‚Through here.'
Wolf took a step forward, then crouched down, his hand whipping into one of the pouches of his jacket. Another guard had appeared, patrolling the lower corridor. Dr. Grief was taking no more chances. Wolf waited until the man had gone past and then nodded. One of the other SAS men went after him. Alex heard a thud and the soft clatter of a gun dropping.
‚So far so good,' Wolf whispered.
They went into the library. Alex showed Wolf how to summon the elevator, and Wolf whistled softly as the suit of armor smoothly divided into two parts. ‚This is quite a place,' he muttered.
‚Are you going up or down?'
‚Down. Let’s make sure the kids are all right.'
There was just room for all seven of them in the elevator. Alex had warned Wolf about the guard at the table, in sight of the elevator, and Wolf took no chances: he came out firing. In fact, two guards were there. One of them was holding a mug of coffee while the other lit a cigarette.
Wolf fired twice. Two more anesthetic darts traveled the short distance along the corridor and found their targets. Again, it had all happened in almost total silence. The two guards collapsed and lay still. The SAS men stepped out into the corridor.
Suddenly Alex remembered. He was angry with himself for not mentioning it before. ‚You can’t go into the cells,' he whispered. ‚They’re wired up for sound.'
Wolf nodded. ‚Show me!'
Alex showed Wolf the passage with the steel-lined doors. Wolf pointed to two of the men. ‚I want you to stay here. If we’re found, this is the first place Grief will come.'
The men nodded. They understood. The rest of them went back to the elevator, up to the library, and out into the hall.
Wolf turned to Alex. ‚We’re going to have to deactivate the system,' he explained. ‚Do you have any idea …?'
‚This way. Grief’s private rooms are on the other side.'
But before he could finish, three more guards appeared, walking down the passageway.
Wolf shot one of them another anesthetic dart—and one of his men took out the other two. But this time they were a fraction of a second too slow. Alex saw one of the guards bring his gun around. He was probably unconscious before he managed to fire. But at the last moment, his finger tightened on the trigger. Bullets sprayed upward, smashing into the ceiling, bringing plaster and wood splinters showering down. Nobody had been hit, but the damage had been done. The lights flashed on. Once again, the alarm began to ring.
Twenty yards away, a door opened and more guards poured through.
‚Down!' Wolf shouted.
He had produced a grenade. He tugged the pin out and threw it. Alex hit the ground, and a second later there was a soft explosion as a great cloud of tear gas filled the far end of the passage. The guards staggered, blind and helpless. The SAS men quickly took them out.
Wolf grabbed hold of him and dragged him close. ‚Find somewhere to hide!' he shouted.
‚You’ve got us in. We’ll do the rest now.'
‚Give me a gun!' Alex shouted back. Some of the gas had reached him, and he could feel his eyes burning.
‚No. I’ve got orders. At the first sign of trouble, you’re to get out of the way. Find somewhere safe. We’ll come for you later.'
‚Wolf!'
But Wolf was already up and running. Alex heard machinegun fire coming from somewhere below. So Wolf had been right. One of the guards had been sent to take care of the prisoners—but there had been two SAS men waiting for him. And now the rules had changed.
The SAS couldn’t afford to risk the lives of the prisoners. There was going to be bloodshed. Alex could only imagine the battle that must be taking place. But he was to be no part of it. His job was to hide.
More explosions. More gunfire. There was a bitter taste in Alex’s mouth as he made his way back to the stairs. It was typical of MI6. Half the time they would happily get him killed. The other half they treated him like a child. A guard appeared suddenly, running toward the sound of the fighting. Alex’s eyes were still smarting from the gas, and now he made use of it. He brought his hand up to his face, pretending to cry. The guard saw a fourteen-year-old boy in tears. He stopped. At that moment Alex twisted around on his left foot, driving the upper part of his right foot sideways into the man’s stomach—the roundhouse kick or mawashi-geri he had learned in karate. The guard didn’t even have time to cry out. His eyes rolled and he went limp. Alex felt a little better after that.
But there was still nothing more for him to do. There was another round of gunfire, then the quiet blast of a second gas grenade. Alex went into the dining room. From here he could look out through the windows at the side of the building and the helipad above. He noticed that the blades of the helicopter were turning. Somebody was inside it! He moved closer to the window.