Ark Angel (23 page)

The chances of a piece of space junk hitting a populated area are relatively small. Even so, most astronomers would agree, it is an accident waiting to happen.

“Are you finding this hard to follow? I’ll make it easy for you. Imagine swinging a conker on a piece of string around your hand. If you slow down, the conker will fall and hit your hand. And there you have it.

The conker is the space station; your hand is the earth. It doesn’t take a great deal to cause one to crash into the other.

“And that is exactly what I intend to do.

“Tomorrow, when Gabriel 7 blasts off, it will be carrying a bomb which has been exactly timed and which must be exactly positioned within Ark Angel. Everything has been worked out on computers and the program is locked in. If you look at a map, you will find that Washington is positioned at around thirty-eight degrees north. The angle of inclination followed by Ark Angel—its flight path—is also thirty-eight degrees. This means that every time it orbits the earth, it passes directly over Washington.

“The bomb wilt go off two hours after Gabriel 7 has docked with Ark Angel—at exactly half past four. This will have the effect of knocking Ark Angel out of its orbit. The space station will begin to topple towards the earth. It will enter the earth’s atmospheric drag and after that things will begin to happen very quickly.

The more atmosphere that surrounds it, the faster it will fall. Soon it will be tumbling—out of control. Or that is how it will seem. In fact, I have secretly programmed what are known as de-orbit manoeuvres into Ark Angel. Although it will seem to be moving haphazardly, it will be as accurate as an independently targeted nuclear missile.

“Can you imagine it, Alex? Ark Angel weighs about seven hundred tonnes. Of course, much of it will burn up as it re-enters the earth’s atmosphere. But I estimate that about sixty per cent of it will survive. That’s about four hundred tonnes of molten steel, glass, beryllium and aluminium travelling at around fifteen thousand miles an hour. The Pentagon is the primary target. The building will be destroyed. All the people working there will die, and every last scrap of information will be incinerated. I rather suspect that the shock wave will destroy most of Washington too. The Capitol. The White House. The various monuments.

The parks. A shame, because I’ve always thought it a rather attractive city. But very little of it will be left.”

Alex closed his eyes. Jack Starbright was in Washington, visiting her parents. Maybe she would survive the hideous explosion that Drevin had planned. But thousands of people—hundreds of thousands—would not. Once again Alex found himself wondering how he had got himself into this. Had it really all begun with a doctor ordering him two weeks’ R & R?

“And now I must tell you about Force Three,” Drevin said.

“You don’t need to,” Alex replied. He had worked this part out for himself. “You need someone to take the blame. Force Three don’t exist. You invented them.”

“Exactly.” Drevin waved his glass at the four men standing near by. “I consider Force Three to be the most brilliant aspect of the entire operation. Obviously, if Ark Angel is sabotaged, if it falls on the Pentagon, I will be the main suspect. So I had to create a scapegoat. I had to make sure that I was above suspicion.

“I created Force Three. I hired the men you see here now. Under my instructions, they committed several acts of terrorism that seemed to be directed against capitalist concerns. They blew up a car manufacturing plant in Dakota, a factory in Japan, a GM research centre in New Zealand. I also paid a journalist working in Berlin and a lecturer in London to speak out against Force Three, to warn the world about them. I then promptly had them murdered. Do you see? I was creating the illusion of a ruthless group of eco-warriors who hated anyone involved in big business—and who particularly hated me.”

“You kidnapped your own son!” Alex exclaimed. At last the events at the hospital and Hornchurch Towers were beginning to make sense.

“I told you. I had to be seen to be above suspicion. The world had to believe that Force Three were my enemy. What sort of father would allow his own son to be kidnapped just days after an operation—”

“But they got it wrong,” Alex interrupted. “They took me instead of him.” He thought back to the time when he had been held prisoner and his head swam. “They were going to cut off Paul’s finger! Did you really order them to do that?”

“Of course.” For the first time, Drevin looked troubled. Alex could see him struggling with his emotions, forcing them down. “The threat had to be credible. If Paul had been maimed, nobody would have suspected that I had anything to do with it. And when Force Three attacked me here on Flamingo Bay, I would be the victim.”

“But that’s monstrous!” Alex protested. “He’s your son!”

“Maybe a little pain would have toughened him up,” Drevin retorted. “The boy is too soft. And one day he is going to inherit billions. The whole world will be his. Is one little finger too much to ask in return?”

“It must be great having you as a dad!” Alex sneered.

“You will die very painfully if you continue to speak to me in that way!” Drevin finished his brandy. He was suddenly flushed and out of breath. “The only mistake I made was not providing Kaspar with a photograph of Paul. We knew his room number; we knew there would be no security at the hospital. How could we know that another boy—you—would decide to get involved?”

“Is that why you tried to kill me in the fire?” Alex asked.

“No.” Drevin shook his head. “We needed you alive. That was the whole point. Paul had been saved from his ordeal but we still needed someone to tell the world that it was Force Three behind the kidnap attempt.

Killing you would have been no use to us at all. You were meant to escape. There was a chair in the room so that you could climb up through the ceiling and over the wall into the corridor. The fire was deliberately started away from the stairwell so that you could get out of the building.”

“But one of your people was waiting for me with a gun.” Alex looked at the man he knew only as Combat Jacket. This was the man who had shot the night receptionist at the hospital. He was gazing at Alex with watery eyes that were too small and too close to his broken nose.

Drevin was obviously hearing this for the first time. “Is this true?” he asked.

“He’s lying,” Combat Jacket said. It was the first time he had spoken. “I let him go like you said. I never went near him.”

Alex understood. He’d humiliated Combat Jacket. And the man had disobeyed orders to get his revenge.

He was the one who was lying. It was obvious to everyone there; they could hear it in his voice.

Drevin shrugged. “It makes no difference,” he said, and Combat Jacket relaxed. “You may be wondering why Force Three have come to the island, Alex. It’s because I have one last use for them. The launch is timed for nine o’clock tomorrow morning. The bomb will go off at half past four in the afternoon. And as Ark Angel comes crashing down on Washington, a fight will break out here on Flamingo Bay. Intruders will have been discovered. My men will shoot to kill. And when the authorities come calling and the investigation begins, I will be able to give them the final proof that Force Three were responsible. You have described the men who kidnapped you, Alex. Tomorrow their bullet-ridden bodies will be on display.”

Now it was Silver Tooth who spoke. Spectacles and Steel Watch were also looking uneasy. “How are you going to fake that?” he asked.

Drevin smiled. “Who said I was going to fake it?”

The chatter of gunfire was so loud and so close that Alex nearly toppled over in the chair. The four fake terrorists didn’t stand a chance. They were dead before they could react, blown off their feet onto the cold concrete floor. Alex twisted round. Magnus Payne was holding one of the Mini Uzis. There was a dreadful smile on his face. A cloud of smoke hovered around his hands.

“You’re insane!” Alex spat out the words without knowing what he was saying. “You’re never going to get away with it! They’ll know it was you…”

“They may well suspect it was me, but it’s going to be almost impossible to prove,” Drevin retorted. “I’m afraid I’m the victim in all this.”

“But what about me? What about Tamara? If you kill us, the CIA will come after you!”

“The CIA are already after me. What difference will another couple of bodies make? I’m afraid you and Miss Knight wilt be found on the beach. Accidentally caught in the crossfire. A terrible shame. But not my fault.”

“And what about Kaspar?” Why had Alex thought of him? He was the one piece missing from this crazy jigsaw. If Force Three had been working for Drevin all along, then so had Kaspar. But where was he?

“Show him,” Drevin ordered.

Magnus Payne put down the sub-machine gun. He reached up and took hold of his ginger hair. A wig. He pulled it off, then ripped at his skin. Alex should have recognized the latex. He had recently worn a similar disguise himself. He watched in dismay as the head of security seemed to tear his own face apart and the dreadful tattoos appeared underneath. In just a few seconds the magic trick was complete. Magnus Payne was gone; Kaspar stood in his place.

“The tattoos were rather painful and unpleasant,” Drevin commented. “But we had to create a terrorist leader people would remember. I’d say we succeeded, wouldn’t you?”

Alex felt utterly defeated. He remembered now his first meeting with Payne on Flamingo Bay. The head of security had disguised his voice, of course. But even so, Alex had been sure he’d seen him somewhere before. And Payne had known immediately who he was. Both he and Paul had been in the buggy when Drevin introduced them, and Payne was supposed to be meeting them both for the first time. But he had known immediately which was which. Of course. He had recognized Alex.

“We’ll arrange the bodies on the beach after the launch,” Drevin said to Kaspar. “And we’ll add the boy and the woman then.” He put down his glass and stood up. “Goodbye, Alex. I enjoyed meeting you very much. I would have liked to get to know you better. But I’m afraid we’ve reached the end.”

He tugged at his ring one last time as if there was something he had forgotten to say. The men who had pretended to be Force Three, and whose names Alex would never know, lay sprawled on the floor.

Kaspar stepped forward and grabbed hold of the chair. Alex was helpless as his chair was tilted backwards and he was dragged away.

Kaspar drove Alex across the compound to a flat, rectangular building with barred windows and a door with steps leading down, just below the level of the ground. Alex could no longer think of the other man as Magnus Payne. Drevin’s head of security hadn’t bothered to replace his wig or mask, and even in the darkness the hideous map of the world still glowed livid on his skin. Alex wondered how much he had been paid to disfigure himself. Whatever the sum, it would probably cost him just as much one day to pay for the laser surgery to remove the tattoos.

Alex had been untied from the wooden chair but his hands were still bound. As they got out of the buggy, he tested the wire, attempting to find some slack. It seemed to him that, given time, he might be able to free himself. Not that it would do him much good. The building in front of him looked like a prison. And Kaspar knew what he was capable of. He wasn’t going to make any more mistakes.

They went down the steps into a large area filled with electronic equipment, computers and workstations.

A model of a space probe—gleaming steel with circuitry spilling everywhere—took up most of the room.

Alex noticed two sets of what looked like tracksuits hanging on a rail. They both had the Ark Angel logo stitched onto the sleeve. He supposed they must be the outfits worn by astronauts.

“This way,” Kaspar grunted. He gestured with his gun towards another flight of stairs leading down.

Alex obeyed and found himself in a wide corridor with two solid-looking cages on either side. As he stepped forward, he heard a screeching and jabbering from the first cage, and to his surprise an orang-utan bounded towards him, crashing its fists against the bars. Then he remembered. Drevin had said he was planning to send an ape into space—some sort of endurance experiment.

“Meet Arthur,” Kaspar said. There was an ugly smile on his face.

“Is he any relation?” Alex asked.

The remark earned him a sharp jab with the gun. But the pain was quickly forgotten. He had looked into the next cage and seen Tamara Knight, still very pale but alive. She smiled at Alex but said nothing while Kaspar opened the door of the cage opposite.

“In here,” he ordered.

Alex had no choice. He stepped inside and waited while Kaspar locked the door behind him. He looked around. The cage was about two metres square. The bars were solid steel. The lock was brand new. Alex had no gadgets on him and his hands were still tied. He was going nowhere.

Kaspar removed the key and slipped it into his pocket. “I’ll leave the three of you together.” He glanced at his watch. It was almost one o’clock in the morning. “You’ll hear the rocket launch,” he said. “And as soon as it’s gone, someone’ll come for you. They’ll take you to the beach and that’ll be the end.” The corner of West Africa twisted in a grimace of pure hatred.

Alex had seen it all before. The bigger the criminals, the more they resented being beaten by a teenager.

And Alex had beaten Kaspar twice. “I’m just sorry I won’t be the one holding the gun,” Kaspar went on.

“But I’ll be thinking of you. I hope it won’t be too quick.”

He walked away. Alex heard his footsteps on the stairs. The main door opened and closed. Arthur the orang-utan stalked to the back of his cage and sat down.

“Charming guy,” Tamara muttered.

“Tamara, are you OK?” Alex had been worried about her, and he was relieved to see her now.

“I’ve been better,” she admitted. “Was that Magnus Payne just now?”

Alex nodded.

“I thought I recognized his voice. What happened to his head?”

Alex told her. He also told her about his meeting in the hangar and Drevin’s plan to destroy Washington.