Point Blanc (22 page)

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. It was Dr. Grief! He had
to let Wolf know.

He turned
around.

Mrs. Stellenbosch
was standing in front of him.

He had never
seen her look less human. Her entire face was contorted with anger, her lips
rolled outward, her eyes ablaze.

"You
didn't die!" she exclaimed. "You're still alive!"
Her voice was almost a whine, as if somehow none of it had been fair.
"You brought them here. You've ruined everything!"

"That's
what I'm paid for," Alex said.

"What
was it that made me look in here?" Mrs. Stellenbosch giggled to
herself. Alex could almost see the sanity slipping out of her. "Well, at
least this is one bit of business I'm finally going to be able to
finish."

Alex tensed
himself, feet apart, gravity center low, just like he had been taught. But it
was useless. Mrs. Stellenbosch lurched into him, moving with frightening
speed. It was like being run over by a bus. Alex felt the full impact of her
body weight, then cried out as two massive hands seized hold of him and threw
him headfirst across the room. He crashed into a table, knocking it over, then
rolled out of the way as Mrs. Stellenbosch followed up her first attack,
lashing out with a kick that would have taken his head off his shoulders if it
hadn't missed by less than an inch.

He scrambled
to his feet and stood there, panting for breath. For a moment his vision was
blurred. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Mrs. Stellenbosch
charged again. Alex threw himself forward, using another of the tables for
leverage. His feet swung around, scything through the air, both his heels
catching her on the back of the head.

Anyone else
would have been knocked out by the blow. But although Alex felt the jolt of it
running all the way up his body, Mrs. Stellenbosch hardly faltered. As
Alex left the table, her hands swung down, smashing through the thick wood. The
table fell apart and she walked through it, grabbing him again, this time by
the neck. Alex felt his feet leave the floor. With a grunt she hurled him
against the wall. Alex yelled, wondering if his back had been broken. He slid
to the floor. He couldn't move.

Mrs. Stellenbosch
stopped, breathing heavily. She glanced out the window. The helicopter's
blades were at full speed now. The helicopter rocked forward then slowly rose
into the air. It was time to go.

She reached
down and picked up her handbag. She took out a gun and aimed at Alex. Alex
stared at her. There was nothing he could do.

Mrs. Stellenbosch
smiled. "And this is what I am paid for," she said.

The dining
room door swung open.

"Alex!"
It was Wolf. He was holding a machine gun.

Mrs. Stellenbosch
lifted the gun up and fired three shots. Each one of them hit its target. Wolf
was hit in the shoulder, the arm, and the chest. But even as he fell back, he
opened fire himself. The heavy bullets slammed into Mrs. Stellenbosch. She
was hurled backward into the window, which smashed behind her. With a scream
she disappeared into the night and the snow, headfirst, her heavy, stockinged
legs trailing behind.

The shock of
what had happened gave Alex new strength. He got to his feet and ran over to
Wolf. The SAS man wasn't dead, but he was badly hurt, his breath
rattling.

"I'm
okay," he managed to say. "Came looking for you. Glad I found
you."

"Wolf..."

"Okay."
He tapped at his chest and Alex saw that he was wearing body armor under his
jacket. There was blood coming from his arm, but the other two bullets
hadn't reached him. "Grief..." he said.

Wolf
gestured, and Alex looked around. The helicopter had left its launchpad. It was
flying low outside the academy. Alex saw Dr. Grief in the pilot's seat.
He had a gun. He fired. There was a yell, and a body fell from somewhere above.
One of the SAS men.

Suddenly Alex
was angry. Grief was a freak, a monster. He was responsible for all
this--and he was going to get away. Not knowing what he was doing, he
snatched up Wolf's gun and ran through the broken window, past the dead
body of Mrs. Stellenbosch and into the night. He tried to aim. The blades of
the helicopter were whipping up the surface snow, blinding him, but he pointed
the gun up and fired. Nothing happened. He pulled the trigger again. Still
nothing. Either Wolf had used all his ammunition or the gun had jammed.

Dr. Grief
pulled at the controls and the helicopter banked away, following the slope of
the mountain. It was too late. Nothing could stop him.

Unless
...

Alex threw
down the gun and ran forward. There was a snowmobile lying idle a few yards
away, its engine still running. The man who had been riding it was lying
facedown in the snow. Alex leapt onto the seat and turned the throttle full on.
The snowmobile roared away, skimming over the ice, following the path of the
helicopter.

Dr. Grief saw
him. The helicopter slowed and turned. Grief raised a hand, waving good-bye.
Alex caught sight of the red glasses, the slender fingers raised in one last
gesture of defiance. With his hands gripping the handlebars, Alex stood up on
the foot grips, tensing himself for what he knew he had to do. The helicopter
moved away again, gaining altitude. In front of Alex loomed the ski jump. He
was traveling at seventy, eighty miles per hour, snow and wind rushing past
him. Ahead of him there was a wooden barrier, shaped like a cross.

Alex smashed
through it, then threw himself off.

The
snowmobile plunged down, its engine screaming.

Alex rolled
over and over in the snow, ice and wood splinters in his eyes and mouth. He
managed to get to his knees.

The
snowmobile reached the end of the ski jump.

Alex watched it
rocket into the air, propelled by the huge metal slide.

In the
helicopter, Dr. Grief just had time to see five hundred pounds of solid steel
come hurtling toward him out of the night, its headlights blazing, its engine
still screaming. His eyes, bright red, opened wide in shock. The makeshift
torpedo hit its target full-on. Point-blank.