Ark Angel

was unravelling beneath him. But it was still attached to the rooftop just a few metres above his head. Alex waited until he was sure nothing else was moving. Then, painfully, he began to pull himself up.
    Two of the firemen had managed to reach the roof. They were standing there, watching as the building opposite completed its spectacular collapse. They heard a noise and looked down. A boy had just crawled up over the edge, right by their feet. His shirt was in rags, and a few tattered bandages trailed from his chest. His face and hands were covered in soot. His hair was black with sweat.
    “What the…?” They grabbed hold of him and pulled him to safety.
    Alex sat down heavily. He gazed at the remains of the building where he had been held prisoner. There was very little of it left. Sparks leapt into the darkening sky.
    “Nice night for a walk,” he said, and passed out.

R&R

    Jack Starbright made the best scrambled eggs in the world. The secret, she said, was to use only free-range eggs, mix them with unsalted butter and a little milk—and then get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible. She didn’t enjoy cooking and only used recipes that could be prepared in less than ten minutes.
    This breakfast, for example, would go from fridge to table in exactly eight and a half.
    She heaped the eggs onto two plates, added grilled bacon, tomatoes and toast, and carried them over to the kitchen table where Alex Rider was waiting. It was eleven o’clock in the morning and the two of them were back in the house in Chelsea where Alex had once lived with his uncle. Jack had first come there as a student, paying for her room by looking after Alex while Ian Rider was away. Gradually she had become a sort of housekeeper.
    Now she was Alex’s legal guardian and also his best friend.

    Alex was wearing tracksuit trousers and a loose T-shirt; his hair was still wet from the shower. Two days had passed since his confrontation with Force Three and he was already looking a lot like his old self—
    although Jack noticed that he was still massaging his left arm. She put the plates down and poured two mugs of tea. Neither of them spoke.
    Alex had been taken straight back to hospital after his dramatic escape. None of the firemen could believe what they had seen, and assumed they had been sent to rescue someone who had trained at the circus.
    Once again, MI6 had been forced to clamp down on the press reports. Photographs of Alex on the wire had appeared in newspapers all over the world, but he had been too far away to be recognized and his name was kept out of it. An ambulance had rushed him away before any journalists arrived, and by ten o’clock that night he was back in his old bed at St Dominic’s. He fell asleep at once.
    The next morning, he was woken by the nurse—Diana Meacher—coming into his room.
    “How are you feeling?” she asked.
    “Tired,” Alex replied.
    “Was that really you on the roof? I saw it on the news last night.” She went over to the window and raised the blinds. “Everyone’s talking about it—although we’ve all been told we’re not allowed to.” She came back to the bed and slipped a thermometer into his mouth. “And those men who broke in! We all know what you did and we think you’re incredibly brave.”
    “ ‘Ank you,” Alex said with difficulty. “I’d watch out, though, if I were you. Dr Hayward’s hopping mad.
    He says he didn’t spend hours operating on you just for you to get nearly killed a second time. He’ll be here shortly.” She removed the thermometer and examined it. “Your temperature’s normal, though I’d say it’s the only thing about you that is!”

    Later that morning, Dr Hayward came in and he certainly seemed less than cheerful. He gave Alex a thorough check-up, starting with his blood pressure and pulse rate and moving on to examine his wound.
    He barely spoke a word as he did it.
    “It’s lucky that you keep yourself fit,” he remarked at last. He looked and spoke like a long-suffering headmaster. “All those shenanigans could have caused you serious damage, but it looks as if your stitches have held and you’re generally in one piece.”
    “When can I go home?”
    “We’ll just keep you here until the end of the day. I’m afraid the people you work for want to speak to you.”
    “I don’t work for anyone,” Alex said.
    “Well … you know who I mean. Anyway, there’s always a chance your system will react against the