Ark Angel

of space tourism, the greatest adventure of our lifetime. A hundred years from now, it will not only be possible to travel to the edge of the universe, it will be cheap! Maybe one day your great-grandchildren will walk on the moon. And they will remember that it all began with Ark Angel. It all began here.”
    Another hand went up. “How is your son? Does it concern you that the people who tried to kidnap him are still at large?”
    Jack nudged Alex. They had arrived at the right time.
    “I do not normally speak about my family,” Drevin replied. “But I will say this. These people—Force Three
    —claim they are fighting for the environment. It is true that the wildlife on Flamingo Bay was disturbed when we launched our first rockets, and I very much regret that. But I have only contempt for these people.
    They tried to extort money from me. They are common criminals and I have every confidence that the British or European police will soon bring them to justice.”
    “Absolutely!” agreed the minister.
    “We have time for just one more question,” the second man said.

    A bearded man sitting in the front row raised a nicotine-stained finger. “I have a question,” he said. “I’ve heard rumours that the federal government of the United States is currently investigating Mr Drevin.
    Apparently they’re looking into certain financial irregularities. Is there any truth in that?”
    “Mr Drevin is not here to answer questions about his personal affairs.” The civil servant scowled and the minister nodded.
    Drevin cut in. “It’s all right.” He didn’t seem concerned. He looked the journalist straight in the eye. “I am a businessman,” he said. “I am, you might agree, a fairly successful businessman.” That produced a few smiles. Everyone in the room was aware that they were being addressed by one of the richest people in the world. “It is absolutely true that the CIA are looking into my affairs. It would be surprising if they weren’t.
    It’s their job. But…”—he spread his hands—“I have nothing to hide; indeed, I am willing to offer them my full cooperation.” He paused. “It is possible that they will find some irregularities. I went out to lunch last week and forgot to keep the receipt. If they decide to prosecute me because of it, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”
    This time there was real laughter and even a scattering of applause. The man with the beard blushed and buried himself in his notebook. The other journalists stood up and began to file out. The press conference was over.
    “He’s such a brilliant speaker,” Tamara Knight said, and Alex couldn’t doubt the enthusiasm in her voice.
    She led Alex and Jack back the way they’d come, then across the atrium and over to one of the lifts. Once inside, she produced a key. The building had twenty-five storeys; the key activated the button for the top floor.
    The doors closed and they were whisked upwards at speed. Alex felt his stomach sink as the atrium disappeared beneath them. Twenty floors up, the lift entered a solid shaft and the view was blocked.
    Another few seconds and they slowed down. The lift stopped and the doors slid open.

    They had arrived.
    They were in a huge room with windows on two sides giving breathtaking views over St Katharine’s Dock, the yachts and cruisers resting at their moorings far below. Tower Bridge was close by. It looked unreal, a toy replica, sitting in the afternoon sun. Alex looked around him. The room was simply but expensively furnished with three Persian rugs spread over light wood floorboards. The furniture was modern. On one side stood a dining-room table with a dozen leather chairs. A corridor ran past a black Bechstein grand piano to a closed door at the end. There was a sunken area in the middle of the room with three oversized sofas and a glass coffee table. Tea—sandwiches and biscuits—had already been served.
    “Quite a place!” Jack said.
    “This is where Mr Drevin stays when he’s in London.” Tamara Knight pointed out of one window. “You see the boat third from the left? The Crimean Star. That belongs to him too.”
    Jack gasped. The vessel was gleaming white, the size of a small ocean liner. “Have you been on board?” she asked.
    “Certainly not. My work with Mr Drevin doesn’t allow me to enter his private quarters,” she explained primly.
    Just then the door at the end of the corridor opened and Nikolei Drevin came in. It occurred to