Ark Angel

twenty-four hours a day at Neverglade, had said he needed a day’s rest. And so Alex found himself alone with Drevin in the back of the car as they were driven down the motorway to London.
    “You have no parents,” Drevin said suddenly.
    “No. They both died when I was very young.”
    “I’m sorry. An accident?”
    “A plane crash.” It was easy for Alex to repeat the lie that MI6 had been telling him all his life.
    “You have no relations?”
    “No. Just Jack. She looks after me.”
    “That is very unusual. But then it seems to me that you are an unusual boy. It would be interesting, I think, to have a son like you.” Drevin looked out of the window. “How are you getting on with Paul?” he asked.
    “Fine.”
    “He likes you.” Drevin was still looking away, avoiding Alex’s eye. “I wish that he was a little more like you. He seems so … aimless.”
    “Maybe he’d be happier if you let him go to an ordinary school,” Alex said.
    “That is not possible.”
    “Do you really think he’s in any danger?”

    “He is my son.” Drevin spoke the words with no emotion at all. He had summed Paul up. There was nothing else to say. He forced a thin smile to his lips. “But enough of that,” he went on. “My team will beat your team. That is all that matters today.”
    An hour later, they turned onto the Fulham Road and were forced to drive at a snail’s pace through the thousands of people who were arriving for the game, the Chelsea fans in blue, the Stratford East supporters in red and black. Alex was glad that Drevin’s Rolls-Royce had tinted windows. Nobody could look in. He had come to Stamford Bridge a hundred times on foot and he’d always loved the sense of belonging, that moment when he became part of the crowd battling its way through rain or snow in the hope of seeing a home win. This was too comfortable, too isolated. He would have felt embarrassed if anyone had seen him.
    They turned into the complex of hotels, restaurants and health clubs that had come to be known as Chelsea Village, then swept away from the fans, following a narrow passageway to the west stand. The car stopped in front of a revolving door with the words MILLENNIUM RECEPTION in silver above. They got out.
    Drevin had become more tense the closer they got to London. His eyes and mouth were three narrow slits and he was twisting his ring in short, jerky movements.
    “Here is Miss Knight,” he said, and Alex saw Tamara Knight, the over-efficient personal secretary he had met at the Waterfront Hotel. She was still dressed smartly in a jacket and shirt, even though she was at a football match. Alex noticed she was wearing black and red earrings: at least she hadn’t completely forgotten her team colours.
    “Good afternoon, Mr Drevin. Alex…” She nodded at both of them. “Lunch is being served on the third floor. I have your passes.” She gave them two security passes marked ALL ACCESS + T.
    “What does the T stand for?” Alex asked.

    “I presume it means you can go through the tunnel,” Tamara explained. She sounded uninterested. “In fact you can go anywhere you like, except onto the pitch.” She turned to Mr Drevin. “Good luck this afternoon,” she said.
    “Thank you, Miss Knight.”
    They went into what could have been the foyer of a very smart health club, with a dark wooden desk, a turnstile and a wide corridor with two oversized lifts. A uniformed security guard and a receptionist watched them as Tamara called the lift. They travelled up to the third floor in silence.
    Alex realized that he was entering hallowed ground. This was where the directors, chairmen, managers and corporate sponsors came. Normally he wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near.
    Yet still he felt ill at ease. Drevin might have forgotten the kart race but he hadn’t. It seemed to Alex that the more he learnt about him, the less attractive he became. An absolutely wonderful man. That was how Crawley had described him. Well, MI6 had said much the same about Damian Cray. Alex knew that Drevin was a bad loser, and he had dark feelings about this match which he couldn’t shake off.
    “How are you enjoying your stay with Mr Drevin?” Tamara asked suddenly.
    “It’s fine.”
    “I hope you’re keeping out of trouble.”
    Was she trying to tell him something? Alex examined the attractive blue eyes, but they were giving nothing away.
    The lift doors opened and they walked out into a corridor lined with dark wooden panels,