Ark Angel

looked out over a wide north London street lined with trees. His room was on the second floor, one of about a dozen arranged in a ring around a bright and modern reception area. In the early days after his operation, there had been flowers everywhere, but Alex had asked for them to be taken away. They’d reminded him of a funeral parlour and he had decided he preferred being alive.
    But there were still cards. He had received more than twenty and he’d been surprised how many people had heard that he’d been hurt—and how many had sent a card. There had been a dozen from school: one from the head; one from Miss Bedfordshire, the school secretary; and several from his friends. Tom Harris had sent him some photos taken on their trip to Venice and a note: They told us it’s appendicitis but I bet it isn’t. Get well soon anyway.
    Tom was the only person at Brookland who knew the truth about Alex.
    Sabina Pleasure had somehow discovered he was in hospital and had sent him a card from San Francisco.
    She was enjoying life in America but missed England, she said. She was hoping to come over for Christmas. Jack Starbright had sent him the biggest card in the room and had followed it up with chocolates, magazines and energy drinks, visiting him twice a day. There was even a card from the prime minister’s office—although it seemed the prime minister had been too busy to sign it.
    And there had been cards from MI6. One from Mrs Jones, another from Alan Blunt (a printed message with a single word—BLUNT—signed in green ink as if it were a memorandum not a get well card). Alex had been surprised and pleased to receive a card from Wolf, the soldier he had met while training with the SAS.
    The postmark showed it had been mailed in Baghdad. But his favourite had been sent by Smithers. On the front was a teddy bear. There was no message inside, but when Alex opened the card, the teddy bear’s eyes blinked and it began to talk.

    “Alex—very sorry to hear you’ve been hurt.” The bear was speaking with Smithers’ voice. “Hope you get better soon, old chap. Just take it easy—I’m sure you deserve a rest. Oh, and by the way, this card will self-destruct in five seconds.”
    Sure enough, to the horror of the nurses, the card had immediately burst into flames.
    As well as cards, there had been visitors. Mrs Jones had been the first.
    Alex had only just come round after surgery when she appeared. He had never seen the deputy head of Special Operations looking quite so unsure of herself. She was wearing a charcoal-grey raincoat which hung open to reveal a dark suit underneath. Her hair was wet and raindrops glistened on her shoulders.
    “I don’t quite know what to say to you, Alex,” she began. She hadn’t asked him how she was. She would have already got that from the doctors. “What happened to you in Liverpool Street was an unforgivable lapse of security. Too many people know the location of our headquarters. We’re going to stop using the main entrance. It’s too dangerous.”
    Alex shifted uncomfortably in the bed but said nothing.
    “Your condition is stable. I can’t tell you how relieved I am personally. When I heard you’d been shot, I…”
    She stopped herself. Her black eyes looked down, taking in the tubes and wires attached to the boy lying in front of her, feeding into his arm, nose, mouth and stomach. “I know you can’t talk now,” she went on. “So I’ll be brief.
    “You are safe here. We’ve used St Dominic’s before, and there are certain procedures being followed. There are guards outside your room. There’ll be someone there twenty-four hours a day as long as necessary.
    “The shooting in Liverpool Street was reported in the press but your name was kept out of it. Your age too.
    The sniper who fired at you had taken a position on the roof opposite. We’re still investigating how he managed to get up there without being detected—and I’m afraid we’ve been unable to find him. But right now, your safety is our primary concern. We can talk to Scorpia. As you know, we’ve had dealings with them in the past. I’m sure I can persuade them to leave you alone. You destroyed their operation, Alex, and they punished you. But enough is enough.”
    She stopped. Alex’s heart monitor pulsed softly in the dim light.
    “Please try not to think too badly of us,” she added. “After everything you’ve been through—Scorpia, your father… I will never forgive myself for what