Ark Angel

blasting into the sky, flame scorching out of its base, rising as if on a cushion of smoke. It was ten miles away, tiny, but even so Alex could sense its awesome power and majesty.
    He watched as it disappeared, effortlessly penetrating the upper atmosphere.
    He was too late. Gabriel 7 had been launched.
    The bomb that was going to bring Ark Angel crashing down onto Washington was on its way.

THE RED BUTTON

    It sometimes seemed to Alex that the whole universe was against him. Getting away from Flamingo Bay had almost killed him. It had been an exhausting struggle against time, the elements and Drevin’s firepower.
    And now he was going back.
    It was the CIA agent, Ed Shulsky, who had made it happen.
    “Alex, you know the place. I need you to tell me where they’re holding Tamara. You can give me the layout of the island. Anyway, we don’t have much time. You saw for yourself. The rocket is on its way, and if what you’ve told me is true…”
    “It is.” Alex felt a spurt of annoyance. Why should the American doubt, even for a moment, what he had said? Was it perhaps because he was only fourteen?
    Shulsky noticed his reaction. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. But this plan of his, Ark Angel …
    Washington…” He shook his head. “It’s beyond anything we could have imagined. And that’s why we have to take him out. Right now. We don’t have time to drop you off.”
    “But you’re too late,” Alex argued. “Gabriel 7 has gone. What are you going to do? Shoot it down?”
    Shulsky smiled. “There’s no need for that. All we have to do is find the red button.” Alex looked puzzled.
    “The self-destruct! If something went wrong with the launch, Drevin would have had to have a fallback.
    We’ll be able to blow it up before it gets anywhere near Ark Angel.”

    Alex was standing at the bow of the armour-plated Mark V Special Operations Craft, the sleek, streamlined vessel used primarily to carry SEAL combat swimmers into operations. It was equipped with 7.62mm Gatling guns and Stinger missiles and the dozen men had been drafted in from the Special Operations Force, fully armed and ready to invade the island.
    He was wearing combat clothes that were a little too big for him; someone had found a spare set on board.
    Now he watched as the island drew closer, the familiar landmarks coming into focus. The strange thing was, deep inside, he knew that he would have wanted to come back, even if Shulsky hadn’t made any argument pointless. Tamara Knight was waiting for him. And then there was Paul Drevin. Alex wanted a chance to explain himself. He still felt bad about what he’d done.
    “Two minutes!” Shulsky called out.
    The men began to check their weapons and body armour. They were heading for the old wooden jetty near the house. Shulsky intended to approach the control centre through the rainforest. It would mean a forced march along the length of the island and would take longer, but after Alex had described the launch area, Shulsky had decided a frontal attack would be too risky. There was no shelter; they would be cut down the moment they left the boat.
    Shulsky rejoined Alex at the bow. “I want you to stay on board until the fighting’s over,” he announced.
    “What do you mean?” Alex protested. “I thought you wanted me to help.”
    “You have helped. Thanks to you, we know where we’re going and what we’re going to do. But this is going to be a war, Alex. And I can’t afford to have my men worrying about you. Stay on the boat and stay out of sight.”
    It was too late to argue. They had reached the jetty, and Alex had to admit that Shulsky was right about one thing. This side of the island was deserted. If Drevin had seen them coming, he had concentrated his forces around the launch site; nobody so much as blinked as the boat drew up at the jetty. Alex watched the thirteen Americans disembark. They stomped across the beach and disappeared through the palm trees.
    He still wished he had gone with them. He had told them where to find Tamara but he would have liked to be the one to release her himself.
    He was left behind. Forgotten. He could see Drevin’s house in the distance, the sunlight sparkling off the windows. Someone had dumped some waterskis and two tow ropes on the sand, but otherwise the beach was empty. The Cessna 195 was bobbing in the shallows but there was no sign of the pilot.
    The Cessna.
    It hadn’t been there when Alex had set off with the kite. He felt a