Crocodile Tears

completely. Just to be sure, he forced himself to do twenty push-ups, then had another shower.
    He got dressed in his own pants and shirt, leaving off the jacket. Although it was early morning, it was already warm. He could feel the sun beating through the walls of the tent and the fan was having to fight against the sluggish air. He slipped the gel-ink pen into his pants pocket. From now on, he would make sure it never left him.
    The front of the tent was sealed up. There was a large flap with a zipper running around the side. Well, if this was his prison, it was a very flimsy one. Alex went over and unzipped it. At once he saw the green of the jungle, confirming what he had guessed. He was in the bush. But the way was blocked by a guard, a black man dressed in jeans and grimy shirt, a rifle strapped over his shoulder. Alex realized that he must have been there all night.
    The guard turned around and scowled. “You stay inside.” That seemed to be the limit of his English.
    “ What time do you serve breakfast?” Alex asked. He had already decided. He wasn’t going to let these people think he was scared.
    “ Inside.” The guard brought the rifle around.
    Alex raised his hands and retreated. There was no point starting a fight. Not yet.
    Breakfast came half an hour later: tea, canned orange juice, and two slices of toast, carried in by a second guard. Alex wolfed it down. It had been a long time since he had last eaten and his stomach couldn’t have been more empty. There was a bottle of water in the tent, and he drank that too. He had no idea what was going to happen to him. He would take any food or water he could get.

    Why had they brought him here? Alex almost admired McCain. The man must have nerves of steel, kidnapping him in broad daylight, smuggling him out of England through one of the world’s busiest airports. But what was the point? McCain must have identified him as the intruder at Greenfields. He would have remembered their meeting at the castle in Scotland. Maybe he had decided to take revenge.
    After all, he had already tried to kill Alex once.
    And yet, somehow, Alex didn’t believe it. Whatever McCain was planning, the stakes were too high.
    This wasn’t personal. This was business. McCain needed Alex for a reason.
    And now Alex was completely in his power. It was probably best not to think too much about what might lie ahead.
    Instead, Alex thought about Jack. What would she be doing now? And what about MI6? Once they’d realized he was gone, they’d have spared no effort. Every intelligence agency in the world would be looking for him. Surely someone would remember a fourteen-year-old boy being taken through passport control, even if he was in a wheelchair. The trail would lead to Kenya and they must know that McCain had a base here.
    Except that McCain would have covered his tracks. He knew exactly what he was doing. Alex was going to have to rely on his own resources to get himself out of this mess. He would just have to wait for an opportunity and take it when it came.
    The tent flap suddenly opened and Myra Beckett stepped inside. She had changed once again, wearing a safari outfit—a loose shirt and long pants in different shades of brown. The clothes made her look more masculine than ever. She was carrying what looked like a leather cloth.

    She wasn’t alone. A guard had come with her, but not the one he had seen earlier. This one had on dirty jeans and a black sleeveless T-shirt. Alex noticed the knotted muscles of his arms and the machete hanging from his belt. He had narrow, mean eyes. He was looking at Alex as if the two of them had been lifelong enemies.
    “ I heard you were up,” Beckett said. “How are you feeling?”
    Alex wasn’t sure what to say. Just seeing her made him feel sick again. “Never better,” he muttered.
    “ The serum that we injected you with was my own invention, and I’m very pleased with the way it worked. It was derived from the water hemlock that we cultivate at Greenfields. The effect is not dissimilar to a snake bite, only far less permanent. Can I trust you to behave yourself? If not, we can always inject you with some more.”
    “ What do you want with me?” Alex asked.
    “ You’ll find out in good time. For the moment, let me introduce you to Njenga.” She gestured at the guard. “He’s a Kikuyu tribesman, as are all the guards here, and they will do anything we tell them.
    There are no other jobs, you see. You might like to