Eagle Strike

could you—”
    “Are you doing this as some sort of prank?” This time it was the security guard who was speaking. “What‟s all this nonsense about MI6?” “Alex, let‟s get out of here,” Sabina said. “No!”
    Alex couldn‟t believe what was happening. He didn‟t even know exactly what it was that was happening. It had to be a mistake. These people were new. Or perhaps they needed some sort of password to allow him into the building. Of course. On his previous visits here, he had only ever come when he had been expected. Either that or he had been brought here against his will. This time he had come unannounced. That was why he wasn‟t being allowed in.
    “Listen,” Alex said. “I understand why you wouldn‟t want to let just anyone in, but I‟m not just anyone. I‟m Alex Rider. I work with Mr Blunt and Mrs Jones. Could you please let her know I‟m here?”
    “There is no Mrs Jones,” the receptionist repeated helplessly.
    “And I don‟t know any Mr Blunt either,” the security guard added.
    “Alex. Please…” Sabina was sounding more and more desperate. She realty wanted to leave.
    Alex turned to her. “They‟re lying, Sabina,” he said. “I‟ll show you.”

    He grabbed her arm and pulled her over to the lift. He reached out and stabbed the call button.
    “You stop right there!” The security guard stood up.
    The receptionist reached out and pressed a button, presumably calling for help.
    The lift didn‟t come.
    Alex saw the guard moving towards him. Still no lift. He looked around and noticed a corridor leading away, with a set of swing doors at the end. Perhaps there would be a staircase or another set of lifts somewhere else in the building. Pulling Sabina behind him, Alex set off down the corridor. He heard the security guard getting closer. He quickened his pace, searching for a way up.
    He slammed through the double doors.
    And stopped.
    He was in a banking hall. It was huge, with a domed ceiling and advertisements on the walls for mortgages, savings schemes and personal loans. There were seven or eight glass windows arranged along one side, with cashiers stamping documents and cashing cheques, while about a dozen customers—ordinary people off the street—waited in line. Two personal advisers, young men in smart suits, sat behind desks in the open-plan area. One of them was discussing pension schemes with an elderly couple. Alex heard the other answer his phone.
    “Hello. This is the Royal & General Bank, Liverpool Street. Adam speaking. How may I help?”
    A light flashed on above one of the windows. Number four. A man in a pinstripe suit went over to it and the queue shuffled forward.

    Alex took all this in with one glance. He looked at Sabina. She was staring with a mixture of emotions on her face.
    And then the security guard was there. “You‟re not meant to come into the bank this way,” he said. “This is a staff entrance. Now, I want you to leave before you get yourself into real trouble.
    I mean it! I don‟t want to have to call the police, but that‟s my job.”
    “We‟re going.” Sabina had stepped in and her voice was cold, definite. “Sab—”
    “We‟re going now.”
    “You ought to look after your friend,” the security guard said. “He may think this sort of thing is funny, but it isn‟t.”
    Alex left—or rather allowed Sabina to lead him out. They went through a revolving door and out onto the street. Alex wondered what had happened. Why had he never seen the bank before?
    Then he realized. The building was actually sandwiched between two streets with a quite separate front and back. He had always entered from the other side.
    “Listen—” he began.
    “No. You listen! I don‟t know what‟s going on inside your head. Maybe it‟s because you don‟t have parents. You have to draw attention to yourself by creating this … fantasy! But just listen to yourself, Alex! I mean, it‟s pretty sick. Schoolboy spies and Russian assassins and all the rest of it…”
    “It‟s got nothing to do with my parents,” Alex said, feeling anger well up inside him.
    “But it‟s got everything to do with mine. My dad gets hurt in an accident—”

    “It wasn‟t an accident, Sab.” He couldn‟t stop himself. “Are you really so stupid that you think I‟d make all this up?”
    “Stupid? Are you calling me stupid?”
    “I‟m just saying that I thought we were friends. I thought you knew me…”
    “Yes! I thought I knew you. But