Point Blank

beating down on the glass, and the water on the other side looked suddenly inviting. He passed through an open set of doors. It was hot inside the conservatory. The smell of chlorine rose up from the water’ stifling him.
    He had thought that the pool was empty, but as he watched, a figure swam up from the bottom, breaking through the surface just in front of him. It was a girl, dressed only in a white bikini. She had long, black hair and dark eyes, but her skin was pale. Alex guessed she must be fifteen years old and remembered what Mrs. Jones had told him about Sir David Friend. ‚He has a daughter … a year older than you.‛ So this must be her. He watched her heave herself out of the water. Her body was well shaped, closer to the woman she would become than the girl she had been. She was going to be beautiful. That much was certain. The trouble was, she already knew it. When she looked at Alex, arrogance flashed in her eyes.
    ‚Who are you?‛ she asked. ‚What are you doing in here?‛
    ‚I’m Alex.‛
    ‚Oh, yes.‛ She reached for a towel and wrapped it around her neck. ‚Daddy said you were coming, but I didn’t expect you just to walk in like this.‛ Her voice was very adult and upper class. It sounded strange, coming out of that fifteen-year-old mouth. ‚Do you swim?‛ she asked.
    ‚Yes,‛ Alex said.
    ‚That’s a shame. I don’t like having to share the pool. Especially with a boy. And a smelly London boy at that.‛ She ran her eyes over Alex, taking in the torn jeans, the shaven hair, the stud in his ear. She shuddered. ‚I can’t think what Daddy was doing, agreeing to let you stay,‛
    she went on. ‚And having to pretend you’re my brother! What a ghastly idea! If I did have a brother, I can assure you he wouldn’t look like you. ‛
    Alex was wondering whether to pick the girl up and throw her back into the pool or out through a window when there was a movement behind him, and he turned to see a tall, rather aristocratic man with curling gray hair and glasses, wearing a sports jacket, open-neck shirt, and cords, standing just behind him. He too seemed a little jolted by Alex’s appearance, but he recovered quickly, extending a hand. ‚Alex?‛ he demanded.
    ‚Yes.
    ‚I’m David Friend.‛
    Alex shook his hand. ‚How do you do,‛ he said politely.
    ‚I hope you had a good journey. I see you’ve met my daughter.‛ He smiled at the girl, who was now sitting beside the pool, drying herself and ignoring them both.
    ‚We haven’t actually introduced ourselves,‛ Alex said.
    ‚Her name is Fiona.‛
    ‚Fiona Friend.‛ Alex smiled. ‚That’s not a name I’ll forget.‛
    ‚I’m sure the two of you will get along fine.‛ Sir David didn’t sound convinced. He gestured back toward the house. ‚Why don’t we go and talk in the study?‛
    Alex followed him back across the drive and into the house. The front door opened into a hall that could have come straight out of the pages of an expensive magazine. Everything was perfect, the antique furniture, ornaments, and paintings placed exactly so. There wasn’t a speck of dust to be seen and even the sunlight, streaming in through the windows, seemed almost artificial, as if it was there only to bring out the best in everything it touched. It was the house of a man who knows exactly what he wants and has the time and money to get it.
    ‚Nice place,‛ Alex said.
    ‚Thank you. Please come this way.‛ Sir David opened a heavy, oak-paneled door to reveal a sophisticated and modern office beyond. There was a desk and two chairs, a pair of computers, a white leather sofa, and a series of metal bookshelves. Sir David motioned at the chair and sat down behind the desk.
    He was unsure of himself. Alex could see it immediately. Sir David Friend might run a business empire worth millions—seven billions—of dollars, but this was a new experience for him. Having Alex here, knowing who and what he was, he wasn’t quite sure how to react.
    ‚I’ve been told very little about you,‛ he began. ‚Alan Blunt got in touch with me and asked me to put you up here for the rest of the week, to pretend that you’re my son. I have to say, you don’t look anything like me.‛
    ‚I don’t look anything like myself either,‛ Alex said.
    ‚You’re on your way to some school in the French Alps. They want you to investigate it.‛
    He paused. ‚Nobody asked me my opinion,‛ he said, ‚but I’ll give it to you anyway. I don’t like