Point Blank

freak, a monster. He was responsible for all this—and he was going to get away. Not knowing what he was doing, he snatched up Wolf’s gun and ran through the broken window, past the dead body of Mrs. Stellenbosch and into the night. He tried to aim. The blades of the helicopter were whipping up the surface snow, blinding him, but he pointed the gun up and fired. Nothing happened. He pulled the trigger again. Still nothing.
    Either Wolf had used all his ammunition or the gun had jammed.
    Dr. Grief pulled at the controls and the helicopter banked away, following the slope of the mountain. It was too late. Nothing could stop him.
    Unless …
    Alex threw down the gun and ran forward. There was a snowmobile lying idle a few yards away, its engine still running. The man who had been riding it was lying facedown in the snow.
    Alex leapt onto the seat and turned the throttle full on. The snowmobile roared away, skimming over the ice, following the path of the helicopter.
    Dr. Grief saw him. The helicopter slowed and turned. Grief raised a hand, waving goodbye. Alex caught sight of the red glasses, the slender fingers raised in one last gesture of defiance. With his hands gripping the handlebars, Alex stood up on the foot grips, tensing himself for what he knew he had to do. The helicopter moved away again, gaining altitude. In front of Alex loomed the ski jump. He was traveling at seventy, eighty miles per hour, snow and wind rushing past him. Ahead of him there was a wooden barrier, shaped like a cross.
    Alex smashed through it, then threw himself off.
    The snowmobile plunged down, its engine screaming.
    Alex rolled over and over in the snow, ice and wood splinters in his eyes and mouth. He managed to get to his knees.
    The snowmobile reached the end of the ski jump.
    Alex watched it rocket into the air, propelled by the huge metal slide.
    In the helicopter, Dr. Grief just had time to see five hundred pounds of solid steel come hurtling toward him out of the night, its headlights blazing, its engine still screaming. His eyes, bright red, opened wide in shock. The makeshift torpedo hit its target full-on. Point-blank.
    The explosion lit up the entire mountain. The helicopter disappeared in a huge fireball, then plunged down. it was still burning when it hit the ground.
    Behind him, Alex became aware that the shooting had stopped. The battle was over. He walked slowly back to the academy, shivering suddenly in the cold night air. As he approached, a man appeared at the broken window and waved. It was Wolf, propping himself against the wall, but still very much alive. Alex went over to him.
    ‚What happened to Grief?‛ he asked.
    ‚It looks like I ‘sleighed’ him,‛ Alex replied.
    On the slopes, the wreckage of the helicopter flickered and burned as the morning sun began to rise.

DEAD RINGER

    A FEW DAYS LATER, ALEX found himself sitting opposite Alan Blunt in the faceless office on Liverpool Street, with Mrs. Jones twisting another peppermint between her fingers. It was May 1, a bank holiday in England, but somehow he knew that holidays never came to the building that called itself the Royal & General Bank. Even the spring seemed to have stopped at the window. Outside, the sun was shining. Inside, there were only shadows.
    ‚It seems that once again we owe you a debt of thanks,‛ Blunt was saying.
    ‚You don’t owe me anything,‛ Alex said.
    Blunt looked genuinely puzzled. ‚You have quite possibly changed the future of this planet,‛ he said. ‚Of course, Grief’s plan was monstrous, crazy. But the fact remains that his…‛
    He searched for a word to describe the test-tube creations that had been sent out of Point Blanc.
    ‚…his offspring could have caused a great many problems. At the very least they would have had money. God knows what they would have done had they remained undiscovered.‛
    ‚What’s happened to them?‛ Alex asked.
    ‚We’ve traced all fifteen of them, and we have them under lock and key,‛ Mrs. Jones answered. ‚They were quietly arrested by the intelligence services of each country where they lived. We’ll take care of them.‛
    Alex shivered. He had a feeling he knew what Mrs. Jones had meant by those last words.
    And he was certain that nobody would ever see the fifteen Grief replicas again.
    ‚Once again, we’ve had to hush this up,‛ Blunt continued. ‚This whole business of …
    cloning. It causes a great deal of public disquiet. Sheep are one thing—but human