Scorpia

was working at a laptop computer, his stubby fingers typing at great speed. He was peering at the screen through gold-rimmed glasses. He had a neat black beard that tapered to a point under his chin. The rest of his hair was grey.
    “Alex Rider! Please … come in.” The man looked up from his computer with obvious pleasure. “I would have recognized you at once. I knew your father very well and you look just like him.” Apart from a slight French accent, his English was perfect. “My name is Oliver d’Arc. I am, you might say, the principal of this establishment – the head teacher, perhaps. I was just looking at your personal details on the Internet.”
    Alex sat down on one of the antique chairs. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d be posted on the Internet,” he commented.
    “It depends which search engine you use.” D’Arc gave Alex a sly smile. “I know Mrs Rothman told you that your father was an instructor here. I worked with him and he was a good friend to me, but I never dreamt that I would one day meet his son. And it is Nile who brings you here. Nile graduated from here a few years ago. He was a brilliant student – the number two in his class.”
    Alex glanced at Nile and for the first time saw a flicker of annoyance cross the man’s face. He remembered what Mrs Rothman had said … something about Nile having a weakness … and hewondered what it was that had prevented him becoming number one.
    “Are you thirsty after your journey?” d’Arc asked. “Can I get you anything? A
sirop de grenadine
, perhaps?”
    Alex started. The red fruit juice was his favourite drink when he was in France. Had d’Arc got that off the Internet too?
    “It was what your father always drank,” d’Arc explained, reading his thoughts.
    “I’m all right, thank you.”
    “Then let me tell you the programme. Nile will introduce you to the other students who are here at Malagosto. There are never more than fifteen and at the moment there are only eleven. Nine men and two women. You will join in with them and over the next few days we will examine your progress. Eventually, if I consider you have the ability to become part of Scorpia, I will write a report and your real training will begin. But I have no doubts, Alex. You are very young, only fourteen. But you are John Rider’s son and he was the very best.”
    “There’s something I have to tell you,” Alex said.
    “Please. Go ahead.” D’Arc sat back, beaming.
    “I want to join Scorpia. I want to be part of what you do. But you might as well know now that I don’t think I could kill anybody. I told Mrs Rothman and she didn’t believe me. She said I’donly be doing what my dad had done, but I know how I am inside and I know I’m different to him.”
    Alex hadn’t been sure how d’Arc would react. But he seemed completely unconcerned. “There are a great many Scorpia activities that do not involve killing,” he said. “You could be very useful to us, for example, for blackmail. Or as a courier. Who would suspect that a fourteen-year-old on a school trip was carrying drugs or plastic explosives? But these are early days, Alex. You have to trust us. We will discover what you can and can’t do and we will find the work that suits you best.”
    “I was eighteen when I killed my first man,” Nile added. “That’s only four years older than you are now.”
    “But, Nile, you were always exceptional,” d’Arc purred.
    There was a knock at the door and a moment later a woman came in. She was Thai, slender and delicate and several inches shorter than Alex. She had dark, intelligent eyes and lips that could have been drawn with an artist’s pencil. She stopped and made the traditional greeting of the Thai people, bringing her hands together as if in prayer and bowing her head.
    “Sawasdee
, Alex,” she said. “It is very nice to meet you.” She had a very gentle voice and, like the principal, her English was excellent.
    “This is Miss Binnag,” d’Arc said.
    “My name is Eijit. But you can call me Jet. I havecome to take you to your room.”
    “You can rest this afternoon and I will see you again at dinner.” D’Arc stood up. He was very short. His pointed beard only just rose above the level of the desk. “I’m so glad you’re here, Alex. Welcome to Malagosto.”
    The woman called Jet led Alex out of the room, back across the main hall and down a corridor with a high vaulted ceiling and bare plaster walls.
    “What do you do