Scorpia Rising

water-bottle gadget you were given by Mr. Smithers. Yes, I know about that too.” Razim moved closer, so close that when he spoke again, Alex could feel his breath on his cheek. “Have you not yet learned? I am a master of manipulation. I manipulated MI6 into sending you here. I manipulated your arrival at the Cairo International College of Arts and Education. And very soon I will be manipulating the British government to do exactly what I demand. From the start, I have been pushing the buttons and pulling the strings. All along, you have been dancing to my tune.”
    Razim nodded at the screen. Alex watched Jack come out of her hiding place and knock out the guard.
    Julius giggled. “She thinks she’s being so clever!” he exclaimed.
    “I must say, I hadn’t expected her to injure my guard,” Razim said. “But as to the rest of it . . . shall we tell Alex?”
    “Yes!” Grief’s eyes were dancing. “Tell him!”
    “There are two types of pain, Alex. Physical and emotional. Up until now, my experiments have all been physical. But as I have already told you, I need you intact. So it is emotional pain that I am measuring right now and, I have to say, the results are already impressive.”
    The needles were jumping and swaying like grass in the wind. Pulses of light were shooting across the screens. Alex’s entire body was tense, his hands straining at the bonds, his eyes staring. He knew what was coming. He had worked it out.
    “Please,” he pleaded. “She has nothing to do with this. You don’t have to hurt her.”
    Jack had gotten into the car.
    “Oh, but I’m afraid I do,” Razim said. “Miss Starbright is now sitting on thirty pounds of high explosive,” Razim said. “Consider the situation, Alex. She has been with you all your life. She has sacrificed so much for your happiness. She is, I am sure you would agree, your best friend.”
    “Leave her!” The machines had gone mad. Alex was writhing, trying to break free.
    “She is your best friend. And the remote control, the device that will detonate the explosive, is in the hand of someone who hates you, who has been dreaming for more than a year of destroying you. Why don’t you speak to him, Alex? Why don’t you ask him to take pity on you?”
    On the screen, Jack had driven out of the compound. The Land Rover was already on the track and picking up speed.
    “Please!” Alex felt hot liquid pouring out of the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t help himself. “Don’t . . .”
    “I’m sorry?” Julius pushed his face into Alex’s. “I don’t think I heard you.”
    “Please, Julius. I’ll do anything you want . . .”
    “You’re doing exactly what I want,” Julius said. He was holding the remote control right in front of Alex’s face. Alex saw his thumb press down.
    The car blew up. The images weren’t black-and-white after all. The fireball was bright red and orange at the center. The explosion seemed to take in the entire desert and sky. For a moment there was no image at all. Then the cameras picked up the flaming skeleton of the car, lying still, with fire roaring through the shattered windows, and he knew that Jack Starbright was dead.
    Jack Starbright, who had looked after him since he was seven. Who had been at his side at the funeral of his uncle and who had tried to protect him once Ian Rider’s secrets had taken over his life. Jack Starbright, who had packed his books for school and taken care of his bullet wounds, always cheerful, always on his side. Jack Starbright, the one person he could confide in, who understood him better than anyone, and who should never have set foot in the terrible, shadowy world that he had inherited. Alex Rider’s grief burst out of him. There was no stopping it. The tears were coursing down his cheeks. He was howling, his whole body contorted, his eyes tightly shut. At the same time, Julius Grief was capering about him, laughing, while Razim examined his apparatus, tapping at a keyboard, comparing different readings.
    “It’s extraordinary,” he muttered. “We’ve never had readings like this. Never. It seems that I have completely underestimated the power of emotional pain. I may even have to create a second scale of measurement. This is really quite remarkable.”
    Alex slumped forward, his head lolling against his chest. He had blacked out. But still the machines sucked out and translated his emotions . . . the computers, the monitors, the printers, the gauges.
    “Wasn’t