Scorpia Rising

had brought Alex Rider back from the Siwa Oasis that afternoon, landing the Sikorsky H-34 at the same building site where he had been taken from the Northern Cemetery. He was wearing his Cairo College uniform and was securely belted in place. Without the belt, he would have slumped forward. He seemed to be half asleep.
    Gunter was waiting with the Al Minya van when the helicopter landed, and even he was a little surprised by the change in the boy who had been captured forty-eight hours before. Despite his time in the sun, Alex was an ashen white and there was a lost, empty quality to his eyes. When he was ordered to step down from the cabin, he did just that, and he didn’t move as his hands were tied up in front of him. Gunter led him into the van. Alex stumbled briefly at the doorway, steadying himself on one of the countertops. But he said nothing and he didn’t try to resist. There hardly seemed any point gagging him. He looked completely defeated.
    “What have you done to him?” Gunter asked.
    Julius Grief had sprung down from the helicopter and followed them across the rubble-strewn ground. Like Alex, he was in school uniform. “We played a little joke on him,” he explained. “But I don’t think he enjoyed it.”
    Four hours later, the Al Minya van was in its place at the very end of the line, farthest away from the entrance where the secretary of state had arrived. Along with all the other OBUs, it was plugged into the main feed being delivered by the television network inside the Assembly Hall and received the same images as all the news channels. Julius Grief hadn’t come with them. Gunter and Alex were alone.
    Gunter was beginning to feel unnerved by the long silence and by the semiconscious boy sitting tied by his arms and feet to a metal chair between two banks of machinery. He took out his gun—it was a black, Russian-made Tokarev TT-33, the same gun that Alex had found in his office—and laid it on the desk, within easy reach. He had checked that the door of the OBU was locked, but if anyone tried to come in, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them. Then he clicked open a can of Coke and turned one of the dials on the control panel in front of him.
    “. . . and the secretary of state has just arrived, and we can see her entering the building. The man beside her is Jeff Townsend, who has been her foreign policy adviser for the past two years . . .”
    The voice was that of a CNN newscaster. Gunter could see the secretary of state on one of the monitors. She was walking down a wide corridor with officials applauding on both sides. Then the image cut to the audience waiting inside the Assembly Hall. There were two thousand people there, sitting on three levels. Everyone was dressed smartly, packed together in rows that curved around in front of a stage that was decorated with a single podium and two American flags.
    From where he was sitting, Alex had a good view of the screen. But he didn’t seem to be interested. Gunter wondered if he even knew where he was. Well, it didn’t matter. He glanced at his watch. The speech was due to start in twelve minutes. And five minutes after that, Alex would be dead.
    He stretched a hand out and turned off the sound.
    “I expect you want to know what this is all about,” Gunter said. He didn’t really care if Alex wanted to know or not. He just felt a need to break the silence between them.
    With the gag in his mouth, Alex couldn’t talk. He didn’t look as if he wanted to.
    Gunter thought for a moment, then took out a knife, which flicked open in his hand. “I’m going to untie you,” he said. “Because you’ll be leaving here shortly. But if you even try to stand up or to get out of that chair before I give you permission, I will shoot you in the stomach. Do you understand that?”
    Alex nodded very slightly.
    “Good.”
    Gunter stood up and leaned over him, cutting the ropes behind him, releasing his arms. He stepped back quickly in case Alex tried to lash out—but the boy didn’t even seem to be aware that he was free. Gunter cut the rest of the cords, took off the gag, and sat down again. There was very little space between them. The gun was right next to him and his eyes had never left Alex’s. The different screens inside the OBU showed pictures of the audience, the Assembly Hall from outside, the empty stage.
    “That’s better,” Gunter said. “We still have a bit of time together and I’d quite like to explain what’s going on.