Scorpia Rising

feeling well and need some fresh air. You’ll slip around the back, passing quite close to this van, as it happens. Then you’ll go back inside through a service door, and that’s when the shot will be fired. And the next time anyone sees you, you’ll be lying dead on the tarmac with a bullet in your head.”
    “You want people to think that I killed her.” It was the first time that Alex had volunteered anything, and he sounded almost matter-of-fact, as if he didn’t care what happened.
    “Exactly. You’ve finally worked it out. You see, Scorpia has been recording you and filming you for quite a few weeks now. They’ve created a whole file about you—the Horseman file, they call it. What’s in it? Well, there’s a lot of information about your other missions, proving that you’ve worked for MI6 in the past. But there’s also a film of the day Alan Blunt and Mrs. Jones drove to see you in Chelsea, including a recording of the entire conversation. With a little editing, it will prove conclusively that they sent you to Cairo, although it won’t say why. We even intercepted the e-mail booking that shows that MI6 paid for your flight tickets.
    “And then there’s the matter of the weapon being used to kill the secretary of state. You’ll remember that I took several pictures of you holding it, and at the same time you’ll have left your DNA and fingerprints all over it. We’ve also got plenty of evidence tying you in with the death of Mr. Habib. I was actually quite surprised that you fell for that old trick, listening in on my telephone call outside the school office. I knew you’d followed me to the House of Gold. And what does everyone think? You see Habib, you get the gun, and the next minute he’s dead and the boat’s been blown up. Who did it? Well, you did, of course.”
    Gunter drank some of the Coke, then put the can down.
    “So what happens now?” he went on. “The secretary of state has been assassinated just as she was about to start an anti-British speech. The whole of Cairo is in an uproar. At the same time, a British schoolboy is found dead at the scene. His classmates can testify that he was behaving very strangely and left the Assembly Hall minutes before the shot was fired. Rumors begin to swirl around. As always, there are conspiracy theories. People say that British intelligence was involved in the shooting and that the dead teenager was actually working for them. Of course, they deny it. And after a few days or maybe weeks, the press moves on and everything becomes quiet again. It looks as if they’ve gotten away with it.
    “And then Scorpia moves in with the Horseman file. They have all the proof they need to show that in this case the conspiracy theories are true. Alex Rider was an MI6 agent. He was the killer. We have photographic evidence, forensic evidence, films, recordings, intercepts . . . and we’ll pass the whole lot over to the Americans unless you do exactly what we say. The British government will have no choice! The Horseman file would quite simply blow their country apart. It would make them the enemy of the entire world. Can you imagine how nervous they will be, Alex? They will be at the complete mercy of Scorpia. What is it that we want? A billion dollars? A trillion? But—no! All we ask for is an announcement that the Elgin marbles will be returned—immediately—to their correct home. Maybe it’ll upset a few art historians and some pompous professors, but it’s really a tiny price to pay.
    “And here’s a funny thing. As it happens, the secretary of state has Greek parentage. Her mother was born in Athens. So the British government can announce that they’re sending back the marbles in her honor! Everyone will be happy. The prime minister will even be congratulated on his consideration. He will see at once that he has no choice but to agree.
    “Everyone wins. I get paid. Scorpia gets paid. The Greeks get their marbles. MI6 gets the file. The only losers, I suppose, are the secretary of state and you. She’ll be killed in . . .” Another turn of the watch. “In seven minutes’ time. And you die the moment Julius Grief gets back to this van. He’s asked to watch when I pull the trigger, by the way. I don’t think he likes you very much.”
    Gunter finished speaking and looked back at the television screen. All the cameras were now fixed on the stage inside the Assembly Hall, and even as he watched, a tall, dark-haired Egyptian man appeared