Scorpia Rising

tie. The man hadn’t shaved. Gray hair had spread over his chin and his cheeks as if they were diseased. He had thin lips and bad teeth. And finally there were his fingers, long and very precise—like those of a pianist. This was a man who had spent his whole life working with his hands.
    “Mr. Habib?” Gunter asked.
    “That is my name.” He spoke perfect English.
    “I’m Erik Gunter. I think you were expecting me.” The old man didn’t move. Gunter reached into his pocket and placed a small metal object on the counter. It was a silver scorpion.
    The old man nodded slowly. “I was indeed expecting you,” he said.
    “Do you have it?”
    “Of course.”
    The man called Habib reached below the counter and produced another gun. But there was nothing antique about this one. It was an L96A1 Arctic Warfare sniper rifle, gleaming and deadly, a perfectly machined and balanced piece of equipment. He laid it out for Gunter to examine. “I have made all the adjustments as requested,” he said. “Particularly to the trigger and to the static iron sights.”
    “What about the ammo?”
    “I will be supplying you with fifty 8.59-millimeter bullets. The gun has a ten-round box magazine.”
    “Can it be traced?”
    Habib looked pained. “I do not ask you foolish questions, Mr. Gunter. I do not ask you why you require a piece of killing machinery as finely crafted as this. I would suggest you do the same.”
    “I apologize, Mr. Habib,” Gunter said, and, reaching behind him, drew a pistol out from the waistband of his trousers and shot the Egyptian once in the middle of his head. There had been almost no sound. The pistol was silenced. The Egyptian stared as if he couldn’t quite believe what had happened, then slumped forward. Gunter snatched the rifle away. He didn’t want it to be contaminated by the rapidly spreading pool of blood.
    Moving quickly, he went behind the counter and found what he was looking for: a golf bag, big enough to hold the rifle. He took a cloth out of his backpack and wiped the barrel clean. This was the only part of the gun he had touched and he wasn’t going to leave fingerprints. Using the cloth, he lowered the L96A1 into the bag and zipped it shut. Finally, he reached into the backpack and found a cumbersome package with several wires and a switch. He flicked the switch, closed the backpack, and stuffed it behind the counter. He took one last look around. Then he left, satisfied with what he had done.
    In his haste, he didn’t quite close the door.

    Alex Rider saw him go past. He noticed that Gunter had swapped the backpack for what looked like a golf bag. For a moment, the two of them were almost next to each other. Alex was inside one of the stalls, pretending to examine a mother-of-pearl jewelry box. He glanced back as Gunter disappeared, then stepped out into the corridor. The obvious thing would be to follow the head of security. That was what Gunter seemed to be inviting. But then he noticed that the door of the shop was ajar.
    He took out his iPhone and texted Jack, Gunter leaving. follow him. will meet later. That was him taken care of. Now to see whom he had met and perhaps what he had been given.
    Alex made his way down the corridor, pushing through the crowds. The House of Gold had an air-conditioning system, but even so, it felt hot and sticky. A couple of salesmen waved gold necklaces at him, but he ignored them. He reached the door and gently pushed it open. It took his eyes a few moments to get used to the gloom. His eyes swept over all the weapons. The place was like a medieval arsenal. Then he saw the man lying with the top part of his body on the counter and his arms spread out protectively around him. He could have been asleep, but Alex knew instantly that he wasn’t. And it wasn’t a red cushion beneath his head. He could smell the blood in the sluggish air.
    He backed out fast. He knew that he had finally arrived at the heart of the conspiracy. Gunter had just killed this man and it was easy enough to guess what he must have been carrying in the golf bag. But still it made no sense. Was he acting alone or was he part of a larger organization? And what was the connection with Cairo College? Despite everything, this trail had led him nowhere. He still had no idea what was going on.
    Alex was feeling sick. He just wanted to get back into the open air, and he wished now that he hadn’t sent the instruction to Jack. Gunter was a killer. If Jack got too close,