Scorpia Rising

suddenly scuttled forward and disappeared over the windowsill. Alex looked up at the sun. He guessed it must be around eight o’clock. A moment later the guard who had brought Alex’s dinner returned, dressed in baggy trousers with a scarf around his head. There was a machine gun slung across his back. He signaled with one hand. The message was clear: Come with me.
    Alex was led back out of the cell and down the passageway to the area where he had been received the night before. As he went, he heard a familiar voice.
    “Take your hands off me, you creep. Who do you think you are, anyway? Just because you’ve got a gun—”
    Jack! Alex hurried forward and there she was, standing in front of the desk, poking her finger into the chest of a man who was twice her size. She was dressed in the clothes she must have been planning to wear for the flight—pale jeans and a shirt tied around her waist. Her hair was a bit bedraggled and there was a tiredness in her eyes, but otherwise she looked fine.
    Ignoring the guard who was right behind him, Alex ran to her.
    “Alex!”
    The two of them embraced. They were surrounded by armed men, but for the moment all of them were forgotten.
    “Are you okay?” Alex asked.
    “I’m fine. But I told you. You shouldn’t have come.”
    “I didn’t have any choice, Jack. I couldn’t just leave you.”
    “I know.” She held him close. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I think I’ve found a way out of here.” Then, louder: “Who are these people, Alex? What is this place?”
    “I don’t know,” Alex replied. “But I think we’re going to find out.”
    “Come. Now.” One of the guards had managed two words of English. He pointed at the door. Alex and Jack were led out of the prison block.
    It was early morning, but the sun was already hot. Alex and Jack were led past the main gate and across to the house where Razim lived. Alex looked around him. He had already counted a dozen guards and there were probably more. This was the home of someone who liked to feel extremely secure. Ahead of them, Razim was waiting for them on a small terrace that he had constructed in front of his home. There was a stone table surrounded by dwarf palms sprouting out of terra-cotta pots. A stone lion dribbled water into a basin, the tinkling sound giving an illusion of cool in the desert heat. As usual, he was wearing a white dishdasha that looked brand-new. He was eating breakfast: fresh figs, yogurt, pastries, and tea. There was also a pack of cigarettes—Black Devils—beside him. Alex was glad to see that the table was set for three. It seemed that Julius Grief wouldn’t be joining them.
    Seeing them, Razim got to his feet. “Please join me. I hope you don’t mind my starting without you. I never sleep after five o’clock and I’m always rather hungry by the time it comes to breakfast. However, there’s plenty left. Do sit down.”
    Jack glanced at Alex as if for advice. Alex nodded and they took their places.
    Razim seemed pleased. He fussed over them, moving dishes and pouring the tea as if they were guests who had chanced to pop in rather than his prisoners. Meanwhile, Alex looked around him. It was already obvious that it would be almost impossible to escape from the fort, and yet, at the same time, he remembered what Jack had just said. “I think I’ve found a way out . . .” She’d been here a little longer than he had. Could she possibly have seen something that he’d missed?
    “Will you have some tea, Alex?” Razim held out the pot.
    “Thank you.” Alex hated the fake politeness, the pretense that all this was civilized. He’d been here before. Tea in the garden with Damian Cray. Dinner with Julia Rothman. All these people had to pretend that they were human. To disguise the fact that they were anything but.
    But Jack wasn’t having any of it. “What do you want with us?” she demanded. “Alex ought to be at school. You’ve got no right to bring him here.”
    Razim set down the pot and helped himself to a spoonful of yogurt. “Let’s not keep up the pretense that Alex is an ordinary schoolboy, Miss Starbright,” he said. “We all know who he is and what he is. And for that matter, you really shouldn’t speak to me as if I am an ordinary man. Of course I have no right to keep you prisoners here. But I am a criminal. Why not let us be honest about it? The law means nothing to me. I do exactly what I want.”
    “What do you want?”
    “You’re very