Skeleton Key

over-enthusiastic.”
    Alex had woken up in the most magnificent bedroom he had ever seen. He was lying on a four poster bed opposite a floor-to-ceiling mirror in an ornate gold frame. All the furniture in the room was antique and wouldn‟t have been out of place in a museum. There was a painted chest at the foot of the bed, a massive wardrobe with elaborately carved doors, a chandelier with five curving arms. The shutters on the windows had been folded back to reveal a wrought iron balustrade looking out over a courtyard.
    The man, who had introduced himself as General Alexei Sarov, was sitting on a chair next to the mirror, dressed in a dark suit. His legs were crossed. His back was completely straight. Alex examined the face with its grey hair and intelligent blue eyes. He recognized his voice from the sugar mill and knew—without knowing why—that it was the general who had saved him.
    It was dark outside. Alex guessed it must be after midnight. Someone had dressed him in a white nightshirt that came down to his knees. He wondered how long he had been asleep. And how long the Russian had been waiting for him to wake up.
    “Do you want something to eat?” That had been his first question.
    “No, thank you. I‟m not hungry.”
    “A drink then?”
    “Some water…”
    “I have some here.”
    The water came in a silver jug, served in a gleaming crystal glass. General Sarov poured it himself, then handed it to Alex. Alex reached out, grateful that the drug Conrad had pumped into him had worn off while he was asleep and that he could move his arms again. He sipped. The water was ice-cold. That was when Sarov began his apology, speaking in faultless English.
    “Conrad had no orders to eliminate you. On the contrary, when I found out who you were, I very much wanted to meet you.”
    Alex wondered about that, but decided to ignore it for the moment. “How did you find out who I was?” he asked. There seemed no point in denying it now.
    “We have a very sophisticated security system both here and in Havana.” The general seemed uninterested in explaining more. “I‟m afraid you‟ve had a terrible ordeal.”
    “The people I came here with had a worse one.”
    Again the general raised a hand, brushing aside the details. “Your friends are dead. Were they your friends, Alex?” A brief pause. “I was of course perfectly well aware of the Devil‟s Chimney when I first moved into the Casa de Oro. I had a simple defence mechanism constructed. Diving is prohibited on this side of the island so when the occasional diver is foolish enough to enter the cave, he is only paying the price of his curiosity. They tell me that a shark was killed there…”
    “It was a great white.”
    “You saw it?”
    Alex said nothing. Sarov raised his hands, resting his chin on the tip of his fingers.
    “You are as remarkable as I was told,” he continued. “I have read your file, Alex. You have no parents. You were raised by an uncle who was himself a spy. You were trained by the Special Air Service, the SAS, and sent on your first mission in the south of England. And then, just a few weeks later, to France… Some would say that you have had the luck of the devil, but I do not personally believe in the devil—or in God, for that matter. But I believe in you, Alex. You are quite unique.”
    Alex was getting tired of all this flattery. And he couldn‟t help but feel that there was something sinister in it. “Why am I here?” he asked. “What do you want with me?”
    “Why you are here should be self-evident,” Sarov answered. “Conrad wanted to kill you. I prevented him. But I cannot allow you to return to the hotel or, indeed, to leave the island. You will have to consider yourself my prisoner, although if the Casa de Oro is a prison, I hope you will find it a comfortable one. As to what I want with you…” Sarov smiled to himself, his eyes suddenly distant. “It is late,” he announced suddenly. “We can talk about that tomorrow.”
    He stood up.
    “Is it true that you have a nuclear bomb?” Alex asked.
    “Yes.”
    Part of the puzzle fell into place. “You bought uranium from the Salesman. But then you ordered Conrad to kill him! You blew up his boat!”
    “That is correct.”
    So Alex had been right all along. He had seen Conrad in Miami. Conrad had put some sort of explosive device on the Mayfair Lady—and it was that, not the fire, that had caused the destruction and loss of life. Turner and Troy had