Snakehead

as they revealed.
    “He’s in Australia,” he muttered.
    “Yes, sir.” Damon nodded. “He sort of dropped in on us from outer space.”
    Brooke smiled. “You know, if anyone else told me that, I’d swear they were yanking my chain. He really went into space?”
    “He was pulled out of the sea a hundred miles off the west coast. He was sitting in the reentry module of a Soyuz-Fregat. Of course, the Americans aren’t telling us anything. But it’s probably no coincidence that according to NIWO, the Ark Angel space station blew up at around the same time.”
    NIWO is the National Intelligence Watch Office. It employs around 2,000 people who keep up a constant surveillance on everything happening in the world…and outside it.
    “That was Drevin’s big idea,” Brooke muttered. “A space hotel.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “I always had a feeling he was up to no good.”
    There was a moment of turbulence and the plane dipped down. The dog, in its basket, whined. It never had cared much for flying. But then they steadied and continued in their arc over the clouds, heading northeast to Sydney.
    “You think we can use him?” Brooke demanded.
    “Alex Rider doesn’t like being used,” Damon replied. “And from what I’ve read, there’s no way he’s going to volunteer. But it did occur to me that if we could find some sort of leverage, he would be perfect for what we need. Put a kid into the pipeline and nobody’s going to suspect a thing. It’s exactly the same reason the Americans sent him to Skeleton Key—and it worked for them.”
    “Where is he now?”
    “They flew him over to Perth, sir. A bit of a hike, but they wanted him somewhere safe and they settled on SAS HQ at Swanbourne. He’s going to need a couple of days to wind down.”
    Brooke fell silent. With his eyes permanently covered, it was always difficult to work out what he was thinking—but Damon knew that he would be turning over all the possibilities, that he would come very quickly to a decision and stick by it. Maybe there was no way that ASIS could persuade this English kid to work for them. But if there was a single weakness, anything they could use to their advantage, Brooke would find it.
    A moment later he nodded. “We could connect him with Ash,” he said.
    And there it was. Simple but brilliant.
    “Ash is in Singapore,” Damon said.
    “Operational?”
    “A routine assignment.”
    “As of now he’s reassigned. We’ll put the two of them together and send them in. They’ll make a perfect team.”
    Damon couldn’t help smiling. Alex Rider would work with the agent they all called Ash. But there was just one problem. “You think Ash will work with a teenager?” he asked.
    “He will if this kid’s as good as everyone says he is.”
    “He’ll need proof of that.”
    This time it was Brooke’s turn to smile. “Leave that to me.”

    The SAS compound at Swanbourne is a few miles north of Perth and has the appearance of a low-rise vacation village, although perhaps one with more security than most. It stretches out next to the white sand and blue water of the Indian Ocean, sheltered from public view by a series of sand dunes. The buildings are clean, modern, and unremarkable. But for the rise and fall of the barrier at the main gate, the military vehicles passing in and out, and the occasional sighting of men in khaki and black berets, it would be hard to believe that this is the HQ of Australia’s toughest and most elite fighting force.
    Alex Rider stood at the window of his room looking out over the main square with the indoor shooting range on one side and the gymnasium and fitness center on the other. He wanted to go home and wondered how long they were going to keep him here. Certainly, his stay on the Kitty Hawk had been short enough. He had barely had time to eat breakfast before he had been bundled onto a Hawkeye jet, an oxygen mask strapped over his face, and then blasted off back into the sky. Nobody had even told him where they were taking him, but he had seen the name written in large letters on the airport terminal. Perth. There had been a jeep parked on the runway, and the next thing he knew, he was bouncing through the very ordinary-looking suburb of Swanbourne. The jeep drove into the SAS compound and stopped. A single soldier was waiting for him, his face set, his mouth a straight line that gave nothing away. Alex was shown into a comfortable room with a bed, a TV, and a view of the sand dunes. The