“What are you doing here, laddie?” Prescott demanded.

“I need to make a telephone call,” Alex said.

“I can see that. But this isn’t a public telephone. This isn’t even a public office. This is a secure complex. You shouldn’t be in here.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is an emergency!”

“Oh yes? And what sort of emergency do you mean?” Prescott obviously didn’t believe him.

“I can’t explain. Just let me make the call.”

The security guard smiled. He was enjoying himself. He spent five days a week plodding from one office to another, checking doors and turning off Lights. It was good to have someone he could boss about. “You’re not making any calls until you tell me what you’re doing here!” he said. “This is a private office.” His eyes narrowed.

“Have you opened any drawers? Have you taken anything?”

Alex’s nerves were screaming but he forced himself to remain calm. “I haven’t taken anything, Mr Prescott,” he said. “I just got off a plane that landed a few minutes ago-”

“What plane?”

“A private plane.”

“Have you got a passport?”

“No.”

“That’s a very serious matter. You can’t enter the country without a passport.”

“My passport is on the plane!”

“Then I’ll escort you back and we’ll get it.”

“No!” Alex could feel the seconds racing by. What could he say to this man that would persuade him to let him make the phone call? His mind was in a whirl and suddenly, for the first time in his life, he found himself blurting out the truth. “Listen,” he said. “I know this is hard to believe, but I work for the government. The British government. If you let me call them, they’ll prove it to you. I’m a spy-”

“A spy?” Prescott ’s face broke into a smile. But there was no humour in it at all. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“A fourteen-year-old spy? I think you’ve been watching too much television, laddie.”

“It’s true!”

“I don’t think so.”

“Listen to me, please. A man has just tried to kill me. He’s on a plane on the runway and unless you let me make this call, a lot of people are going to die.”

“What?”

“He’s got a nuclear bomb, for God’s sake!”

That was a mistake. Prescott bristled. “I’ll ask you not to take the name of the Lord in vain, if you don’t mind.” He came to a decision. “I don’t know how you got here or what you’re playing at, but you’re coming with me to security and passport control in the main terminal.” He reached out for Alex. “Come along now! I’ve had enough of your nonsense.”

“It isn’t nonsense. There’s a man called Sarov. He’s carrying a nuclear bomb. He’s planning to detonate it in Murmansk. I’m the only one who can stop him. Please, Mr Prescott. Just let me phone the police. It’ll only take me twenty seconds and you can stand here and watch me. Let me talk to them and afterwards you can take me wherever you like.”

But the security guard wouldn’t budge. “You’re not making any calls and you’re coming with me now,” he said.

Alex made up his mind. He had tried pleading and he had tried telling the truth. Neither had succeeded, so he would just have to take the security guard out. Prescott moved round the desk, getting closer to him. Alex tensed himself, balancing on the balls of his feet, his fists ready. He knew that the man was only doing his job and he didn’t want to hurt him but there was no other way. And then the door opened. “There you are, Alex! I was worried about you…” It was Sarov.

Conrad was with him. Both of them looked ill-their skin white and eyes not quite focused. There was no expression on either man’s face. “Who are you?” Prescott demanded. “I’m Alex’s father,” Sarov replied. “Isn’t that right, Alex?”

Alex hesitated. He realized he was still in combat position, about to strike out. Slowly, he lowered his arms. He knew it was over and tasted the bitterness of defeat. There was nothing he could do. If he argued in front of Prescott, Sarov would simply kill both of them. If he tried to fight, the result would be just the same. Alex had just one hope Left. If he walked out of here with Sarov and Conrad and the security guard was still alive, there was just a chance that he might tell his story to someone who would report it to MI6. It would certainly be too late for Alex. But the world might still be saved.

“Isn’t that right, Alex?” Sarov was waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” Alex said. “Hello, Dad.”

“So what’s all this business about bombs and spies?” Prescott asked.

Alex inwardly groaned. Why couldn’t the man keep his mouth shut?

“Is that what Alex has been telling you?” Sarov asked.

“Aye. That and a whole lot more besides.”

“Has he made a telephone call?”

“No.” Prescott puffed himself up. “The wee rascal was helping himself to the phone when I came in. But I soon put a stop to that.”

Sarov nodded slowly. He was pleased. “Well… he does have a vivid imagination,” he explained. “Alex has not been well lately. He has mental problems. Sometimes he finds it hard to distinguish between fantasy and reality.”

“How did he get in here?” Prescott demanded.

“He must have slipped out of the plane when nobody was watching. He has, of course, no permission to be on British soil.”

“Is he British?”

“No.” Sarov took hold of Alex’s arm. “And now we must return to the plane. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

“Wait a minute!” The guard wasn’t going to let them off that easily. “I’m sorry, sir, but your son was strictly off-limits. And for that matter, so are you. You can’t just go wandering around Edinburgh airport like this! I’m going to have to report this.”

“I quite understand.” Sarov didn’t seem at all perturbed. “I must get the boy back on the plane. But I will leave you with my assistant, who will give you all the details you require. If necessary, he will accompany you to your superior’s office. And I have to thank you for preventing my son from making a telephone call, Mr Prescott. That would have been most embarrassing for us all.”

Without waiting for a reply, Sarov turned and, still holding Alex’s arm, led him out of the room.

An hour later, the Lear jet took off on the last leg of its journey. Alex was sitting in the same seat as before but now he was handcuffed to it. Sarov hadn’t hurt him and no longer seemed even aware that he was on the plane. In a way, that was the most frightening thing about him. Alex had expected anger, violence, perhaps even a sudden death at the hands of Conrad. But Sarov had done nothing. From the moment that Alex had been escorted back onto the plane, the Russian hadn’t so much as looked at him. There had, of course, been problems. The explosion on the plane and Alex’s leap out of it had raised all sorts of questions. The pilot had been in constant communication with the control tower. The sound of the explosion had been a faulty microwave oven, he’d explained. As for the boy? General Alexei Sarov, on the staff of the Russian president, was travelling with a nephew. The boy had high spirits. Very stupid, but everything was under control…

If this had been an ordinary private jet, the police would have been called. But it was registered to Boris Kiriyenko. It had diplomatic immunity. All in all, the authorities agreed, it would be easier to turn a blind eye and let it go.

George Prescott’s body was discovered four hours later. He was sitting, slumped, in a stationery cupboard. There was a look of surprise on his face and a single, round bullet wound between his eyes.

By then, the Lear was in Russian airspace. Even as the alarm was raised and the police were finally called, the cabin lights were dimmed as the jet curved over the Kola Peninsula preparing for its final descent.