“Where is Kiriyenko?” Blunt’s soup was almost cold. He had forgotten what was meant to be in it.

“The Cuban authorities found him locked up on Skeleton Key. Shouting his head off and blaming everyone except himself.” Mrs Jones shook her head. “He’s back in Moscow now. Sarov gave him a bad scare, but then he gave us all a bad scare. If it hadn’t been for Alex, who knows what might have happened.”

“What do the Cubans have to say about all this?”

“They’ve disowned Sarov. Nothing to do with them. They had no idea what he was planning. What’s so terrifying is that he nearly got away with it!”

“If it hadn’t been for Alex Rider…”

The two of them finished their first course in silence.

“Where is Alex now?” Blunt asked eventually.

“He’s home.”

“How is he?”

Mrs Jones sighed. “It would seem that Sarov shot himself,” she said. “Alex was standing right in front of him. The trouble with you, Alan, is that you’ve never had children and you refuse to accept the fact that, at the end of the day, Alex is only a child. He’s already been through far more than any fourteen year old could possibly be expected to… and this last mission! I would say it was his toughest yet. And at the very end he actually saw what Sarov did!”

“I suppose Sarov didn’t want to be taken alive,” Blunt muttered.

“I wish it was as simple as that. It seems that Sarov had some sort of… attachment to Alex. He saw him as the son he had lost. Alex rejected him and it pushed him over the edge. That’s why he did it. He couldn’t live with himself any more.”

Blunt signalled and a waiter came over and poured the wine. It was unusual for the two spy-masters to drink at lunchtime but Blunt had selected a half bottle of Chablis, which had been sitting in an ice bucket beside their table. Another waiter served the main courses. The food sat on the table untouched.

“What happened with that business with the triads?” Blunt asked.

“Oh-I’ve sorted all that out. We had a couple of their people in jail and I arranged for them to be released. Flown back to Hong Kong. It was enough. They’ll leave Alex alone.”

“So why do you say we’ve lost him?”

“The truth is, we shouldn’t have used him in the first place.”

“We didn’t use him. It was the CIA.”

“You know that doesn’t make any difference.” Mrs Jones tasted the wine. “The point is, I was the one who debriefed him and all I can say is… he’s not the same. I know, I’ve said this all before. But I was seriously worried about him, Alan. He was so silent and withdrawn. He’d been badly hurt.”

“Any broken bones?”

“For heaven’s sake! Children can be hurt in other ways! I’m sorry, but I do feel very strongly about this. We can’t use him again. It isn’t fair.”

“Life isn’t fair.” Blunt picked up his own glass. “I think you’re forgetting that Alex has just saved the world. That boy is fast becoming one of our most effective operatives. He’s the best secret weapon we have. We can’t afford to be sentimental about him. We’ll let him rest. I dare say he needs to catch up at school, and then there’s the summer holidays. But you know as well as I do, if the need arises, there’s nothing to discuss. We’ll use him again. And again…”

Mrs Jones put down her knife and fork. “I’m suddenly not very hungry,” she said.

Blunt glanced at her. “I hope you’re not getting a conscience,” he said. “If you’re really worried about Alex, bring him in and we’ll have a little heart to heart.”

Mrs Jones looked her boss straight in the eye. “He may have trouble finding yours,” she said.

The next day was a Saturday. Alex got up late, showered, dressed and went down to a breakfast that his housekeeper, Jack Starbright, had prepared for him. She had cooked all his favourite things but he ate little of it, sitting at the table in silence. Jack was desperately worried about him. The day before she had tried to get him to see a doctor and for the first time in his life he had snapped at her. Now she wasn’t sure what to do. If things didn’t get better she would talk to that woman-Mrs Jones. Jack wasn’t supposed to know what was going on, but she had a good idea. She would make them do something. Things couldn’t go on like this.

“What you going to do today?” she asked.

Alex shrugged. There was a bandage round his hand where the metal pole had cut him and a number of grazes on his face. Worst of all though were the bruises around his neck. Conrad had certainly left his mark.

“D’you want to see a film?”

“No. I thought I’d go for a walk.”

“I’ll come with you, if you like.”

“No. Thanks, Jack, but I’m OK on my own.”

Ten minutes later, Alex left the house. The weather forecast had said it would be a bright day but in fact it was close and cloudy. He started walking towards the King’s Road, wanting to lose himself in the crowds. He had no real idea where he was going. He just needed to think.

Sarov was dead. Alex had turned away as the man had raised the gun towards his own heart, not bearing to see any more. Minutes later it had all been over. The Repair Yard had been secured, the bomb removed. Alex himself had been whisked away by helicopter, first to a hospital in Moscow and then back to London. Someone had told him that Kiriyenko wanted to see him. There was talk of a medal. Alex had declined. He just wanted to go home.

And that’s where he was. Everything had worked out all right. He was a hero!

So why did he feel like this? And how exactly was it that he felt? Depressed? Exhausted? He was both of those things-but worse still, he felt empty. It was almost as if he had died in the Submarine Repair Shipyard of Murmansk and had somehow returned to London as a ghost. Life was all around him but he wasn’t a part of it. Even lying in his own bed, in his own house, he felt he no longer belonged.

So much had happened to him but he wasn’t allowed to talk about it with anyone. He couldn’t even tell Jack. She would be horrified and upset-and there was nothing she could do anyway. He had missed more weeks of school and knew that it wasn’t just the work he would have to catch up with. Friendships move on too. People already thought he was weird. It wouldn’t be long before nobody was talking to him at all.

He would never have a father. He knew this now. He would never have an ordinary life. Somehow, he had got himself trapped. A ghost. That was what he had become.

Alex hadn’t heard the car stop behind him.

He hadn’t heard the door open and close. But there were suddenly footsteps running up behind him and before he could move, a hand had been thrown around his chest.

“Alex!”

He spun round. “Sabina!”

Sabina Pleasure was standing in front of him, panting after the short run, wearing a Robbie Williams T-shirt and jeans, a brightly coloured straw bag over her shoulder. Her face was lit up with pleasure. “Thank goodness I found you. I’ve been after you for weeks. You never gave me your phone number but it’s lucky I knew your address. Mum and Dad drove me over…” She gestured at her parents, sitting in the car. They both raised a hand, waving at Alex through the windscreen. “I was going to look in just in case you were at home. And here you are!” She looked at his neck, examining his bruises. “You look terrible! Have you been involved in a car smash?”

“Not exactly.”

“Anyway, Alex,” she interrupted. “I’m really pissed off with you. I saved your life in Cornwall, in case you don’t remember-although I have to say that giving you the kiss of life on the beach was the high point of the holiday-and the next thing I knew, you’d simply vanished. I didn’t even get so much as a thank-you card.”

“Well, I was, sort of… busy.”

“Being James Bond, I suppose?”

“Well…” Alex didn’t know what to say.

Sabina took his arm. “You can tell me all about it later. Mum and Dad have invited you to lunch and we want to talk about the South of France.”