‚Alex Friend is an excellent catch for us,' Dr. Grief said.
‚Supermarkets?' The woman sounded unconvinced.
‚His father has the prime minister’s ear. He is an impressive man. His son, I am sure, will meet up to all our expectations.' Dr. Grief smiled. His eyes glowed red. ‚Very soon, we’ll have Alex here, at the academy. And then, at last, the Gemini Project will be complete.'
‚You’re sitting all wrong,' Fiona said. ‚Your back isn’t straight. Your hands should be lower. And your feet are pointing the wrong way.'
‚What does it matter, so long as you’re enjoying yourself?' Alex asked, speaking through gritted teeth.
It was the fourth day of his stay at Haverstock Hall, and Fiona had been persuaded to take him out riding. Alex wasn’t enjoying himself at all. First he’d had to endure the inevitable lecture—although he had barely listened. The horses were Iberian or Hungarian. They’d won a bucketful of gold medals. Alex didn’t care. All he knew was that his horse was big and black and attracted flies. And that he was riding it with all the style of a sack of potatoes on a trampoline.
The two of them had barely mentioned the business in the forest. When Alex had limped back to the house, soaked and freezing, Fiona had politely fetched him a towel and offered him a cup of tea.
‚You tried to kill me!' Alex said.
‚Don’t be silly.' Fiona looked at Alex with something like pity in her eyes. ‚We would never do that. Rufus is a very nice boy.'
‚What?'
‚It was just a game, Alex. Just a bit of fun.'
And that was it. Fiona had smiled as if everything had been explained and then gone to have a swim. Alex had spent the rest of the evening with the files. He was trying to take in a fake history that spanned fourteen years. There were uncles and aunts, friends at Eton, a whole crowd of people he had to know without ever having met any of them. More than that, he was trying to get the feel of this luxurious lifestyle. That was why he was here now, out riding with Fiona—she upright in her riding jacket and breeches, he bumping along behind.
They had ridden for about an hour and a half when they came to a tunnel. Fiona had tried to teach Alex a bit of technique—the difference, for example, between walking, trotting, and cantering. But this was one sport he had already decided he would never take up. Every bone in his body had been rattled out of shape, and his bottom was so bruised he wondered if he would ever be able to sit down again. Fiona seemed to be enjoying his torment. He even wondered if she had chosen a particularly bumpy route to add to his bruises. Or maybe it was just a particularly bumpy horse.
There was a single railway line ahead of them, crossed by a tiny lane with an automatic gate crossing equipped with a bell and flashing lights to warn motorists of any approaching train.
Fiona steered her horse—a smaller gray—toward it. Alex’s horse automatically followed. He assumed they were going to cross the line, but when she reached the barrier, Fiona stopped.
‚There’s a shortcut we can take if you want to get home,' she said.
‚A shortcut would be good,' Alex admitted.
‚It’s that way.'
Fiona pointed up the line toward a tunnel, a gaping black hole in the side of a hill, surrounded by dark red brick. Alex looked at her to see if she was joking. She was obviously quite serious. He turned back to the tunnel. It was like the barrel of a gun, pointing at him, warning him to keep away. He could almost imagine the giant finger on the trigger, somewhere behind the hill. How long was it? Looking more carefully, he could see a pinprick of light at the other end, perhaps half a mile away.
‚You’re not serious,' he said.
‚Actually, Alex, I don’t usually tell jokes. When I say something, I mean it. I’m just like my father.'
‚Except your father isn’t completely crazy,' Alex muttered.
Fiona pretended not to hear him. ‚The tunnel is about one mile long,' she explained.
‚There’s a bridge on the other side, then another gate crossing. If we go that way, we can be home in thirty minutes. Otherwise it’s an hour and a half back the way we came.'
‚Then let’s go the way we came.'
‚Oh, Alex, don’t be such a scaredy-cat!' Fiona pouted at him. ‚There’s only one train an hour on this line and the next one isn’t due for…' She looked at her watch. ‚…twenty minutes.
I’ve been through the tunnel a hundred times and it never takes more than five minutes. Less if you canter.'
‚It’s still crazy to ride on a railway line.'
‚Well, you’ll have to find your own way home if you turn back.' She kicked with her heels and her horse jerked forward, past the barrier and onto the line. ‚I’ll see you later.'
But Alex followed her. He would never have been able to ride back to the house on his own.
He didn’t know the way, and he could barely control his horse. Even now it was following Fiona with no prompting from him. Would the two animals really enter the darkness of the tunnel? It seemed incredible, but Fiona had said they had done it before, and sure enough, the horses walked into the side of the hill without even hesitating.
Alex shivered as the light was suddenly cut off behind him. It was cold and clammy inside.
The air smelled of soot and diesel. The tunnel was a natural echo chamber. The horses’ hooves rattled all around them as they struck against the gravel between the ties. What if his horse stumbled? Alex put the thought out of his mind. The leather saddles creaked. Slowly his eyes got used to the dark. A certain amount of sunshine was filtering in from behind. More comfortingly, the way out was clearly visible straight ahead, the circle of light widening with every step. He tried to relax. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
And then Fiona spoke. She had slowed down, allowing his horse to catch up with hers. ‚Are you still worried about the train, Alex?' she said scornfully. ‚Perhaps you’d like to go faster.'
He heard the riding crop whistle through the air and felt his horse jerk as Fiona whipped it hard on the rear. The horse whinnied and leapt forward. Alex was almost thrown backward off the saddle. Digging in with his legs, he just managed to cling on, but the whole top of his body was at a crazy angle, the reins tearing into the horse’s mouth. Fiona laughed. And then Alex was aware only of the wind rushing past him, the thick blackness spinning around his face and the horses’ hooves striking heavily at the gravel as the animal careened forward. Soot blew into his eyes, blinding him. He thought he was going to fall. Minutes seemed to pass in mere seconds.
But then, miraculously, they burst out into the light. Alex fought for his balance and then brought the horse back under control, pulling back with the reins and squeezing the horse’s flanks with his knees. He took a deep breath and waited for Fiona to appear.
His horse had come to rest on the bridge that she had mentioned. The bridge was fashioned out of thick iron girders and spanned a river. There had been a lot of rain that month and, about fifty feet below him, the water was racing past, dark green and deep. Carefully, he turned around to face the tunnel. If he lost control here, it would be easy to fall over the edge. The sides of the bridge couldn’t have been more than three feet high.
He could hear Fiona approaching. She had been cantering after him, probably laughing the entire way. He gazed into the tunnel, and that was when Fiona’s gray horse burst out, raced past him, and disappeared through the gate crossing on the other side of the bridge.
But Fiona wasn’t on it.
The horse had come out alone.
It took Alex a few seconds to work it out. His head was reeling. She must have fallen off.
Perhaps her horse had stumbled. She could be lying inside the tunnel. On the track. How long was there until the next train? Twenty minutes, she had said. But at least five of those minutes had gone, and she might have been exaggerating to begin with.
Alex swore. Damn this wretched girl with her spoiled brat behavior and her almost suicidal games. But he couldn’t leave
her. He seized hold of the reins. Somehow he would get this horse to obey him. He had to get her out, and he had to do it fast.
Perhaps his desperation managed to communicate itself to the horse’s brain. The animal wheeled around and tried to back away, but when Alex kicked with his heels, it stumbled forward and reluctantly entered the darkness of the tunnel for a second time. Alex kicked again.
He didn’t want to hurt it, but he could think of no other way to make it obey him.
The horse trotted on. Alex searched ahead. ‚Fiona!' he called out. There was no reply. He had hoped that she would be walking toward him, but he couldn’t hear any footsteps. If only there were more light!
The horse stopped and there she was, right in front of him, lying on the ground, her arms and chest actually on the line. If a train came now, it would cut her in half. It was too dark to see her face, but when she spoke he heard the pain in her voice.
‚Alex…,' she said. ‚I think I’ve broken my ankle.'
‚What happened?'
‚There was a cobweb or something. I was trying to keep up with you. It went in my face and I lost my balance.'
She’d been trying to keep up with him! She almost sounded as if she were blaming him—as if she had forgotten that she was the one who had whipped his horse on in the first place.
‚Can you get up?' Alex asked.
‚I don’t think so.'
Alex sighed. Keeping a tight hold on the reins, he slid off his horse. Fiona had fallen right in the middle of the tunnel. He forced himself not to panic. If what she had told him was true, the next train must still be at least ten minutes away.
He reached down to help her up. His foot came to rest on one of the rails …
… and he felt something. Under his foot. Shivering up his leg. The track was vibrating.
The train was on its way.
‚You’ve got to stand up,' he said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. He could already see the train in his imagination, thundering along the line. When it plunged into the tunnel, it would be a five-hundred-ton torpedo that would smash them to pieces. He could hear the grinding of the wheels, the roar of the engines. Blood and darkness. It would be a horrible way to die.
But he still had time.
‚Can you move your toes?' he asked.
‚I think so.' Fiona was clutching him.
‚Then your ankle’s probably sprained, not broken. Come on.'
He dragged her up, wondering if it would be possible to stay inside the tunnel, on the edge of the track. If they hugged the wall, the train might simply go past them. But Alex knew there wouldn’t be enough space. And even if the train missed them, it would still hit the horse.
Suppose it derailed? Dozens of people could be killed.
‚What train comes this way?' he asked. ‚Does it carry passengers?'
‚Yes.' Fiona was sounding tearful. ‚It’s a Virgin train. Heading up to Glasgow.'
Alex sighed. It was just his luck to get the only Virgin train ever to arrive on time.
Fiona froze. ‚What’s that?' she asked.
She had heard the clanging of a bell. The gate crossing! It was signaling the approach of the train, the barrier lowering itself over the road.
And then Alex heard a second sound that made his blood run cold. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. It was extraordinary. His breath was stuck in his lungs and refused to get up to his mouth. His whole body was paralyzed as if some switch had been thrown in his brain. He was simply terrified.
The screech of a train whistle. It was still a mile or more away, but the tunnel was acting as a sound conductor and he could feel it cutting into him. And then another sound: the rolling thunder of the diesel engine. It was moving fast toward them. Underneath his foot, the rail vibrated more violently.
Alex gulped for air and forced his legs to obey him. ‚Get on the horse,' he shouted. ‚I’ll help you.'
Not caring how much pain he caused her, he dragged Fiona next to the horse and forced her up onto the saddle. The noise grew louder with every second that passed. The rail was humming softly, like a giant tuning fork. The very air inside the tunnel seemed to be in motion, spinning left and right as if trying to get out of the way.
Fiona squealed and Alex felt her weight leave his arms as she fell onto the saddle. The horse whinnied and took a half step sideways, and for a dreadful moment Alex thought she was going to ride off without him. There was just enough light to make out the shapes of both the animal and its rider.
He saw Fiona grabbing the reins. She brought it back under control. Alex reached up and caught hold of the horse’s mane. He used the thick hair to pull himself onto the saddle, in front of Fiona. The noise of the train was getting louder and louder. Soot and loose concrete were trickling out of the curving walls. The wind currents were twisting faster, the rails singing. For a moment the two of them were tangled together, but then he had the reins and she was clinging on to him, her arms around his chest.
‚Go!' he shouted and kicked the horse.
The horse needed no encouragement. It raced for the light, galloping up the railway line, throwing Alex and Fiona back and forward, into each other.
Alex didn’t dare look behind him, but he felt the train as it reached the mouth of the tunnel and plunged in, traveling at 105 miles per hour. A shock wave hammered into them. The train was punching the air out of its way, filling the space with solid steel. The horse understood the danger and burst forward with new speed, its hooves flying over the ties in great strides. Ahead of them the tunnel mouth opened up, but Alex knew, with a sickening sense of despair, that they weren’t going to make it. Even when they got out of the tunnel, they would still be hemmed in by the sides of the bridge. The second gate crossing was a hundred yards farther down the line. They might get out but they would die in the open air.
The horse passed through the end of the tunnel. Alex felt the circle of darkness slip over his shoulders. Fiona was screaming, her arms wrapped around him so tightly that he could barely breathe. He could hardly hear her. The roar of the train was right behind him, and as the horse began a desperate race over the bridge, he sneaked a glance around. He just had time to see the huge, metallic beast roar out of the tunnel, towering over them, its body painted the brilliant red of the Virgin colors, the driver staring in horror from behind his window. There was a second blast from the train whistle, this one all-consuming, exploding all around them. Alex knew what he had to do. He pulled on one rein, at the same time kicking with the opposite foot.
He just had to hope the horse would understand what he wanted.
And somehow it worked. The horse veered around. Now it was facing the side of the bridge. There was a final, deafening blast from the train. Diesel fumes smothered them. Alex kicked again with all his strength. The horse jumped.
The train roared past, missing them by inches. But now they were in the air, over the side of the bridge. The railcars were still thundering past, a red blur. Fiona screamed a second time.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as they fell. One moment they were next to the bridge, a moment later underneath it and still falling. The green river rose up to receive them.
The horse with its two riders plummeted through the air and crashed into the river. Alex just had time to snatch a breath. He was afraid that the water wouldn’t be deep enough, that all three of them would end up with broken necks. But they hit the surface and passed through, down into a freezing, dark green whirlpool that sucked at them greedily, threatening to keep them there forever. Fiona was torn away from him. He felt the horse kick itself free. Bubbles exploded out of his mouth and he realized he was yelling.
Finally, Alex rose to the surface again. The water was rushing past and, dragged back by his clothes and shoes, he clumsily swam for the nearest bank.
The train driver hadn’t stopped. Perhaps he had been too frightened by what had happened. Perhaps he wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. Either way, the train
had gone. Alex reached the bank and pulled himself, shivering, onto the grass. There was a splutter and a cough from behind him, and Fiona appeared. She had lost her riding hat, and her long black hair was hanging over her face. Alex looked past her. The horse had also managed to reach dry land. It trotted forward and shook itself, seemingly unharmed. Alex was glad about that. When all was said and done, the horse had saved both their lives.
He stood up. Water dripped out of his clothes. There was no feeling anywhere in his body.
He wondered whether it was because of the cold water or the shock of what he had just been through. He went over to Fiona and helped her to her feet.
‚Are you all right?' he asked.
‚Yes.' She was looking at him strangely. She wobbled, and he put out a hand to steady her.
‚Thank you,' she said.
‚That’s all right.'
‚No.' She held on to his hand. Her shirt had fallen open and she threw back her head, shaking the hair out of her eyes. ‚What you did back there … it was fantastic. Alex, I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you all week. I thought—because you were here only for charity and all the rest of it—I thought you were just an oik. But I was wrong about you. You’re really great.
And I know we’re going to be friends now.' She half closed her eyes and moved toward him, her lips slightly parted. ‚You can kiss me if you like,' she said.
Alex let go of her and turned away. ‚Thanks, Fiona,' he said. ‚But frankly I’d prefer to kiss the horse.'
SPECIAL EDITION
THE HELICOPTER CIRCLED twice over Haverstock Hall before beginning its descent. It was a Robinson R44, fourseater aircraft, American built. There was only one person—the pilot—
inside. Sir David Friend had returned from London, and he and his wife came outside to watch it land in front of the house. The engine noise died down and the rotors began to slow. The cabin door slid open, and the pilot got out, dressed in a one-piece leather flying suit, helmet, and goggles.
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