Read Eagle Strike for Free Online Page A

Jack noticed but said nothing. “I hope you‟re hungry,” she went on. “What‟s for lunch?” “Stir-fry.”
    “It smells good.”
    “It‟s an old Chinese recipe. At least, that‟s what it said on the packet. Help yourself to some Coke and I‟ll serve up.”
    The food was good and Alex tried to eat, but the truth was that he had no appetite and he soon gave up. Jack said nothing as he carried his half-finished plate over to the sink, but then she suddenly turned round.
    “Alex, you can‟t keep blaming yourself for what happened in France.”
    Alex had been about to leave the kitchen but now he returned to the table.
    “It‟s about time you and I talked about this,” Jack went on. “In fact, it‟s time we talked about everything!” She pushed her own plate of food away and waited until Alex had sat down. “All right. So it turns out that your uncle—Ian—wasn‟t a bank manager. He was a spy. Well, it would have been nice if he‟d mentioned it to me, but it‟s too late now because he‟s gone and got himself killed, which leaves me stuck here, looking after you.” She quickly held up a hand. “I didn‟t mean that. I love being here. I love London. I even love you.
    “But you‟re not a spy, Alex. You know that. Even if Ian had some crazy idea about training you up. Three times now you‟ve taken time off from school and each time you‟ve come back a bit more bashed around. I don‟t even want to know what you‟ve been up to, but personally I‟ve been worried sick!” “It wasn‟t my choice…” Alex said. “That‟s my point exactly. Spies and bullets and madmen who want to take over the world—it‟s got nothing to do with you. So you were right to walk away in Saint-Pierre. You did the right thing.”
    Alex shook his head. “I should have done something. Anything. If I had, Sabina‟s dad would never—”
    “You can‟t know that. Even if you‟d called the cops, what could they have done? Remember—
    nobody knew there was a bomb. Nobody knew who the target was. I don‟t think it would have made any difference at all. And if you don‟t mind my saying so, Alex, going after this guy Yassen on your own was frankly … well, it was very dangerous. You‟re lucky you weren‟t killed.”
    She was certainly right about that. Alex remembered the arena and saw again the horns and bloodshot eyes of the bull. He reached out for his glass and took a sip of Coke. “I still have to do something,” he said. “Edward Pleasure was writing an article about Damian Cray. Something about a secret meeting in Paris. Maybe he was buying drugs or something.”
    But even as he spoke the words, Alex knew they couldn‟t be true. Cray hated drugs. There had been advertising campaigns—posters and TV—using his name and face. His last album, White Lines, had contained four anti-drugs songs. He had made it a personal issue. “Maybe he‟s into porn,” he suggested weakly.
    “Whatever it is, it‟s going to be hard to prove, Alex. The whole world loves Damian Cray.” Jack sighed. “Maybe you should talk to Mrs Jones.”
    Alex felt his heart sink. He dreaded the thought of going back to MI6 and meeting the woman who was its deputy head of Special Operations. But he knew Jack was right. At least Mrs Jones would be able to investigate. “I suppose I could go and see her,” he said.
    “Good. But just make sure she doesn‟t get you involved. If Damian Cray is up to something, it‟s her business—not yours.”
    The telephone rang.
    There was a cordless phone in the kitchen and Jack took the call. She listened for a moment, then handed the receiver to Alex. “It‟s Sabina,” she said. “For you.”

    They met outside Tower Records in Piccadilly Circus and walked to a nearby Starbucks. Sabina was wearing grey trousers and a loose-fitting jersey. Alex had expected her to have changed in some way after all that had happened, and indeed she looked younger, less sure of herself. She was obviously tired.