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Blunt continued, “the point is, later today, Sayle Enterprises are going to make a quite remarkable announcement. They are planning to give away tens of thousands of these computers. In fact, it is their intention to ensure that every secondary school in England gets its own Stormbreaker. It’s an unparalleled act of generosity, Sayle’s way of thanking the country that gave him a home.”
    “So the man’s a hero.”
    “So it would seem. He wrote to Downing Street a few months ago: ‘My dear Prime Minister. You may remember me from our school days together. For almost forty years I have lived in England and I wish to make a gesture, something that will never be forgotten, to express my true feelings toward your country.’
    The letter went on to describe the gift and was signed, ‘Yours humbly,’ by the man himself. Of course, the whole government was excited. The computers are being assembled at the Sayle plant down in Port Tallon, Cornwall. They’ll be shipped across the country at the end of this month, and on April first there’s to be a special ceremony at the Science Museum in London. The prime minister is going to press the button that will bring all the computers on-line … the whole lot of them. And—this is top secret, by the way—
    Mr. Sayle is to be rewarded with British citizenship, which is something he has apparently always wanted.”
    “Well, I’m very happy for him,” Alex said. “But you still haven’t told me what this has got to do with me.”
    Blunt glanced at Mrs. Jones, who had finished her meal while he was talking. She unwrapped another peppermint and took over. “For some time now, this department—Special Operations—has been concerned about Mr. Sayle. The fact of the matter is, we’ve been wondering if he isn’t too good to be true. I won’t go into all the details, Alex, but we’ve been looking at his business dealings—he has contacts in China and the former Soviet Union, countries that have never been our friends. The government may think he’s a saint, but there’s a ruthless side to him too. And the security arrangements down at Port Tallon worry us. He’s more or less formed his own private army. He’s acting as if he’s got something to hide.”
    “Not that anyone will listen to us,” Blunt muttered.
    “Exactly. The government’s too keen to get their hands on these computers to listen to us. That was why we decided to send our own man down to the plant. Supposedly to check on security. But, in fact, his job was to keep an eye on Herod Sayle.”
    “You’re talking about my uncle,” Alex said. Ian Rider had told him that he was going to an insurance convention. Another lie in a life that had been nothing but lies.
    “Yes. He was there for three weeks and, like us, he didn’t exactly take to Mr. Sayle. In his first reports he described him as short-tempered and unpleasant. But at the same time, he had to admit that everything seemed to be fine. Production was on schedule. The Stormbreakers were coming off the line. And everyone seemed to be happy.
    “But then we got a message. Rider couldn’t say very much because it was an open line, but he told us that something had happened. He said he’d discovered something. That the Stormbreakers mustn’t leave the plant and that he was coming up to London at once. He left Port Tallon at four o’clock. He never even got to the freeway. He was ambushed in a quiet country lane. The local police found the car. We arranged for it to be brought up here.”
    Alex sat in silence. He could imagine it. A twisting lane with the trees just in blossom. The silver BMW
    gleaming as it raced past. And, around a corner, a second car waiting … “Why are you telling me all this?”
    he asked.
    “It proves what we were saying,” Blunt replied. “We have our doubts about Sayle so we send a man down.
    Our best man. He finds out something and he ends up dead. Maybe Rider discovered the truth—”
    “But I don’t