Point Blanc by Anthony Horowitz Page B

all, a lion. Alex wondered who had shot them.
    They came to
a single door that suggested they had come to the end of their journey. So far,
Alex hadn't encountered any boys, but glancing out of the window, he saw
two more guards marching slowly past, both of them cradling automatic machine
guns.
    Mrs. Stellenbosch
knocked on the door.
    "Come
in!" Even with just two words, Alex caught the South African accent.
    The door
opened, and they went into a huge room that made no sense. Like the rest of the
building, its shape was irregular, none of the walls running parallel. The
ceiling was about fifty feet high with windows running the whole, way and
giving an impressive view of the slopes. The room was modern with soft lighting
coming from units concealed in the walls. The furniture was ugly, but not as
ugly as the animal heads on the walls and the zebra skin on the wood floor.
There were three chairs next to a small fireplace. One of them was gold and
antique. A man was sitting in it. His head turned as Alex came in.
    "Good
afternoon, Alex," he said. "Please come and sit down."
    Alex
sauntered into the room and took one of the chairs. Mrs. Stellenbosch sat
in the other.
    "My
name is Grief," the man continued. "Dr. Grief. I am very pleased to
meet you and to have you here."
    Alex stared
at the man who was the director of Point Blanc, at the white-paper skin and the
eyes burning behind the red eyeglasses. It was like meeting a skeleton, and for
a moment he was lost for words. Then he recovered. "Nice place," he
said.
    "Do you
think so?" There was no emotion whatsoever in Grief's voice. So far
he had moved only his neck. "This building was designed in 1857 by a
Frenchman who was certainly the world's worst architect. This was his
only commission. When the first owners moved in, they had him shot."
    "There
are still quite a few people here with guns." Alex glanced out of the
window as another pair of guards walked past.
    "Point
Blanc is unique," Dr. Grief explained. "As you will soon discover,
all the boys who have been sent here come from families of great wealth and
importance. We have had the sons of emperors and industrialists. Boys like
yourself. It follows that we could very easily become a target for terrorists.
The guards are therefore here for your protection."
    "That's
very kind of you." Alex felt he was being too polite. It was time to show
this man what sort of person he was meant to be. "But to be honest, I
don't really want to be here myself. So if you'll just tell me how
I get down into town, maybe I can get the next train home."
    "There
is no way down into town." Dr. Grief lifted a hand to stop Alex from
interrupting. Alex glanced at his long skeletal fingers and at the eyes
glinting red behind the glasses. The man moved as if every bone in his body had
been broken and then put back together again. "The skiing season is over.
It's too dangerous now. There is only the helicopter, and that will take
you from here only when I say so." The hand lowered itself again.
"You are here, Alex, because you have disappointed your parents. You were
expelled from school. You have had difficulties with the police."
    "That
wasn't my bloody fault!" Alex protested.
    "Don't
interrupt the doctor!" Mrs. Stellenbosch said.
    Alex glanced
at her balefully.
    "Your
appearance is displeasing," Dr. Grief went on. "Your language also.
It is our job to turn you into a boy of whom your parents can be proud."
    "I'm
happy as I am," Alex said.
    "That
is of no relevance." Dr. Grief fell silent.
    Alex
shivered. There was something about this room, so big, so empty, so twisted out
of shape. And this man who was both old and young at the same time but who
somehow wasn't completely human. "So what are you going to do with
me?" Alex asked.
    "There
will be no lessons to begin with," Mrs. Stellenbosch said.
"For the first couple of weeks we want you to assimilate."
    "What
does that mean?"
    "To
assimilate. To conform ... to adapt ... to become like." It was
as if