Skeleton Key by Anthony Horowitz Page A

hoping the older man would produce something, some rabbit out of the hat. Didn‟t the CIA have gadgets? Where was the inflatable speedboat or the concealed aqualung? But Turner was helpless. He‟d even managed to lose the gun.
    Mayfair Lady completed her turn.
    Turner swore.
    The boat drew closer, slicing through the water.

    And then it exploded. This time the explosions were huge, final. There were three of them, simultaneous, in the bow, the middle and the stern. Mayfair Lady was blown into three quite separate pieces, the funnel and main saloon heaving themselves out of the ocean as if trying to escape from the rest of the boat. Alex felt the Shockwave travel through the water. The blast was deafening. A fist of water smashed into him, almost knocking him out. Pieces of wood, some of them on fire, rained down all around. He knew at once that nobody could have survived. And with that knowledge came a terrible thought.
    Was it his fault? Had he killed them all?
    Turner must have been thinking the same thing. He said nothing. The two of them watched as the three sections of what had once been a classic motor yacht sank and disappeared.
    There was the sound of an outboard motor. Alex twisted round. A speedboat was racing towards them. He saw Belinda Troy at the wheel. She must have somehow commandeered it and come after them. She was on her own.
    She helped Turner out of the water first, then Alex. For the first time, Alex realized that he couldn‟t see land. He felt that it had all happened so quickly. And yet Mayfair Lady had managed to put several kilometres between itself and the coast before it was destroyed.
    “What happened?” Troy asked. The wind had caught her long hair and spread it all around her.
    She looked as if she was having hysterics. “I saw the boat blow. I thought you were—” She stopped and caught her breath. “What happened?” she repeated.
    “It was the kid.” Turner‟s voice was neutral. He was still trying to catch up with the events of the last few minutes. “He cut me free…”

    “You were tied up?”
    “Yes. The Salesman knew I was with the agency. He was going to kill me. Alex knocked him out. He had some sort of cell phone…” He was stating the facts, but there was no gratitude. The boat rocked gently. Nobody moved. “He blew up the boat. He killed them all.”
    “No.” Alex shook his head. “The fire was out. You saw. They‟d got the boat under control. They were turning round, about to come back—”
    “For God‟s sake!” The CIA man was almost too tired to argue. “What do you think happened?
    You think one of the lights fused and Mayfair Lady just happened to blow up? You did it, Alex.
    You set the gas alight and that‟s what happened.”
    Gas. The American for petrol. It was one of the words they had tested him on at the Snackyard that morning. A century ago.
    “I saved your life,” Alex said.
    “Yeah. Thanks, Alex.” But Turner‟s voice was bleak.
    Troy climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. The speedboat turned and they headed back towards the shore.

PASSPORT CONTROL

    Alex said little at dinner that night. Although the hotel had seemed empty earlier in the day, he was surprised how many guests had appeared for dinner in their loose skirts, shirts and sun-tans, and he knew it would be impossible to talk openly now.
    They were sitting on the restaurant terrace which overlooked the sea, eating fish—as fresh as Alex had ever tasted—served with rice, salad and black beans. After the intense heat of the afternoon, the air was cool and welcoming. Two guitarists, lit by candles, were playing soft Latin music. Cicadas rasped and rattled in their thousands, hidden in the undergrowth.
    The three of them talked like any family would. The towns they were going to visit, the beaches where they wanted to swim. Turner told a joke and Troy laughed loud enough to turn heads. But it was all fake. They weren‟t going anywhere and the joke hadn‟t been