Point Blanc (24 page)

And he saw
the hesitation.

The fake Alex
couldn't quite bring himself to do it. They were too similar. The same
clothes, the same bodies, the same faces. For the other boy, it would be like
shooting himself. Alex still hadn't closed the door. He threw himself
backward, out into the corridor. At the same time, the gun went off, the bullet
exploding inches above his head and crashing into the far wall. Alex hit the
ground on his back and rolled out of the doorway as a second bullet slammed
into the floor. And then he was running, putting as much space between himself
and his double as he could.

There was a
third shot as he sprinted down the corridor, and the window next to him
shattered, glass showering down. Alex reached the stairs and took them three at
a time, afraid that he would trip and break an ankle. But then he was at the
bottom, heading for the main door, swerving only when he realized that he would
make too easy a target as he crossed the school yard. Instead he dived into the
laboratory, almost falling headfirst over Bernie's bucket and mop.

The
laboratory was long and rectangular, divided into workstations with Bunsen
burners, flasks, and dozens of bottles of chemicals spread out on shelves that
stretched the full length of the room. There was another door at the far end.
Alex dived behind the farthest desk. Would his double have seen him come in?
Might he be looking for him, even now, out in the yard?

Cautiously,
Alex poked his head over the surface, then ducked down as four bullets ricocheted
around him, splintering the wood and smashing one of the gas pipes. Alex heard
the hiss of escaping gas. Then there was another gunshot and an explosion that
hurled him backward, sprawling onto the floor. The last bullet had ignited the
gas. Flames leapt up, licking at the ceiling. At the same time, the sprinkler
system went off, spraying the entire room. Alex tracked back on his hands and
feet, searching for shelter behind fire and water, hoping the other Alex would
be blinded. His shoulders hit the far door. He scrambled to his feet. There was
another shot. But then he was through--with another corridor and a second
flight of stairs straight ahead.

The stairs
led nowhere. He was halfway up before he remembered. There was a single
classroom at the top that was used for biology. It had a spiral staircase
leading to the roof. The school had so little land that they'd planned to
build a roof garden. Then they'd run out of money. There were a couple of
greenhouses. Nothing more.

There was no
way down! Alex looked over his shoulder and saw the other Alex reloading his
gun, already on his way up. He had no choice. He had to continue even though he
would soon be trapped.

He reached
the biology classroom and slammed the door shut behind him. There was no lock,
and the tables were all bolted into the floor. Otherwise he might be able to
make a barricade. The spiral staircase was ahead of him. He ran up it without
stopping, through another door and onto the roof. Alex stopped to catch his
breath and see what he could do next.

He was
standing on a wide, flat area with a fence running all the way around. There
were half a dozen terra-cotta pots filled with earth. A few plants sprouted
out, looking more dead than alive. Alex sniffed the air. Smoke was curling up from
the windows two floors below, and he realized that the sprinkler system had
been unable to put out the fire. He thought of the gas, pouring into the room,
and the chemicals stacked up on the shelves. He could be standing on a time
bomb! He had to find a way down.

But then he
heard the sound of feet on metal and realized that his double had reached the
top of the spiral staircase. Alex ducked behind one of the greenhouses. The
door crashed open.

Smoke
followed the fake Alex out onto the roof. He took a step forward. Now Alex was
behind him.

"Where
are you?" the fake Alex shouted. His hair was soaked and his face
contorted with anger.

Alex knew his
moment had come. He would never have a better chance. He ran forward. The other
Alex twisted around and fired. The bullet creased his shoulder, a molten sword
drawn across his flesh. But a second later he had reached him, grabbing him
around the neck with one hand and seizing hold of his wrist with the other,
forcing the gun away. There was a huge explosion in the laboratory below and
the entire building shook, but neither of the boys seemed to notice. They were
locked in an embrace, two reflections that had become tangled up in the mirror,
the gun over their heads, fighting for control.

The flames
were tearing through the building. Fed by a variety of chemicals, they burst
through the floor, melting the asphalt. In the far distance, the scream of fire
engines penetrated the sun-filled air. Alex pulled with all his strength,
trying to bring the gun down. The other Alex clawed at him, swearing--not
in English but in Afrikaans.

The end came
very suddenly.

The gun
twisted and fell to the ground.

One Alex
lashed out, knocking the other one down, then dived for the gun.

There was
another explosion, and a sheet of chemical flame leapt up. A crater had
suddenly appeared in the roof, swallowing up the gun. The boy saw it too late
and fell through. With a yell, he disappeared into the smoke and fire.

One Alex
Rider walked over to the hole and looked down.

The other
Alex Rider lay on his back, two floors below. He wasn't moving. The
flames were closing in.

The first
fire engines had arrived at the school. A ladder slanted up toward the roof.

A boy with
short fair hair and brown eyes, wearing a Gortex jacket, T-shirt, and jeans, walked
to the edge of the roof and began to climb down.