language?â
âYou wonât talk. Ever. Youâre going to pretend to be a simpleton. Just stare into the corner and keep your mouth shut. Try and look scaredâ¦as if Iâm about to beat you. Maybe I will from time to time. Just to make us look authentic.â
Alex wasnât sure if Ash was being serious or not.
âI speak Dari,â Ash went on. âThatâs the language of the majority in Afghanistan and itâs the language the snakehead will use. I speak a few words of Hazaragi tooâbut we shouldnât need them. Just remember. Never open your mouth. If you do, youâll kill us both.â
Ash stood up. While he had been talking, he had been grimâalmost hostile. But now he turned to Alex with something close to desperation in his dark brown eyes. âAlexâ¦â He paused, scratching at his beard. âAre you sure you want to do this? ASIS has got nothing to do with you. People smuggling and all the rest of itâ¦you should be at school. Why donât you just go home?â
âItâs a little late now,â Alex said. âI agreed. And I want you to tell me about my dad.â
âIs that the main reason you agreed to this?â
âItâs the only reason.â
âI donât think I could forgive myself if anything happened to you. Iâd be dead if it wasnât for your father. Thatâs the truth of it.â Ash looked away, as if trying to avoid the memory. âOne day Iâll tell you about itâ¦Malta, and what happened after Yassen Gregorovich had finished with me. But Iâll tell you this right now. John wouldnât thank me for getting you into trouble. In fact, heâd probably chew my head off. So if youâll take my advice, youâll call Brooke. Tell him youâve changed your mind. And get out now.â
âIâm staying,â Alex said. âBut thanks anyway.â
In fact, what Ash had just saidâthe mention of Yassen Gregorovichâhad made Alex determined to learn more. Suddenly things were beginning to come together.
Alex knew that his father, John Rider, had pretended to be an enemy agent, working for Scorpia. When MI6 wanted him back, they had arranged for him to be âcaptured.â That had been in Malta. But it had all been a setup. And Yassen Gregorovich had been there. Yassen was an international assassin, and Alex had met him fourteen years laterâfirst when he was working for Herod Sayle, a second time inside the evil empire of Damian Cray. Yassen was dead now, but it seemed that he was still destined to be part of Alexâs life. Ash had met him in Malta. And whatever had happened on that island was part of the story that Alex wanted to know.
âYouâre sure?â Ash asked him one last time.
âIâm sure,â Alex said.
âVery well.â Ash nodded gravely. âThen Iâd better teach you this. Baâad az ar tariki, roshani ast. Itâs an old Afghan proverb, and there may come a time when you need to remember it. âAfter every darkness there is light.â I hope it will be true for you.â
There was a knock at the door.
Ash went over and opened it and a short, rather dumpy woman walked in, carrying a suitcase. She could have been a retired principal or perhaps a very old-fashioned schoolteacher. She was wearing a two-piece olive green suit and heavy stockings that only emphasized the fact that she had very shapeless legs. Her hair hung loose, with no apparent color or style. Her face could have been made of putty. She wore no makeup. There was a single broochâa silver daisyâpinned to her lapel.
âHow are you doing, Ash?â She smiled as she came in and that, along with her broad Australian accent, seemed to bring her to life.
âGood to see you, Cloudy,â Ash replied. He closed the door. âThis is Mrs. Webber, Alex,â he explained. âShe works for ASISâa specialist
Danielle Slater, Nora Lane