Free Quite a Ride : An Alex Rider Story: a Penguin Especial from Philomel Books (9781101195871) by Anthony Horowitz Page B

as he handed Alex a black metal bar with about a dozen different cords leading back to the parachute. The parachute was now securely attached to Alex’s waist. When he took off, the metal bar would be pulled above his head. A long rope led from the bar to a pole in the motorboat, just behind the driver’s seat.
    The driver was old and overweight. He was hunched over the steering wheel and didn’t seem happy at all. Alex noticed that he was smoking. It seemed odd and out of sorts with what was meant to be a healthy outdoor activity.
    The Australian must have seen the look in Alex’s eyes. “That’s Kristof,” he said. “The usual guy’s got the day off. But don’t worry. He’ll give you a good ride.” He stepped back and took hold of one corner of the parachute. The other Australian did the same, the two of them holding it up so that it would catch the wind. One of them gave a signal. Kristof suddenly perked up and gunned the engine. Alex saw the boat move forward and the rope began to go taut.
    He took three steps and rose effortlessly off the beach. He could barely even feel the parachute pulling him—all the strain was taken by the harness and divided equally between his thighs. As the boat picked up speed, he climbed faster until he was about sixty feet above the water. He noticed the various swimmers watch him go. There must have been forty or fifty people in the sea and maybe a couple of hundred more spread out on towels on the public beach or lying sardine-like on the blue-and-white sun loungers on the private Plage Neptune next door. A couple of children, both about six years old, waved at him as he soared above them.
    The speedboat was an American-built Tigé 21V Fox Racer, 20' 6" long, with a single 315-horsepower outboard engine. It was speeding down a narrow channel between two lines of buoys with the open sea ahead. Alex was quite surprised how high up he was. From this height, even Kristof seemed to be doll-sized. Alex watched as the driver flicked his cigarette into the slipstream. That surprised him too. The butt of a cigarette is made of cellulose acetate, a type of plastic, and would take years to biodegrade. It would also seep out tiny amounts of lead, formaldehyde, cadmium, and arsenic. Hardly very ecological!
    He put it out of his mind. He was actually enjoying this. They were still heading out to sea, leaving Nice behind them, and Alex felt a strange sense of both calm and exhilaration. He was too high up to hear the Tigé’s engine. The sun was sparkling off the sea, the wind rushing through his hair. He would be sorry when Kristof turned around and headed back.
    Suddenly Kristof stood up. He turned as if he was about to shout out to Alex. Then he clutched at his chest and toppled sideways, landing on the steering wheel.
    He lay still. The boat surged on toward the horizon.
    Dangling high above, Alex couldn’t quite believe what he had just seen. From the look of it, Kristof had just suffered a heart attack! It was hard to say if he was dead or alive, but he was certainly unmoving, his hands hanging limply above the deck. Alex almost wanted to laugh. This could only happen to him! Well, it looked as if he was going to get a rather longer ride than he had bargained for.
    He waited for Kristof to wake up.
    Kristof didn’t wake up. Oh no…was the poor man dead?
    Alex took stock of the situation. He was in no real danger. Provided the Tigé kept moving forward, he would continue to fly behind it. It wouldn’t take very long for the Australians to realize that something had gone wrong. They would raise the alarm and send another boat after him. Somehow they would have to climb onto the Tigé and bring it back to shore, slowing it down so that Alex could descend. Then they would call an ambulance for the unfortunate Kristof. Alex felt terrible. He wondered if the man had a family.
    The boat, left to itself, was still speeding in a