Free Skeleton Key by Anthony Horowitz Page B

flickered and a human skeleton appeared. Alex moved a hand. The skeleton‟s hand moved. With a shudder, he realized he was looking at—or rather, through—himself.
    “You‟re looking well,” Smithers said. “Good bone structure!”
    “What…?” Alex began.
    “It‟s just something I‟ve been working on. A simple X-ray device. Useful if anyone is wearing a gun.” Smithers pressed a button and the screen went blank. “Now, Mr Blunt tells me that you‟re off to join our friends in the CIA. They‟re fine operators. Very, very good—except, of course, you can never trust them and they have no sense of humour. Cayo Esqueleto, I understand…?”
    He leant forward and pressed another button on the desk. Alex glanced at the painting on the wall. The waves had begun to move! At the same time, the image shifted, pulling back, and he realized that he was looking at a plasma television screen with a picture beamed by satellite from somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. Alex found himself looking down on an irregularly shaped island surrounded by turquoise water. The image was time coded and he realized that it was being broadcast into the room live.
    “Tropical climate,” Smithers muttered. “There‟ll be quite a lot of rainfall at this time of year.
    I‟ve been developing a poncho that doubles as a parachute, but I don‟t think you‟ll need that.
    And I‟ve got a marvellous mosquito coil. As a matter of fact, mosquitoes are about the only thing it won‟t knock out. But you won‟t need that either! In fact, I‟m told the only thing you actually do need is something to help you keep in touch.”
    “A secret transmitter,” Alex said.
    “Why does it have to be secret?” Smithers pulled open a drawer and took out an object which he placed in front of Alex.
    It was a mobile phone.
    “I‟ve already got one, thanks,” Alex muttered.
    “Not one like this,” Smithers retorted. “It gives you a direct link with this office, even when you‟re in America. It works underwater—and in space. The pads are fingerprint sensitive so only you can use it. This is the model five. We also have a model seven. You hold it upside down when you dial or it blows up in your hand—”
    “Why can‟t I have that model?” Alex asked.
    “Mr. Blunt has forbidden it.” Smithers leant forward conspiratorially. “But I have put in a little extra for you. You see the aerial just here? Dial 999 and it‟ll shoot out like a needle. Drugged, of course. It‟ll knock out anyone in a twenty metre range.”
    “Right.” Alex picked up the phone. “Have you got anything else?”
    “I was told you weren‟t to have any weapons…” Smithers sighed, then leant forward and spoke into a potted plant. “Could you bring them up, please, Miss Pickering?”
    Alex was beginning to have serious doubts about this office—and these were confirmed a moment later when the leather sofa suddenly split in half, the two ends moving away from each other. At the same time, part of the floor slid aside to allow another piece of sofa to shoot silently into place, turning the two-seater into a three-seater. A young woman had been carried up with the new piece. She was sitting with her legs crossed and her hands on her knee. She stood up and walked over to Smithers.
    “These are the items you requested,” she said, handing over a package. She produced a sheet of paper and placed it in front of him. “And this report just came in from Cairo.”
    “Thank you, Miss Pickering.” Smithers waited until the woman had left—using the door this time—then glanced quickly at the report. “Not good news,” he muttered. “Not good news at all.
    Oh well…” He slid the report into the “out” tray. There was a flash of electricity as the paper self-destructed. A second later, there were only ashes left. “I‟m bending the rules doing this,” he went on. “But there were a couple of things I‟d been developing for you and I don‟t see why you