Never Say Die (Alex Rider, Band 11) - Softcover

Horowitz, Anthony

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1524739324 ISBN 13: 9781524739324

Verlag: Puffin Books, 2018

Inhaltsangabe

Alex Rider will soon be a star in his very own TV series! 

The world’s greatest teen spy is back in action in a thrilling new mission: destroy once and for all the terrorist organization SCORPIA. Americans may have purchased more than 6 million copies of Alex's adventures, but now, more than ever, we all need his heroics.

Following the events of Scorpia Rising, Alex relocates to San Francisco as he slowly recovers from the tragic death of his best friend and caregiver, Jack Starbright, at the hands of terrorists working for SCORPIA. With Jack gone, Alex feels lost and alone, but then, out of the blue, he receives a cryptic email--just three words long, but enough to make Alex believe that Jack may be alive. Armed with this shred of hope, Alex boards a flight bound for Egypt and embarks on a dubious quest to track Jack down.

Yet SCORPIA knows Alex's weakness. And the question of whether Jack is alive soon takes a backseat to a chilling new terrorist plot--one that will play with Alex’s mind as he grasps the magnitude of what is at stake.

From Egypt to France to Wales, from luxury yachts to abandoned coal mines, Alex traverses a minefield of dangers and cryptic clues as he fights to discover the truth. The #1 New York Times bestselling series, perfect for fans of James Bond and Jason Bourne, is back with a vengeance!

Praise for Never Say Die

"Once again amid races, chases, hails of bullets, and increasingly spectacular explosions, the teenage James Bond pulls off one awesome feat of derring-do after another. [This] fresh caper . . . roars along to a (naturally) explosive climax."—Booklist

"In his usual breakneck fashion, Horowitz whisks Alex from one improbable situation to another . . . this installment is sure to please Alex's legions of fans."—Kirkus Reviews

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Anthony Horowitz (anthonyhorowitz.com) is a world-renowned screenwriter for film and television, having received multiple awards. And he is, of course, the author of the #1 New York Times bestselling Alex Rider novels, which have become bestsellers the world over, spawned a major motion picture, and a line of graphic novels. A master of the spy thriller, Anthony is the only writer authorized by both the Arthur Conan Doyle and Ian Fleming Estates to write original Sherlock Holmes and James Bond novels, respectively. Anthony lives with his wife in London, England; they are parents to two grown boys. Follow Anthony on Twitter @AnthonyHorowitz.

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1
Thin Air

Fifty thousand people had come to the Suffolk Air Show on the east coast of England. But only one of them was there to commit murder.

It was the third week in August, the height of the summer. The schools were closed, and whole families had taken advantage of the fine weather to arrive at the old air base, less than a mile from the sea. They had strolled around vintage planes from the first and second world wars: single-seat biplanes parked next to Spitfires and Hurricanes. That morning, the Red Arrows had put on a dazzling display, twisting and crisscrossing each other in the sky before swooping down, trailing plumes of red, white, and blue. There had been fly-pasts by the Tornado GR4, the two-seat attack aircraft that had been used in Iraq and Libya, and by the Lightning II Joint Strike Fighter, one of the most sophisticated and—at $125 million—one of the most expensive aircrafts in the world. The grounds were packed with simulator rides, motorbike displays, drones, face-painting and fairground stalls. Everyone was having a good time.

As with every public event in the UK, an extensive, almost invisible security net had been put in place. It was impossible to stop and search all the cars, but CCTV cameras recorded every arrival and every license plate was instantly checked. People might notice police and even a few sniffer dogs moving among them. These were a common sight. But they would have been unaware of the plainclothes policemen, many of them with concealed weapons, mingling with the crowd. In fact the Joint Terrorism Analysis Centre (JTAC) had met in their offices close to the Houses of Parliament just a few days before and had agreed that the threat level at the Suffolk Air Show would remain at moderate. They weren’t expecting any trouble.

And so nobody had paid very much attention to the woman who had arrived just after three o’clock. She had driven into the parking lot in a Ford Transit van that, according to the Automatic Number Plate Recognition system, belonged to the St John Ambulance service. This was the country’s leading first aid charity, and indeed, the woman was dressed in the green and black uniform of a local volunteer. She was carrying a nylon bag marked with a white cross that, if opened, would reveal medicine and bandages.

She was short and round-shouldered with dark red hair that had been cut very badly so that it stuck out straight on one side of her skull and curled on the other. There was something quite aggressive about the way she walked, like a boxer about to enter the ring. She was overweight, breathing heavily with beads of sweat on her upper lip. As she walked, she slipped on a pair of cheap sunglasses. They concealed the smoldering violence in her eyes.

There was a separate entrance leading into the air base, reserved for paramedics, technicians, organizers . . . anyone working the event. She stopped and showed a pass that identified her as Jane Smith, but this was not her real name, nor had she ever worked for the St John Ambulance service. The security man at the gate might have wondered why she had arrived so late in the day, when the event was almost over. He might have asked her why she was alone. But he was tired and he was looking forward to getting home. He glanced at her pass and waved her through. He didn’t even look inside the bag.

The woman’s real name was Dragana Novak. She was forty-six years old, and until recently she had been a lieutenant colonel in the Serbian air force; a highflier in every sense of the word. Her career had ended following a drunken fight with another pilot. He had been twice her size, but even so, she had put him into the hospital. In fact he was still there. Inevitably, there had been a court-martial, and she had been looking forward to an uncertain future—perhaps even a return to the turnip farm where she had been brought up. That was when she had received the telephone call. There was a unique job opportunity. It would pay two hundred thousand dollars a day for two days’ work. Was she interested?

Dragana didn’t need to think for a minute. She had met her contact in a local tavern in Belgrade, where she had tucked into her favorite dish of sarma—spicy beef wrapped in cabbage leaves—washed down with a large glass of rakija—the local plum brandy. The man, who had never given her his name, had told her what was needed. It was a tricky operation that would demand all her skills. Dragana hadn’t asked any questions. All she cared about was the money. It was more than she had been paid in her life.

She was still dreaming about jewelry, fast cars, and expensive chocolates as she made her way past the various exhibition stands, the bars, the fast-food outlets. People were already drifting toward the seats for the last flying display of the afternoon. For many of them it was the high point of the entire show. The aircraft was sitting out on the tarmac, patiently waiting for the pilot to walk over and take the controls. Dragana stopped at the barrier that ran the full length of the runway and took out a pair of binoculars. Without removing her dark glasses, she raised them to her eyes. Slowly, unable to help herself, she smiled.

This was what she had come to steal.

The American-built Sikorsky CH-53E is also known as the Super Stallion, and there’s really no helicopter in the world that’s quite like it. Looking at it, it’s hard to believe that it can fly at all. For a start, it’s huge: as tall as a three-story building and longer than three London buses parked end to end. It’s also surprisingly ugly, bolted together as if the designers had never actually had any plans.

The Super Stallion can fly—at two hundred miles per hour—and what makes it special is that it can carry an enormous load. It is the workhorse for the United States military, capable of lifting sixteen tons of cargo. When the Americans mount an assault, it can transport a platoon with enough weapons to obliterate an entire army. How does it even get off the ground? Part of the answer is that it has no fewer than three hugely powerful turboshaft engines. It also has enormous titanium-fiberglass rotor blades, seventy-nine feet in diameter. Most helicopters have just four blades. The Super Stallion has seven.

Dragana Novak examined the Super Stallion, running her eyes over the gray-painted fuselage, the cockpit, the tail rotor. The Serbian air force couldn’t possibly afford a machine like this, but Dragana had briefly flown one when she was on a training exercise with the United Nations and still remembered the thrill it had given her. In less than thirty minutes’ time, it would be hers. She had no children. She had never married. But right now, looking at the helicopter, she felt its power reaching out to her and knew that she was completely in love.

It was time to move. Everything had been planned down to the last second, and she had been shown exactly where she had to go. There were several hangars on the other side of the runway, but two buildings dominated the airfield closer by, both of them left over from the last war. One was the control tower. The other was a low redbrick building with about twenty evenly spaced windows and several doors. This had been an office complex, but it was being used to house the pilots and technicians during the show with changing rooms, rest areas, and a cafeteria at the far end.

Hoisting her medicine bag over her shoulder, Dragana strolled toward the entrance where two more uniformed officials were standing behind a conveyor belt that fed into an X-ray machine, exactly the same sort of device that could be found at any airport. First, visitors would have their cases and shopping bags scanned. Then...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Puffin Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2018
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 1524739324
• ISBN 13: 9781524739324
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 368
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: gpsr@libri.de; gpsr@libri.de; ; Friedensallee 273; Hamburg; 22763; Deutschland