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team.”
    Damon couldn’t help smiling. Alex Rider would work with the agent they all called Ash. But there was just one problem. “You think Ash will work with a teenager?” he asked.
    â€œHe will if this kid’s as good as everyone says he is.”
    â€œHe’ll need proof of that.”
    This time it was Brooke’s turn to smile. “Leave that to me.”
    Â 
    The SAS compound at Swanbourne is a few miles north of Perth and has the appearance of a low-rise vacation village, although perhaps one with more security than most. It stretches out next to the white sand and blue water of the Indian Ocean, sheltered from public view by a series of sand dunes. The buildings are clean, modern, and unremarkable. But for the rise and fall of the barrier at the main gate, the military vehicles passing in and out, and the occasional sighting of men in khaki and black berets, it would be hard to believe that this is the HQ of Australia’s toughest and most elite fighting force.
    Alex Rider stood at the window of his room looking out over the main square with the indoor shooting range on one side and the gymnasium and fitness center on the other. He wanted to go home and wondered how long they were going to keep him here. Certainly, his stay on the Kitty Hawk had been short enough. He had barely had time to eat breakfast before he had been bundled onto a Hawkeye jet, an oxygen mask strapped over his face, and then blasted off back into the sky. Nobody had even told him where they were taking him, but he had seen the name written in large letters on the airport terminal. Perth. There had been a jeep parked on the runway, and the next thing he knew, he was bouncing through the very ordinary-looking suburb of Swanbourne. The jeep drove into the SAS compound and stopped. A single soldier was waiting for him, his face set, his mouth a straight line that gave nothing away. Alex was shown into a comfortable room with a bed, a TV, and a view of the sand dunes. The door was closed, but it wasn’t locked.
    And here he was now. At the end of a journey that had been literally out of this world. He wondered what would happen next.
    There was a knock on the door. Alex opened it. A second soldier in green-and-ocher battle fatigues stood in front of him.
    â€œMr. Rider?”
    â€œI’m Alex.”
    â€œColonel Abbott sends his compliments. He’d like to speak to you.”
    Alex followed the soldier across the compound. For the moment there was nobody else around. The sun was beating down on the empty parade ground. It was almost midday, and the Australian summer was already making itself felt. They reached a bungalow, standing on its own near the edge of the complex. The soldier knocked and, without waiting for an answer, opened the door for Alex to go in.
    A thin, businesslike man in his forties was sitting behind a desk, also wearing battle fatigues. He had been writing a report, but he stood up as Alex came in.
    â€œSo you’re Alex Rider!” The Australian accent came almost as a surprise. With his short, dark hair and craggy features, Abbott could have been mistaken for an Englishman. He reached out and shook Alex’s hand firmly. “I’m Mike Abbott, and I’m really pleased to meet you, Alex. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Alex looked surprised, and Abbott laughed. “Six months ago, there was a rumor that the Brits were using a teenage agent. Of course, nobody believed it. But it seems they’ve been keeping you busy, and after you took out Damian Cray…well, I’m afraid you can’t blow up Air Force One in the middle of London without someone hearing about it. But don’t worry! You’re among friends.”
    Abbott gestured toward a chair and Alex sat down. “It’s very kind of you, Colonel,” he said. “But I really want to get back home.”
    Abbott returned to his own chair. “I can understand that, Alex. And I