Crocodile Tears (Alex Rider, Book 8)
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A charity broker con artist has raised millions of dollars in donations, only to invest them in a form of genetically modified corn that has the power to release an airborne strain of virus so powerful it can knock out an entire country in one windy day. A catastrophe so far-reaching that it would raise millions of dollars more in charitable donations, all of which would be embezzled by one man. The antidote? Alex Rider, of course, who survives gunfire, explosions, and hand-to-hand combat with mercenaries - just another day in the life of an average kid.
he have allowed this to happen? Jack came back into the room. “He’s gone,” she said. She sat down at the table. The photographs were still spread out in front of her. “Why didn’t you tell me about the cemetery?” she asked. There was no accusation in her voice, but Alex knew she was upset. “I wanted to,” he said. “But it happened so soon after Scotland that I thought you’d be worried.” “I’d be more worried if I thought you weren’t telling me when you were in trouble.” “I’m sorry, Jack.” “It
lashed out, using every muscle in his leg as he kicked at the air. He thought the centipede would still cling on. It might get tangled in his laces. He was certain he was going to feel its bite. But when he looked down again, it was no longer there. He had managed to shake it free. He needed a weapon … anything to protect himself from whatever might come next. Why couldn’t Smithers have built a flamethrower into his Simpsons pencil case? Alex reached into his backpack once again. He had the two
his bones and muscles, all the way to his wrist. His hand fell open and the little knife dropped away. The man came at him again, this time swinging the blade to force Alex away from him. Alex took one step back, then another. At the last second, he remembered the water behind him. The man was about to feed him to the fish. Alex stopped with his heels on the very edge of the bank. The machete sliced the air in front of him and at once he lashed out, his fist plunging into the man’s abdomen. The
distance. He had seen elephants, monkeys, and, of course, crocodiles. What other horrors might be waiting for him around the next corner if he was unlucky? There could be lions or cheetahs. He had thought of taking the Dragunov sniper rifle or searching Rahim’s pockets for other weapons, but in the end he had decided against it. Rahim might need them when he recovered consciousness. Now he wished he hadn’t been so generous. After about half a mile, he had turned away from the river, heading in
up Special Operations.” The prime minister stood up. “How long until the party, Charles?” “We have forty-five minutes.” “I think I might change. Put on a new tie. What do you think?” “Maybe the blue one?” “Good idea.” The file that Blunt had brought to the office was still on the desk. There was a photograph of Alex Rider clipped to the first page. The prime minister closed it and slid it into a drawer. Then he went out to get changed. Chapter 24: UNHAPPY LANDING THE AIRPORT WAS ON