Horowitz,Anthony-AlexRider01-Stormbreaker.doc.doc

STORMBREAKER Anthony Horowitz ? FUNERAL VOICES ? WHEN THE DOORBELL rings at three in the morning, its never good news. ? Alex Rider was woken by the first chime. His eyes flickered open, but for a moment he stayed completely still in his bed, lying on his back with his head resting on the pillow. He heard a bedroom door open and a creak of wood as somebody went downstairs. The bell rang a second time, and he looked at the alarm clock glowing beside him. There was a rattle as someone slid the security chain off the front door. ? He rolled out of bed and walked over to the open window, his bare feet pressing down the carpet pile. The moonlight spilled onto his chest and shoulders. Alex was fourteen, already well built, with the body of an athlete. His hair, cut short apart from two thick strands hanging over his forehead, was fair. His eyes were brown and serious. For a moment he stood silently, half hidden in the shadow, looking out. There was a police car parked outside. From his second-floor window Alex could see the black ID number on the roof and the caps of the two men who were standing in front of the door. The porch light went on and, at the same time, the door opened. ? Mrs. Rider? ? No. Im the housekeeper. What is it? Whats hap-pened? ? This is the home of Mr. Ian Rider? ? Yes.” ? I wonder if we could come in. . .” ? And Alex already knew. He knew from the way the police stood there, awkward and unhappy. But he also knew from the tone of their voices. Funeral voices ... that was how he would describe them later. The sort of voices people use when they come to tell you that someone close to you has died. ? He went to his door and opened it. He could hear the two policemen talking down in the hall, but only some of the words reached him. ? a car accident ... called the ambulance ... intensive care ... nothing anyone could do ... so sorry. ? It was only hours later, sitting in the kitchen, watching as the gray light of morning bled