Russian Roulette (Alex Rider)

particular. Anthrax. I don’t suppose you know very much about that.”
“I know about anthrax,” I said.
“We thought we could change the world … your father especially. He was looking at ways
to prevent the infection of sheep and cattle. But there was an accident. Working in the
laboratory together, we created a form of anthrax that was much faster and deadlier than
anything anyone had ever known. It had no cure. Antibiotics were useless against it.”
“It was a weapon?”
“That wasn’t our intention. That wasn’t what we wanted. But – yes. It was the perfect
biological weapon. And of course the government found out about it. Everything that
happens in this place they know about. It was true then. It’s true now. They heard about
our work here and they came to us and ordered us to develop it for military use.”
Dementyev took out a handkerchief and used it to polish the lenses of his glasses. He put

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them back on. “Your father refused. It was the last thing he wanted. So they started to put
the pressure on. They threatened him. And that was when he did something incredibly brave
… or incredibly stupid. He went to a journalist and tried to get the story into the
newspapers.
“He was arrested at once. I was here, in the laboratory, when they marched him away.
They arrested your mother too.”
“How old was I?” I asked.
“You were two. And – I’m sorry, Yasha – they used you to get at your parents. That was
how they worked. It was very simple. If your parents didn’t do what they were told, they
would never see you again. What choice did they have? They were sent to Estrov, to work
in the factory. They were forced to produce the new anthrax. That was the deal. Stay silent.
And live.”
So everything – my parents’ life or their non-life as prisoners in a remote village, the little
house, the boredom and the poverty – had been for me. I wasn’t sure how that made me
feel. Was I to blame for everything that had happened? Was I the one who had destroyed
their lives?
“Yasha…” Dementyev stood up and came over to me. He was much taller than I had
expected now that he was on his feet. He loomed over me. “Were you inoculated?” he
asked.
I nodded. “My parents were shot at when they escaped. But they stole a syringe. They
injected me.”
“I knew your father had been working on an antidote. Thank God! But I guessed it the
moment I saw you. Otherwise you would have been dead a long time ago.”
“My best friend died,” I said.
“I’m so sorry. Anton and Eva – your parents – were my friends too.”
We fell silent. He was still standing there, one hand on the back of my chair.
“What will happen to me?” I asked.
“You don’t need to worry any more, Yasha. You’ll be well looked after.”
“Who was that you called?”
“It was a friend. Someone we can trust. He’ll be here very soon.”
There was something wrong. Things that he’d told me just didn’t add up. I was about to
speak when I heard the sound of sirens, police cars approaching, still far away but drawing
nearer. And I knew instantly that there was no friend, that Dementyev had called them. It
wasn’t detective work. I could have asked him why my parents had been sent to live in
Estrov while he had been allowed to stay here. I could have played back the conversation
he’d had on the telephone, how he had referred to me simply as “the boy”. Not Yasha. Not
Anton’s son. The people at the other end knew who I was because they’d been expecting me
to show up, waiting for me. I could have worked it out but I didn’t need to. I saw it all in his
eyes.
“Why?” I asked.
He didn’t even try to deny it. “I’m sorry, Yasha,” he said. “But nobody can know. We have
to keep it secret.”
We. The factory managers. The helicopter pilots. The militia. The government. And
Dementyev. They were all in it together.

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I scrabbled to my feet – or tried to. But Dementyev was ahead of me. He pounced down,
his hands on my shoulders, using his weight to pin me to the seat. For a moment his face
was close to mine, the eyes staring at me through the thick lenses.
“There’s nowhere you can go!” he hissed. “I promise you … they won’t treat you badly.”
“They’ll kill me!” I shouted back. “They killed everyone!”
“I’ll talk to them. They’ll take you somewhere safe…”
Yes. I saw it already. A prison or a mental asylum, somewhere I’d never be seen again.
I couldn’t move. Dementyev was too strong for me. And the police cars were getting
closer. We were twenty-four floors up but I could hear the sirens cutting through the air.
And then I had an idea. I forced myself to relax.
“You can’t do this!” I exclaimed. “My father gave me something for you. He said it was
very valuable. He said if I gave it to you, you’d have to help me.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s in a bag. It’s in my pocket!”
“Show me.”
He let go of one of my shoulders … but only one of them. I still couldn’t wrench myself
free. I was sitting down. He was standing over me and he was twice my size.
“Take it out,” he said.
The police must have turned into the main university drive. I heard car doors slam shut.
Using my one free arm, I drew out the black bag that my mother had given me. At least
Dima and his friends hadn’t stolen it when they took my money. I placed it on the desk. And
it worked just as I’d hoped. Dementyev still didn’t let go of me but his grip loosened as he
reached out and opened the bag. I saw his face change as he tipped out the contents.
“What…?” he began.
I jerked myself free, throwing the chair backwards. As it toppled over, I managed to get to
my feet. Dementyev swung round but he was too late to stop me lashing out with my fist. I
knocked the glasses off his face. He fell back against the desk but then recovered and seized
hold of me again. I needed a weapon and there was only one that I could see. I reached out
and grabbed the arm of the skeleton, wrenching it free from the shoulder. The hand and the
wrist dangled down but I hung onto the upper bone – the humerus – and used it as a club,
smashing it against Dementyev’s head again and again until, with a howl, he fell back. I
twisted away. Dementyev had crumpled over the desk. There was blood streaming down his
face.
“It’s too late…” he stammered. “You won’t get away.”
I snatched back the jewellery and tumbled out of the office. There was nobody outside.
Surely someone must have heard what had happened? I didn’t want to know. I ran to the
lift. It was already on the way up and it took me a few seconds to work out that the police
were almost certainly inside, travelling towards me. And I might have been caught standing
there, waiting for them! I continued down the corridor and found a fire exit – leading to
twenty-four flights of stairs. I didn’t stop until I reached the bottom and it was only then
that I realized I was still carrying the skeleton’s arm. I found a dustbin, picked up some
loose papers and dropped the arm in.
As I walked down the steps at the front door, I saw three police cars parked there with
their lights flashing. I pretended to be immersed in the papers I had taken. If there were

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any policemen outside, I would look like one more of the countless students coming in and
out.
But nobody stopped me. I hurried back to the station with just one thought in my head. I
was alone in Moscow with no money.

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