Alex Rider 4 - Eagle Strike - English Creek

1 Eagle StrikeAlex Rider [4]Anthony HorowitzPuffin (2011) ReviewEagle Strike , Horowitz s fourth fictional foray into the world of British spy agency MI6, starts outcalmly enough as Alex and his lovely companion, Miss Sabina Pleasure, vacation with her family inthe south of France. But before you can say Goldfinger, Alex spots his old nemesis, renownedassassin Yassen Gregorovich, on the beach. What Alex discovers is a plan so diabolical that it makesall of his previous adventures seem like a stroll in the Queen Mum s garden. Alex must fight to keepGregorovich from executing the plans of a mysterious and murderous madman--an operation codenamed " Eagle Strike ." He will just have to face down a few minor complications first: a virtualreality game that inflicts real pain; a fleet of Porche 911 GT3-driving hit men; and even a near fatalbrush with death aboard the most famous aircraft in the world, Air Force One.

2 But he ll persevere, orhis name isn t Rider : Alex Rider . Eagle Strike , like all of the ridiculously fun Alex Rider adventures,is a pure guilty pleasure from start to finish. Even the most reluctant of readers won t be able to resistAlex s Bond-like ingenuity and charisma. Anthony Horowitz is a master of pacing, and as Alexswings from one cliff-hanging chapter to the next, Horowitz proves that you don t have to beShakespeare to pen a crackerjack plot! --Jennifer HubertFrom School Library JournalGrade 5-10--Alex Rider , a 14-year-old secret agent who has worked for MI6--British militaryintelligence--returns for his fourth adventure. Vacationing in France with his girlfriend, SabinaPleasure, and her parents, Alex spots Yassen Gregorovich, a known assassin, and senses somethingisn't quite right.

3 Before long, Sabina's journalist father is injured in an "accidental" bombing and Alexis thrown into another mystery that involves a devious scheme to annihilate the world. In this heart-racing novel, Horowitz combines fast-paced action with ingenious gadgets that Alex either has on hisside or is forced to battle against. The straightforward writing will appeal to a wide audience; thestory is intricate enough to entertain older readers, but accessible to younger ones as well. For anyonewho has enjoyed Alex's previous adventures, EagleStrike will prove just as good if not better, andfor those who haven't been introduced to this young spy, this book will certainly get them addictedand anxiously awaiting the next Ann Morlock, Vernonia School District, OR_ Copyright Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc.

4 All rights Amazon jungle. Fifteen years had taken them five days to make the journey, cutting their way through the dense, suffocatingundergrowth, fighting through the very air, which hung heavy, moist and stilt. Trees as tall ascathedrals surrounded them, and a strange, green light almost holy shimmered through the vastcanopy of leaves. The rainforest seemed to have an intelligence of its own. Its voice was the suddenscreech of a parrot, the flicker of a monkey swinging through the branches overhead. It knew theywere so far they had been lucky. They had been attacked, of course, by leeches and mosquitoes andstinging ants. But the snakes and scorpions had left them alone. The rivers they had crossed had beenfree of piranhas. They had been allowed to go were travelling light.

5 They earned with them only their basic rations: map, compass, waterbottles, iodine tablets, mosquito nets and machetes. Their single heaviest item was the 88 Winchester rifle with Sniperscope that they were going to use to kill the man who lived here in thisimpenetrable place, one hundred miles south of Iquitos in Peru. The two men knew each othersnames but never used them. It was part of their training. The older of the two called himself was English , although he spoke seven languages so fluently that he could pass himself off as anative of many of the countries he found himself in. He was about thirty, handsome, with the close-cuthair and watchful eyes of a trained soldier. The other man was slim, fair-haired and twitching withnervous energy. He had chosen the name of Cossack.

6 He was just nineteen years old. This was hisfirst kill. Both men were dressed in khaki standard jungle camouflage. Their faces were alsopainted green, with dark brown stripes across their had reached their destination just as the sun had begun to rise, and were standing there now,utterly still, ignoring the insects that buzzed around their faces, tasting their front of them was a clearing, man-made, separated from the jungle by a ten metre high elegant colonial house with wooden verandas and shutters, white curtains and slowly rotating fansstood at the heart of it, with two more low brick buildings about twenty metres for the guards. There must have been about a dozen of them patrolling the perimeterand watching from rusting metal towers.

7 Perhaps there were more inside. But they were lazy. Theywere shuffling around, not concentrating on what they were supposed to be doing. They were in themiddle of the jungle. They thought they were four-seater helicopter stood waiting on a square of asphalt. It would take the owner of the housejust twenty steps to walk from the front door to the helicopter . That was the only time he would bevisible. That was when he would have to two men knew the name of the man they had come to kill, but they didnt use that had spoken it once but Hunter had corrected him. Never call a target by his real name. It personalizes him. It opens a door into his life and, when thetime comes, it may remind you what you are doing and make you hesitate. Just one of the many lessons Cossack had learnt from Hunter.

8 They referred to the target only as theCommander. He was a military man or he had been. He still liked to wear military-style so many bodyguards he was in command of a small army. The name suited Commander was not a good man. He was a drug dealer, exporting cocaine on a massive also controlled one of the most vicious gangs in Peru, torturing and killing anyone who got in hisway. But all this meant nothing to Hunter and Cossack. They were here because they had been paidtwenty thousand pounds to take him out and if the Commander had been a doctor or a priest it wouldhave made no difference to glanced at his watch. It was two minutes to eight in the morning and he had been told theCommander would be leaving for Lima on the hour. He also knew that the Commander was a punctualman.

9 He loaded a single .308 cartridge into the Winchester and adjusted the Sniperscope. One shotwas all he would Cossack had taken out his field glasses and was scanning the compound for any sign ofmovement. The younger man was not afraid, but he was tense and excited. A trickle of perspirationcurved behind his ear and ran down his neck. His mouth was dry. Something tapped gently against hisback and he wondered if Hunter had touched him, warning him to stay Hunter was some distance away, concentrating on the only knew for certain it was there when it climbed over his shoulder and onto his neck andby then it was too late. Very slowly, he turned his head. And there it was, at the very edge of his fieldof vision. A spider, clinging to the side of his neck, just underneath the line of his chin.

10 Heswallowed. From the weight of it he had thought it was a tarantula but this was worse, much was very black with a small head and an obscene, swollen body, like a fruit about to burst. Heknew that if he could have turned it over, he would have found a red hourglass marking on was a black widow. Latrodectus curacaviensis. One of the deadliest spiders in the spider moved, its front legs reaching out so that one was almost touching the corner of Cossacksmouth. The other legs were still attached to his neck, with the main body of the spider now hangingunder his jaw. He wanted to swallow again but he didnt dare. Any movement might alarm thecreature, which anyway needed no excuse to attack. Cossack guessed that this was the female of thespecies: a thousand times worse than the male.