agree.
Celestine frowned. âWhy do you always have to suggest these dangerous sports?â she scolded. She spoke perfect English but with an accent.
âItâs not dangerous. Itâll give him a laughâif it doesnât scare the socks off him first.â
Somehow, Alex didnât think that being dragged behind a motorboat while attached to a half-sized parachute would be particularly frighteningâ¦not after what he had been through just a couple of months before. He had been forced to launch himself out of a cargo plane, twenty thousand feet above London, crash-landing through the glass roof of the Science Museum moments before the deadly Stormbreaker computers would have been activated all over the country. And there had been a second parachute jump here in Franceâstorming the Point Blanc Academy high up in the Alps, near Grenoble. Not that he could tell Andrew or Celestine Hale anything about it, of course. He hadnât even told James.
At eleven oâclock that morning, a grumpy-looking James (âVisiting old people I donât even know isnât my idea of a vacation.â) set off with his uncle and Celestine drove Alex down the steeply winding Boulevard Carnot that led into the old port of Nice and then around the headland into the city itself. The beaches were already busy. The summer had barely begun, but this was a Saturday and the water was unusually warm and clear enough to be inviting.
They parked near the opera house and crossed the main road with the sea in front of them. Alex had noticed two or three facilities offering parasailing and other water sports. From his balcony, he had watched the miniature figures dangling underneath the wisps of brightly colored silk as they were towed up and down the bay. He was actually quite looking forward to trying it for himself. It looked fun and it would surely be very peaceful, hanging over the water in his own little space between the sea and the sky. At least nobody would be trying to machine-gun him.
It was also going to be expensiveâseventy-five dollars for around ten minutes. But Jack had given him plenty of money before he left, and so far the Hales hadnât let him pay for anything.
He and Celestine reached a makeshift hut on the beach where two slim and permanently suntanned Australians were getting everything ready while a third man, on a speedboat, waited to launch the ride. The parachute that would lift Alex into the air was already spread out on the sand. A narrow strip of carpet led down to the edge of the water. The runway.
âYou gonna give it a try, mate?â The Australian had somehow guessed he was English.
âSure. Why not?â Alex handed over the fee.
âOkay. Letâs get you hooked up.â
Celestine watched unhappily as Alex was given a life jacket, which he buckled across his chest. The Australian held up a harness, which was nothing more than a strong canvas belt shaped like a figure-eight with two industrial hooks like the ones used by mountain climbers. The harness was fastened around his waist.
âThis wayâ¦â The Australian led him across to the carpet. At the same time, Celestine came over to him.
âAlex, do you mind terribly if I donât watch? To be honest, this whole thing makes me nervous. If you like, I can buy you an ice cream for when you come down.â She nodded at some shops on the other side of the Promenade des Anglais.
âThank you.â It made no difference to Alex if she was there or not.
âWhat flavor would you like?â
âLemon, please.â
âAll right.â Celestine took one last glance at the tangle of ropes, the waiting parachute. âEnjoy yourself,â she said, but without much conviction.
The Australian was in a hurry to get Alex airborne. The sooner he was finished, the sooner he might be able to sell another ride. âWhen the boat starts, you take three or four steps,â he explained