Snakehead by Anthony Horowitz

second beer. Ash lit a cigarette—Alex was surprised to see that he smoked—and blew smoke out into the warm evening air.
    “I can’t believe we’re finally meeting,” he said. He examined Alex closely. “You look a hell of a lot like your dad.”
    “You were close to him.”
    “Yeah. We were close.”
    “And my mother.”
    “I don’t want to talk about them, Alex.” Ash shifted uncomfortably, then reached out and drank some of his beer. “Do you mind? It was all a long time ago. My life’s moved on since then.”
    “It’s the only reason I’m here,” Alex said.
    There was a long silence. Then Ash smiled briefly. “How’s that housekeeper of yours?” he asked. “Jack What’s-her-name. Is she still with you?”
    “Yes. She said hello.”
    “She was an attractive girl. I liked her. I’m glad she stuck by you.”
    “You didn’t.”
    “Well…I moved on.” Ash paused. Then suddenly he leaned forward. His face was utterly serious and Alex saw that this was a tough, cold-hearted man and that he was going to have to watch himself when they were together.
    “All right. This is how we’re going to play it,” he began. “You’re in this smart luxury hotel because I wanted to ease you in. But tomorrow that all comes to an end. We’re going to have breakfast, and then we’re going up to your room and you’re going to become an Afghan boy, a refugee. We’re going to change the way you look, the way you walk, and even the way you smell. And then we’re going out there…” He pointed across the river. “You enjoy your bed tonight, Alex, because where you sleep tomorrow night is going to be very different. And trust me. You’re not going to like it.”
    He lifted the cigarette and inhaled. Gray smoke curled out of the corner of his mouth.
    “We should make contact with the snakehead in the next forty-eight hours,” he went on. “I’ll explain all that tomorrow. But this is what you’ve got to understand. You do nothing and you say nothing unless I tell you. You play dumb. And if I think the situation is getting out of hand, if I think you’re in danger, you’ll clear out. With no argument. Do you understand?”
    “Yes.” Alex was taken aback. This wasn’t what he had expected. It wasn’t what he’d flown six thousand miles to hear.
    Ash softened. “But I’ll make you this promise. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together, and when I feel I know you better, when the time is right, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. About your father. About what happened in Malta. About your mother and about you. The only thing I’ll never talk to you about is the way they died. I was there and I saw it and I don’t want to remember it. Is that okay with you?”
    Alex nodded.
    “Right. Then let’s get some food in us. I forgot to mention…the stuff you’re going to eat from now on may not be to your taste either. And you can tell me a bit about yourself. I’d like to know what school you go to and if you have a girlfriend and things like that. Let’s enjoy the evening. There may not be a lot of fun ahead.”
    Ash picked up his menu, and Alex did the same. But before he could read it, a movement caught his eye. It was just chance, really. The hotel had a private ferry that ran between the two banks of the river—a wide, spacious boat with antique chairs placed at intervals on a polished wooden floor. It had just arrived, and it was the roar of the engine going into reverse that had made Alex look up.
    A man was just climbing aboard. Alex thought he recognized him and his suspicion was confirmed when the man turned around and looked purposefully in his direction. The poppy had gone, but it was the man from the airport. He was sure of it. A coincidence? The man hurried on board, disappearing underneath the canopy as if anxious to get out of sight, and Alex knew that there was no chance about it. The man had spotted him in the arrivals area and followed him here.
    Alex wondered