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Russian Roulette: The Story of an Assassin (Alex Rider), by Anthony Horowitz
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About the Author
Anthony Horowitz (anthonyhorowitz.com) is a world-renowned screenwriter for film and television, having received multiple awards. And he is, of course, the author of the #1 New York Times bestselling Alex Rider novels, which have become bestsellers the world over, spawned a major motion picture, and a line of graphic novels. A master of the spy thriller, Anthony is the only writer authorized by both the Arthur Conan Doyle and Ian Fleming Estates to write original Sherlock Holmes and James Bond novels, respectively. Anthony lives with his wife in London, England; they are parents to two grown boys. Follow Anthony on Twitter @AnthonyHorowitz.
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Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
PROLOGUE: Before the Kill HE HAD CHOSEN THE hotel room very carefully. As he crossed the reception area toward the elevators, he was aware of everyone in the area around him. Two receptionists, one on the phone. A Japanese guest checking in—from his accent, obviously from Miyazaka in the south. A concierge printing a map for a couple of tourists. A security man, Eastern European, bored, standing by the door. He saw everything. If the lights had suddenly gone out, or if he had closed his eyes, he would have been able to continue forward at exactly the same pace. Nobody noticed him. It was actually a skill, something he had learned, the art of not being seen. Even the outfit he wore—expensive jeans, a gray cashmere jersey, and a loose coat—had been chosen because it made no statement at all. The clothes were well-known brands but he had cut out the labels. In the unlikely event that he was stopped by the police, it would be very difficult for them to know where they had been bought. He was twenty-eight years old. He had fair hair, cut short, and ice-cold eyes with just the faintest trace of blue. He was not large or well built, but there was a sort of sleekness about him. He moved like an athlete—perhaps a sprinter approaching the starting blocks—but there was asense of danger about him, a feeling that you should leave well alone. He carried three credit cards and a driver’s license, issued in Swansea, all with the name Matthew Reddy. A police check would have established that he was a personal trainer, that he worked in a London gym and lived in Brixton. None of this was true. His real name was Yassen Gregorovich. He had been a professional assassin for almost half his life. The hotel was in King’s Cross, an area of London with no attractive shops and few decent restaurants, a place where nobody really stays any longer than they have to. It was called The Traveller and it was part of a chain; comfortable but not too expensive. It was the sort of place that had no regular clients. Most of the guests were passing through on business and it would be their companies who paid the bill. They drank in the bar. They ate the “full English breakfast” in the brightly lit Beefeater restaurant. But they were too busy to socialize and it was unlikely they would return. Yassen preferred it that way. He could have stayed in central London, in the Ritz or the Dorchester, but he knew that the receptionists there were trained to remember the faces of the people who passed through the revolving doors. Such personal attention was the last thing he wanted. A security camera watched him as he approached the elevators. He was aware of it blinking over his left shoulder. The camera was annoying but inevitable. London has more of these devices than any city in Europe, and the police and secret service have access to all of them. Yassen made sure he didn’t look up. If you look at a camera, that is when it sees you. He reached the elevators but ignored them, slipping through a fire door that led to the stairs. He would never think of confining himself in a small space, a metal box with doors that he couldn’t open, surrounded by strangers. That would be madness. He would have walked fifteen stories if it had been necessary—and when he reached the top, he wouldn’t even have been out of breath. Yassen kept himself in superb condition, spending two hours in the gym every day when that luxury was available to him, working out on his own when it wasn’t. In fact, he was on the second floor. He had thoroughly checked the hotel on the Internet before he made his reservation, and number 217 was one of just four rooms that exactly met his demands. It was on the second floor, too high up to be reached from the street but low enough for him to jump out the window if he had to—after shooting out the glass. It was not overlooked. There were other buildings around, but any form of surveillance would be difficult. When Yassen went to bed, he never closed the curtains. He liked to see out, to watch for any movement in the street. Every city has a natural rhythm, and anything that breaks it—a man lingering on a corner or a car passing the same way twice—might warn him that it was time to leave at once. And he never slept for more than four hours, not even in the most comfortable bed. A DO NOT DISTURB sign hung in front of him as he turned the corner and approached the door. Had it been obeyed? Yassen reached into his pants pocket and took out a small silver device, about the same size and shape as a pen. He pressed one end, covering the handle with a thin spray of diazafluoren—a simple chemical re-agent. Quickly, he spun the pen around and pressed the other end, activating a fluorescent light. There were no fingerprints. If anyone had gone into the room since he had left, they had wiped the handle clean. He put the pen away, then knelt down and checked the bottom of the door. Earlier in the day, he had placed a single hair across the crack. It was one of the oldest warning signals in the book, but that didn’t stop it from being effective. The hair was still in place. Yassen straightened up and went in using his electronic pass key. It took him less than a minute to ascertain that everything was exactly as he had left it. His briefcase was 4.6 centimeters from the edge of the desk. His suitcase was positioned at a 95-degree angle from the wall. There were no fingerprints on either of the locks. He removed the digital tape recorder that had been clipped magnetically to the side of his service fridge and glanced at the dial. Nothing had been recorded. Nobody had been in. Many people would have found all these precautions annoying and time consuming, but for Yassen they were as much a part of his daily routine as tying his shoelaces or brushing his teeth. It was twelve minutes past six when he sat down at the desk and opened his computer, an ordinary laptop. His password had seventeen digits and he changed it every month. He took off his watch and laid it on the surface beside him. Then he went into eBay, left-clicked on Collectibles, and scrolled through Coins. He soon found what he was looking for: a gold coin showing the head of the emperor Caligula with the date 11 AD. There had been no bids for this particular coin because, as any collector would know, it did not in fact exist. In 11 AD, the mad Roman emperor Caligula had not even been born. The entire website was a fake and looked it. The name of the coin dealer—Mintomatic—had been specially chosen to put off any casual purchaser. Mintomatic was supposedly based in Shanghai and did not have Top-Rated Seller status. All the coins it advertised were either fake or valueless. Yassen sat quietly until a quarter past six. At exactly the moment that the second hand passed over the twelve on his watch, he pressed the button to place a bid, then entered his User ID—false, of course—and password. Finally, he entered a bid of $2,418.12. The figures were based on the day’s date and the exact time. He pressed Enter and a window opened that had nothing to do with eBay or with Roman coins. Nobody else could have seen it. It would have been impossible to discover where it had originated. The message had been bounced around a dozen countries, traveling through an anonymity network, before it had reached him. This is known as “onion routing” because of its many layers. It had also passed through an encrypted tunnel, a secure shell that ensured that only Yassen could read what had been written. If someone had managed to arrive at the same screen by accident, they would have seen only nonsense, and within three seconds a virus would have entered their computer and obliterated the motherboard. The computer, however, had been authorized to receive the message, and Yassen saw three words. KILL ALEX RIDER They were exactly what he had expected.
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Product details
Series: Alex Rider (Book 10)
Paperback: 432 pages
Publisher: Puffin Books; Reprint edition (November 18, 2014)
Language: English
ISBN-10: 014751231X
ISBN-13: 978-0147512314
Product Dimensions:
5.1 x 0.7 x 7.7 inches
Shipping Weight: 13.1 ounces (View shipping rates and policies)
Average Customer Review:
4.7 out of 5 stars
850 customer reviews
Amazon Best Sellers Rank:
#54,207 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
One night, only a few weeks ago, I was scrolling through the Alex Rider adventures on Amazon. I have been a die hard fan for years, and I was interested in completing my collection. Like many others, I'm sure, I was sad when the series ended with "Scorpia Rising."Imagine my surprise, then, when I saw a section of the web page dedicated to "Alex Rider Books 1 - 10". After looking around, I saw that, indeed, Anthony Horowitz had decided to return to the world of MI6, Scorpia, spies, gadgets and the rest of it with "Russian Roulette : The Story of an Assassin." To say I was excited was an understatement. I ordered a copy, sat back, and waited.Looking back, I wish I had done just a bit more homework. When the book arrived, I greedily tore it open - and then stood staring in dismay. Because it turned out Alex Rider, the fourteen year old super spy, wasn't coming back after all.The book was a prequel.Soon, I came around, and began to read.I got over being disappointed very quickly."RR" opens up with a familiar face - the face of Yassen Gregororvich, the assassin who terminated Ian Rider in "Stormbreaker," which cast Alex into the spy world. In the beginning of the story, Yassen receives orders from his employers - Scorpia, one of the largest criminal bands in the world - to kill Alex, to punish the boy for defeating Herod Sayle. However, for the first time, Yassen is hesitant. Because, as readers of the series know, Yassen was trained by John Rider, Alex's father. But, there's a new element to his hesitation readers were not aware of in previous stories.Then begins the flashback...Fourteen year old Yasha Gregororvich is set on a life changing journey when his childhood home is destroyed by a powerful criminal. As Yasha grows into a man, he is bullied, mistreated, and must fight to survive, all the while being pulled into a world of evil and death he has no desire for, but won't let him go. In the end, it will be the pull of a trigger, and not his own choice, which decides his fate...All in all, the book was very good, giving us a very different picture of the seemingly bloodthirsty killer from "Strormbreaker" and "Eagle Strike". Yassen feels as though he was never given a chance to be anything but an assassin, and, in sympathetic understanding, tries to give Alex the shot for freedom he never had in a cool rewriting of the last scene in "Strombreaker," when Yassen kills Sayle."Next time they (MI6) ask you (to work for them), say no."However, the reason this is a four star is because of the gaping plot hole in the end.Spoiler alert.Now, there is a plot hole in this story, but I feel compelled to correct a mistake I made in an earlier review. I falsely stated that Yassen felt no loyalty to John Rider after discovering he was an agent for MI6. I reread the book, however, and saw what I had, eh, skipped.Yes, Yassen does, as I just said, figure out his mentor, Hunter, John Rider, the father of Alex Rider, was sent to infiltrate Scoria. The betrayal scars Yassen, and actually becomes the final domino in his journey as a killer.But Yassen did not reveal John to his superiors for two reasons - one, John had saved his life. Two, although he worked for them, Yassen hated Scorpia, and didn't care what happened to them....But that begs a new question, even as I correct my false claim. When Yassen dies in "Eagle Strike," why does he encourage Alex to work for Scorpia? Why does he did he seem to have such respect for Alex's father? "He was a killer like me..." What? Now Yassen is proud of himself?But this is a very good story, and earns its place at the Alex Rider table. Packed with emotion, action, and several cool cameos COUGH Mrs Rothman COUGH, it softens that soft spot left by "Scorpia Rising". And makes us hungrier for more.
This long-awaited novel reveals the biography of Yassen Gregorovitch, the mysterious Russian assassin in the Alex Rider series. Horowitz goes full-on from the beginning, as Yassen's childhood home is a village called Estrov, which happens to exist next to a biological weaponry factory, in which his parents are somehow tangled up. Then an accident occurs and the village is infected with anthrax, and the Russian government decides that obliterating the village with air-to-surface missiles is going to be easier than facing the media. Yassen, who was known as Yasha back then, escapes. From there the story is carried on to the Moscow gutters, billionaires' summer houses, and Scorpia's training facility in Malastago. The book fully explains Yassen's meeting with John Rider, Alex Rider, and Julia Rothman.The result is a high-octane game of Russian roulette, highlighting Yassen's struggles with his conscious and his eventual evolution into a cold-blooded murderer and his torment by the hands of Sharkovsky, a mafiaman who, quite literally, made him put up a revolver to his head.Recommended strongly if you read the Alex Rider series, even more strongly if you haven't.Lots of guns, weapons, and blood.Perfect.VBG
I've been waitin for this book since like....2008! or something like that, ever since Anthony mentioned it.idk why, but I loved Yassen, even though he was a "villain". There was just something about him.Of course, I was excited for the other Alex books, but I was still waiting and waiting for this, and it's finally here!Most of the other books I waited to get until they came out in paperback (so i could afford them haha), but I couldn't wait for this one!And I loved every second of it! Seeing how Yassen grew up, his friends, how he came accross Scorpia....It was just awesome, seeing him change and become the assassin we "know"I highly recommend this to everyone who's read the other 9 books of the series, and even for those who haven't, it's the perfect place to start! the series comes fully circle. This is the beginning of Alex's journey as well, since it involves his father somewhatI can't believe it's over!!! :(But THANK YOU ANTHONY!!! I will reread them over and over again forever :)
My teenage daughter loves this series and owns all of the books in the Alex Rider series. She's read each one numerous times ....seriously.
This prequel to the Alex Rider series features his oldest enemy and tells the story of how an assassin is made. Told in the same voice and style of the Rider books it adds both depth to the main character but also to his many confrontations with Rider.Some fans may be disappointed Alex Rider doesn't feature more in this suspenseful novel, but it stands alone as a fine thriller and offers new insight to the series and one of its most enigmatic characters.
I love the Alex Rider series, and think they are one of the best young adult series available. But, if you've read them all, you know they are pretty traumatic. I'm surprised they are still classified in Young Adult. Russian Roulette-the title says it all. It IS the story of an Assassin-a 19 y/o assassin. And it's not pretty. But, it is well written and if you're a fan, it's a great book. Hard to put down. But, Horowitz is just right on the edge here; in fact I predict many "challenges" for this book and quite possibly, a few actual bans.
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