IN DEEP
Alex Rider walked up Liverpool Street, hands in pockets, watching the people pass him by. He fingered the sheet of paper, folded up so neatly into a square and creased in many places, as if someone had read it over and over again. He pulled it out and unfolded it and reread it again. He almost had the words memorized. It read:
Alex,
After the incident with the Ark Angel, and we know how you
don't want to be involved in the MI6 anymore. But this is
urgent, a matter of life and death, and we plead that you coop-
erate with us, and visit the Royal and General Bank on the
17, August 2009 at promptly 7 pm. With best wishes and hoping
you are enjoying your summer holiday,
Miss Jones
He was still debating whether it was worth it or not, to see Mr. Blunt and Miss. Jones again; to submit to them, and be pushed into another mission.
But he had come to terms with his past, and he new that if he didn't go, he could never forgive himself, especially if lives were lost because of it. And he had given up his dream of becoming a regular school boy; it wasn't in his blood or his destiny.
He neared the entrance of the Royal and General Bank, and walked across the threshold into the air conditioning, which hit him like a wall after the heat and humidity of the outdoors.
He looked at the secretary, but she wasn't paying attention, and was absorbed in some paperwork. After a moment's hesitation, he walked through the door and up the staircase to the third level where he knew Miss. Jones's office was located. This would be the seventh time he visited Miss Jones and Mr. Blunt at the Royal and General, Alex reflected. And he wasn't exactly thrilled to be back. It probably meant another life-threatening mission, another global crisis to solve.
"Hello, Alex," a woman's voice said softly from the desk behind Alex.
"Hi," Alex replied. He didn't really know what to say to Miss Jones. Ever since his attempt on her life, he had often found himself at a loss for words when speaking to her.
"I trust you got our letter." It was a statement, not a question.
"Yeah. Jack gave it to me." Jack was Alex's housekeeper, who had been with Alex for twelve years, taking care of him before Ian Rider's death, and becoming his custodian after his death.
"And how is Jack doing?" Miss Jones inquired politely. Alex shrugged.
"She's fine. She enjoyed her visit to her parents in Washington."
"Oh." Miss Jones glanced down at her watch. "Mr. Blunt should be here soon to brief you on your next mission."
"Really? Is it another one of those stupid 'observation' missions again? The one's where I'm not supposed to be in danger?" Alex asked sarcastically as his temper got the better of him, "Because that really worked on me the first six times. You know, with the deadly virus first, then the evil school where they almost dissected me in biology, and then the island the was supposed to be a vacation that actually got me held prisoner by an old crazed Russian general that wanted to adopt me and kill the leader of Russia? How do you think I felt after he… he…" Alex faltered, a look of pain crossing his face. He continued after composing his features.
"Not to mention the idol you were so eager to believe innocent whose sadistic plans would have wrecked the world, or Scorpia? What about them? What did you think to I had to endure at their hands? Or the Ark Angel? You set me up, letting me stay next to Paul Drevin. I know you did. And up there, in space? I broke the record for the youngest person in space. I think there's a reason you don't allow fourteen year olds up there. It was pure hell, you have no idea! Sure, there's all that saving the world crap, but I just want to be a normal schoolboy? Can't you get it?" He was almost shouting when he finished.
Miss Jones just sat there and watched him with a slightly pained expression. Even though Alex had come to terms with this spy stuff, he was still working out his emotional stress.
"Well, hello Alex." Alex jerked around at the voice and saw Mr. Blunt in the doorway.
"Hi," Alex replied blandly. He didn't really know what else to say.
"Well, have you heard of our latest assignment yet?" Mr. Blunt asked.
"Uhh… No… I think Ms. Jones was just getting ready to explain." He said, slightly embarrassed that Mr. Blunt had seen his outburst.
"Well then, I'll let her do the talking. Mr. Blunt politely shut the door and walked over to the small two-person sofa and sat on it attentively teaching Ms. Jones, waiting.
"Well, Alex. This isn't really a mission. It's a surveillance project." Alex scoffed. That was how they always started his mission assignment. 'It's only a vacation,' he mocked them in his head. Ms. Jones continued, "You will be centered in the US again, but this time in North Carolina."
"Oh." Alex paused, "Is the CIA in on this?"
"Well, yes and no. They have their suspicions, but the president has forbidden any CIA military or government involvement with this guy. He's under the protection of the president. He favors him, you see, because he aided the president financially in the running of the election. Wow, Alex thought, Can it be more obvious when a person buys your friendship?
"So, who is this guy?"
"Paul Kingston. He was the former owner of Apple Electronics."
"Bloody hell… He must be rich."
"Extraordinarily," Mr. Blunt informed him. "He owns many estates across the world, and one of them in North Carolina, off the coast, called Figure Eight Island. It's a very exclusive place, with houses owned by some of the most influential and wealthy people in the world. It's only accessible by boat, and you have to have a pass to dock there, and there are patrols all over the island." Mr. Blunt stopped and looked at Alex.
"So…" Alex prompted.
"So what?"
"So why is this a 'matter of life and death?"
"It's very difficult to tell, you see Kingston keeps a low profile, but we think, well…" He paused, and looked at Ms. Jones. Alex saw her nod, almost imperceptibly out of the corner of his eye, "We think he's up to something."