"Goooaal!"
Cheers filled the air, the crowd jumped to its feet, and the hair on the back of Alex Rider's neck stood up. He looked around surreptitiously, he could feel someone watching him, but in the crowded Chelsea stadium, he didn't recognize anyone besides his friend Tom Harris on his right and Jack Starbright, his guardian, on his left. Despite the thousands of people crowded around him he felt exposed. His hand drifted to the scar directly over his heart and his eyes shifted up, looking for snipers. Nothing.
"Are you okay?" Jack asked as he shifted around in his seat, searching.
"There's someone watching us," he murmured. Just loud enough for her to hear. He reached over and tapped Tom's shoulder. He jumped and turned to scold Alex, but the accusation died on his lips when he saw the concern in his friend's eyes.
"Something's wrong," Alex continued. "Get on the ground and cover your heads."
Jack started to protest, but seeing the look in her charge's eyes she did as she was told, pulling Tom down with her. Alex stood up and looked around again.
He saw a glint out of the corner of his eye and dove out of the way just as a shot sounded and a bullet buried itself in his vacant seat.
The cheers turned to screams and the crowd surged to its feet again, this time in flight. "Let's go," said Alex, pulling his companions behind him through the crowd. Once he was sure they were well on their way to the gates he let go and started running in another direction. He heard them calling after him, but he just ran faster. Someone was trying to kill him and if they were with him they would be in danger.
He ran to another gate and pushed his way out of the stadium. People were shoving all around him, he could hear sirens in the distance, but he stopped short at the sight of a man standing just outside the gate, wearing a ski mask and toting a large gun. Alex turned quickly, prepared to dart back into the crowd, but a shout from the man stopped him.
"I wouldn't do that, Alex," he yelled. "The second you start running I start shooting. And I don't particularly care who I hit." Alex hesitated but turned to face him. He could hear whimpers from the people around him.
"What do you want?" He was stalling for time, trying to think. What could he do?
The man laughed. "1.5 million dollars."
"What?"
"One And A Half Million American Dollars," the man repeated slowly. "That's the size of the price SCORPIA's got on your head. Dead or alive. And we intend to collect."
Alex groaned inwardly, but really, he wasn't surprised. There could only be so many attempts on your life before it ceased to be a shock.
To keep the men talking Alex asked the first question that popped into his head. "Who's we?"
The man laughed and wagged a finger insolently at Alex. "Nuh-uh, Alex. No names. No faces. You won't slip me up." He voice returned to it seriousness as it said, "Now get over here."
Alex glanced around and realized that, while they had been talking, the people had disappeared. He didn't know where they were and he didn't care. The man had lost his leverage.
"Why?" He asked innocently, backing up.
The man hesitated and looked around and Alex took that opportunity to run. He heard the man curse and bullets being fired. He dove behind a pillar and peered out to see the man lying on the ground in an ever widening pool of blood.
The sirens were closer now, police cars just pulling into view. Across the street was parked a black car with tinted windows. One of the windows was rolled down to reveal a pretty blonde woman in a black suit. She was holding a gun and beckoning to Alex. Alex recognized her as a patron of the Royal and General Bank. This woman was a spy, and she had just saved Alex's life.
Ten minutes later Alex was sitting in the office of Mr. Alan Blunt on the 15th floor of the Royal and General. He had been brought there immediately from the Chelsea Stadium and he still hadn't been told what was going on.
He looked around as the door opened to reveal Mr. Blunt and his assistant, Mrs. Jones.
"Alex," said Mrs. Jones upon seeing him. "It's a pleasure to see you again."
Alex kept his face carefully blank as he said, "I wish I could say the same."
If he hadn't known her better Alex might have thought he saw pity in her eyes when she said, "Yes, well, with the circumstances preceding your arrival we can hardly blame you for any distaste you might feel at being back here."
Alex snorted, but otherwise chose to ignore that comment. He could have said his distaste went far beyond assassination attempts. He could have said he had hated the place since he had first found out they were responsible for the death of the only family he had ever known, his uncle, Ian Rider. He could have said it, but he didn't, choosing instead to ask, "Why am I here?"
Mr. Blunt took this opportunity to speak up. "You're being sent to Japan."
"Excuse me?" asked Alex, bemused.
"We're sending you to Japan. Your plane leaves in four hours."
"Do I have a choice?" Asking was a formality. He already knew the answer.
"Of course you do Alex," said Mrs. Jones gently.
"Naturally," cut in Blunt. "There is always a choice. Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare a press release. We will have to be careful to distance ourselves from this shooting. After all, it wouldn't do to have the public believe we had a vested interest in keeping a mere schoolboy alive."
Despite himself, Alex couldn't help but bristle at the words "mere schoolboy." Thanks to Blunt, Alex would never be a mere anything ever again. "So, that's it then?" Suspicion laced his voice and he did nothing to get rid of it. This was MI6. They didn't just let him go.
"I believe so." Blunt's voice was cold, emotionless, but that's how it always was. Alex couldn't tell if he was upset, or bored, or plotting. "Of course, with your refusal we will not be able to offer adequate protection to you or your guardian, or your friend for that matter, what's his name, John?"
Alex gritted his teeth at Blunt's feigned ignorance. As if he wasn't aware of every insignificant detail of Alex's life. "Tom. What do you mean, adequate protection?"
Blunt's raised eyebrow was probably the most emotion that Alex had ever seen on the grey man's face, and yet he still couldn't interpret what it meant. "Isn't it obvious? Your friends were seen with you at the shooting this afternoon. That one man was shot, but he was sure to have accomplices, and your friends are sure to have become targets."
The boy had to resist shivering at the feel of ice flooding his veins.
"Of course, if you were willing to work with us, we would be able to offer them some sort of protection, but as the matter stands..." The man trailed off, his hands spread in a "what can you do" gesture.
Of course. It wouldn't be that easy to get out of it. It never was. Once again Alan Blunt had proven that he held all the cards and that he would, in fact, never take no as an answer. Alex scowled in defeat. He had lost.
His thoughts were interrupted my Mr. Blunt looking at his watch. "Mrs. Jones will fill you in on the details. I have a meeting with the Prime Minister."
He got up and left and Mrs. Jones popped a peppermint into her mouth. Alex resisted a grimace. It was thanks to her that he now hated the smell of peppermint.
Without preamble Mrs. Jones said, "Over the last few months there has been an increase of activity in the Japanese mafia. This has coincided with an increase of travel by known members of the Italian mafia to certain locations in Japan, most specifically a city named Namimori. One of our former agents who retired to Namimori has contacted us, concerned. For unspecified reasons he doesn't feel qualified to investigate the situation. He requested the aid of our youngest available operative."
"And that would be me."
"Naturally. Not only are you young, but you speak decent Japanese and Italian, and you have experience with organized crime."
Alex resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. If you could count the fact that both the Chinese Triads and SCORPIA wanted his head on a platter, then it was true he had experience with organized crime. And it was true that he had studied undercover in SCORPIA for a time. But it wasn't long enough to say he really knew anything about it. And his Japanese was terrible.
Of course he didn't bother saying any of this. She already knew it all, and would assure him that they had considered it all carefully. She would say it had to be done and it was he who had to do it. And he would have nothing he could say against it.
"Mr. Blunt says my plane leaves in four hours."
"Yes. We had Ms. Starbright send a packed bag for you after she was escorted home. Under the present circumstances we decided it would be best for you to avoid familiar places." For once Alex had a hard time disagreeing with her. "You will go straight to the airport after Smithers equips you. From there you will fly to Washington DC, where you will meet up with your partner."
"Partner?" asked Alex, curious. "I have a partner?"
"Yes. An American girl," said Mrs. Jones, "and herein lies the second part of your mission."
"Second part?"
Mrs. Jones nodded. "This girl will be coming from a school set up specifically to train new spies. For obvious reasons we are curious about this school. While working with this girl you will find out everything you can about her school."
Alex nodded. "What's our cover?"
"You'll be siblings going to live with your grandfather. You will be staying with Richard Walker, one of our retired agents. He's the one who alerted us to the problem in the first place. He has three grandchildren living in America. Your cover will be as Mr. Walker's 14-year-old grandson, Adam. Your partner will be your 15-year-old sister, Emma. You'll receive more information when you reach Washington DC. From there you and Emma will fly to Japan."
"Who's the girl who's going to be Emma?" asked Alex, curious. He had never met another teenage spy. Blunt had insisted that the Americans would never allow their government to use children for such dangerous work.
"The CIA is choosing to withhold her name for the time being, in an attempt to keep the security of the school. We do know she is a fifteen-year-old pavement artist."
"Pavement artist?" Alex wasn't versed in spy jargon. It wasn't something Ian had bothered to teach him.
"She specializes in disappearing, in following others unseen."
"How many missions has she gone on?" Surly to have earned the title of pavement artist she must have finished quite a few missions. After all, he had gone on multiple missions for MI6 and still hadn't earned any title besides "Double 0 Nothing" from the SAS. Mrs. Jones hesitated and Alex saw something reminiscent of guilt in her eyes. "None."
"None?" How was that possible?
"The CIA refuses to use children in their work. She has, however, three years of study under some of the best teachers in the world."
"But no practical experience."
"No."
Alex groaned. He was going to be spending an indefinite amount of time in hostile territory with a school girl with absolutely no experience.
"I'd rather not," Alex said resolutely.
Mrs. Jones gave him a puzzled look and he continued. "I'd rather not have a partner who's going to get herself killed within hours, if it's all the same to you."
Mrs. Jones grimaced. "I'm sorry, Alex. Emma will be going with you."
"Every time I have had a partner, they've ended up dead. And they were people with field experience. I'm not going to bring a girl who has a guaranteed death sentence."
Mrs. Jones just looked at him. "I'm sorry."
