Triste Poème…
Disclaimer : Alex Rider is owned by Anthony Horowitz.
Summary : Alex just came back from Kenya and to a normal life when a serial killer began hunting in London. With Tom's life on the line, will Alex be able to give up his normalcy and become a true agent?
His back was throbbing in a painful staccato. He opened his eyes, giving up trying to sleep. With a sigh, he observed his room. White walls, white drapes, white bed… White, white, white. You could never have guessed that he was in a hospital room... He came back from his last mission only two days ago and he was already utterly bored. Not that he wanted to go back to MI6. It was just difficult to run on adrenaline one moment and be immobilized in a bed without anything to do the next. If he could never go on a mission again it would be too soon. He was fed up with it. Fed up of the pain. Fed up of looking into Death's eyes again and again. Fed up of never knowing when –if- he would be back home. But most of all he was fed up of becoming dependant of this life. Because he could be angry all he wanted, the truth was that he was not a normal schoolboy anymore. A normal schoolboy would not always be checking his surroundings, keeping an eye on a possible attack. A normal schoolboy would not be more at ease among soldiers than with his teenage –so young, so innocent, so naive- friends. A normal schoolboy would not feel so world weary. His normal life just seemed so bleak compared to his MI6 activities. Like a white and black paint which had his colours siphoned bit by bit. Alex Rider was dying, replaced by Agent Rider. And he hated that. Because soon he would want to do what MI6 wanted. He needed to quit before that happened. He just did not know how. When Mrs Jones came to debrief him, she told him that the new Prime Minister wished MI6 to stop using him until he was sixteen years old. It meant that he had a year to find a solution. And a little part of him, which was growing stronger after each mission was treacherously whispering in his mind : "If he wanted to find a solution...". Closing his eyes, Alex Rider, super teenage spy, cursed and blessed by Lady Luck, felt into Morpheus' embrace.
Six months later Alex was suffering in silence the dull voice of his History teacher. The first two months were spent working on his different school subjects until he finally caught up in all of his classes. Afterward it became a goal of his to find a mean to satisfy his adrenaline-addicted mind. He learnt Russian and Japanese. He took martial art classes each day after school. And the weekend he trained his shooting. Either with a bow or with a gun. Anything to occupy his mind. And if he chose activities which would serve him well on a mission... Denial is not only a river in Egypt.
In boredom, his gaze strayed to the window and the freedom that it symbolizes to all students. A police car was doing its patrol in the street below. It was a remainder of the danger which was running free in London. A serial killer. The media were publicizing each of his murder in morbid details. Soon He became infamous. And everyone was waiting each evening in front of their telly, waiting for the news and praying that if the police found a new body it would be a stranger and not a friend. In the last three months alone sixteen corpses were found, each one having been tortured to death. And each one carrying in what remained of their hands a letter in which was written a poem. The last one was "L'Albatros" from Baudelaire. The beauty of the poem was tainted with the blood of the crime scene and the terror deforming the face of the victim. The killer was unoriginally named "the Poet". Alex thought that the media were only terrorising the people and adding to the sense of accomplishment that the killer must be feeling.
Scratching the white scar on the back of his hand, he couldn't help but think about what this psychopath must be like and compare him to those from his experience. Usually his madmen were megalomaniac whom didn't care a bit about who would die in their way to their success. This one was different. He was killing for the sake of killing. Not for money. Not because the victim was an inconvenience. Just because the Poet wanted to kill -and obviously could do it without being caught- he did it. In a way the like of Damien Cray, Grief, Sayle, Sarov and Major Yu seemed kind of sane. Or at least way saner than the serial killer. And what a daunting thought it was. Alex shuddered. He crossed his fingers and prayed that he will never find himself face to face with the Poet.
One week later Alex was lying on his bed listening music when his phone rang. Putting away his earphones, he took a moment to admire his new Iphone. It was a present from Mr Smithers. He was his only friend in MI6 and a true genius. Smithers was the "gadget-man" in MI6. And his creations had saved his life numerous times in one way or another. Obviously his Iphone was not a normal phone. He could use it like a phone but he could also send an emergency alert to Mr Smithers if he found himself in some trouble. All he had to do was pressing the button 7 five times. And if he typed 654 he could use it as a shock gun. It was neat.
With a smile, Alex answered the call. It was Tom's mother. Tom Harris was his best friend and with Sabina the only one of his age group who knew about his missions. His parents were always fighting and Tom was in the middle of their little war. But recently the Harris parents divorced and now Tom was living with his mother. Alex wondered what Mrs Harris wanted from him.
"Alex? Is Tom with you?"
"No Mrs Harris. I'm sorry but the last time I saw him was in front of the school three hours ago. Why?"
"He didn't come back home. He always is on time after school if only because he is famished after a long school day... I'm worried. Call me if you know anything, okay?"
"I will. Bye Mrs Harris."
"Bye Alex."
He too was worried. It was unlike Tom to disappear like that. Alex got up from his bed and, taking his jacket and a bag which was under his bed, made his way downstairs. The bag contained some gadgets that he had saved from his missions. It could be useful you never know with the Po... The Poet! Alex swore and hurried in the kitchen where Jack was baking a chocolate cake. If this serial killer was the reason of Tom disappearance... But no, he could not think like that. Taking a deep breath, Alex turned toward Jack.
"Jack, Tom didn't come back home. I will go and retrace his steps. Maybe I will find a clue of where he is..."
"Did you try to call him?"
"He broke his phone yesterday. It slipped from his pocket and someone step accidentally on it."
"Ouch. Be careful, okay? With the serial killer..."
"I will, promise."
He knew that Jack was worried about him but since his missions she didn't really try to act as a parental figure. More like a sister. She knew that he had always been alone on these missions and he had faced things that she couldn't comprehend. So she correctly assumed that if he could take care of himself in the middle of nowhere half way across the world, he could take care of himself in his own town. With a reassuring smile, Alex went to the door and let himself out.
He let go of his bike when he arrived at his school. He would have a better chance at finding a clue if he was on foot. After fruitlessly walking for half an hour under the pouring rain of an English evening, Alex was ready to scream in frustration. In an angry move born from his growing despair, he violently kicked a rock which was laying at his feet. The projectile flew through the air and landed near a tree. Still needing an outlet to his anger, Alex went to the rock wanting to kick it again. His foot was nearly in contact with his target when he saw something. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Alex bent down until his face was nearly against the bark of the tree. There. A red liquid. Blood. And right at the height where Tom's head would be. Alex knew. After all it was only yesterday when he was teasing his best friend about his smaller height. He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and to have a clear head. Now he knew –by another incredible stroke of luck- where Tom had been abducted from. Because, let's face it, his best friend did not run away. Grimacing, Alex typed a number on his phone.
"Mr Smithers?"
"Alex! My dear boy! What can I do for you?"
"One of my friend disappeared. I need the CCTV feed of Lamont Road from three to four hours ago."
"Right. I'm sending them to you. Be careful old chap!"
"I will. Bye Mr Smithers. And thanks."
"Do not thank me yet. And anyway, I know that you can hack into the CCTV feed, it will just be faster that way."
Alex hang up, a strained laugh passing his lips. One of the most useful skills that he learnt in Malagosto was hacking. And after his little trip in the Scorpia training centre, Mr Smithers chose to help him finish this part of his training. Now, he just needed a computer. With a determined look, Alex went back home. He would find Tom. And if he was hurt... Well, his captor would see just how much of an agent Alex Rider was.