Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider or anything included in the Alex-Rider-series. All characters and institutions from the books belong to Anthony Horowitz
Chapter 1
The desk seemed to be as symmetrical and accurately arranged as always, the whole room pointing to Blunt, who, with a minimal gesture, pointed to the seat in front of Alex.
By now, Alex understood that it had nothing to do with politeness or being comfortable. The whole room was constructed for a distant atmosphere and the seat in front of the desk was simply a way to make sure, none of the agents would be on eye level with Blunt, seated in the monstrous chair as center of the room.
Knowing this should have made it less intimidating, but Alex still felt himself being reduced to a nervous teenager, while Blunt didn't look at him, instead focused on the papers on his desk and a painful silence filled the room.
"Observation" Blunt didn't look up right away, but a moment later transfixed his gaze onto Alex.
"is key factor to successfully finishing a mission..."
Alex knew the drill. Blunt would, as politically correct as possible, order him to kill.
As if he'd never witnessed how agents killed, how blood and dirt had nothing to do with the clean and businesslike windows, architecture and paperwork.
"We are, of course, aware that you have not received the required basic training, and we think it is time for you, to improve your knowledge for you to not having to depend on.." Blunt narrowed his eyes "...mere luck. This will be of course in your very own interest. Luck will not always be on your side, Alex, always be aware of that."
Being thankful was certainly not something Blunt had ever heard of.
"I won't do it" his voice was as steady as he had intended it to be, but not as sharp.
Blunts eyes seemed to pierce trough his skull.
"Very well. Disrespect is certainly something you will need in this particular case, albeit it might be necessary to display a slightly less childish attitude."
Alex felt stunned for a moment.
"Why would I help you?"
"Please keep in mind Alex, that it is not you who is in control."
"Neither are you."
"I'm sure you know otherwise...as I was saying..." he continued without a change in voice "Observation. Also, you will, as Mrs. Jones has recently informed me to be a necessity, be able to form closer relationships with peers. Hopefully you will be able to continue your series of success."
Alex could hear Mrs. Jones approaching and wasn't surprised to feel a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Now, for the details, please follow me."
"It is nice to see you again, Alex." She said as they walked out of the office, but he couldn't really decide whether she was trying to compliment him into cooperating or if she was being honest.
"We already decided on an alias, and we kept it simple. Your name will be Alec West, age 17." She handed him a pile of papers, not slowing down, while striding down the narrow corridor and Alex felt the cameras, installed in the ceiling following them like little red eyes. Before he really knew how it happened, they had changed direction and soon stood in front of the exit
Mrs. Jones abruptly came to a halt, her stony features hardening even more.
"There is a car waiting in front of the bank's entrance. They will know it is you. The information you received, has to be memorized by the time you arrive, which will be approximately four hours from now. " She seemed to be content with her explanation, but nodded with some kind of grim apprehension.
" Alex," she suddenly started again "sometimes it's not guns that do the most damage, but our very own mind. Please remember this."
And when Alex exited the building without any kind of confirmation that he would follow her advice, he looked at the papers in his hand.
"Alec West, 17, breaking and entering"
Wonderful.
The drive was uneventful, the driver, a bulky man with headset, looked suspiciously like a bodyguard.
But Alex supposed it would be compatible with his cover:
Alec West, at the tender age of 17 was as arrogant and ignorant as his Daddy's money allowed him to be. Or at least it should seem that way at first.
After breaking into a 78-year old widower's house with three of his friends, Eric, John and Tony, (they all came with a description), Alec went back into the house by himself, after he noticed that his cellphone had fallen out of his pocket. The old man, Robert Mayer, thin, already weakened by his heart condition, woke up from the noise and entered the living room (white walls, family pictures, a flat-screen they had destroyed).
Alex knew where this was going, but still was surprised : Simple was an understatement.
Mr. Mayer, seeing a dark figure standing in the living room, threatened to call the police, things suddenly turned serious, as Alec lashed out and hit the man in the stomach. Mayer, tough weak, still managed to crawl over to the closet, where he kept his gun.
Alec ended up locked into a small spare room, but was able to talk the man out of calling the police by bribing him with money. Money his rich father would provide.
After a night of sleeping on the floor, his father's secretary, Linda, payed the money and drove him home.
His father, Raymond West, Alex only skimmed briefly trough the list of details, was more than wealthy, but also more than not amused. Being a single father to a teenager who didn't know his boundaries, he decided to finally take action and send his son to a camp for troubled youths.
Alec himself would be self-important and superficial, but underneath the surface a typical little boy, who had lived through his childhood without a mother, and a father who was constantly away. Lonely and seeking attention, falling into the wrong kind of crowd and finally turning to crime.
Alex knew that type of personality, had had the chance to act as a spoiled, emotionally crippled rich kid, but he didn't have to like it.
Missions like this always felt like a parade of people with lives that he could have lived.. They were surrounding him with their everyday problems, their little fights, their arguments he would be glad to have.
He felt like living in a glass-cage, able to see everything clearly, but still inside his own world.
It was hard to get people involved in his life, and it was hard to get involved with the "normal". Those two worlds just didn't mix and the more clearly he could see them, the nearer they were, the more it felt like he was pressed against one side of his cage, feeling the warmth of the outer world seeping through the glass, but still not able to go one step beyond this tiny contact.
It was frustrating.
And the agency knew it.
The camp was much like Alex had seen on the sketches in his files.
A line of small huts, painted in a dark red color that was peeling off the rough wood and left dark patches. They had painted the window frames in a now withered white, in an attempt to make it look more professional. In combination with the morning fog, that quietly hovered above the grass, it looked much like a forgotten summer camp that had been left abandoned, if it hadn't been for the cameras. Alex counted twelve, one for every door he saw.
The driver shut the door firmly behind him, the sound seemed louder than usual and the noise of the drivers steps on the fine gravel echoed.
It was still early, there was probably no one awake and the morning dew seeped trough his expensive shoes.
Alex waited until the driver had passed him with a small nod, grabbed the suitcase they had provided for him and then slowly followed, focusing on the broad back in front of him, carefully not lifting his feet to look like the reluctant teenager he had to be, hands in his pockets.
Framed by the huts, the gravel path led to a bigger building, also with a wood paneling but Alex guessed that it had a cellar or something similar, because it looked more solid than the little wood-cabins.
The driver pounded against the door as if he had a search warrant and it didn't take long until a fully clothed man appeared in the doorway .
He was a bit chubby, shorter than Alex, brown eyes, no glasses. His brown hair thinned out on some parts of his head and he looked genuinely confused which made it hard for Alex to guess his age. A neutral expression was easier to read.
"Ah, welcome...you..." He seemed to think for a moment, but eventually some kind of understanding dawned on his face. ".. you must be Alec. We didn't think you would arrive so early, or else there would have been someone to greet you and help with the luggage." He grinned and looked at the driver who grunted a short affirmation and turned to leave which left the man before Alex at a bit of a loss.
"Not very communicative, is he?" he whispered conspicuously and offered his hand to Alex.
"I'm Mr. Brown, one of the team leaders, nice to meet you, Alec" From where he stood he could see the sporadically furnished room behind Brown. All the leaders probably had a room in the big building. If he counted one or two spare rooms, and considering that they where the same size as Mr. Brown's, there would be about 12 Persons living in the building.. He guessed that the other doors would be on the backside of the house, because the door in Brown's room probably led to the bathroom.
"I don't want to be here and I don't need to be. I'm not going to play funny little games or try to "talk about my problems". So don't act all friendly." He ignored the hand and raised his eyebrows.
Brown seemed to flush, not with rage but embarrassment and let out a nervous giggle.
" That's really okay Alec, but I'm sure you will soon accept, that with a little help, life is a lot easier. You won't be forced to join group activity or the psychological care sessions, but it is something that could help you with your life and your problems."
Alex raised his eyebrows and snorted.
"Just show me where I can sleep and don't talk to me."
"Oh I'm sure you could solve problems yourself, but with help..." Alex really started to pity this man "Are you deaf? " he snapped and turned in the direction of the huts. "I have to sleep in one of those things?" Brown winced and nodded but didn't comment, while Alex waited, with a pointed gaze at his bags, until Brown picked them up.
Alex even might have missed the tall figure, leaning against one of the cabins at the far end of the camp, looking at them. The light of the morning sun covered the person with the shadow of the next cabin, but he thought he could make at a broad smirk, as they went to his cabin and accommodation for the next few weeks to come.