Alex twisted his wrists in the cuffs. They were tight enough that there was no getting them over his hands. Alex had not thought to tense his muscles as they were put on him, which might have helped keep them loose, and he doubted Yassen would have let him get away with such an old trick anyway. The metal pressed into his wrists in two places on each side, tighter than a cop would have fastened them. The lock faced away from his hands, which meant picking it would be a challenge. He would expect no less from Yassen Gregorowich. He looked around himself, looking for an instrument to help him. Anything narrow enough to fit where they key would go. Yassen's car was spotless.

He had some paper clips in his pocket. He'd not left his personal safety entirely up to MI6. There was a switchblade in there, too, though he'd never felt comfortable carrying a gun. And his phone and wallet. None of that mattered, because it took Yassen seconds to empty both pockets. Alex sat still, allowed him to do what he wanted. His mouth hung open, his hands prickling in anticipation. And Yassen Gregorovich smiled at him.

"Are you going to tell me your plan now?" Alex asked.

Yassen patted him on the head and shut him in the car. Alex shivered, and tried to search once more for way to pick the lock on the cuffs. The rope stopped him reaching the glove compartment, and there was nothing obvious within reach. He'd hadn't quite finished looking when Yassen was opening the driver side door and climbing in.

"There are easier ways to kill me," Alex said, probably as much to himself as to Yassen. A small comfort in the darkness.

Yassen nodded. "I agree."

Alex watched his face. "Then…"

Yassen made eye contact once again, as captivating as the bonds that held Alex. Alex's breath caught. But Yassen started the car, and turned to the road, before giving more information.

"Is it SCORPIA?" Alex asked.

"No," said Yassen. "The remaining members are pragmatic. They do not care about one broken boy."

"So you'll answer yes or no?" said Alex. "About who you're working for?"

Yassen didn't reply.

"Is it a national secret service? A certain country?" Alex asked.

Again, silence.

"Is it a triad? The mafia? A terrorist organisation?"

No response. The car was moving swiftly down New York streets. Alex recognised the journey north, out of the city, and they were going fast.

"But, you're not going to kill me?" Alex asked, "We established that, right?"

"We agreed there were easier ways," said Yassen. "I could have shot you, but then people would have noticed. I could have poisoned your drink, but again, people would have noticed you die."

"But if I die, MI6 will know it was you," said Alex.

"But if you just disappear, they'll think you ran away," said Yassen. His driving stance was relaxed. His eyes never left the road, and it was clear to Alex that he was trained in the art of high speed driving. Alex could try to cause an accident, but it would likely damage him as much as Yassen. More, because Alex would be unable to escape the aftermath.

"They'll know I haven't," said Alex.

Just one smile, one look of pleasure, more than Alex had ever seen from Yassen, as the assassin asked, "How?"

It was, presumably, a rhetorical question, designed to make Alex feel uneasy. It succeeded, Alex squirmed, but then he spilled everything. Fox visiting him, everything he'd heard. Once again, Yassen didn't comment, and Alex filled the silence. Nothing he said was important. He asked why, he speculated, he pleaded, he stopped short of begging, but he tried to make a deal. He took an age to talk himself out of words, and by the time he did, they'd cleared the city streets, gone beyond the suburbs. Still further, they travelled, until there weren't just houses anymore. A few hours driving through the night could get one a long way.

Yassen pulled off the road suddenly, through some trees, and Alex's imagination flew. If Yassen needed to hide his body, a disused space like those far from main roads could be perfect. Alex wriggled again, managing to displace the rope until it was above his chest, until he could push it with his arms. It wasn't tight above his chest, and he managed to grab it and push it over his head. He gasped aloud when he managed it.

"Very good," said Yassen, "but you cannot outrun me with the tie on your ankles.

He lifted his feet onto the seat in front of him, then worked at the tie with his hands. It was above his clothes, but viciously tight. He could tug his jeans from under it, take his shoes off, then try to slip it over his ankles.

Yassen turned another corner, and Alex nearly fell onto him. While he was righting himself, he heard Yassen praising him some more. "You have some flexibility. Good. Keep going.

Alex glared at him. He tugged the material of his jeans free, and the cable tie felt looser, but still firm. He pulled off his trainers, then tried to work the tie over his feet. It slipped as low as the ankle bone, the little round bubble proving that bit too wide for the plastic. Alex grunted at it.

He tried something else, using his fingers to feel for any sharp bits of metal on the handcuffs. Any sort of edge that could damage the plastic, but the cuffs were well made, the edges smooth and rounded. He had an idea. The window beside him. It was glass. If he broke it…

"Hmm, this is taking a long time," said Yassen. "We will arrive in a minute, and then I will rebind you."

"Arrive where?" Alex asked, trying to imagine breaking the window without hurting himself now his trainers were off. He'd lost them on the floor. He put his feet back down and searched for them.

"You'll see, little Alex," said Yassen. He turned down another road, a dirt track that made the whole car rumble. "Quick, little Alex, quick!" he teased. "Not long now."

He scooped up a trainer in his feet and passed it to his hands. He held it. This was going to hurt. There would be glass everywhere if it worked. Or nothing would happen.

The car stopped. Alex was so surprised he dropped the shoe.

"Oh dear," said Yassen, "This must mean I get to keep you."

He switched off the engine and was gone in a moment. Alex stared, heart dropping. He could see the shadow of Yassen passing around the car, then arriving beside his door. He opened the door, and crouched down in the doorway, picking up Alex's trainers.

"You will want these back on," said Yassen. "Hold still."

"Please," Alex tried again, "Please, you don't have to… I'm not a threat to anyone."

Yassen slipped one of the trainers onto his feet and retied the lace.

"I … I can pay you," Alex tried.

"No you can't," said Yassen. "If you'd ever had the money to employ an assassin, your life would have been very different." He put the other trainer on Alex's foot, then a knife appeared in his hand. Alex gasped.

Yassen cut the tie between his feet, and took a hold of the Alex's arm. "Come," he instructed, coolly. He tugged and Alex could not resist the strength of that pull. He fell out of the car, only getting his balance because Yassen stopped to close the door. It was not even a moment's respite, because then they were on again, forward. Towards a decrepit looking house.

"This could all be a big trap for you, you know," said Alex, "MI6 could be tracing you, they could leap out at any moment."

The assassin threw him against the side of the house. Alex crashed into the brick, the side of his arm hitting hard as he raised his bound hands to protect his face. He grunted with the pain. Yassen didn't let up. He shove Alex so his front pressed against the wall. Alex turned his head to avoid grazes, and tried to push back, but Yassen's whole body was flush against him.

"You know, you haven't even tried to fight since I took you," said Yassen. "I remembered you having more spirit."

"I'm biding my time," Alex breathed.

"You have grown wiser?" Yassen asked, sounding very doubtful.

Alex sneered, "You always suggested I had a choice. I didn't, you know."

Yassen seemed to get even closer, so close Alex thought he could feel his lips moving. "Like now?"

Alex shivered.

A click to the side told him the door had opened. "Well, little Alex," said Yassen. "Let's see how good you've got." He took a firm hold of Alex's arm once again, and pushed him through the door. Alex had time to glance around himself, to take in the dingy room, before he was tripped, landing flat on the floor. He caught himself on cuffed hands before his face hit the dusty wood. "So," said Yassen, flicking on a switch by the door, "I give you two minutes to escape. Then I add another layer of bondage. Does that sound fun?"

Alex stared at him. The light of a single, uncovered bulb danced in his eyes.

"Good," said Yassen, as though Alex had answered. "Go."

Alex stared. Yassen stood back, giving him space, stepping back. From his sprawling place on the floor, Alex checked around once more. He was in a dusty and shabbily furnished living room. There was a moth eaten couch in the middle, and a TV from the seventies. He still needed some way to pick the lock on the handcuffs. He looked for a likely material, something narrow. But even as he searched he knew two minutes weren't enough. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the door.

Yassen caught him round the shoulders, pulling him off balance. "No," he said. Then he threw him back down to the floor.

Alex had less luck catching his fall this time, and scraped his knees as he skidded, but he didn't stop to think about it. He was up again, springing to his feet, and running for a window, away from Yassen this time. He grabbed the old handle, but even as he tried to pull it free, he recognised that it was painted shut. He searched for something to break the glass, tried to imagine picking up and throwing the TV with his hands less than six inches apart. But by then, Yassen was, once again, on top of him.

He caught Alex with an arm across his throat. "Oh, dear, that was not better," he crooned, "Not long now, little Alex."

He threw Alex back into the centre of the room, and again Alex stumbled, but fought to regain his feet. He'd spotted another opening, a dark doorway. It was his only remaining option. He ran for it. It was the biggest mistake he'd made so far. The doorway lead only to stairs. He knew only idiots ran upstairs in horror films, but Yassen was close behind, so Alex went that way. Up.

The stairway was lined with yellowing wallpaper of cracked red and blue flowers. Breathlessly, Alex kept going, no plan in his head. Stupid. Yassen's footsteps behind him weren't even hurried.

At the top of the stairs was a choice of three doors, all closed. Alex picked the closest. He slammed the handle down, and flew inside. It was a bedroom. Made clear by the double bed against one wall. He tore his eyes away from it. Those thoughts wouldn't help him.

There was another window here, hidden behind pale curtains. He ran to it, shoved the curtains aside, to reveal bars.

"No!" he gasped.

The door to the bedroom closed behind him.

"Oh dear, little Alex," said Yassen, "You're two minutes are up."

...

AN: Reviews are greatly appreciated.