It was a hot day in Jordan, the sun searing the backs of many people who wandered down the market street. Colorful stalls filled with unique products were lining both sides of the street. Tourists meandered down the street looking for interesting souvenirs to take home. Children ran around playfully while their mothers shouted down the street. A lone boy leaned against the stalls of one of the stalls.

He was a good looking boy, with dark brown hair that hung over his serious brown eyes. His skin was a nice shade of brown, tanned from being in the sun so long.

Alex shaded his eyes against the glaring sun. He was currently fingering a red and gold scarf displayed on one of the stands. He thought it would look good on Jack. He would buy it for her, he decided.

He started bartering with the shopkeeper in flawless Arabic. It was a beautiful language, he thought, it flows right off the tongue. He had learned to speak it over the years during his missions. He knew close to ten languages now. Finally the price was settled at five dinars for the scarf. He folded it neatly and stuffed inside his jean pocket. He walked away smiling.

However, he was not in Jordan just to buy a pretty scarf for Jack. In truth, MI6 had sent him here to investigate. His job was to get close to the minister's family that was friendly with the Jordanian king. MI6 suspected foul play when one of their agents had disappeared on the same mission in Jordan. Thus, they sent their best in. Alex Rider. Alex didn't look anything like he used too. His hair had been dyed a dark brown and his skin had tanned to match the skin tone of most Jordanians. He looked, spoke, and acted like he was a native Jordan. That was how good his cover was.

He walked slowly down the street pondering how exactly to infiltrate the minister's house. It was no easy deal since the place was no doubt swimming with guards. Perhaps, he should make friends with the minister's son?

Alex wasn't looking at where he was going and bumped into a stranger. He could smell the alcohol wafting on the man's breath. There were several men behind this one. They were all drunk. The man in front sneered at Alex. He got a bad feeling in his gut.

Hoping to smooth the situation over, Alex apologized profusely. The drunken man heard none of this. Instead, a drunken fist came swinging his way. His mates egged him on. Bugger, thought Alex. He had wanted to lay low for the day and get a feel for the city, but trouble found him. Trouble always followed him like a lost puppy dog.

Alex ducked the swinging fist. The man staggered when his fist hit nothing. The guy cursed fluently and lunged at Alex again. Again, dodging the meaty fist, he started running away. He didn't want to make scene since he was up against several angry looking men.

He weaved in and out of the crowds looking for an open door or alley to escape through. He could hear the lumbering footsteps of the men chasing him. Angry shouts filled the street as the people were pushed to the side.

Alex grimaced as he felt the sweat dripping into his eyes. Hurriedly he drew a sleeve across his forehead. He couldn't afford running blindly. His shirt was also sticking to his back, drenched in sweat from the intense heat and exertion. Soon he had passed onto a street that was less crowded, then one that was almost empty of people. The men were still following him.

He saw the entrance of a dark alleyway and glanced behind him. Good, they were still a ways away, he thought. It gave him plenty of time to disappear into the alley. Without breaking stride he ran into the dark alley and came to a stop. It was a dead end. A sheer wall rose up in front of him. He had run straight into a trap. Alex tried the doors around him, none would open. Then he saw a narrow crevice between one of the buildings and the next. It would be a tight fit.

Silently as he could, he squeezed into that tiny space. He could feel his shirt being torn up by the rough edges of the wall. His breathing quieted as he listened for the men. The footsteps and mumbled cursing came nearer. They had come into the alley to investigate.

"That brat ran fast!," grunted one of them in Arabic. They kicked around a few trash cans and shouted more profanities. Alex suppressed a chuckle.

"He probably didn't come in here. There's a dead end," said the harsh voice of another. "Come on, let's go. I need another drink, anyways."

Slowly the men trickled out of the alley, believing that they had lost the boy. Alex let out a sigh of relief when he was sure they were gone. He eased himself out of the crack and grimaced. His back felt raw since the wall had cut it up with its roughness.

He felt the back of his shirt. It was in tatters. Sighing, he started loping back to his hotel. He would try again tomorrow.

Damn, he thought as he ran, that had been his favorite shirt too.

AN: So there it is, another one-shot. What do you think? I know, its random, but who cares? XD