Beacons is the Welsh Word for Hell

2. The Military and Intelligence Bank

Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider, or anything else copywrited (and really, anything else mentioned) in this story. Happy? And, don't sue me for, like, 'disgracing Anthony Horowitz's wonderful work' or something like that. :D I'm TRYING, peoples, I'm TRYING! So, without further ado, on to the story! Hope you like it!

The soft crinkle of a candy wrapper was the only sound in the room. If you were to travel past the grey, sound-proof walls, the cement and reinforced steel frame, and the complex security and bio-hazard protection systems, you would find a perfectly normal, red brick outside. There, birds sang and the cars made wizzing noises like waves as they passed it on the nearby street. But, in the grey room with impregnable walls and bullet-proof windows, the only sounds of life filled two out of three inhabitants with annoyance and dread.

Finally, the older male broke the silence.

"Crawley sent us a report just before you arrived." The younger male, a blond youth with serious brown eyes, did not respond. The room's occupants sat emotionlessly and somewhat thoughtfully in the dead silence it was again reduced to. The man, apparently not discouraged, continued.

"We searched the area, and found no other terrorist operatives--Scorpia or another organization--left. The man you captured did indeed survive, and has been brought in to one of our holding cells. We expect that he should wake up in a few hours, at the most, and plan to interrogate him immediately. His backup team in the main room, however, did not survive."

Still, the teenager's stare did not relent. The boy gave no inclination of surprise at the news.

"I'm glad to know how attentive you all are, after I dealt with the situation." The boy finally snapped, annoyance and anger apparent in his tone.

"We also must commend you, Alex." The woman, still sucking on the peppermint, now broke in. "Our agents, it seems, were not as watchful as they should have been, and Scorpia might well have succeeded if not for your quick thinking and creative plan."

Alex did not respond.

"Of course, dead or no, this raises some serious concerns about your safety." Her colleague continued. "If Scorpia is, indeed, determined to kill you at all costs, who knows what they will try next. As the saying goes, 'a cornered fox is more dangerous as a jackal.'"

"We have decided to remove you--temporarily, of course--to a place where you will be safe until all this dies down. You guardian, Ms. Starbright, will be sent back to her parents in America, and we will call in a favor with the CIA to keep her as safe as possible there. The last thing we need is for Scorpia to capture her as leverage against you. However else you think, Alex, you are a valuable agent, and it would be a great inconvenience for us to lose you, or to have you turn against us."

The boy frowned at the other man's apparent cold-heartedness, and looked skeptical when the last bit was mentioned.

The woman, after opening another peppermint, continued.

"Therefore, we will be sending you back to--"

"I'm not going out of the country!" Alex protested, cutting him off. "I'll just be snapped up by some other organization wanting me to spy for them, and it won't be long until I'll be in even more danger than now. Look at the last time, with Skeleton Key. You call that safe, Blunt?"

Alan Blunt, director of MI6 Special Operations, frowned.

"We are not deporting you to America, or to any other country, for that matter. If you had let Mrs. Jones finish, you would know that you will be going--for protection and for more training--to the SAS camp you attended right before Stormbreaker. Breacon Beacons, in Wales."

The young spy's mouth opened partway, then closed. He was silent.

"As the unit you joined previously, letter K, will not be returning until two weeks after you arrive, you will be attached to F-Unit in the meantime. For the first week, they will be testing you in endurance, fitness, obstacle courses, languages, hand-to-hand combat, firearms, and the other basics of SAS training. Then, you will be placed in the appropriate level for the classes we have enrolled you in, according to that evaluation. We have also hired a tutor to help you catch up on the work you missed at school, then continue to teach you what you would be learning there. That way, you will receive all the benefits of leaving, and none of the downsides.

You will remain at camp uninterrupted for at least two months, by which time this situation should have been handled. After that, we will periodically call you in for missions and the like. Your current team may occasionally be joining you as either backup or as part of your cover. Any questions?"

Alex shook his head slowly, still processing this flood of information.

"Good, you leave tomorrow evening. Pack anything you wish to bring--I don't believe I have to tell you which items or how much to take--and be outside you house at exactly 5:00 sharp. We have already had a word with Smithers. He has a few gadgets for you, as well as the documentation and protocol that all agents in our employ must sign."

He raised a hand to stop the young spy's interruption. "It will be no different from what you already do, and is necessary now that you do not go to school or live with a guardian. We have avoided it thus far for only those reasons, and it simply spells out the rules and limitations both parties must follow."

Alex hesitated, frowning. "But, won't that mean that I'm an actual agent? In case you've forgotten, I'm barely old enough to have a summer job. I can't drink, drive, or vote. And you want me to be, in theory, no different from anyone else that works for you?"

"We realize that, Alex. However, you have the full capabilities of one, and anything that you don't know you soon will learn with the SAS. This contract will mostly spell out the benefits you will receive, and, considering what you have been doing for us already, merely recognizes that work." Mrs. Jones explained.

The teenager was reluctant, but realized that he wasn't getting out of it just yet. And, as unlikely as it seemed, he had actually began to enjoy some elements of the job. Having known the world of spies and danger, it was simply impossible to return to a normal life again. He had changed too much for that. "Alright, I'll do it."

"Then welcome back to MI6, Agent Rider. You remember the way to Smithers's office, I presume?" The spy nodded in response.

"See you in two months, then." He replied, then exited the room.

As he made his way towards the inventor's office, he was given many odd looks along the way. After all, it wasn't every day that you saw a fourteen year old boy wandering through the halls of MI6. However, he made it to the room without incident, and knocked firmly on the door.

**********

Leaving the room behind, Alex became lost in his thoughts. Was that the right thing to do? He had made the final, somewhat dreaded decision much earlier than he expected, and the choice was one that he was still unsure about. Should he have chosen a life of normality, without the terror and drama of the hidden world, that was nevertheless just as important as the 'reality'? The one that was easier, but meaningless; less painful, though the same pain still existed in the world.

It was a choice that his father had made, and Ian and even Ash. And where did that get them? Dead, gone at the hands of a friend, or living a miserable existence for fourteen years, before finally dying as Ash should have that night in Mdina. Nothing to aspire to there...

Still, there was also the other part, which he knew was their reason to do it. John and Ian, of course. Ash had admitted it was all about the money. There was the ability to make a difference in the world, to stop disaster and the like from happening. And he knew that every time he stopped a terrorist or a psycho, it was countless other lives that were saved. Weighing the pros against the cons, Alex knew he had made the right choice.

"Hey, kid!" Alex turned around (assuming correctly that he would be the only kid in the room) to see a tall man with a balding head and a gray mustache standing there with a patronizing look.

"Yes?" Alex went for respectful and I'm-not-doing-anything-wrong-or-abnormal-so-why-are-you-stopping-me. After all, it wasn't the man's fault he didn't know about the teen spy.

"The lobby's down there. Are you lost? Interns aren't supposed to wander around, especially not up here where the real work's done. And who's your supervisor? You won't get in trouble this time, but if I see you around here again, there's going to be a problem, understand me? Well?"

Alex carefully kept his face blank and emotionless as the man talked on, not even giving him a chance to answer the questions. This man was just another bully, probably not even high up, enjoying his chance to lord it over a young intern. Unfortunately for him, Alex was neither a push-over, nor going against the rules, and he had a history of putting bullies in their place.

"I assure you that I am not lost. And neither am I an intern. And if you want more information or have a complaint about this, you can take it up with the heads. I have every right to be here, and you should know that Blunt and Jones do not just tell anybody everything that happens here. Particularly not you. Now, if you excuse me, I need to get home." A small, shocked silence accompanied his speech.

"You aren't telling me that they're employing children as spies now! Preposterous! If they were that desperate, I wouldn't be doing deskwork, and everyone would have heard about it. Now, you will not only be in trouble for wandering around, but for telling those ridiculous--"

He was cut off by a gasp: "John?"

Due to the extreme loudness of the first man's response, his co-workers had come to see what was the matter. After all, this was MI6--you could never be too careful. The person who had said that was an older, brownish gray-haired man who was staring at Alex as if he was a ghost. Alex gave him a confused look.

"I'm Alex. Alex Rider. My father was named John, though."

The man seemed to have been an agent in the past, due to the number of faint scars on his face, and his slight limpas he approached the teen. He also seemed strangely excited to meet him. That never seemed to end well for the spy.

"I...my name is Brooks. Austin Brooks. I was a friend of your father's, and we worked together once or twice. I heard he had a son, but they said you died in the...well...they said that you died with your parents."

"Pleased to meet you." Alex responded, somewhat stunned. This was the last thing he had expected. "And I almost did, but I got an infection at the last moment, and had to stay behind. I was supposed to be sent later, but..."

"What is going on here? How do you know him? And what the hell is a kid doing in MI6?!" The spy had almost forgotten about the man from earlier.

"Calm down, Derwat. Alex is an old friend of mine's son. And considering his history, I'm sure he has more than enough reason to be here. You don't need to yell at anyone who puts so much as a toe out of line here. It's not like you're in charge, at any rate." Here, Derwat started to open his mouth in angry indignation, but was cut off again. "Just leave it, and go back to your desk." The bald man, Derwat, stared at his colleague, mouth opening and closing. "That applies to the rest of you, as well. Go on, don't you have work to do?"

Slowly, the crowd dispersed. Derwat stood there for one more second, then finally turned around and stalked back to his cubical. Alex could hear him slamming various things in his anger, and shook his head the man's temper. No wonder the heads didn't want him in the field.

"Sorry about him, he hasn't been very happy with his job, as of late, and he takes it out on anyone available. It's nothing personal, you just happened to be there." Brooks was speaking again. "Where are you going? If you're allowed to tell me, of course."

"I'm just leaving." Alex replied. "But I was going to see if there was a back entrance, or something." At the other's curious look, he elaborated. "I had a pretty bad experience with that door, and I tend to get...paranoid when I have to go through it."

Brooks nodded in understanding. "If you go to the back of the third floor, then take the elevator to the first, there's a different set of rooms, and a way out. I can show you, if you like."

Alex thanked him, and the man closed (and locked) his office door, then showed him how to get out. On the way, they talked a bit, and Alex found that Brooks was more than happy to tell him about his dad. Whereas Ash had known him outside of the office and at the end of his life, Austin Brooks had actually met him in Oxford, and they had kept in touch when they both entered the army, then Special Operations. Brooks had done in-field communications when he was younger, and had helped to organize many operations and even the contact between Alex's dad and the mission heads while he was in deep cover. He had actually been there that night in Malta, and had watched everything from the control tower.

It was the second time Alex had heard the story, but hearing it from Brooks was completely different. Now, it was as if all the emotion from the heat of the battle was gone, and instead, he could look at it from a different perspective. However, he still couldn't help the wave of anger that he felt when thinking of his former godfather. The traitor! Seeing his discomfort, Brooks changed the subject to Alex's missions, and he gave him a brief outline, not knowing how much to say. In return, he was given a vague description of the other's career in the field.

By the time they had reached the exit, Alex felt a sort of companionship growing between the man, and wondered if they would ever see each other again.

Then, he closed the door behind him, and stepped out into the darkening sunset. Jack would be waiting for him, and he wanted to make his last day and a half home memorable. Who knew when they would next have the chance? Alex himself could only guess what the future would hold.


So...do you like? I'm not entirely happy with it, and it's a LOT less funny than I intended it to be, but ohwell...at least I wrote it, right? I left out the actual visit to Smithers for three main reasons: one, so that I could update sooner/didn't have to write it, two, he's been there so many times, I feel that it would be more original to not put it in, and three, it leaves me a wonderful blank space to either add gadgets to his pile, or surprise the reader with one of them. Questions? Problems? REVIEW! :D Thanks again for your time!

Note: To the un-signed-in reviewer who asked 'What was wrong with peppermint?': I meant absolutely no offence--I like it, too. However, a certain Tulip Jones seems to share our interest, and she's not exactly on Alex's 'Favorite People' list. Also, he was about to go to see her, so that thing would be almost on the top of his head.... Hope that answered your question. And thanks (in fact, thanks to ALL of you!) so much for reviewing!

TheNotedMusician

P.S. Thanks again SO much for all you reviewers, and everyone who has read this. This isn't an update, specifically (though, fyi, I'm about halfway finished Chapter 3, and I just MIGHT update tommorow! :D ), I just edited this one, and then replaced it. Good Reading, everyone!