Authors Note—
Hey, guys! Sorry for the looooong wait. I promise it will never happen again… at least not as long as it was for this chapter :) Anyways, I just have one thing to say before I get on to the chapter—the last chapter I got, like, half the amount of reviews I got for the last one. So, this chapter needs 16 or more reviews for another update. Oh, and my Untitled AR story needs at least 8 more for an update.
Anyways. Thanks tons to Catherine for being an amazing beta and making the chapter oh so much better. And I'm sorry for all the spots that I just confused you in. lol. Oh, and thanks again to Catherine for providing the name for the group in this story.
Oh. I lied… sorry. I have one other thing to say… everything that Blunt says about Alex/Urie's mission is basically a fancy way of saying that he knows nothing about the group it involves ;) Enjoy!
Review!
xoSteph
The Dirty Game
Chapter Three— Change In Plans
Thursday
Turns out, MI6 hadn't been telling the whole truth. They said I'd leave for England on Friday. As it turns out, I guess it was rather lucky that I had already packed my bags because they showed up at my house on Thursday morning as I was about to leave for school and announced that there had been a change of plans.
It had taken some adjusting, but I'd gotten used to living with a mother and a father—and an aunt, uncle and cousin, too. MI6 had provided us with a big, and nice, house in a good part of Scottsdale. It had a pool and all. Mom and Aunt Susannah opened up an art gallery for 'fun'. MI6 said that they would provide my family with all the money we would need but mom and Aunt Susannah said they'd get bored without something to do and, apparently, that something was an art gallery. Dad and Ian were 'bankers'. They worked as a team and did easy jobs for MI6. MI6 tutors helped AlexI get caught up with his schoolwork. Of course, they all had different names.
I wasn't allowed to tell any of them why I was going to England—of course they knew I was going, they just didn't know why. That should have been my first clue that something more than what they were telling me was going on.
I was rather surprised when I walked into the kitchen and saw Blunt and Mrs. Jones sitting at the round kitchen table with mom, dad and Ian. I actually walked back out of the room and then back in just to make sure I wasn't hallucinating or anything.
"Good morning, Urie," Mrs. Jones said.
I eyed her and Blunt suspiciously. I'd learned from experience that they never came about to just chat and catch up so I snapped, "What do you want?"
Which, in turn, made mom gasp and say, "Urie! Where are your manners?"
"Sorry," I mumbled.
"Take a seat, Urie," Blunt said. I sat down in an empty chair across from Blunt and Mrs. Jones and waited. "There have been a change of plans, Urie," Blunt began.
"What do you mean?" I asked when Blunt failed to say anything else.
"We have rescheduled your flight to England to today," Mrs. Jones explained. "We were informed of an opening on an earlier flight and have decided that the sooner you get there the better."
"I'm flying commercial?" was what I said.
"It will keep up appearance," Blunt droned, "just in case someone is watching. It is much less suspicious if you arrive on a commercial air flight."
I nodded in understanding. "What time does it leave at?"
"Two o'clock."
"So what time are you getting me from school?" I asked.
"You're not going to school today, Urie," Blunt said.
"What? I thought you said—"
"I presume that you would like to know your mission, Urie," Blunt said with his dry sort of humor. "Briefing, Urie."
"Oh." So I'd finally get to figure out just what I was going to be doing.
"You can tell him here," dad spoke up.
Blunt turned to dad. "I'm sorry, James—" that was dads new name "—but that is not information that is free to be shared."
"This is my son you are talking about here," dad protested. "I think I have a right to know why you are sending him off to another country."
"Use your head, James," Blunt said dryly. "You know that I cannot reveal the details of a mission to anyone outside of those it directly concerns."
"Anything that involves my son involves me." It was kind of embarrassing. I was eighteen and I thought I had proved that I could take care of myself.
"I know where your concern comes from, James, I really do," Mrs. Jones assured him in a kind voice. "But the less people that know about this the better. We cannot have more people than necessary knowing about this. I know that it may not seen fair, James, and if I were in your position then I would surely think the same as you are but this is just how things work and Urie is eighteen and, therefore, he is legally an adult."
"What are the risks?" Mom was the next person to speak.
Blunt and Mrs. Jones glanced briefly at each other before Mrs. Jones answered mom's question, "It should be rather… safe. This is not a mission that is dangerous and should be completed fairly quickly, perhaps a month or two." I guess that was 'fairly quickly'.
I rubbed my eyes and yawned. So I'd stayed up late studying for an English test for nothing. Figures. "I guess it's a good thing I already packed."
"We shouldn't waste any more time, Urie," Blunt said rather unfeelingly. "You still need to be briefed and I daresay you have to learn to put in your contacts." Right. What color were my eyes supposed to be again? Green? I didn't really care.
I sighed. "Yeah, sure, let's go."
--+--
Mom and dad weren't quite happy with my departure even as I got into the black Rolls Royce that seemed to be MI6's signature car.
They took me back to the Six Monkey's and I had to try hard not to laugh as I read the sign above the door—
Six Monkey's
Exquisite and priceless art
For the art lover
There was a middle aged couple in the store looking intently at a large painting by some famous artist. They talked quietly amongst themselves about the meaning of the painting. I glanced at it; it looked like a bunch of squiggles of paint splatter to me. I guessed I was not an art lover.
The couple didn't even notice as the bell jingled above the door and Blunt and Mrs. Jones escorted me to the back of the store. I wondered what would have happened if they had noticed. Would they have been the type to have thought to grownups wearing all black and sunglasses were suspicious? Maybe not.
I sat down at the same table in the room that I had been in several days earlier. Blunt and Mrs. Jones took their seats and Mrs. Jones set another file on the table in front of her.
"So," I decided to prompt the conversation forwards, "what's my mission, boss?" I joked.
Mrs. Jones bent her head forwards to hide her small but Blunt didn't seem to appreciate my little joke. He wasn't one for humor. "You're mission is of great importance to England and its schoolchildren."
"Alright."
"Your job in San Francisco yesterday was a little practice mission for your coming mission in England."
"More drug dealers?" I asked.
"You do have a flight to make, Urie," Blunt said with a little sigh, "so if you could do without the interruptions things would get dome that much faster."
"Sorry. Go ahead."
Blunt squinted his gray eyes at me. He motioned to Mrs. Jones and she produced a sheet of paper from her manila folder and handed it to Blunt. He glanced briefly at it. "There have been reports from the agents we've assigned to the area of Brookland Prep that there is a van that parks down the street from the front of the school. There is a man that reportedly sells drugs to the students." Blunt took another sheet from Mrs. Jones and slid it across the table to me.
It was a large picture that was slightly unfocused, probably taken from a fair distance away.
I looked at it and almost laughed out loud. It was a picture of a man who could have been in his mid to late twenties. He was bald headed and had five studs in his ear. The man held a cell phone to his ear and his mouth was opened. The place where his two front teeth should have been was bare.
I rubbed a hand over my eyes and laughed softly. Skoda. This what they were so on about? This was the 'big mission'?
"I would appreciate it if you could at least appear serious, Urie," Blunt said stiffly.
I looked up. "Sorry. It's just that," I picked up the picture and pointed to it, "this guy, Skoda, has been selling around my sch—Brookland Prep," I hurriedly corrected myself, "forever. Besides selling drugs to minors he really isn't a threat."
Blunt fixed his small glare on me. "Children are being exposed to drugs and alcohol younger and younger every year and every year more and more schoolchildren fall into the trap. The children all over the world are the future of the world so I would say that this is a problem, Urie."
"I don't know what's going on with you guys and stopping all the drug dealers of the world recently but you can't stop them all," I said.
"The point is not the drug dealers around the world, Mr. Ross," Blunt was getting a bit annoyed with me. "The point, at this moment, is with what is going on at Brookland Prep… and within it, too."
That sparked my interest. "Within it?"
"Yes. If you could stop the interruptions then we could have already gotten to this." I was silent and after several moments, in which I was perfectly silent, Blunt continued, "The man you refer to as 'Skoda' is working for a higher group called Kill or Cure or the KOC Group for short. The KOC is a group that is growing rapidly in its numbers. KOC is a group that is trying to eliminate the drug problems in schools and with children all over the world. But," Blunt said firmly when he saw me open my mouth, "KOC is trying to solve the world's drug problems among children by going into the schools."
"That makes absolutely no sense," I couldn't help it, it just burst out. "Skoda sells drugs to kids, how is that helping any problems?"
Blunt held up a hand to stop me before I could go any further. "They do not sell drugs… at least not normal drugs. The drugs that they sell are drugs that are laced with something similar to what Julia Rothman had the school children injected with… I assume that you remember the incident quite well." Blunt didn't wait for my answer before he continued, "We are not, at this moment, exactly sure what it is that the drugs contain but we do know that it is some sort of lethal chemical that will be activated much the same as Julia Rothman planned to do. Do you understand so far?" Blunt glanced at me quickly before looking to another paper Mrs. Jones had slid across the table to him.
I thought for a second. "Not really," I admitted. "Why are they selling spiked drugs?"
"I was going to get to that," Blunt said in a voice that said it was a stupid question. I leaned back and waited for him to continue. "KOC's goal is to annihilate the world's drug problems—I suppose you could say it is similar to what Damien Cray tried to do but KOC is directly targeting the schools and are using a method that is a bit more foolproof then bombs. But, just as Damien Cray was KOC has no problem in wiping out hundreds of thousands of people to get their message across."
I nodded. I understood what Blunt was saying but it just seemed a little out there for me. "Is Scorpia involved?" I asked the important question.
Blunt didn't even look at me as he answered, he continued shuffling through papers, "No. Scorpia is not involved."
"Are you positive?"
"Yes we are positive, Urie. We have found out everything that there is to know about KOC and they have no immediate links to Scorpia."
I thought for a second. "So there is a chance that they are involved."
Blunt finally pushed his papers to the side and looked at me. He pushed his gray glasses up his nose and folded his hands on top of the table. "Yes, Urie, there is a chance that they are involved. There is a chance that Scorpia is involved with everything that is going on in the world."
I chose not to respond. I remembered something that Blunt had said earlier. "You said that they are inside Brookland, too."
"I did. The school is wired, bugged, so that they know what is going on at all times."
"Is this just at Brookland?"
"No, this is happening in schools all over the world."
I sighed. "So what's my job? Stop KOC?" I guessed.
Blunt nodded and I almost laughed. "We need you to get the source that will transmit the signal to the chemicals that will then cause the chemicals to be released into the bodies of your peers who will then die." I blinked. Wow. Blunt really knows how to lay it on.
"How am I supposed to go about finding this transmitter? And what does it look like?"
Blunt slid another photograph across to me. I glanced at it briefly. "You're joking, right? This is a normal, silver palm pilot. How am I supposed find it? Would you like me to romp all across England and take everyone's palm pilots? Because I don't quite think that that will wor—"
"We have reason to believe that there is an official, or representative, from KOC working inside Brookland Prep."
My stomach clenched briefly. "You mean like a teacher?"
"That seems to be the most likely conclusion, yes." Please not the history teacher.
"And you don't know what teacher or administrator this would be, correct?"
Blunt eyed me; he didn't look too pleased with my question. "That would be correct," he said finally.
I nodded. "So if I don't know the teacher or administrator that is working for KOC --if there even is one—then how am I supposed to find this palm pilot? I'm sure that there is more then one person in Brookland Prep that has one."
"If you had looked carefully at the photograph, Urie, then your question would already be answered." Blunt slid another picture in front of me—this one was of the back of the palm pilot. He traced his finger under where the manufacturing number and location was printed. "Do you see this symbol right here, Urie?" I looked closer and could, indeed, see a small symbol engraved a small distance under the cereal number.
"Yes."
"Good. Can you see what it is a symbol of?"
I looked closer. "It looks like…" I squinted to make sure I was seeing the right thing. "It looks like a bird," I finally said.
"Right," Blunt said. "It is a picture of a hawk, the symbol of KOC."
I nodded in understanding. "But why would they put the symbol for their organization on the back of the palm pilot?" I wondered aloud. "What if someone saw it?"
"The depiction is quite small and a normal citizen would not notice it, assuming that the man it belongs to ever misplaced it. And even if this citizen did happen to notice it, KOC is still a new organization and do not seem to want their name and mission to be spread around to the general public."
"What do I do once I've got the palm pilot? I mean, do I take it or what?"
"You take it. You will be provided with a replica of the palm pilot at the end of the briefing. You swap the palm pilots once you are sure you've got the right one and you call us immediately. We will have agents on the scene before KOC even has a chance to notice that the transmitter is missing."
Everything was silent for a moment. "I'm still not understanding. This all seems rather un-thought out to me. I suppose I understand what they are doing with the drugs and all, I've seen it all before but, it just seems to me that the way you are talking about retrieving the transmitter is not the greatest way to go about it. I mean, what's to say that they don't have a backup transmitter?"
"They probably do," Blunt said simply. He was busy scribbling down something on a pad of legal paper. Before I could ask him to explain he said, "Perhaps I did not phrase what you are supposed to do the correct way. Your mission it not," he looked up at me to stress his point, "to just go into Brookland Prep, find the palm pilot and leave. That is never all it takes in a job such as the one you are being given. Here is what you will have to do; Wolf has already been stationed in England. You will recall that I said that the school has been bugged thoroughly and efficiently with sound and video recorders. The first step is to find these systems but it must be done discreetly and slowly for, I am sure, someone will be watching the tapes around the clock. You are working with Wolf and, as a student; you will gain a different perspective on your surroundings. You and Wolf will work out how you want to dismantle the bugging in the school amongst yourselves, I am confident that two accomplished agents can do it without getting caught.
"You will be in constant contact with Mrs. Jones and myself at all times but you will be unable to come to the Royal & General just incase someone who we don't want to see sees. Now," Blunt folded his hands on top of the table top, "I can tell you the background of your mission and I can tell you your mission but I cannot tell you how to go about doing it, as you already know the ideal plan is very rarely the one that works in the end. As I've said, KOC is a new group that seems to like keeping themselves out of the limelight. As you work you will find out more about them and their intentions. I know that we are not able to provide you with nearly enough information to fill in the pieces—you will have to find the missing pieces on your own. Do you have any questions regarding your objective?"
I shook my head, "No."
"Very good." Blunt jotted something down on his pad of paper.
I cleared my throat. "Do I get any, you know, 'gadgets'?"
Blunt didn't seem to hear me so Mrs. Jones spoke up for the first time during the briefing. "Have we ever not given you something, Urie?" I hated those cynical answers they always gave me.
"No…" I said. "Do I get a gun?"
Mrs. Blunt watched me thoughtfully for a moment. They'd given me a gun on all of my missions once I had gotten a bit older then fourteen. "Yes you will have a gun but it will not be in a book… that idea didn't seem to work quite well the last time we tried it," her dark eyes twinkled a bit. It took me a second to realize that she was joking. Mrs. Jones had just made a joke. I never seriously thought I'd see the day.
"Okay. Anything else?"
"Mr. Smithers has designed several items for you that you will receive once in London."
"Okay."
"Do you have any more questions, Urie?" Blunt spoke again.
I thought for a second before saying, "I do, actually. It's about my cover while I'm there. I know I'm supposed to be an eighteen-year-old in his last year of schooling and I've just moved from Arizona with my parents because my father—who is a doctor—got a job offer at a hospital—"
"St. Dominic's," Blunt put in.
"St. Dominic's," I amended for Blunt's benefit. "But you say that I am working with Wolf—who is a teacher in the school I am a student in—and if the school is bugged then how am I going to be working with Wolf? And if someone saw me with a teacher out of school and we seemed to be rather well acquainted it would surely raise a few questions. And then there's the fact that a new teacher and a new student arrive at the same time. Could this not be suspicious in anyway to KOC?"
"You will be living in a house with the agents that will be acting as your mother and father. Wolf will be living in the house next door to the one you are in. There is a special corridor beneath the two houses basements and connects them. While you are at home, you and Wolf will be free to work together," Blunt said. "As for you both arriving in a very close timeframe, you are coming from the US and Wolf is coming from Newcastle. There should be nothing to question and if there happens to be any questions within KOC... well, that is precisely why you and Wolf will not draw attentions to yourselves while out in public eye."
"Got it. Now, who are my 'mother' and 'father'?"
"Two of our senior agents that are highly qualified for the job. You will meet them shortly as they will be joining you on your plane ride."
"I know they'll be aware of the mission and who I am and everything but are they involved in anyway?"
"Your father is the newest surgeon at St. Dominic's and your mother has gotten a job as partner in a law firm that is not connected to MI6 in any way. Their jobs are to find out what they can by not risking themselves or you in any way."
"Got it, I've got everything you've already said so is their anything else I need to know about myself?"
"Your history will not be a problem and it is by no means a pressing concern at this time," Mrs. Jones said. "Of course a whole alternate life has been drawn up for you and Wolf and the other two agents. Wolf will give you a folder with everything you will need to know about yourself once you arrive in London. We request that you read it thoroughly. There is just one other thing that we shall tell you about your life today, however. Urie Ross has a dog."
And she said it so seriously, too. "I do?"
"Yes," Blunt said as Mrs. Jones got up from her seat at the table and exited the room. "He is a beagle that you like to call Bud but whose name is actually Phoenix." I resisted the urge to laugh. Who named a dog after where they lived? Apparently I did. "Now," I paid attention once again when I realized that Blunt wasn't quite done, "Phoenix is a special dog. Phoenix has been trained since his birth to sniff out drugs. You may find him quite useful."
"Beagles don't usually do that kind of work," I remarked thoughtfully.
"And there are very few that would ever think a beagle would be doing this work. Beagles are, in fact, very intelligent dogs. They have been used as hunt dogs and that is essentially what Phoenix is. He is a highly intelligent dog that clearly knows his work but will still act like a dog."
Mrs. Jones re-entered the room with something held in her hand. There was an excited sounding panting and a soft scampering of claws. I looked over. Mrs. Jones was holding onto a leash that was, in turn, clipped to the collar of a dog. A beagle, Phoenix. He was normal size for a beagle, brown, black and white with a sharp face, floppy ears and big, almost human like, eyes. He was jumping about and his tail was waving wildly. Blunt was right, he did act just like a normal dog.
Mrs. Jones let go of the dog—Phoenix—and he bounded over to me. I pushed my chair out and Otto jumped onto my and put his front paws on my knees and peered up into my face. He opened his mouth after a moment and barked. I got a nice whiff of dog breath.
I laughed and patted his soft head and said, "Hey, Bud. You look like a cool dog." Phoenix—I think I liked Bud better—barked in agreement. I laughed again in patted his stomach. I had a feeling that me and Bud would get along well.
"Here you go, Urie," Mrs. Jones handed me the leash before sitting back down in her chair.
"Now to introduce you to your parents," Mrs. Jones said and she buzzed the secretary that had an office just off the main gallery floor. "Send Agent Gettig and Agent Hennies back," was all she said.
"Yes, ma'am," a young female voice answered over the intercom before Mrs. Jones clicked off.
The door opened several moments later and a man and woman walked through. Both looked quickly around the room. They were probably both in their forties. Both looked calm and composed. The man was tall and broad shouldered with dark hair that was just flecked with the smallest bits of gray. He had light green eyes—perhaps why I was getting the same color for my eyes—and a kind and intelligent face that managed to be boyish and tough at the same time. He wore a pair of jeans with a light green polo and a jacket.
The woman was several inches shorter then the man but seemed just as capable as the man. She had blonde hair cut to her shoulders and brown eyes. She was slender but well fit. She wore a black knee length, A-line skirt with a light blur blouse and a pair of black suede moccasin type shoes.
All in all, the man and woman made a rather attractive—and professional— couple, though they were probably indifferent to each other in that way.
Blunt and Mrs. Jones stood and so I did too.
"Urie," Blunt made the introductions, "This is Andrew Gettig and Paula Hennies," Andrew and Paula smiled friendly at me. "Though," Blunt continued, "you shall know them as Michael Ross and Allison Ross. Agent Gettig, Agent Hennies, this is Alex Rider," I looked at Blunt when he used my real name, "though he is Urie Ross in every aspect."
Andrew—or Michael—stepped towards me and shook my hand enthusiastically. "Pleasure to meet you, my boy! I've read your file and, may I say, that it is quite impressive!"
I was a bit taken aback by his enthusiasm—he reminded me of Glen Carver. "Thank you," I smiled back at him as he let go of my hand. "It's good to meet you too, sir."
"Nonsense, son," Andrew/Michael said. "You may call me Andrew… or I suppose it would be Michael…"
"I think you mean dad," Paula/Allison said lightly with a little laugh. Andrew/Michael looked at me and shrugged. She turned back to me and smiled warmly as she shook my hand. "Nice to meet you."
She wasn't anything like Belinda Troy. I smiled at her. "Nice to meet you too… mom?" I guessed.
"You got it, son," she joked back. I could already tell we'd get along nicely. Andrew and Paula—as I decided to call them—were nice people and I supposed it wouldn't be so horrible living with them.
Phoenix decided, at that moment, that he was tired of being ignored and twisted his leash around my legs as he butted in between me and Andrew and Paula. He turned in a circle on his haunches and looked up at us.
"And I suppose that is Phoenix?" Andrew rose an eyebrow.
"Yup," I replied as I untangled my legs from the leash and somehow managed to stay upright as Phoenix pulled the leash tighter before I was completely freed.
Paula crouched down and let Phoenix sniff at her face before she scratched him behind his ears. "He's cute," she decided as she fingered his silky ears. "Doesn't look much like an MI6 operative but he'll do."
Andrew and Paula stayed to talk with Blunt about the mission as Mrs. Jones took me into the bathroom right off the briefing room. She handed me several boxes before opening one herself—my contacts and several extra pairs. After she showed me how to put them in, I tried to put mine in. Although it was done a bit awkwardly at first I managed all the same.
Mrs. Jones left the bathroom and returned to Blunt, Andrew and Paula. I was about to follow her but paused at the mirror above the sink. I looked in at my reflection.
I blinked several times, trying to get used to the different eyes I saw. It was strange. My body, face and hair were all the same but the change of eye colors made me seem so different. Maybe it really would work. Maybe they really wouldn't recognize me.
And then I thought of how Sabina had recognized me so clearly the day before despite being taller and older and my hair several shades lighter and a good two inches longer. I just hoped that the eyes are what really would do the trick. For everyone involved, it would be so much easier if I wasn't recognized as Alex Rider.
a/n: yeah I know, kind of boring. The next chapter will be a lot better! Review! -Steph
