Hey everyone, sorry I took so long to update. Here's the next chapter. It's a bit long but I couldn't cut it halfway through. This is the first Alex Rider...action sequence you could call it, that I have written, so let me know what you think!
Boann
The next morning, Alex was still anxious to leave. Once he had showered and dressed into his old clothes, he went into the kitchen where Yassen was stood, silently watching the world through the small window over the sink.
"Umm," stammered Alex, not really knowing how to start. "Well, I'd better…go now…"
Yassen didn't move.
"Thanks for everything. Good luck," said Alex, turning to leave. His hand had barely touched the door handle when he was stopped.
"Alex."
Alex turned to Yassen, only to find that the assassin had still not moved a muscle.
He waited for Yassen to speak.
"You should stay here," he finally said.
Alex was confused. "You know I can't."
Yassen looked at him. He sighed. "Tell me what it is exactly that you plan to do."
Alex's frown deepened, suspicion adding to his confusion. "I'm not sure I should tell you. We're on opposing sides, remember?"
Yassen turned back to the window, closing his eyes briefly. "Alex. If you go back to that compound, you…"
"What?" asked Alex, his hand resting back on the doorknob. "Look I have to go. We both have jobs to do."
"Exactly," Yassen murmured, almost to himself.
Alex was still confused, but he'd made up his mind. Turning the handle, he opened the door and walked out of the cottage. He lingered for a moment, trying to work out what Yassen had meant.
Alex had returned to his motel room a little dazed. But he pulled himself together. He still had a job to do and the sooner he did it, the sooner he could leave.
But a part of him didn't want to leave. He'd found Yassen, a man who was, for him, a link to the past. A man and a link he thought he had lost. He didn't want to give that up.
But the rational part of him was reminding him of what would happen to both of them if they were found to be together again. MI6 would not let him get away so easily. Scorpia would not accept them as long as they were alive.
Alex found he was pinned. He had sat on the floor of his room for at least an hour, his back up against the wall.
Finally, he pulled himself up, grabbed his gear and walked back outside. He went downstairs and grabbed a phonebook, flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
Jacobson and Paul: Specialist Retailing.Noting the address and slamming the book shut, Alex set out.
Within the hour, he had reached his destination. Jacobson and Paul was the kind of company that could have easily been ignored. Their complex was simple. A single building amidst a compound full of trucks. The only thing that caused suspicion to Alex was the security. A patrol booth. Two guards carrying guns. A high fence topped with barbed wire. A little excentric for a village shipping company. But not so excentric for a company trying to hide something.
He remembered seeing so many of those trucks passing through the warehouse he had been watching the previous day. Something was definitely happening here, and it seemed like the best place to start. The vegetation around the compound was dense and provided easy cover. But Alex knew he needed to get onto one of the trucks. From within the compound, an engine roared to life. A truck was about to leave. Alex had an idea.
Abandoning the compound, he raced back, retracing his steps to the road. Ducking down by a large bush, he dug into his backpack and grabbed a packet of bubblegum Smithers had given him. Popping a strip into his mouth, he waited for the truck. The sound of an engine signalled its arrival. As the truck approached, Alex spat the gum onto the road. The truck ran over it and there was a loud pop. The driver pulled the truck to a stop.
Alex watched from his hiding place as the driver, a well build man with receding brow hair, jumped out. He cursed as he examined the tire and, just as Alex had hoped, went around to the back to get a spare. Alex did not move. He waited until the driver changed the tire and went back to the rear of the truck to dispose of the tire. Then he ran. Pulling the roll neck of the sweatshirt under his black jacket to cover his nose and mouth, he rolled under the truck and carefully pulled himself up under its belly. He knew this was going to be risky and difficult.
Very soon, the engine spluttered back to life and the truck began to ease forward, or backward, in Alex's case. As the vehicle gained speed, Alex's arms and legs began to struggle under the strain. Alex shut his eyes as dust and grit flew at him in all directions. Suddenly, his right leg, curled around a support, slipped and for a terrifying moment, he thought he would fall. But slowly, the truck slowed to a stop. Voices could be heard and the roller door was rolled up. More voices ensued and someone tapped the side of the truck. The truck moved again, stopping after a few seconds. Everything grew quite dark. Alex guessed they were indoors. The truck finally stopped and the engine was cut. As relieved as he was, Alex knew he couldn't move until he was alone. Feet shuffled around him, and he heard more voices, though this time much more distinctive.
"Get out the stuff!" called one.
The door was opened and people climbed into the truck, causing it to jolt. He could see more feet hovering around the truck. Two pairs stopped to his right.
"You got your stuff. Where's our money?" asked a voice.
"Your company will be fully compensated once all of the goods have arrived, Mr Riley," said another.
"I thought you said-"
"You do want compensation, don't you Mr Riley? It would be most unfortunate if Mr Banks was forced to question your loyalty to this operation."
A pause.
"I understand."
"Good. On your way."
Alex had only just realised the roller door was being closed. He needed to move. Gently, he lowered himself to the floor. To his left was a wall, where wooden crates sat. As soon as the rest of the feet had disappeared from his view, he rolled over to them, ducking behind one just as the truck started and slid away.
Alex took this opportunity to take in his surroundings. He was definitely in a warehouse of some sort. Crates lay strategically against he walls. The feet he had seen belonged to men dressed in a range of black military clothes.
"Get moving! Mr Banks wants things ready by tonight!"
The voice he recognised as the man talking to Mr Riley. It belonged to a tall, bald man with a tattoo on the back of his skull. Alex took in the AK-47 hanging over his shoulder.
The man strode over to an elevator. The doors opened and he was gone. Alex knew he had to get into that lift. The men were congregating in one corner of the warehouse. One of them opened a door and led the rest of them out. Some were reaching into their pockets for packets of cigarettes.
Perfect, thought Alex.
He ran to the elevator, keeping close to the wall in case he needed to hide quickly. There was only one button on the elevator, so he pushed it. But before he got in, he ducked over to the corner where the men had been. One of them had left his jacket draped over one of the crates. Slipping it on, Alex went into the elevator. When the doors opened again, he found himself standing in a long hall. There were two doors at the far end. Alex pressed his ear against one, through which he could hear voices. He listened against the second one until he was sure he could hear nothing, and opened the door. The room was only small. A desk and a laptop sat at one end. At the other was a large glass window. Alex crouched down, peering over the frame. His eyes narrowed at the sight before him. Guns, hundreds of them, were being sorted on the floor. Some were standing on racks. Alex noticed that the guns on racks bore a red strip around the butt.
Strange.
His eyes swept over the scene. The men handling the marked guns were wearing white jumpsuits. They were handling the weapons very cautiously. Why?
Alex didn't care to investigate that little detail. He had found what he had been looking for. He had to contact MI6 and then he'd be back home.
It then occurred to him that getting out would be a lot harder than getting in. He'd work that out once he got back downstairs. He reached to open the door, when suddenly, the knob turned and the latch clicked.
Someone was coming in!
Alex was well and truly stuck. He had no choice but to flatten himself against the wall as the door opened. A man walked in, not closing the door behind him. Although the door provided him with some cover, Alex didn't dare move.
But his curiosity got the better of him and slowly, he peered around the door.
The man who had entered wore the same clothes as the men who had been unloading the trucks. Only this one wore a black beanie. He strode into the room, casually, stopping only to glance out of the window.
No, not out of the window. At the window.
Alex's eyes widened as he saw himself reflected in the glass. He made to bolt out of the room, but the man was quicker. He slammed the door shut before Alex could blink. Alex stopped when the man's face was revealed.
"Yassen? What are you doing here?" he gasped.
Yassen's face was expressionless. "I told you not to come back here, Alex," he said, softly.
"I told you, I have a job to do," Alex replied, stubbornly.
"So do I," said Yassen, almost sadly.
Before he knew it, Yassen had pinned him up against the door by the throat.
Alex gasped. "What are you doing?"
Yassen said nothing, instead he sent his flat hand at Alex's head, sending him into darkness.