Chapter 9
Author's Note: I'm not going to promise anything about updates, only hopefully the next one will come sooner than 3 years in the future :) This might seem a little disjointed from the other chapters, I apologise for needing to shake the rust off this story a bit before it starts flowing again.
Alex had ducked instinctively as he heard the door behind him burst open, but to his surprise and relief no one had shot at anyone yet. He risked a peek over his shoulder at what had written such a beautiful expression of shock across the face of Joseph Illyich's cousin, and was certain that this was the first time ever he had been happy to see Yassen.
His relief was short-lived, however, as the assassin tucked his gun away and turned a genial expression on Vanya. "It seems you have already received my gift. My apologies for the lack of a personal touch, but I'm afraid such things are all to easy to overlook when your intended recipient believes you dead."
Vanya looked as confused as Alex felt. What did Yassen mean about a gift? There was no way he could have known Alex would go house-hunting and wind up getting handed off to the closest relation who was a Mafiya boss. Alex bit back the 'nice to see you, too' that was on the tip of his tongue and decided to wait and see what game Yassen was playing.
Vanya recovered himself enough to bark, "Kill him," at his men. Yassen had his gun trained on the gangster before the order was fully formed. "That's hardly the way to thank me for bringing you an English spy," Yassen chided.
Vanya looked wary and, to Alex's indignation, rather unconvinced that the boy tied to the chair was anything more than a common criminal. Probably the only thing that had kept Alex from being unceremoniously beaten up, shot, or otherwise disposed of from Illyich's estate had been his obvious identity as a foreigner – but the idea that he was also a spy appeared to be something Vanya was not yet willing to believe.
"He was brought to me by my cousin Joseph, whose house he entered," Vanya said slowly, eyes narrowing at the assassin. Alex could almost see the number of incredibly painful things he wished to do to Yassen in that gaze, and knew for some perverse reason this was the man who could give them the information they needed. If only they survived long enough to trick him into revealing it.
"Come now," said Yassen, and Alex wondered at the hint of impatience in his voice – certainly nothing he had ever heard from the calm Russian before. "MI6 has been trying to get a paper trail on your trafficking operations for years now, and you know Illyich has never been the same since his boxing injury. Who better to slip into his fortress than a teenaged boy? You are fortunate I was able to follow him from London and ensure that the offending documents were secured before he could arrive. I had thought the signs I left were obvious enough that Illyich's men would be on the alert for a break-in, but it seems they are no longer as competent as they once were. I am glad that in the end you have received my token either way," he concluded, indicating Alex.
Vanya seemed unsure of what to believe. Alex could sympathise – he was entirely sure that most of what Yassen had just said was a lie, but damn if it didn't have him worrying that Yassen was about to sell him out completely in exchange for information. He supposed it couldn't hurt to distract Vanya from examining the assassin's story too closely. "So it was you who took the papers!" he snarled at Yassen. "I knew the someone had been there, tampering. They're of no use to you, you know. I can get them to people who will pay - "
"Silence!" the two older men said at once. Alex glared sullenly at Vanya, and squirmed indignantly in his bonds.
Vanya stood up from behind his desk and walked around the front to place himself across from Yassen. Not too close, Alex saw, but he knew from their body language that the negotiations were now open.
"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you here and now and take the evidence off your corpse," the gangster threatened.
Yassen didn't quite laugh, as Alex was sure that would have been closely followed by a bullet to his head, but he made a sound of amusement. "I don't have them with me of course, old friend." he said. "And I have already done you a favour." He nodded towards Alex. "It is now your turn, and then I will either destroy the documents or return them to you. Or perhaps I shall see how much they are worth to MI6 after all, or to their American friends."
Vanya smiled. It was not a nice smile. "Mabye instead I shall call your bluff, Yassen Gregorovich. When I say that there are no such documents, what favour will I owe you then?"
Alex was glad his head was down and facing away from the gangster, so the momentary terror that crossed his face went unnoticed. He considered what might happen if he suddenly pushed his chair back and crashed into Vanya. How long would it be before the guards gunned him down? Where could they run, even if Alex did get free? He peeked over his shoulder, trying to catch Yassen's gaze.
The assassin didn't even glance at Alex. He simply shrugged, and said, "I'm glad you trust your cousin considerably more than you used to, Vanya. I remember the last time that happened worked out very well for me." He smiled, showing his teeth.
A dark cloud crossed the gangster's face, and Alex made a mental note to ask Yassen for the tale behind his reaction at such a point in the future where they were not in immediate danger. "What do you want?" the gangster grit out, finally. Alex tried not to breathe a sigh of relief. Incredibly, they might still be able to get out of here not only alive, but with the information they needed as well.
"The whereabouts of a miss Chelsie Ling. You might know her better as Cobra," Yassen said.
Vanya nodded curtly. "That can be arranged. There is a football match tomorrow night. You will find a man wearing AC Milan kit by the northeast entrance at twenty minutes."
Yassen tilted his head in acknowledgment. "This is acceptable," he declared, then turned to leave.
Alex's heart leapt to his throat for a second and he suppressed the urge to shout out to Yassen and remind the Russian that hello, he was still here and tied to a chair. Surely he hadn't just been forgotten?
Alex heard as the other man paused in his exit – a bit too theatrical, for his taste, thank you very much, especially considering how bland Yassen acted normally – and asked, casually: "Out of curiosity, what are your plans for the boy?"
"What we do to all spies and traitors, Gregorovich. As you should well know." There was a note of unmistakable cruelty in Vanya's voice.
"If it would not be too much to ask... you see, he is the son of a man who once betrayed me." Alex nearly had his third heart attack of the night; had Yassen known all along that John Rider had worked for MI6?
"A man who meant the world to me," Yassen continued, and surely he was simply being dramatic, because even a dying Yassen had barely been able to admit to Alex that he had cared for his father. "I would like to ensure that this boy's death is very, very slow."
Well that sounded convincing enough that Alex had to suppress an involuntary shiver at the ice in Yassen's tone. It seemed to please Vanya, however.
"A personal revenge?" He asked, stepping closer to the assassin, perhaps to gauge the true depth of his feeling. "Perhaps then I shall allow you to have him. He means very little to me. And know that if I ever see you again his death will seem easy compared to what I will do to you."
Alex breathed a minute sigh of relief as the guards released his bonds and pushed him over to stand by Yassen. He didn't have to work very hard to put a terrified-but-defiant expression on his face; the conversation was rather horror-inducing after all.
"Perhaps then you might like to send a few of your men with me, to learn," Yassen told Vanya. "As I recall they didn't do so well last time."
Alex would have liked to laugh at that – since when did Yassen Gregorovich of all people get an attitude? - but he was supposed to be contemplating his own grisly demise, so he kept silent. Vanya, however, barked something that must have been a noise of appreciation, because he said: "You never fail to entertain, Gregorovich. Now leave before I decide I like you better with the skin peeled from your bones."
Alex decided he rather liked Yassen's sense of humour better, though he suspected its sudden appearance was solely for the benefit of Vanya, who did appear to enjoy a well-crafted jab. He ought to clarify to the assassin that in the future Alex should be in charge of any witty banter, because otherwise Alex wasn't sure what else he could do better than the Russian, other than using his conscience and fitting through small openings.
Yassen made a bit of a show of shoving his gun into Alex's lower back and escorting him out the door as they followed Vanya's men to a cargo entrance of the great museum. Alex took the earliest possible opportunity to shake the circulation back into his arms and stretch out his back, which only earned him a glare from Yassen. "What?" he protested. "You couldn't possibly have expected me to watch Russian cooking shows all night."
Alex thought there was a ghost of a smile at the edge of Yassen's lips, but there was no trace of one in his curt voice: "I told you not to go anywhere."
"It all worked out in the end, right? If I hadn't distracted Mr. Mafiya Boss, he would have never given you the information we needed."
The expression on Yassen's face could only be described as pissed, but all he said was: "If you trust to luck, it will only fail you sooner than later." Then he put his back to Alex and started walking down the street.
Alex grinned shamelessly as he started to trudge after the assassin. If all he got out of this trip was making sure Yassen never wanted to have kids, he was sure it would be worth it to the human race
But in the meantime, he was never one to pass up a football match with a side of covert action.