Gone Forever

Peter Jarvis was getting impatient and knew he needed to hurry up with the plan to find out everything he could about MI6 in order to find out what had happened to his father. He had found out enough from his employees that Alex Rider was the best spy in Britain, at the very least. If not Rider was the best in the whole world. He had been at the heart of many conspiracies. If anyone would know what had happened it would be Alex Rider. So he hoped to rope in Matt Rider and Sofia D'Alton into finding out Rider's secrets. That's if they didn't know themselves. But he would make sure they did as they were told.

He called in his head guard who had in fact worked as a guard in Sayle Enterprises. He was one of the people that Peter had recruited in helping him finding out the truth about MI6. Peter knew he had only escaped prison claiming that he had no knowledge of what Sayle had been planning. This, of course, was a lie. But MI6 didn't need to know that! He told the old man that he needed to woman kidnapped and he was to do it. Peter made it quite clear that these two were important so was not to mess it up! Augustus showed no surprise, concern, or remorse when he was told that he was told to kidnap a couple some women.

'Who?' Augustus asked in an expressionless voice is white hair glinting in the morning light.

'Teresa Angel who is going to be watching the women's tennis doubles this afternoon and then going back to her hotel near there: Wimbledon Arms,' said Peter. 'And the other one is Rebekah Granger an aspiring, young punk rocker who lives in 17 Riverview flat overlooking the Thames. Here is the information you need.#

Peter handed Augustus Stone over a large golden-brown envelope that Augustus took to read later without any question to what it was that it contained. He knew from past experience that it would be information on the people he was to kidnap and a large wad of money for his work. Peter watched as the white haired man left his office (Peter never did this sort of work in his own home) Augustus with a grim smile on his face. Peter gave a genuine smile knowing that, as always, Augustus would do his work to perfection. He then moved to call the two artists; Matt Rider and Sofia D'Alton. Phoning Matt first he typed in the Chelsea number.

'This is the Rider residence,' the voice Peter was half-sure was Matt's replied. 'How may I help you?' Matt asked ever the polite young gentleman. 'How may I help you?' he asked in a polite voice.

'Matt?' Peter asked not wanting to get the wrong Rider twin; he knew that if Alex Rider knew he was using his brother to get to him he'd be dead.

'Peter,' Matt said, 'do you need me for something?' he asked.

'There's a problem I the gallery and you're the only one I could get hold of,' Peter asked trying to sound desperate.

'Of course I will,' the voice on the other end of the line replied with true integrity, 'do you mind if my girlfriend comes?' Matt asked sounding very hopeful.

Peter smiled pleased that the young man cared enough for Rebekah that he wanted her to come into his success. This would make it only too easy or Peter to use the woman against Matthew Rider.

'I'm sorry she is not part of the art industry so is not able to come into the gallery after hours,' replied Peter calmly.

'Okay,' Matt replied ad Peter could hear the sadness within the young lover's voice.

'I really am very sorry,' Peter lied in an apparently sincere voice.

'It's okay,' replied Matt and after a long and tense pause he said, 'well see you later.'

Then without giving Peter a chance to reply Matt rug off. Peter didn't mind too much and rung Sofia who answered on the first ring.

'Hi Sofia D'Alton who is this speaking?' Sofia asked in a rehearsed manner.

'Peter Jarvis,' replied Peter.

'Mr. Jarvis,' Sofia responded politely.

'I've come across a small problem in the gallery,' said Peter, 'would you be able to come in after closing?'

'Of course,' the girl answered, 'what's happened?'

'It's complicated,' Peter replied mentally cursing himself for not having an excuse, and annoyed with the girl for asking the obvious question. But he just told her that he'd explain when she got in that night.

'Alright,' said Sofia and Peter could tell that she was confused.

Molly was in her temporary flat in Chelsea that she was staying for the duration of her and Alex's mission. She looked around feeling slightly uncomfortable with her surroundings; there was nothing of her own in the room, or the rest of the flat. Because this wasn't Mrs Molly West's flat; this was Miss Rebekah Granger's flat! There were, however, plenty of items from Rebekah Granger's life. Looking around the all too bright, in Molly's opinion, living room Molly could see that if the room was a little less bright it could be really pleasant. The room was large and open plan incorporating both the living room and kitchen-eating area. There were two other rooms in the three-bedroom flat; a pink bedroom and a black-white bathroom connected by a multi-coloured hall. The room she was in was dark purple apart from the kitchen come dining area which was dark green. There were French windows leading onto a balcony shared with five other flats; Molly didn't like the openness of this so had kept the French windows locked since she had moved in. There was a silver stereo-TV set in the middle of the room which was currently blaring. The dining area had small glass table set. There was a bright red coach, three bean bags (apple green, orange and red) on the floor. The floor itself was also purple but Molly personally found it very comfortable. The flat was as different from her four-bedroom cottage in the country as it was possible to be. The whole of her home was laminated flooring. Rebekah had no laminate flooring at all (black and white tiles in the bathroom, purple carpet in the living area, mismatched tiles in the hall, and pink carpet in the bedroom). Molly's home, on her husband's insistence, was painted in only neutral colours. Her living room white with a three piece, black leather sofa set and wide screen television. The long hallway and upstairs landing was pale yellow with displays of photos from the Wests' families. The dining room had a dark, mahogany table and wall tinged with red but very lightly. The kitchen, too, was pale yellow with a white wooden table and chair set. Up the stairs were four bedrooms: her husband; Adam, and her duck egg green room, her two year old daughter; Gracie's pale pink woman, the white spare bedroom and her husband's beige office full of papers and books. Adam was an architect who thought his wife was a banker. Molly thought that would be so boring. She hated lying to Adam but she was scare he'd be in danger if he knew the truth! Adam was many things but he was no secret keeper! When, three years ago, she had wanted to keep her pregnancy quiet because she didn't know what she was going to do about her job. Of course, she was given maternity leave and came back a year later to her old job. Adam had managed to tell half the neighborhood before she left for work the next day.

Currently Molly was sitting on the floor leaning against the red coach listening to Avril Lavigne's "Hot".She had a red A5 notebook out and was pretending to write music. She knew she was doing it badly. Molly had been recruited by MI6 because of her expert in languages combined with Mathematics, not music! That was when she heard the door in the hallway crack open. Standing in the doorway was an old man, looking weary, his grey eyes seemed tired and he was stoop backed clutching an old walking stick.

Molly completely forgot her training in face of the old, crippled looking man. She rushed towards him intending to help the old man. But halfway across the man tripped her up using the knackered walking stick to knock Molly to the floor. Molly looked up at the white haired man who still framed in the doorway. His uniform black clothes which Molly now recognized as a Ninja outfit. She cursed herself for getting tricked by the old man. Molly knew that Alex would have noticed the Ninja outfit straight away. But Molly was too caring. The old man's black Ninja outfit and white mop of hair was framed by the brightness of the corridor, contrasting oddly.

Molly could see the man's muscles that she had not noticed beforehand rippled under his silky shirt. She knew at once she had been tricked by the supposedly frail old man. She cursed herself again for being so easily taken in by his act just because he reminded him of her grandfather who'd died a few months ago. Her spy instincts kicked in at last. Molly rolled out of the way onto the balls of her red, tight clad feet. Just in time apparently to miss the blow that she would have received to the head. Still on the ground Molly attempted to knock the old man down, attempted being the operative word in this case for Molly's attack. But still it forced the old man to the ground but managed to get the hand not clutching one hand around Molly's neck. This had the effect of completely knocking Molly of balance. Letting go of the stick the old man placed his other hand around Molly's slender, pale neck and began applying pressure in a very professional manner. Molly realised that he had done this before.

White spots were popping in the corner of her eyes. Molly could feel her thoughts become foggy and sluggish. Somewhere in the back of her mind Molly realised that she was being strangled. There was a sensation of pain in her neck running into the rest of her body. Molly coughed trying to draw air into her lungs to supply oxygen to her oxygen starved brain. She knew she was being choked and should be fighting back. With this thought the only thought within her foggy mind Molly weakly tried to protest against the man strangling her. But all to no avail due to the fact that he was much stronger than her anyway and she was being choked. The last thing Molly thought of was her stunning, tall, dark and handsome husband and her beautiful auburn haired baby daughter with her father's blue eyes. Before Molly then fell into complete unconsciousness with no thoughts in the blackness.

Teresa was watching Venus and Serena Williams versus Sam Stowser and Jenny Hughbert beat the golden tennis ball from expensive bat to expensive bat. The four fit women athletes ran around the lush green tennis pitch the white lines glowing eerily in the midday sun. Their white outfits were drenched with from the sweat pouring from the pores of their dark skin tanned by the warm London sun. Teresa knew she shouldn't feel envious of these hard working women. But sometimes you just couldn't help the jealously, she was only human after all. She knew that wasn't much of an excuse but it was all she could come up with to appease her Catholic Guilt. Teresa had been training for most of her life, as most of Inverness knew. But she hadn't yet managed to get to the skill level required to get far in Wimbledon. She had won several smaller National tournaments but wasn't on International level yet. Though, this year she had come so close to going to Wimbledon missing out by one place. Maybe if she carried on with her training she'd get into Wimbledon next year. After all, Teresa was only just twenty-three years old. This was plenty of time to get far in her tennis career. Teresa just had to keep working at it.

At the interval between matched Teresa decided to go and get herself some strawberries and ice cream. After the refreshing taste of the tradition English Wimbledon snack Teresa realised she needed the Loo. Walking into the sterilised smell of the Wimbledon courts' Loos Teresa realised it was empty. This didn't bother Teresa it just meant she didn't need to queue when she was already bursting. Then Teresa realised it wasn't completely empty. There was an old man in black holding a mop. Teresa supposed it was one of the male bathroom attendants. She didn't even look at his clothes and notice they weren't the uniform for those who worked at Wimbledon. Teresa had never exactly loved the fact that both males and females attended to the toilets. But had been forced to accept this mainly Jaz had shown her the pros of this system. Turning to go into the cubicle as far away from the old man as possible Teresa didn't notice as the old man leaped cat like and landed behind her. He made no noise balancing on the balls if his feet wearing what any Ballet dancer would identify as Ballet shoes. Teresa was oblivious as the old man raised his mop and hit the young woman over the head with his mop. To Teresa everything suddenly went black. She would later wake up in a dark room with the sound of other occupants tied and gagged.