Sorry it's been a while--here's the new chap.
Thanks so much to my amazing beta XxXmaximuM-RideRXxX!!
The cabbie had been glancing in the rearview mirror so often that Rose was beginning to wonder whether or not they would crash into the cars in front of them. So far the cabbie had proved expert at narrowly avoiding terrified pedestrians, but anything's possible.
Rose yelped and grabbed onto the handle as the cab came to a screeching stop at a red light, but was thankful that he had finally slowed down. Nightmares of what could be happening to Alex darted through her mind, though, and Rose decided to unleash her inner speed demon.
"Sir, I'm in a bit of a hurry. Mind going a little faster?"
The cabbie turned around fully.
Damn, we're lucky he hasn't killed us already. If they ever need a new stunt driver…
"Arighty, missie Rose."
Rose suppressed a grin as the cab jumped forward again. She was reminded forcefully of the third Harry Potter premiere, where the Nightbus had been her favorite scene. This felt like the jerking, maniac bus.
She didn't think twice about the cabbie knowing her name. She was Rose Leiton—everyone knew her name.
They pulled up in front of the bank. "Thanks." Rose tipped him generously.
"Can I have an autograph? My Tracy loves you—she wants her picture in the papers as well, that girl does."
Rose smiled politely. "Of course. I'm sure she'll get her wish."
Rose was right—Tracy did get her wish. Only she had never wished that the picture would show her weeping over her father's coffin, wondering who would want to kill a cabbie?
The inside of the Royal and General bank was respectable and boring. Rose stood awkwardly next to the desk, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. The receptionist looked up coolly.
"And how may I help you?"
"I'm here to see an Alan Blunt…"
"Alan Blunt?" The secretary looked politely questioning. Rose felt the urge to hit her, to scream loudly that something was going on and Alex was in trouble and no one would believe her and he needed help, not smirks or
fake innocent looks.
Rose gritted her teeth, collecting herself. Before she could say a word, though, the secretary put her hand up to her ear, frowning.
She listened for a second before smiling up at Rose.
"Take the elevator up to the fourteenth floor. It seems that I was mistaken."
"Thank you."
Mrs Jones hovered near the door, anxious to meet Alex's new girlfriend—though she'd never admit it.
"Excited to meet Alex's new girlfriend?" Mr Blunt didn't look up from his papers so he missed Mrs Jones' scowl. "Don't worry, she'll be here soon enough. Miss Cotts sent her up."
"How'd you think she found us?"
"Alex told me." Rose strolled into the room, gracefully throwing herself into a chair, the picture of ease.
"I don't suppose your father ever told you to knock before you enter, young lady." Mr Blunt frowned.
"He also told me that MI6's location was top secret." She smirked. "Looks like he was wrong on both counts."
Mrs Jones smiled gently. "We're very glad to meet you, dear. And I assure you that most little girls are quite unable to come waltzing in just like that. I assume you're here on some important business—or have you just dropped in for tea?"
Rose's cool façade wavered for a split second before she replied, grinning, looking around the neat office. "Do you watch spy movies? You know, I'll have to call Daniel Craig and tell him that both Casino and Quantum got it wrong—MI6 actually have the most boring offices on earth. You'd think that there'd be a fancy computer, at least."
"You'll do no such thing! You will sign the Official Secrets Act immediately and then remove yourself from the premises!" Mr Blunt was on his feet yelling.
"Alan, Alan, Rose is just joking around." She murmured, looking at him darkly. "I think it's an American thing."
"Bloody hell, I hate Americans. And I hate teenagers. And I especially hate American teenagers," Blunt muttered, sinking back into his chair.
Rose suppressed a smile. Alex was wrong about Blunt being calm, but maybe he was just stressed. She was, too--she was just better at hiding it.
"Truth is, I didn't just come to wind you up. I came to tell you that—" The phone rang and Mr Blunt swiveled his chair around to get it. Mrs Jones smiled apologetically at Rose.
"This is important!" She was painfully aware that she sounded like a spoiled child.
Mr Blunt made no indication that he'd heard her.
"Listen! It's—"
He glared at her over his shoulder. "It clearly wasn't so important or you wouldn't have wasted time with preliminaries. Not be quiet."
Rose had had enough. She knew that she shouldn't have been so rude, but was too irritable and wound up to admit it and apologize. She hated being ignored or interrupted, no doubt a product of being idolized so much and
interviewed every other day.
Hey, no one said I was perfect, she thought wryly. Now this is getting ridiculous. I'm a spoiled LA princess, goddammit, and I'm going to use it.
"MR BLUNT. YOUR AGENT ALEX RIDER HAS BEEN MISSING FOR ALMOST 24 HOURS. FOR ALL YOU KNOW HE COULD BE DEAD AT THE HANDS OF SOME DRUG GROUP. I'M HERE TO INFORM YOU SO THAT YOU CAN GET YOUR MEN OUT THERE AND RESCUE HIM." Rose's voice got soft and deadly. "If you even give a damn."
Mr Blunt finally turned back around.
"Little fool…" he breathed. "How much has Alex told you?"
"I…don't know…exactly..." It was painful to admit it.
Mr Blunt abruptly changed the subject. "Do you have any idea who that was? That was security, calling to tell me that there is a dead taxi driver right outside of the building. He was holding your autograph, made out to a Tracy."
Rose slowly walked over to the window. In the back of her mind she registered that Mrs Jones had left—hopefully to track Alex. Numbly, she watched from fourteen floors up as the police removed a black body bag from the cab.
No, please god, no!
The thought bubbled, unbidden, to the forefront of her thoughts.
A man is dead because of me and me alone.
Suddenly, all the James Bonds seemed far to real. Rose convulsed as the thought of how Agent Fields died in Quantum of Solace.
"How did he die?" Her voice surprised her; it was unwavering, clear.
"Nothing fancy—a good old bullet to the brain." Mr Blunt sounded almost kind. "And no, I don't watch spy movies—suddenly they seem a little closer to home, no?"
Rose nodded slowly. "Why…why…" her voice stuck in her throat. She couldn't form the words.
"It was a message from whoever took Alex."
"A message?"
"Not so subtle—don't mess."
"He was nothing—nothing—to them…"
"Casualty of war. And it is a war, Rose. A war on crime. And now you're involved."
Rose shuddered as she thought back to the night Alex had told her he was a spy.
"Have you ever--you know--killed anyone?"
His eyes were troubled for a second before quickly turning hard. "Many people. Some who didn't deserve to die," He said tersely, playing with Rose's hair, not looking at her.
Alex had smiled softly before tugging at the braid he had made. "Life and death...isn't a game to me. Rosie...try to forget that...your world is a lot nicer then mine, Mrs. Henderson included."
Alex, now I'm part of your world. There's no turning back.
Another thought popped into her head. Again, a James Bond.
This time, though, it was Casino Royale, with Alex strapped to the chair instead of Bond. Alex being beaten, having a gun pointed at him…
"You've got to find Alex."
Mrs Jones was back. "You should get back now. Don't worry—we'll keep you safe."
Rose nodded. The cabbie's face floated in front of her eyes and it took every ounce of self discipline not to succumb to the sheer terror of Alex's day to day life.
Alex is not a monster. He would never shoot someone in cold blood, break up a family...
Sorry that there's no Alex! Next chapter, promise.
I'm done asking for reviews. You either will or you won't.
Please do lol.