Alex Rider & the World Cup

Author's note: This is short. A Real Short. But it was either this one now or a longer one half a week later and I ended up to load this now.. Here you have it.

Disclaimer: Still not owning Alex Rider or all those books he's gotten himself into. And my tries have brought me nothing, so they still belong to the Anthony Horowitz.

Chapter 11. Many Talents

Alex started the tape. "So do you like football?"

"Not much, you really came here because of my little lambs? They can't be that big of a problem." Brewing started; there was no surprise or worry to be detected in the talk of his leader. All the tone of the locked man told was that he liked the attention he was getting.

"Do you know what they threatened to do if we didn't let you go?"

"My best guess would be that they're going to blow the whole stadium up. That's simple enough for them to pull through. You shouldn't expect too much from a crew who that easily swallows a lie about receiving some random god's messages." Jonathan started again, or maybe it was more like a jump this time, to get away so he didn't have to listen to the tape but the cuffs held him put. He glanced at them before turning back to the tape after understanding he wouldn't be getting out before it was over.

Alex was looking at Jonathan and was enjoying what he saw, in some really creepy way he didn't know he had in him. Somehow seeing the man being ripped off his belief was comforting. Maybe he was lining this with his own life which had turned out to be mostly a lie. He liked it how his and Brewing's coping with the change differed.

A woman had to hold a scream inside her; she couldn't afford attracting any attention. She was a priestess only couple steps below the head priest. She had even been in charge of couple hunting trips. And now she was angry. Her bomb planter had gotten caught and by a bug he had hidden to the car he was taken in, she'd later heard that the one catching him had been only a kid, a teenager if the voice and discussion were anything to go with. She wasn't going to visit a jail to tell her master they'd lost to a boy, so she needed to take care that he wouldn't get in their way.

Finally Jonathan broke; he fell to the table sniffing. If Alex didn't do all this to save an enormous amount of people, he would have felt little sorry for him. Alex walked to the door. Someone else should get the confession and information down; he had better things to take care of. When he opened the door he came face to face with a round-eyed De Lange. "Tell me, Alex, do you have a lot of experience of this?"

"Theoretically yes but I've rarely had a chance to actually try it."

"So where did you learn that?"

"My uncle has told me a lot about his peculiar hobbies," the emotionless tone was wearing itself around the speak again but unnaturally De Lange felt like he was getting used to it, even though he shouldn't have been when the one talking hadn't even came to the full age. He worried that this kid was doing his job almost better than Deo himself did. The kid was harsh, harsher than many cops on the station who were staring as they walked by.

The man was plainly an SASS agent and to see a boy walking around with him in a police station was not a usual sight. The two didn't pay any thought for the attention they were getting. When they left the room, the men and women left behind started talking. Different theories of who they were and why they were in there were thrown to air so that other could grade them.

Alex returned to the stadium and found Tom sitting with Samora Anthony. "Hello, agent Anthony, what a surprise to find you here," he said as she let him back to his seat. "Yes," the woman smiled to him. "I thought your friend needed some company since we're keeping you busy."

"How's the surveillance going?" De Lange joined the conversation. Anthony's eyes swept over all stands. "Nebel and Mansel are situated in opposite ends of the stadium waiting for further orders to come. We have not detected more suspicious actins and are worried they know about one of them being caught. We have found five bomb to be brought down." Alex sighed, he glanced at Tom before leaving his seat again. "I'm sorry for all this, Tom."

"Don't mind it. You got your job to take care of and so have I", he waved his hand with a camera and smile brightly to Alex. "Moreover I feel safe when I know you're out there, at least I know there's someone there who knows what he's doings. Nothing bad intended," he added when he saw looks on the two agents' faces. De Lange laughed a little. "Nothing bad taken. We've already seen him in action and understand what you mean." Anthony nodded eagerly beside her boss.

Alex clapped his hands. "We all know how unbelievable amazing I am, so could we please get back to the business. I trust you with great quality of the film because it looks like I'll be enjoying this match far too little," he said to Tom turning then to the agents. "Where are these bomb you mentioned. I'll take care of them."

Anthony's eyes widened when she heard there words. "You'll take care of them?" she turned to her boss. "Is that fine?"

De Langer nodded it full serious mode now. "We really don't have any other choices. He has taken care of one bomb in a way even the professional I had ordered to help him wouldn't have figured. He's the only one of us, who can do something to those."

Anthony took Alex to Nebel, who had all five bombs on him in a backpack. Alex had to admit he had guts: the agents were now suspecting the Messengers had knowledge that one of them had been taken away so they could feel impatient and blow up a bomb at any moment. And the man had all the bombs on him, a face set like an African soldier Alex had seen in some documentaries.

Alex took the backpack heading to somewhere quieter to finish its content.

The first of the five bomb took the most time. He had to think so he didn't cut the wires in wrong order. Anthony squeaked a little behind him when he cut the rest of the wires in the same way he'd before. He smirked at her when he opened the second bomb. Rest of the bomb were finished easily and they were on the safe side.

The woman looked at the teen. There was no doubt it was the boy who had been bothering them for a while: he'd been associating with a group of people who clearly were agents. Now he'd went to a toilet holding a backpack with him, an agent went inside with him but the woman couldn't follow. The agent would keep a tight watch so she wouldn't be able to sneak in. The woman bit her finger nails. She had to do something for this.