Chapter 6:
"Ladies and gentlemen, on your knees, this is a fucking robbery."
The men came running through the front doors of the Reserve, barring the front door to try and hold it secure and bide them a small amount of time.
The bank was filled with gunshots as the criminals exchanged gunfire with the armed guards. And sirens upon siren rang out outside followed by the whirring blades of police helicopters.
"Mr B get that gate open we need to downstairs to the vault," One of the men said before pointing at the other two "You two make sure these fuckers don't try anything." He pointed at the last man in the group before speaking. "You, go upstairs, grab the VIP's and bring them down with us."
The heavily armed men grabbed a hold of 3 members of the bank staff, forcing them down to the vault with them to unlock the heavily secured vault door.
They rushed down the stairs, deeper and deeper into the underground tunnels of the bank, hoping to pull this off without a hitch.
Gunshots cracked through the air as the two made their way downstairs. Past the many stationed guards and making their way closer to the vault.
The duo pressed the staff against the wall, checking them for any concealed weapons before forcing them to open the famous vault of the federal reserve.
Once the door came open, one of the men who seemed to be the leader of the heist rushed into the vault, filling the two bags he had on his shoulder with gold as the man outside brought the bank staff to their knees, drawing a handgun from its holster on his side. Shooting the staff members he had brought downstairs with him, one by one; before throwing the two bags he had on his shoulder to his accomplice in the vault and then running upstairs to fetch the other two men.
The three robbers began to sprint through the corridors down the stairs of the underground complex leading to the vault, slamming every door they could behind them in an attempt to slow the advance of the swarms of National Guard and S.W.A.T officers undeniably working their way towards the men.
As quickly as they could, the men filled the bags they had with the gold from the vault; not muttering a word to each other until one of the men muttered something impatiently under his breath as his watched beeped at the turn of the minute to 11:16 AM.
One of the men flinched in shock as a crash of debris came from the right side wall of the room as another accomplice blew through the wall with plastic explosive. Grabbing the bags thrown towards him from one of the other robbers as he crumpled onto the floor, leaning against the wall. Looking to the blood trickling down from his left shoulder before clutching the wound and realising the other hole on his upper left thigh.
He looked to the other men who stood there; indecisive as to what to do with their wounded accomplice. The man who seemed to be the leader of the group looked to his right and spoke his partner in what seemed to be broken French before looking to the third man standing behind him, handing the rest of the bags to the man with the drill who nodded towards him.
He looked toward his accomplice bleeding on the floor, clutching his wound before handing him an expensive-looking watch from the inside of his jacket before nodding at him and patting him on the shoulder.
He grabbed a hold of his partner before he could make his exit from the vault. Speaking to him in French and saying his goodbyes to what seemed to be a close friend of his.
The four remaining men scuttled through the hole that had been drilled in the wall of the vault. Running down the passageway they had created and onto a set of bikes positioned in an old subway tunnel that seemed to be at least a mile and a half's run from the original hole in the wall of the vault. Speeding away on their bikes down the old disused subway line and making their getaway.
Alex stepped off of the plane and back onto American soil, he was to head straight to safe-house in downtown New York where he was to meet with the liaison from INTERPOL
Airport security was notified of his arrival and Alex was allowed to walk straight past airport security along with bodyguards hired by the FBI to protect him
Alex stepped into the taxi and gave the man the address of the safe house where he was meeting the agent.
He pulled out his phone and texted Chloe, letting her know he had landed in New York, before sliding it into his pocket; putting his earphones into his ears and beginning to fall asleep in the back of the taxi.
Alex shook his head tiredly and stepped out of the taxi, attempting to mumble out a thank you as he groggily stepped out of the back of the taxi, music still blaring in his ears.
He pulled the earphones from his ears and started walking towards the door of the safe house, sliding and turning the key into the lock, slamming the door behind him and walking down the stairs into the damp, basement hallways beneath the house.
Davies was waiting for Alex along the hallway and gestured for him to come into his office.
Alex walked into Davies' office and sat down, Davies trailing behind him and slamming the door behind him as he walked into the damp, dimly lit room.
Davies sat down, behind his desk in the sparsely decorated office, and slid a pair of aviator sunglasses off his face before letting out a heavy sigh.
"Alex," he let out another sigh. "Thirty fucking million," He stood up from his desk before picking up a framed photo. "Thirty million fucking dollars, and they fucking pulled it off." He threw the framed photo at the empty blandly painted wall of the office, the picture shattering as it hit the wall.
His tone of voice grew more sinister with every word he spoke. "You listen here, Alex. You've got one week. Seven days to take down Holloway and his whole operation before I lose my job and this whole operation becomes a failure; Now get the fuck out of my office and get to work. Should have never fucking brought you in on this son. The suits back in Washington were right. Never the right man for the fucking job. Hardly a fucking man at all."
Alex walked back down the damp, dark basement hallway and up the cold concrete stairs back into the hallway of the house, over to the door and back outside to the taxi waiting for him and to the Holloway Estate.
He plugged his earphones back into his ears and turned his phone to full volume, the chorus of The Offsprings 'Bad Habit' blaring from his phone into his ears. As he sat in the taxi, watching the countryside of upstate New York pass by.
After a few minutes, the taxi arrived at the Holloway Estate and Alex stepped out and began walking towards the gate of the house.
Alex buzzed the intercom and a camera briefly flashed before cutting out to let him in, as the decorated metal gates opened to let Alex into the estate.
He walked up to the big, daunting house and rung the bell at the front door, hearing music blaring from the back garden, most likely from some of the boys celebrating the big success of the heist at the reserve.
As he stepped into the house. Holloway was waiting for him immediately at the front door. Welcoming Alex home before mentioning that he needed a private word later in the wine cellar about personal affairs he needed settled between him and his wife.
Alex stumbled his way up the stairs and to his room, sensing something has wrong as soon as he shut the door behind him, stepping into his messily kept bedroom. Flopping onto his bed before reaching for the remote and switching it to the sports channel. The battery panel falling on to the floor as he put the remote heavy-handedly back onto his side table.
He reached down to reattach the panel back onto the remote before noticing something odd from the inside of the battery panel. A small device with a flashing red light on it. 'Fuck' Alex thought to himself, 'They've had me on this whole time. The rooms fucking bugged.'
The pillow thudded against the wall as he chucked it from its position on its bed. Taking his anger out after letting himself make such a stupid mistake, but one that blew his cover the minute he first spoke to Simon.
Alex picked up his gun from his bag before pacing through the corridors of the house looking for Simon but to no avail. After fifteen minutes of searching, Alex stumbled upon Holloway who was too, walking through the house; looking for Alex.
"Ah, there you are. I've been looking for you for the last fifteen minutes son. You mind if we have that chat now?" He said to Alex, holding back the smirk emerging onto his face as he said it, knowing that Alex had just realised his fate all along.
Alex followed Holloway obediently down to the wine cellar of the house, knowing he had no other options but to let Holloway's mousetrap play out.
Holloway pulled up two chairs upon their arrival in the cellar and gestured for Alex to sit.
Alex had already began to sweat and hyperventilate.
Alex obediently sat down at the old etched away wooden table, opposite Holloway who couldn't stop the menacing smile from emerging onto his face.
Holloway reached into his pocket and began to speak.
"So," Holloway spoke slowly and deliberately, but with confidence. "You really thought we wouldn't catch on to you as soon as you turned up here. Eh – Jesse." Holloway stopped and gave a slight laugh, tilting his head to the left as crashing and shouting came from the stairs leading down into the cellar.
Holloway pulled Alex up from his chair and stepped to the side to reveal two men, dragging a battered and bruised Simon down the stairs, one on each of his arms. Laying Simon down onto a chair they had pulled out for him, next to Alex who sat still, opposite Holloway, his hands rooted to his side, as he sat there helpless, every so often looking to the bleeding Simon to see if he had any way out of this damned situation.
Holloway pulled back the hammer on his handgun.
"So; how am I going to deal with this problem, is what the two of you are probably thinking now right?" He said. "Well, you see Mr Rider. This is far bigger than just me and you, this isn't just about setting an example to FBI. To INTERPOL. To your boys across the pond. You see, my employer; my friend, is paying me good money for this. Not to see you die – no no Alex. See as soon as I became aware of your presence here, I had some words with this close friend of mine. And Alex I must say I admire the way you make yourself enemies. Because – my employer is paying me a great, great sum of money not to see you killed Alex, but to. Ah, I'll let you figure out what he's paying me to do as this goes on eh son?" He paused and gave Alex a firm pat on the shoulder before continuing. "Least you tried boy. Gave it a shit go. But, hey you tried, tried your best, can't fault you for that."
Alex winced as Holloway stood up and drew his handgun once again, preparing himself for the end.
He pointed the handgun, without any form of hesitation, coldly at Simon's stomach and squeezed the trigger.
Simon fell from his chair onto the floor, squirming in pain.
Holloway sat down once again before continuing to speak. He gestured for the other man in the room to restrain Alex. "Let's see how much Blunts golden boy can take."
Alex tried with no avail to fight it as he felt an arm around wrap its way around his neck and he and Simon were dragged through the hallway into another room.
Simon screamed as he was dragged through the hallway, blood smearing across the floor as he was pulled across it.
Alex was thrown onto a chair.
He felt his hands being tied behind the back of the chair and he was thrown onto the floor.
One of the men placed a rag onto his face and the other man began to start pouring water onto the rag.
The water started seeping through the rag.
Alex began to panic as the water started dripping through the rag onto his face.
He began to squirm and move his hands in an effort to try and get help or break free from his bind.
After a few minutes, the rag was removed from his face and he was allowed to breathe for a few seconds before the rag was placed back over his face and one of the men began to pour gasoline onto Alex.
Again, after a few minutes, Alex was given a few breaths and tied to a wooden beam at the back of the room.
All of his belongings were taken from his pockets and burnt in a cruel and twisted effort to break down Alex mentally.
Alex was beaten against the pole. Again. Again and again, until the only feeling he had on his face was the sweat and blood pouring down from his face.
He heard Simons screams throughout the night, as he too was beaten, again and again until he finally gave up and succumbed to his injuries, staring hopelessly in Alex's direction as he died. Hoping for any way out of the cruel situation he found himself in other than his eventual and unavoidable death.
Alex slept only half an hour that night. Crying himself to sleep after the physical and phycological torture he had endured throughout that day and night. Loathing himself for letting himself get dragged into this web of lies again. Wondering what Chloe was doing right now. Or who had paid for this to be done to him? Most of all he missed her. He missed Jack
In what he assumed was the morning, Alex could hear footsteps coming from the hallway and people starting to enter the room.
As one of the men from the day before stepped back into room Alex was met with punch after punch, the incident ending with Alex's right eye being slashed with the pocket knife of the man attacking him.
Alex endured day, after day, week after week, month after month of beatings and torture.
On what seemed to Alex like the 100h day a man who Alex hadn't seen before stepped into the room and began to untie Alex from the pole that he had been tied to for what seemed like years.
He collapsed onto the floor and was helped up by the man who untied him and walked him out of the door, up the stairs,
When the man led Alex out of the house, the new spring sunlight burning Alex's eyes but giving him a relief like no other he had ever felt.
Alex was led over to the driveway and into the back of a car.
Alex was forced into the backseat of the car, another man sat next to him, pointing a small handgun at him for the whole duration of the journey as to make sure that Alex didn't try anything.
In the end he slumped onto his side in the car and fell asleep on the comfortable, leather seats as the car sped down the dirt roads and twisting corners.
After about half an hour of driving the car parked in the middle of a road.
The driver stepped out of the car, he put a bag over Alex's head kicking him repeatedly before tying his hands behind his back and leaving him there to be found by whoever drove by next.
The second man then stepped out of the back seat of the car and unloaded some bullets from his handgun into Alex's arms and legs
Alex screamed before blacking out slowly in the middle of the road he was left abandoned on, blood pouring from his wounds.
He woke up days later. The light blinding him as he leant forwards in his hospital bed. Davies sat in a chair next to it reading the latest issue of The Guardian.
Davies looked startled as he saw Alex try and lean forward in the bed and dropped his newspaper on the floor as he got up.
He gave a smile at Alex and began to speak.
"And here I was thinking you weren't going to wake up."
Alex tried to force out a laugh but all he could feel was pain. Everywhere.
Alex started to mumble some words.
"W-where am I?"
Davies gave a slight laugh before replying.
"Royal London Hospital, you're damn lucky to be alive son."
He handed Alex his phone before starting to speak again.
"Take a look at yourself kid, you look damn better than you did when they found you, but you still look like hammered shit."
Alex slid onto the camera on his boss' phone, noticing the wallpaper of what he assumed to be Davies with his wife and kids.
He took a look at himself on the screen of the phone, his left eye completely swollen and his entire face covered with dried up blood and bruises.
Alex detached himself from the heart monitor and began to speak to Davies.
"C-cc-Chloe, w-where is she?"
Davies gave another slight laugh and replied.
"She's safe kid, she was here a few minutes ago, you just missed her. Good catch by the way."
Alex gave his best effort at a laugh before falling into a coughing fit and beginning to speak.
"So, how did I get to London?" He asked Davies.
"After the first report of you being found came in, we contacted MI6 straight away and they gave us orders to bring you home via helicopter. And damn was it a bad journey" Agent Davies replied.
Alex began to reply, tripping over his words as he spoke.
"What d-d'you mean it w-was a bad j-j-journey?"
Davies answered with a sigh before a sentence.
"It was rough for everyone in that helicopter, kid, you looked like garbage, and nearly almost died. By the time they got you into intensive care, you were in a coma."
Alex dealt with his shock a moment before replying.
"How long for sir?"
"Only about a week," he replied, "You're extremely lucky to be alive son."
Alex sighed and then stood up, announcing that he was going to the toilet.
The brakes of the car screeched as the car came to a halt in the middle of the road, stopping for what looked like a young man collapsed in the road.
A brown-haired woman, in her early fifties, stepped out of the car and rushed towards the man lying, bleeding in the road.
She began to dial 911 on her phone whilst trying to speak to the boy.
"Hello, hello," She paused "Can you hear me? I'm calling 911."
The operator on the other side answered.
"Hello; this is 911, what service do you require."
"I need an ambulance, urgently."
"Hold on whilst I put you through to another call-taker."
"Hello, what seems to be the problem?" The man on the other side of the phone said.
"I'm on Lake Nebo Road, Upstate New York, and there's a young man collapsed in the road."
"Do you know how long he's been there for."
"No, I was driving along and saw him"
"What condition is he in?"
"He looks beaten and bloody, looks as if he has two gunshot wounds."
"Okay, listen there should be police and an ambulance with you in no time."
Once the police arrived they identified the man as Alex Rider, a young MI6 operative working in the country, liaising with INTERPOL and the FBI.
Alex was given small treatment by the ambulance that arrived on the scene but was ordered by the police not to do anything until they decided on a course of action with the FBI.
FBI Special agent Thomas Davies was called and immediately got on the phone to MI6 across the pond; who said that the best course of action was to bring Alex home.
A local long-distance national guard chopper was commandeered and landed as Agent Davies arrived on the scene.
Davies lifted Alex into the chopper and Alex was given medical treatment in the helicopter, having most of the bullet pieces and shrapnel removed from his body on the way to London.
Alex was wheeled into the hospital and placed into urgent care, where he remained for a week until waking up.
He washed his hands and began to splash water onto his hair and took a closer look at his face in the mirror, moving the bandage off of his right eye and looking at what remained of his right eye, from which everything he could see was blurry and faint.
Anger filled his mind; he dreamt of revenge for what happened to Simon. He owed it to himself to find out why. To avenge his colleague. His friend; to find out who had paid for this to be done for him.
All he could think of was the nights he spent in that cellar, tied to that wooden beam. Enduring beating upon beating, sleepless night after sleepless night.
He lashed out against the mirror, punching it in his rage with all his force. Smashing it into pieces as he did so.
The glass fell onto the floor, the small shards of the shattered glass mirror glistening on the floor as Alex turned back to stumble his way into his hospital room and bed.
He slumped back into his bed, raising the end of it to provide more comfort for himself.
The door creaked as Matthew came into the room to see Alex.
"Holy Fuck."