The black bentley pulled up outside the gates at a quarter past five. It remained there for a few moments whilst the driver exchanged words with the armed guard and then continued up the drive, finally coming to a stop outside the front door.
Anatolievich watched from the first floor window as the chauffeur got out of the car. He couldn't remember his name exactly, he had people who sorted the hiring out for him, but Anatolievich thought the man's name might have been something like Jacob.
Jacob moved round to the other side of the car and opened the rear door. Anatolievich's breath hitched in anticipation. A second later a foot stepped out, followed by an ankle, the other foot, and then slender legs clothed in grey trousers. Then, the owner of the legs stood, raising his face to look up at the great house.
Unconsciously, Anatolievich licked his lips. Though he couldn't make out the finer features of the boys face, he could tell that he was handsome. It was the way he carried himself, calm, collected, with a uniform obviously designed to attract attention.
The boys blazer sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the collar flipped up to his neck, the tips of the boy's slightly long hair brushing the top. His dark tie was undone, draped round his neck, a contrast to his rumpled white shirt. The shirt was untucked from his trousers, in which the boys hands were tucked into the pockets.
The driver shook the boy's hand and they spoke a few words. Whatever the boy said made Jacob laugh hard, throwing his head back, clapping the boy on the shoulder. Anatolievich smiled wolfishly. He turned away from the window and gestured at Amiliya to come closer.
"Sir?"
"Go and greet our guest please," he said, not meaning the please at all, "then get rid of the driver and send the boy up here, there is no need for you to accompany him."
She nodded abruptly, giving the faintest bow in his direction. The etiquette of her japanese upbringing was still obvious.
"Of course, Sir" she said briskly, "is there anything else?"
"No, I will ring if we need anything."
She nodded again and left the room, the sound of her heavy footsteps on the wooden stairs loud against the relative quiet of the rest of the house. Anatolievich strode over to the mirror and inspected his reflection; he looked good. He liked looking at his appearance in the mirror and even in the darkened windows of stationary cars. He was under no illusion that he wasn't the most handsome man in the world, but nevertheless, he enjoyed inspecting his face, preening.
Anatolievich moved to the record player in the corner of the room and set the stylus moving. The sound of Chopin: Nocturne No.2 in E-Flat Major played out into the room. Perfect. Humming along, walking as though on air, Anatolievich sat down at his chess board, the cool breeze ruffling his shirt. He cleared the board and then began to set it up once again, ready for play.
Alex stared up at the big house in awe. It was beautiful. It was made of elegantly sculpted sandstone - most likely from the nearby quarry and, as the sun began to set, the light made the house glow faintly gold. No doubt it had been built high on the edge of the hill for this precise effect. Though Alex couldn't see how far back the house went, he guessed it was at least as big as Brooklands, if not bigger. The building was old and worn, but the modern touches were obvious too and they were as magnificent as the parts of the house with history.
There were large front windows, with clear, unmarked glass which had hidden frames so they looked like the had apart of the house forever. There were also three discrete cameras hidden above the ornate looking door. Though the door appeared heavy and wooden, Alex could tell that it was as modern as the windows. The hinges were much too small to support a heavy door, and he suspected that the door had wooden panelling, instead of being carved from an actual tree.
He gave a start as Joseph spoke.
"I bet it's not as fancy as you're used to," he said jovially, offering his hand, "I bet you're-"
Alex took his hand, shaking it firmly, cutting across the driver, "Insult me and you'll find out a lot of information about your mother."
Joseph threw his head back and laughed loudly whilst Alex resumed looking up at the house. He sensed movement in one of the first floor windows and peered up at it for a better look. All was still. He looked back at Joseph.
"Thanks for the coke." Alex said pleasantly,
"Don't worry about it," said Joseph casually, "I get reimbursed anyway."
"Still," said Alex deliberately, looking meaningfully into his eyes, "thanks."
Joseph opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment the fake wooden door swung open and there stood a large figure. It bent a fraction forward before straightening.
"Joseph," said a female voice raspily, "Mr Anatolievich says that you may go." she took a few steps forward so her face was bathed in sunlight. She was a square woman, her jaw was wide and her eyes were set slightly too far apart. The eyes and the little bow she had given, gave away her nationality: Japanese. She had stringy red hair and a pallid, unsmiling face.
"Mr Friend." she said, looking directly at Alex, "you are to see Mr Anatolievich immediately. You will then be shown to your room and then dinner will be served."
Alex gave a shrug, "sure."
"Bye Alex." came a voice from behind him. Alex turned to see Joseph getting back into the Bentley.
"Bye!" he waved in return and stood for a few moments, watching as Joseph set off and drove back down the drive.
"Mr Friend?"
He turned his gaze on the woman.
"What?" he asked insolently.
She looked like she wanted to say something, but she just grunted loudly and trapsed back into the house. Alex followed her. It was just as grand as the outside, if not more so. With beautifully well kept mahogany floorboards and stairs, covered in royal blue rugs it looked like a place out of a fiction novel. There were large portraits hanging on the wall, and ornaments dotted around the entrance hall on small tables.
"Do not touch anything." came the woman's stern voice, "everything here is priceless."
Alex gave a mock salute, "Yes Ma'am."
She didn't smile, but just pointed up the staircase. "Mr Anatolievich is waiting for you in the first room on your left."
She walked away stumpily; the lighter ornaments threatening to topple as she walked by them. Alex took in a deep breath. He could do this; he had to. He ruffled his slight fringe to give it a messier, more unruly look, grasped the strap of his bag as if it would give him some much needed confidence and began the ascent up the stairs.
After being reluctantly dropped off at school, Sabina had sat at the back of her lessons, scowling at the teachers, barely paying attention to what they were saying. She'd walked home with the same scowl clouding her features; she couldn't stop thinking about Alex. She went over the things that she knew in her head.
Alex had been kidnapped from school.
Alex had been rescued by the US military.
Alex had a pseudonym - Alex Friend.
MI6 or some other intelligence service was keeping the alias up to date for an unknown reason.
Alex was probably on another mission.
It was probably her fault.
She was going to try and bring him home before anymore damage could be done.
She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, staring into her dresser mirror. Her hair was frizzy and untidy from all the times she'd messed it up and her eyes were slightly red. There was a knock at the front door but she ignored it, her dad would get it. She repeated the list in her head once more. A minute later there was a shout from downstairs.
"Sabina!" It was her father.
"What?" she shouted back, annoyed.
"There's a young man here," he yelled back up the stairs, "he says he knows you, he says it's important."
Grumbling under her breath, Sabina wrenched her door open and thundered down the stairs. She made her way to the front door where her father and the mystery boy were standing.
"Sabina!"
She groaned inwardly, "Brad?"
"Hey look, this is really important-"
She rolled her eyes, "Sure it is, what do you want, an interview?"
"Now Sab," said her father, repremarndingly, "don't be rude." he turned to Brad, "would you like to come in?"
"Yes, please."
Her father stepped back to let Brad into the house. The boy's weedy features came into view and he looked around. "You have a nice house Mr Pleasure."
"Thank you er-" said her father, beaming. "- Brad was it?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Oh, no need to call me Sir," he said smiling, "just call me Edward."
"Daad!" she interrupted.
"Oh yes, sorry," he said distractedly, "I'll just go and-"
"Wait!" said Brad hastily, "I think you'll want to see this too. Can we go somewhere a little more," he gestured around the hall, "comfortable?"
"Of course," said her father, puzzled, he held the door open to the living room, "in here."
The three of them filed in, taking seats around the coffee table. A sudden thought struck Sabina.
"Hey, Brad?" she began curiously, "how did you know where I lived?"
The boy blushed, his hands scrunching in his trousers. "I er- I followed Alex home one time." he admitted quietly. Sabina raised her eyebrow at him.
"Don't worry though," he said quickly, "Alex knows - at least I think he does." He looked down at his hands, "I think he noticed me following him within about a minute actually." he said ruefully.
Sabina pursed her lips. "That sounds like Alex."
Brad's head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers wildly. "Yes, it does!" he said excitedly, "and so does.." he fiddled with his phone and then brandished it at her with a flourish. "this!"
Sabina took the phone and read the text on the screen. Her father looked over her shoulder to read it too. After they'd finished reading, she exchanged a look with her father. He looked as confused as she felt.
"Brad- what?"
The boy took the phone back, and brought out a pad of paper. "The day he left with his old guardian, I interviewed him," he began, "and I asked what his favourite football club was, and his favourite player and he said-"
"Danny Drinkwater?" Sabina guessed, a flood of excitement jolting through her.
"Got it in one."
She held her hand out for his phone and he gave it to her. She read the message again. "Oh!" she exclaimed loudly. It had just clicked, oh clever, clever Alex.
"Sabina?" questioned her father, "are you alright."
She nodded rapidly. "It's from Alex, It's a code - we were doing them in English, I borrowed his essay-"
She cut herself off, looking guilty at her father. He gave her a bemused look.
"Sabina," he said gently, "we talked about his, no more stealing Alex's homework."
"I didn't steal it," she defended cooly, "he leant it to me." He gave her an unimpressed look, folding his arms.
"Nevermind that now though," she said, turning back to the phone, "hang on, wait there." she raced upstairs to her school bag and returned a few seconds later, leaping down the stairs, essay in hand.
"Okay, let's get started."
Alex trudged up the staircase, his footsteps echoing like the woman's had. He tried to keep a steady pace and not falter but his knees felt wobbly and it was difficult. He took out his phone and selected an app. The bug detector. It would be useful to know how cautious this man was, whether he kept secret recording devices around his own house. He reached the top of the stairs, and his app had detected no bugs. He stepped toward the door on his left, and the app screen turned red. Ah.
Putting his phone away, he took a deep breath, raising his hand to knock. A second later, he decided against it, instead, he pushed open the door. Inside was not what he had expected. The room was a complete polar opposite of the outside and hallway of the house. It was the epitome of modern design apart from the original floor. The room stretched from one side of the house to the other; obviously several walls had been knocked through.
There room was mostly empty, with elegant minimalist furniture which looked expensive. On the far left, there was an ornate fireplace with a small log burner in the centre. Next to it, in the corner of the room, there were several wide leather sofas and a small coffee table. There was a record player tucked away nearby that playing a gentle piano composition Alex thought he recognised. Close by, out on the balcony, was a man sat at a crystal chess board; Anatolievich. The man was staring right at him.
Alex cleared his throat awkwardly, "Hey."
The man pinched the bridge of his nose, "My dear boy," he said, sighing. Alex resisted the urge to shiver at the man's voice, clear and eloquent - the slightest trace of a russian accent. "The word is 'hello'. Even I know this and English isn't even my first language."
Alex had not expected this; he nodded dumbly. "Sure."
Anatolievich rolled his eyes and sighed but did not comment. "Come, sit." he gestured at the seat across from him. "Maybe you can make a better impression through chess."
Alex stayed silent, he wasn't sure what Alex Friend would say in this situation. He took a guess, "Chess is boring, can't we play something else?"
Anatolievich's expression turned from exasperated to downright annoyed. He stood from the table and walked over where to Alex stood. Anatolievich stared at him; Alex felt like he was under a microscope. He didn't say a word. He took the opportunity to examine the man in front of him.
Anatolievich was tall, much taller than Alex by almost a foot. He was dressed in a neatly pressed black suit, complete with a white shirt, navy blue tie and waistcoat. Alex looked into the man's eyes; they were a dark blue, matching the tie. He had black hair and eyebrows but they were obviously dyed. The colour was much too dark for a man of his age, it should have begun to fade a little by now. He had a long nose, thin lips and narrow eyes. He looked russian, if that was possible.
"Let us start again, Mr Friend." Anatolievich smiled, "How was the car journey? Pleasant I take it?"
Surprised, Alex paused for a second then said, "It was alright, I don't think much of Joseph's music choice."
"No?" said Anatolievich, a smile playing at his lips. "And what does Joseph listen to?"
"Pop." Alex said simply.
"And what do you like?"
Alex gestured at the record player, he felt that actual honesty would help him in this case, "Chopin, Bach, Verdi."
Anatolievich grinned widely. "We share the same taste. I was half expecting you to say something horrific like techno or rap."
Alex shrugged in reply.
"You know what I think, Alexander?" asked Anatolievich, stepping a fraction closer.
"It's Alex," he replied automatically.
Anatolievich ignored him, "I think, Alexander, that this whole," he gestured at Alex's uniform, "bad boy, rebel get up is a charade."
Alex's heart thudded in his chest. Had he been that obvious?
"No." continued Anatolievich, "I think that your rich daddy didn't pay you enough attention and you dress like this and request to go to ridiculously expensive schools halfway across the globe just to get him to notice you."
Alex chewed on his lip. Should he agree with him?
"So what if I do?" Alex challenged.
Anatolievich smiled again, he did that a lot.
"I am not a patient man Alexander, which is why I have decided to address this now, rather than later in your stay here. I think it best to get things over and done with, do you agree?
Alex nodded meekly.
"Then, I would very much like," Anatolievich said carefully, "for you to drop the act whilst you are here. I find charades very tiring."
Alex paused. Should he stop playing Alex Friend? Somehow adopting a different personality made everything seem further away, not as immediate and real. But on the other hand, he'd be able to get closer to him if he did what Anatolievich wanted. But did he really want that?
"Okay." he breathed.
"We shall start, I think" Anatolievich said, "with this." he gestured at Alex's outfit. Before Alex could stop him, the russian had stepped closer and reached out, tugging Alex's blazer collar down. It didn't feel the same as when the headmaster had done it earlier that day. Anatolievich's fingers were careful, practiced and there was a hungry glint in his eye.
"I will warn you now Alexander, that I have a dress code in my house, many rules of which, you are currently breaking. " Anatolievich pulled the tie from round Alex's neck and then looped it back, tying the tie for him. It was much, much too intimate. He felt his cheeks flush. Alex didn't breathe until the man had finished, pushing the tie up to his neck.
Finally, Anatolievich tugged the sleeves of his jacket down. His skin brushed Alex's arm as he did so. The fingers lingering a moment too long, Alex tried to ignore it. He hoped that Anatolievich wouldn't try and tuck his shirt in too.
"Now, Alexander, you are ready and we shall play chess."
Sabina sat back in her seat as she stared at the decoded message on the notepad.
The first line read:
Hi Brad, Danny Drinkwater here. I'm very good at passing things on to other players on my team and I bet you are too.
This, they had decided was to establish who it was and to get Brad to tell Sabina about it.
The next line, 'Because my life is pretty blunt, my leaving was unexpectedly due to a fantastic cause.' Sabina had looked up that pretty used to mean crafty, and fantastic was imaginary and they had translated the second line to mean:
Because his life was ruled by a crafty Alan Blunt, Alex's kidnapping was because of an imaginary cause. Did this mean that Alan Blunt had orchestrated Alex's kidnapping so her could force him into taking another mission?
A friend of a Friend was more difficult. They hadn't guessed who that was yet. Because of Alex's clues however, they knew the man was an acquaintance of Sir David Friend and of russian heritage. Yassen had obviously been the guy on the plane Alex had mentioned. Sabina guessed that their similarities were also due to how dangerous the two men were. The thought did not bring her any comfort.
The next line, was the most disturbing and Sabina had checked and double checked the definition.
'except this one will want to bully me and I don't want to let that happen.'
Bully, according to Alex meant lover. This man, whoever Alex was being sent to 'visit' wanted to sleep with Alex. He wanted to-
It made Sabina feel physically sick. Brad and her father didn't look much better than she felt. The line strengthened her resolve and she was more determined than ever to get Alex back.
The mention of her father's job was interesting but none of them had any idea what he could do to help. They'd have to wait and think. His final request was for them not to do anything Alex would do. They took this to mean not to do anything reckless or stupid. They needed to come up with a plan but Sabina couldn't think of anything apart from Alex, alone and scared in the company of a dangerous paedophile.
"Dad?" she asked quietly.
"Yes, Sab?"
"What are we going to do?"
"Well, for starters, I'm going to get in contact with Sir Friend and see what he has to say about all this," he said angrily, "he has to be involved and quite frankly, my opinion of him is now so low, it's virtually non-existent."
Sabina had never heard her father so angry, so full of hate and malice. She told him this.
"I'm sorry dear," he said kindly, "but some complete bastard is hurting my son and when I find out who it is, I don't care if he's seven foot and a karate master - I'm going to rip him limb from limb."
:0
So that's the decoded code, I only had those three words to work with from the beginning because my planning is /
I wanted to get the meeting between Alex and Anatolievich over and done with cause I wasn't sure how to play it out. I think Anatolievich seeing through the charade easily is a good trait for his kind of character.
Anyway, I hope you liked it and remember, reviews are life.
I honestly have no concrete plans for the next few chapters so if anyone has any ideas then they're most welcome.
That Chopin sonata? It's what I was listening to when I wrote it. Classical is such a beautiful genre of music.
Did you like that protective Edward Pleasure moment? I did. I think he's an awesome father honestly, he's such a cool dude.
