Disclaimer: I don't own any characters blah blah blah owned by Anthony Horowitz blah blah blah don't sue me.
Summary: Some rules are meant to be followed. Others were made to be broken. John decided the rule of not writing about his ordeals was one of the latter. Years later, Alex finds a notebook in the attic and decides he needs to know what it means. His decision changes a lot.
Slight AU (Alternative Universe), characters acting slightly OOC (Out Of Character).
'Cause you're a Natural
Chapter 11
The bank was unlike any other he'd been in. For one, Royal General had five offices worldwide, but four were in an African desert, a demolished building in Canada, the middle of the Pacific Ocean, and Antarctica (he'd checked). For another, banking directors weren't known for meeting with bereaved teenagers.
Alex was willing to call bullshit.
As he followed the woman (he didn't blame her for going by her surname - if he was a girl, he didn't think he would want everyone to call him Tulip), he put his finger over the earring and held it for three seconds while pretending to be messing with it. Alex gave it one last tap as Mrs Jones opened the door to an office without knocking.
Rude.
=
It was Alex's luck to have tapped when he had some free time.
It seemed the boy had the common sense to not want to join MI6. Despite what the recent spate of movies would have people believe, being a spy or an assassin wasn't all it cracked up to be. It was messier, more painful, and the "goodies" didn't always win. If they did, Yassen would have died long ago.
"...I don't care what you think my uncle would want. I can't legally be employed for another few years. And I don't want to be in this industry, especially after you told me my uncle was one. If he'd been a real banker, he'd be alive now. Use one of your paid workers, and leave me to be a teenager with dreams of becoming a professional footballer," the boy stated emphatically. Yassen mentally applauded his view but had enough experience to know that MI6 wouldn't let something as paltry as free will get in the way of their goals.
He was prepared, though - he'd posted anonymously on a dark web hacker forum a wish for the building to be hacked a few days ago, with the only reward being bragging rights. Two had managed to get in, and he'd navigated past the fake banking software to the building's security and PA systems.
Now, he could see and hear everything that occurred in the whole building if he wished, and Alex's phrasing had given him an idea. He hadn't mentioned where they were, what they were talking about, or what "industry" he didn't want to be a part of, and the internet could be manipulated to push a particular view of someone.
"It's a shame that your housekeeper - Ms Starbright, isn't it? - will be deported to the US tomorrow. Her visa expired a few years ago, and I'm sure you'll miss her. Since we don't have the time to manage your trust, we may have to take you out of your current school and put you in one for disadvantaged children. If only you could be more… accommodating to my wishes," pronounced Alan Blunt.
If Yassen had been inclined to hate someone… Unfortunately for Blunt, he followed the maxim "don't get mad, get even", and he had the perfect idea to get even. Blunt had made his job easier by putting his hand on Alex's leg for a second, and the camera had gotten a full view of Alex's disgusted face (at a different stage of the conversation, true). He opened up software he'd downloaded onto the laptop and started editing, keeping an ear on the conversation in case something else was said he could use or if Alex got into trouble.
"What about you? Are you alright with what your boss wants a teenager to do?" (That's a good one)
"He has his reasons," stated Tulip Jones (The email was ready to send)
"If I do what you want? It's a once-off?" (He just needed a good title)
"Of course, Alex." (Aaaaand send)
On the screen, Blunt looked at his computer at the same time that Jones and Alex looked at their phones. A quick flick through the other cameras showed everyone simultaneously looking at their phones or computer screens.
=
Tsk, tsk.
No means no, Alan Blunt. Don't you remember that titbit from sexual education classes?
Blackmailing teenage boys to make them get you off… whatever would the Prime Minister think?
Alex was confused. He didn't know the man was into teenage boys and found himself trying to get some distance between them subtly. The surprise on Mr Blunt's face could be faked, after all.
There was a video at the end of the email, and he clicked on it. It was less than a minute long and seemed to be made from footage taken from cameras inside the room. It took until he was halfway through the video before he realised some of it was fake - he would certainly have remembered if Blunt had looked at him with that expression.
Looking at the cc part of the email, Alex guessed that most people in the building had been sent the same email. Maybe everyone. That could lead to him being fired if everyone in MI6 thought Blunt was a paedophile.
It seemed that he had a lot to thank Yassen for.
The video ended with a typed message.
Try and blackmail Rider into working for you, and this will get sent to every newspaper, social media influencer, government worker, intelligence operative, and family member of all of the above. You won't last a week with the resulting fallout, and prisoners have a special hatred for child molesters.
"WHAT DID YOU DO?!? screamed Mr Blunt, standing up and towering over Alex.
The door opened with a bang, revealing a middle-aged man with a limp. He took in Mr Blunt's rage, Mrs Jones' indifference, and Alex's (hastily erected) fearful expression before his face hardened.
=
"Mr Rider, please come with me. I worked with your uncle, and he would be appalled if he saw this. I know you don't have any reason to trust me, but I'm going to take you out of here as quickly as I can."
Yassen was pleased with this development. There was always the chance the man could talk his way out of the accusations (though it would take a long time). Being caught threatening his "victim" by someone so high up the rank… that'd be harder for Blunt to get out of. It was amusing to imagine Blunt trying to convince his subordinates of his innocence and them believing him less the harder he tried.
Alex could have been an actor if the football career didn't work out, he mused as he watched the boy "cower" behind John Crawley. When Blunt opened his mouth, Yassen was impressed with the look of pure fury on Crawley's face before he turned and started walking towards the exit, Alex following along. He watched as the other operatives converged on them, walking behind the boy to present a human shield.
He had only wanted to stop Blunt from "recruiting" Alex, but if the other operatives in MI6 were willing to believe Blunt was a paedophile (he mentally shrugged)... that wasn't his problem. Dissension in the ranks would make any future jobs on British soil easier.
He watched as Alex was escorted out of the building and, in his first fit of spontaneity in years, he set the doors of Blunt's office to lock. He erased all data showing the system had been hacked, logged out, and began his usual routine of destroying all technology used after a job.
Yassen sent a message to the boy's personal phone with a new number to get in contact with him before he took the battery and sim card out, broke them into pieces, threw them in water, and put them in his pockets, to distribute them over numerous open sewage points. He wiped the room of prints, had one last look around, and walked out of the room.
His next client wanted to hire him long-term. Apparently, he didn't like drugs. Yassen shrugged. Money is money, after all.
Críochnaithe
(A.N: What do you think of my first Alex Rider fic? I apologise if you don't think I got their personalities right - it's been a while since I read the early books.)