Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from the Alex Rider series, solely my OC's and the plot.
AN:
Reviews:
Honey Nut Loop: Thanks, you might have a point about changing the summary!
Remussweetie: Thank you
Laine7727: PM's noon? I didn't know that, we don't use it in Norway, but thanks for pointing that out! And when I say Soviet Union it's because they're talking about it when it was a communist countrey, and I've alwaysed called that the Soviet Union. I didn't know it was called the USSR either, because we call it the SSSR here...But thanks!
Underground Location,
Petrozavodsk,
Russian Federation
Slowly members of NCSR were beginning to leave the underground conference room, conversing in hushed voices as they left through the big doors. From behind they all looked so very similar, not only because of the plain back's of the uniforms they wore, but from the back in general, especially because the majority of them were broad-shouldered, past middle-aged men with graying hair. Another one of these men was Nicholai Bogodhan, the uncrowned leader of New Communist Soviet Revolution, a group he himself had formed with other communist, including Alexei Sarov, after the fall of the Soviet Union.
All members had in the beginning been high-ranking Soviet Officers, and all of them wanting the same thing: for Russia to once again relive its years of glory. However, over the past years Russians of the new generation had begun working for their cause, and not all of them were exactly suited for it. The young, they didn't understand the genius of Karl Marx's class-less society where all men and women were equals. They didn't understand the theories that had later been perfected and put into action by Vladimir Lenin, the first, great communist leader.
Bogodhan noticed the form of Marija Kurkova in the far corner of the room, lingering behind. He sighed and shook his head. She was one of them, more intent on revenging a dead man than focusing on operation PHOENIX.
Operation PHOENIX was the great pride of Nicholai's life, for it was he who had devised the whole plan. He had chosen the name Phoenix, after the immortal fantasy creature said to be reborn in its own ashes. The name applied perfectly to his plan. In the ashes of revolution, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics would be reborn.
And with one final glance at the plain looking woman standing in the far corner of the conference room, Nicholai Bogodhan left through the double doors and headed towards the elevator.
Marija Kurkova remained behind. She had no intention to have further conversation with Bogodhan. She had seen it in his eyes; he had been very reluctant to grant her permission on her case. She loathed the man, his silly idea of a class-less community, had he learned nothing from the last time they tried that?
No, Marija couldn't care less about the wellfare of others, she wanted powers, and she wanted revenge. She assumed Nicholai knew this, and that it was why he feared her. She cast a glance at the picture in the top bunk of her file, the one of Alex Rider.
Rider. She hated him for what he had done; he had driven Alexei Sarov, her uncle, to suicide. Yes, she knew Alex Rider hadn't murdered him, but she still wanted the boy dead, and she knew Bogodhan would never have granted her permission to revenge her uncle unless she had lied and said an MI6 agent had murdered their 'brother'.
She couldn't help also think about SCORPIA. The organization was pathetic in her eyes, not being able to assassin a fourteen-year-old schoolboy. No, she would be the one to succeed where they had failed. In two hours, at 01.35 her time, she would be calling her source about information on Rider, and within few days, Alex Rider would be dead, and for real this time.
777
Los Angeles,
California,
United States of America
Katie Harold stared up at the wall clock of the second floor kitchen. She hated the second floor kitchen, mostly because it was so small and because there were never any doughnuts. Plus, the second floor kitchen had the worst view in the building, which left her to spend her time sipping coke and staring at the wall clock. It was now exactly 14.25 in the afternoon, and in ten minutes the President would be checking in for the next update on the St.Petersburg bombing. He had demanded an update every fifteen minutes, but unfortunately for him there wasn't much update to be given.
Katie, like many others, found the lack of information on both the NCSR and the television station that had leaked the story surprising. They hadn't been able to get in contact with the supervisor of the station, but that wasn't so surprising as there was an 11-hour time difference between that part of Russia and Los Angeles, but it left them with quite a few blanks to fill.
So, having nothing better to do on her break she let her mind drift on to Alex Rider once again. She was surprised at how much she thought about it…him, she never put that much thought into cases when she wasn't working, but somehow this one wouldn't leave her alone. Usually she wouldn't be very happy about leaving her computer unsupervised with all that information on it, but thankfully she had saved everything on a disk before going to the meeting earlier that day.
"Hey Harold!" She turned and looked at the man in the doorway. His red-brown hair was hanging in front of his eyes, and he was smiling brightly. John Wright.
"What are you so happy about?" she asked harshly, her hair falling into her own face. He kept grinning and threw something towards her. She caught it, a round, soft object wrapped in kitchen paper. She unwrapped it and to her surprise found a doughnut.
"Peace offering." He said, taking a few steps into the room. "I get the feeling you're still pissed over the other day." Katie's eyes were slightly wide. He was always acting like a jackass towards her, what was so different about that time? Why was he apologizing?
"Umm, that's okay…" She said awkwardly. She checked the clock. 14.31. She wanted to know more about what the President thought about the whole situation with the bomb, and old fashioned eaves dropping was the best way.
"I have to go work." She lied and hurried out of the room.
777
Train,
Somewhere between Petrozavodsk and St.Petersburg,
Russian Federation
Alone in a compartment on a train heading for Moskovsky Vokzal, the only train station where trains from Petrozavodsk arrived in St. Petersburg, sat Marija Kurkova. One couldn't make out whatever landscape was outside the window of her train compartment in the pitch-black darkness, but she didn't care. On the seat next to her lay a small cell phone, and in exactly ten minutes her source would be calling.
In the mean time, Marija was reading. As a small child in communist Russia, there weren't many things she had been allowed to read. After the fall of the USSR she had begun reading more and more foreign books, learning more and more new things. She didn't strike most people as an avid reader, someone who adored learning new things, with her dull eyes that seemed to have no life spark in them.
As a child her father and mother had struggled to give Marija and her four sibling's food everyday and to give them an education. Marija had always admired her uncle Alexei, a man rising to be the second in command of the Red Army. He lived a great life, him, his wife and his son Vladimir. But her parents were not like her uncle, the three were always arguing about things Marija, as a child, didn't understand. As a teen she learned that her parents didn't approve of the communist regime, and that that was why they always argued with her uncle.
Communism, Marija had later learned, was a good idea in theory, but it had proven virtually impossible to function in practice. So, why would a now educated, experienced woman like Marija Kurkova be part of NCSR? Because of power. That was why she had always admired her communist uncle, because he had power. That was why she was in NCSR, because when they regained power, she knew she would have power as well. For as Lenin said, one would need an elite at the top to rule the country, and she intended to be part of that elite.
The cell phone rang. She waited to answer, wanting to finish the paragraph she was currently indulged in. The cell phone continued to ring, the ring tone so annoying that she slammed the book closed and picked it up.
"Hello." She greeted sternly. "Did you get the information?" she asked, her hard Russian accent coating her words. She had no time to waste on conversation, all she wanted to know was no or yes.
"…Not exactly." The person on the other end said in a hushed voice, which due to the bad coverage she was getting on the train, made it hard for her to make out the words. "…I couldn't access her computer."
"What!" she exclaimed angrily. That lying little…she had been assured that she would be given the information at this exact time. "You said you could easily get me the information! Keep in mind that we are paying you a great sum of money for this and if you don't fulfill your end of the deal, you will be killed Mr"
"I know, I know!" He said, cutting her off before she could finish her threat. "Look, I know she keeps all her information stored on a disk. We could break into her house and get it." An evil, plotting type smile spread across her thin lips and she leaned back in her seat. This was going to be easier than she thought.
"How many men do you need?"
777
Los Angeles,
California,
United States of America
16-year-old Katie Harold was quietly walking up the stairs of the CIA headquarters, in a video game-like stealth mode, crouching down slightly. Mind you, she had seen quite a few ALIAS episodes and felt certain that as long as she didn't get caught she wouldn't get in trouble. How ever, if she did get caught…man, she didn't even want to think about what would happen then.
She reached the door and opened it, winching slightly at the loud, creaking noise the steel door made as she pushed it. The hallway it led into was empty but at the bottom she could see a large open room where people were walking around from different desks, talking to each other, discussing and sharing new information. Dropping the stealth walk, as it would look very strange if someone decided to look down the hall and find a girl half crouched down on the floor, she walked into the room looking straight ahead.
Further down in the room, Agent Amir Araz was currently discussing new information on the St.Petersburg bombing with another agent before they were attending the video meeting with the President. He looked up from the papers he was going over just in time to see the unmistakable form of Katie Harold walking into the room. A look of confusion crossed his face. Katie wasn't supposed to be up here. He let it go, seeing as he needed to talk to her. He handed the papers to his co-worker and asked for him to wait there until he returned.
"Katie," He put his hand on her shoulder and the girl stood perfectly still, it almost seemed like she stopped breathing for a second. "What are you doing here?" He asked her.
Slowly she turned around, her face red. What was she going to do, to say? Oh, she was in so much trouble. ´Come on Katie, think! ´ Her mind shouted. She put on the most innocent face she could muster while trying to hide how worried she was about getting into trouble.
"I was" Her sentence was cut short by Agent Araz asking her if she knew exactly what time it was. "Well, I'm guessing it's around two thirty-five. Isn't the President calling in around now?" She asked, trying to change the subject.
"Exactly. And you've been working how many hours today?" She stared questioningly at the man. What did her hours have to do with this? What was this, anyway?
"You're over-working Katie. You're sixteen and you work the hours of a grown-up. Both Avers and I agree that you should take the rest of the day off."
Her jaw dropped open. "What?" she stared wide-eyed at him. "Take the day off? With everything that's going on right now? I'm not overworking, I swear! And I have the day off tomorrow anyways. You can't be serious about this." She argued. They wanted her to take the day off? They had to be kidding, the CIA was in a state of emergency, and the President was calling in every fifteen minutes for Christ's sake! That should be reason enough to have every available person working.
"That doesn't change the fact that you are a child. Now go home, Katie." The tone of his voice made it clear that he wasn't going to discuss the matter any further. She sighed, knowing she couldn't win this one and nodded in agreement, a sad look on her face. "Good. I have to go, I'm late for the meeting." And with that he left.
Katie came back into her small, booth-like office five minutes later, and to her something seemed different, odd… She noticed her computer was shut off, which it never was when she was still at the office. But still annoyed about being sent home she shrugged it off. It wasn't like anyone could get any information off her computer anyway as there was too much security on it.
So she gathered the few things she needed to bring home, including one small floppy disk. You would think those things were extinct in the present time, with all the advanced forms of storing information, but the computer she had at home still used disks and she really didn't mind using one. Plus, they were easier to hide under the floorboard.
And though she was still a bit pissed about being shut out from everything that was going on surrounding the bombing in St.Petersburg, which she really didn't know much about from before, Katie Harold was actually looking forward to some time-off.
777
Corinthia Nevskij Palace Hotel,
St.Petersburg,
Russian Federation.
"Good morning St.Petersburg, this is Nathalie Vodianova, with a live report from Moscow." A young, attractive woman's voice came from the TV. Marija Kurkova sat in the sofa of her large hotel room, watching the 9 o'clock morning news. Already she was dressed in a navy blue suit, ready to go to work. She was also on the phone with a close co-worker in her division of NCSR.
"Are you watching this?" She asked the man on the phone, referring to the news broadcasting. The young, dark-haired reporter on the TV was standing outside the American embassy in Moscow, and behind her a small group of people were throwing rocks at the embassy. Muffled yelling of the word 'murderers' along with different profanities in Russian could be heard in the background.
"It seems a riot has broken out here," The reporter gestured behind her. "in front of the U.S. embassy here in Moscow. Who these people are, and why they are here doing this, is unknown at the moment, but as I speak the police are on their way to the scene, so hopefully we will know something in the next half" The dark-haired woman stopped talking to the camera as someone came up to her and whispered something in her ear. "Excuse me for a moment." She said and took out her earpiece. In hushed voices she and the other person talked about something, obviously important judging by the serious looks on both their faces. Nathalie then turned back to the camera and put the earpiece back.
"For those of you just joining us, good morning St.Petersburg, this is Nathalie Vodianova, now with a live exclusive news story. It seems the cause of this sudden riot outside the American Embassy is because the bomb found at the site of the bombing in St.Petersburg, was American."
Marija Kurkova smiled as she heard this. By now she had hung up on the phone and was fully concentrated on the TV. This news broadcast would send the entire Russian people into a state of anger, not only towards the US because the bomb was American but also towards their own Government for not having told them.
This small riot in Moscow, though not part of any NCSR plan, would certainly serve its purpose. Operation PHEONIX would be a success.
Hope this chapter was to your liking. I'll update again soon...I hope at least...