I have looked forward to posting this chapter from the beginning. Hope you enjoy it!
CW: One minor (well earned) swear word
Alex listened at the door as Yassen talked on the phone. The assassin spoke in what sounded vaguely Slavic, which meant Alex understood none of the words. However, based on the man's terse replies, it wasn't good.
Too much had already gone wrong with this assignment – and Alex wasn't thinking of Yassen showing up to kidnap him to safety. From MI6 rushing their departure to Martín dying; Nothing had gone as planned.
Whatever this phone call was about, Alex didn't doubt it would add to his trouble.
Wasn't there a limit on the amount of bad luck one person could experience in a day? Surely, it was someone else's turn.
Alex stepped back from the door and rubbed his temples.
He had been ready to collapse into bed before dinner, but their conversation had wound him up enough that his thoughts were running a hundred miles an hour. It didn't do anything good for his headache.
Alex walked over and moved the delicate white curtains from the window so he could glance outside. The kitchen was at the back of the house, right at the edge of the slope, and thousands of lights blinked at him from the city below.
Should he run for the car while Yassen was distracted? Or wait for the man to fall asleep?
Did Yassen even sleep on assignments? He hadn't seemed tired.
Alex released the curtains and went over to the sink to start cleaning the dishes. A row of professional chef knives hung on the wall behind the counter. He considered stealing one of the smaller ones then dismissed the thought as futile. Yassen would notice it missing at once.
Alex had just sat back down at the table with a second glass of water when Yassen walked back into the kitchen. At once, the tension became thick enough to cut.
"Who called?" Alex asked, not really expecting an answer.
Yassen gave him an assessing look. "My contact."
Alex frowned. "The one you gave the flash drive?"
Yassen nodded.
"Well, what did they say?"
Yassen was still staring at him, and Alex couldn't stop himself from shifting in his seat. It was like the assassin was expecting him to jump up and run.
"Where did you find the flash drive?" Yassen asked.
Alex stood up and stepped away from the table, the weight of Yassen's gaze following him. The assassin was blocking the only way out of the kitchen that didn't involve diving off a cliff, and Alex ended up leaning against the counter.
"In a potted plant," Alex answered.
"The truth, Alex."
For the first time since they met at the hotel, the assassin looked tense – as if ready to pounce should Alex so much as twitch the wrong way.
Alex hoped he wouldn't have to actually make a dash for his life. Adrenaline might be flooding his system, but after the day he had had, it wouldn't carry him far.
"That is the truth. Martín had put it in a plastic bag and buried it in the soil." Alex took a deep breath and steadied his voice. "Why? What's wrong?"
Yassen studied him a moment longer before answering. "The plans were fake."
"You're sure?"
Yassen raised a brow and Alex wanted to swallow his words. Of course, the assassin was sure.
"The man I gave them to is an expert," Yassen said drily. "They were good fakes. Better than Martín should have been able to get his hands on."
"But how–" Alex paused. "You think I replaced them." It was a reasonable concern. "I didn't."
If he had, there was no way he would have stayed in the car.
Yassen didn't answer right away. However, the assassin no longer looked like he was contemplating wringing the answers out of him, so Alex let himself relax a bit, though he stayed at the counter. The assassin believed him. At least for now.
Finally, Yassen said, "That complicates things."
Implying the solution would have been much easier had Alex been the one to switch the plans.
Alex tried not to think too hard about that.
Yassen walked over and pulled his black rucksack from behind the sofa. Inside was a silver laptop – smaller than the one he had taken from Martín – and he sat down. The sound of rapid typing filled the room.
"What are you doing?" Alex asked and tried to manoeuvre around so he could watch the screen until a hard stare from Yassen made him freeze in his tracks.
Alex held his hands up in apology and instead slumped into a blue armchair standing across the room. It smelled heavily of dust and mothballs.
"Martín could have hidden the plans somewhere else," he suggested.
Yassen turned his attention back to his computer. "Possible."
"You don't believe that."
"Someone switched the plans. Whether Martín was aware of it or not," Yassen said without a trace of doubt. "They'll have the real copy."
Whoever they were, they knew others were after the plans and used Martín as a distraction.
"They could have switched the plans in transit," Yassen said, his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. "More likely, they were switched as a part of the deal."
Alex felt his eyes widen. "The restaurant."
Yassen nodded.
Crawley had been wrong about the date for the deal – Juan Martin had sold the plans a day earlier. Add that to Crawley getting arrested only a few hours after entering the country, and something didn't add up.
MI6 were far from all-knowing and could be completely wrong at times – the whole Cray-debacle more than proved that – but their covers usually held up to scrutiny from the local enforcement.
Either they had a mole – not impossible – or…
Alex gave Yassen a wide-eyed look. The assassin calmly met his gaze; He had clearly reached a similar conclusion.
Or Blunt had set them up.
"It was very convenient," Yassen said. "That you were the one in the room when I arrived."
Because Yassen would not have hesitated to shoot had it been Crawley.
Alex had known the officers that arrested the agent were more than they seemed. Had they been MI6 as well?
"MI6 were the buyers," Alex said quietly. Nothing else made sense. "They knew you were after Martín and the plans, so they had me break into his room while Crawley was meeting him at the restaurant, and when you found me–"
Well, neither Yassen nor Alex had been thinking about the authenticity of the flash drive.
Alex felt hollow, betrayed, though he wasn't sure why. Using him as a lure was hardly the worst MI6 had done to him. Compared with his earlier missions, he had hardly been in danger. Still, somehow this felt more personal.
"They hoped you would distract me long enough so they could get the plans safely out of the country," Yassen said.
Alex took a deep breath so he could force down the lump of raw hurt and anger stuck in his throat. He needed a clear head for this. "If they knew you would be there, why not just arrest you at the hotel?"
"Planning a large operation takes time and resources, especially if they don't want to involve the NIC."
You would think it would be easier to just tip off the Spanish intelligence service about the internationally wanted assassin running around in their city and let them do their job. Alex hated politics.
Yassen stopped typing for a moment to frown at his screen.
Alex shook his head. There were still things about this whole operation that didn't make sense, but that would have to wait for later.
"We need to stop Crawley from leaving the country," Alex said. It had been what, three hours since Martín left the restaurant? Surely, Crawley hadn't reached the airport already?
"Already done."
Alex took a moment to recover his train of thought. He narrowed his eyes at the computer. "You didn't just hack into the airport's systems, right?"
Yassen gave him a deadpan look. "I'm not a hacker."
The assassin snapped the laptop shut and packed it back into his backpack. "Your agent's flight was scheduled to take off in three hours. It should take him at least another hour to arrange for alternative transportation."
Alex was afraid of asking him to elaborate, so he kept quiet. He hoped no innocents had been harmed.
"I'll gather a few things, then we'll leave," Yassen said and swung his backpack over his shoulder. He gave Alex a pointed look. "Wait here."
Alex waited for Yassen to disappear up the stairs, then went into the kitchen and took a long sip of his abandoned glass of water. He wished he had some aspirin for his headache.
If MI6 had hoped to slow Yassen down enough by involving Alex for Crawley to get out of the country, they had clearly underestimated the man.
"Why even risk sending me?" Alex muttered to himself. "They couldn't have known Yassen would take me with him, and having me at the hotel made it clear they were after the plans."
Unless that wasn't the real distraction.
Just because MI6 hadn't had the time to plan an ambush at the hotel didn't mean they couldn't try to stop Yassen later. The fake plans had already bought them a few extra hours. All they needed to know was where the assassin was staying.
MI6 would have a hard time predicting Yassen's next move and the assassin knew how to avoid surveillance – but they knew how Alex would react. If Yassen stole a flash drive with potentially harmful information, Alex would somehow find a way to follow him.
So, if MI6 wanted to know where Yassen was hiding, all they needed to do –
"Shit."
Alex accidentally toppled his glass as he sat it down – spilling water everywhere – and sprinted to the entrance. He heard Yassen come down the stairs behind him, probably to stop Alex from running away.
However, Alex was not aiming for the front door.
He threw himself to his knees, ignoring the pain of his kneecaps connecting with the wooden floor, and grabbed his shoes.
Yassen handed him a knife, and Alex tore the sole off the new MI6-approved trainers. He found what he was looking for in the left one: a small tracker.
He could feel his face paling as he showed it to Yassen. "I swear, I didn't know."
Yassen took the tracker and crushed it under his foot, then took his knife and slipped it back wherever he had pulled it from. He looked grim, eyes flickering to the window.
"We need to–" Alex began, only to be interrupted by an amplified voice coming from outside.
"Police!" they shouted in accented English. "Come out unarmed, Señor. You're surrounded!"
Confession time. I kinda cheated and used two of Cthulhu's amazing prompts - though telling so earlier would have spoiled too much.
Second prompt: Alex Rider was intended as a diversion. Unfortunately, Yassen made that realization too late.