Disclaimer: If I owned Alex Rider, I wouldn't be writing at this website….I'd be writing the 7th book and making a lot of money!
For what he desperately hoped was the last time in his life, Alex Rider sat across from the emotionless face of Alan Blunt, and Mrs. Jones, who had a pack of peppermints with her as usual. In the silence, he recalled what had happened in the past two days:
After the blizzard had passed, Alex had called the police. As they waited, Alex had avoided his teammates and coach's questions, and Yassen had told Alex how his father had saved his life that day years ago in the Amazon.
To take a life and save a life with one bullet—that's not a bad going.
Yassen left as soon as the first sounds of the police and ambulance sirens could be heard. This time Alex was sure it would be the last time he would see the Russian.
Not surprisingly, an operative for MI6 had shown up with the police. The operative had spoken a while with Alex's coach and teammates, and told Alex that everything had been sorted out. Then she left, taking the laptop with her.
This morning, Alex had received the call, asking him to come down to the bank. There, Crawley had said, they would explain the thing about the bid…
Alan Blunt coughed lightly and Mrs. Jones began, "Alex, about the bid. We did bid for you, but we entered under the name 'Pharaoh'…I suppose someone else entered under MI6."
They were lying. Alex could tell from their hesitant manner of speaking and he was disgusted.
"And I thought spy's were supposed to be good at lying." He growled, and stood up.
"Alex…?" asked Mrs. Jones. She sounded confused.
"You didn't want the trouble of sending men in and rescuing me in front of my soccer team! You'd rather pay the money and let me be taken care of by someone else!" snarled Alex.
Alan Blunt was silent and staring intently at some papers on his desk. Mrs. Jones looked bewildered, but her eyes betrayed her. It was true.
"No, Alex it's not—"she began.
Alex Rider turned and ran out of the bank, swearing that he'd never go back there again.
There was silence in the office. Mrs. Jones turned and glared at Blunt, who was nonchalantly shifting the papers on his desk.
"Alan." Was all she said.
Blunt still did not look up, but he said warily, "The boy will be back. We both know it. Once you're in this, you can't get out again. Maybe he won't trust us, but he will be back here again. "