A/N: Hey guys – sorry for the long wait! This chapter has been stored in my school files; I've been writing it in my spare college time when I've got nothing else to do… Unfortunately, my college time is now precious, with several project deadlines coming to a head. I'll still have time to write at home, though!

(As a quick note to those who read The Unlikely – rejoice! Chapter six is half finished! ... I just need to figure out a way to proceed with the next half… Sorry about the stupidly long wait…)

Karmic Balance

Chapter Six

The night was dark and the wind was cold, but adrenaline burned bright and hot through Yassen and Ian as they scaled a low-cut iron fence and began skirting around a large, seemingly abandoned warehouse (if not for the occasional glance of a guard outside or a creamy pale flash of a face through a window). Yassen, with a keen eye and tensed for any movement, saw a shadow shift in the corner of his vision, and began indicating to Ian with his right hand – the motion of danger, hide.

Quickly, they dropped, pressing themselves into the ground, the earthy smell of uncut grass and moist soil suddenly smothering their senses. They felt quite glad of the combats they were wearing, allowing them to blend into the ground in the dim light of a crackling, faded lamp and a faraway moon. A guard, not fifteen feet away from them, paused in his shift. He looked around, first left then right, gun held slackly in his arms as if in carelessness of the potent power the sleek metal could wield (Yassen and Ian were all too aware of it with their own cold metal pressed warningly against their thighs). The guard, apparently pleased with what he saw – or didn't see – continued on his way.

Once the man was safely out of range, the two men slowly stood back up. Carrying on in the same direction, they stopped short of a seemingly normal window; however, if Yassen's information was right, then this one didn't lock properly and should open with the slightest twist. Underneath Ian's hands, the lock moved – they held their breath as it made an almost inaudible click. He managed to shift the window open, slowly, so as to make no noise.

They had to be quick. Only forty seconds until the next guard would come in sight.

Tick tock, tick-tock - the seconds ticked by - the sound of footsteps ever closer – tick tick tick - yet somehow, through controlled movements and fluid teamwork, they managed to both get through the window and drop quietly to the floor on the other side, with only three seconds to spare.

Tocktocktock

They froze where they were, crouched on the floor, faces close but unmoving as their breath held still. The footsteps, ever louder, sounded on the other side of the window. They pounded and echoed through the resounding quiet. Ian felt his heart slow, pumping more desperately as he waited until the sound outside completely dissipated, before letting out the trapped air in a long, low hiss. That had been close; too close, in fact. They would have to hurry up, or their window of opportunity would be gone forever.

It was a slow process, making their way through the silent building that was only occasionally awash with the hubbub of guards and workers going about their day; it felt abandoned and dreary, debris scattered across the lower levels amongst litter and dead pests.

After ten minutes, they reached a section of the building that broke up into many corridors, each one looking identical and dreary, with a sterile feel under the electric hum of the cheap, unsafe wiring. None of these held a scattering of dust or garbage unlike those they'd previously travelled through, although these walls were painted; a clear matt blue, none of it chipped or faded, but still the feeling of un-cleanliness pervaded the halls. Ian found himself infinitely glad that Yassen had managed to filch a copy of the warehouse's blue prints; otherwise, without already having memorized the layout, they would have become hopelessly lost.

It took another ten minutes to navigate their way, until they came near the area they knew Alex was kept in. Stopping short of the room itself, the quickly got into another just around the corner before any guards might spot them. Yassen kept watch by the door, opening it a crack to let light from the corridor spill in. Ian stared at his watch as the seconds ticked on, anticipation building, morbid flashes of seeing Alex lying broken and bloody on the other side. If this didn't work… Well, he wasn't sure he was ready for that.

Thankfully, it seemed that Lady Luck was with them as, at exactly eight pm, they heard the tinny garbled ring tone from a mobile phone go off. They heard a man - a guard – answer in a deep, baritone voice.

"Hey… Who? An accident?... I can't, I'm at - … I'm, I… You what?... Yes…. Yes… Yes of course, I'm on my way…" With an electronic beep, the guard hung up and raced down the corridor away from them - but more importantly, away from Alex.

It was done; their trap was sprung. Now they had exactly nineteen minutes to get Alex out of the building.

Waiting for the echo of the guard's footsteps to fade, the two men quickly went into the corridor and immediately began working on the cell door; It was locked, but thankfully, Yassen had also managed to get hold of a key; Ian didn't know how, as the Russian wasn't too keen on readily divulging that information. Ian wasn't sure he really wanted to know either, as the answer didn't seem all too pleasant.

The heavy door swung open with a muted thud against the wall, the movement raising the tension in their bodies, muscles tensed, eyes squinting into the darkness-

-only to find their hopes cruelly dashed as what greeted them was only emptiness.

Yassen cursed foully in Russian, scowling at the cell. "Did they know we were coming?"

Ian thought about it – but, no, they couldn't have. They'd been too careful; yet, despite all their planning, the timing of the operation couldn't be helped by the unexpected variables. "We were just unlucky with the timing." He huffed, raking a hand through his blond hair. "Come on. We need to find him; he's got to be somewhere in this damnable building."

"Spread out; we'll find him faster that way. You got your buzzer?"

Ian, now already making his way down the corridor, waved a hand back at Yassen, his other slightly skimming along his own 'buzzer'; It was neatly placed in the shell of his ear, small and barely visible. When pressed in a manner that cracked it open slightly – one would have to wedge their nail inside – the corresponding 'buzzer' would start to emit a quiet, low frequency buzz, audible only to those who wore it. The closer to the partnered buzzer, the higher the frequency would go; it wasn't a particular fast gadget to get working, but as they already knew the layout it was the best they had. It was the only tracking device Ian had been able to borrow from that gadget technician at the bank – Smithers, his name was. The man hadn't asked any questions, only gave him an indulging smile. No, the 'buzzer' had been scrapped for practical use not long ago as it just wasn't very useful to field agents; after all, their partners were not often trapped or captured within the same building.

Still, it was useful for their little illegal operation, and Ian wasn't about to pass up any opportunity to have any sort of edge.

Ian, with a fierce walk and an even fiercer look, stalked down his chosen corridor and began counting up the seconds in his head.

3… 2… 1… They only had eighteen minutes to find Alex Rider.