Rider Meets Bond
Rider Meets Bond
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Alex Rider or the iconic figure, James Bond. They belong to Anthony Horowitz and Ian Fleming respectively.
Chapter Nine: Call of Duty
Downing Street is the fabled street located in London, England that had played host for over two hundred years for the official residences of two of the senior Cabinet members of the Parliament; the First and Second Lord of the Treasury. Having said that, the most famous address located at Downing Street; Number 10 played host to the Head of Operations of MI6 that very morning. Alan Blunt had just left the Royal and Generals Bank which housed the headquarters of British secret intelligence. At the same moment, the Prime Minister was in the midst of sipping a steaming cup of tea upon finishing his breakfast a little while ago, whilst being briefed on the daily events by a minister in his Cabinet.
Listening half heartedly, the Prime Minister was rather more interested in the array of antiques that he had proceed to collect over the years that were now displayed proudly on the mantelpiece. Soon, a knock came on the door with a secretary informing the impending arrival of Alan Blunt. Nodding in acknowledgement to her statement, he proceeded to turn back to his minister, whilst draining the remnants of liquid from his cup. Five minutes later, the minister ended his report and exited the office; only to find Sir Graham Adair seemingly in a hurried manner.
The Permanent secretary to the Cabinet office was then ushered into the office just as the Prime Minister stifled a yawn. "Ah, Graham. What can I do for you today?" he asked, with rather mild interest.
Closing the door behind him, Sir Graham Adair proceeded to advance towards the Prime Minister in a seemingly menacing manner. "Is it true?"
Raising his eyebrows, the Prime Minister proceeded to feign confusion towards the question. "I don't quite understand what you're trying to say here, Graham."
"You quite understood what I meant, Prime Minister…Are you going to dismiss Alan Blunt?" Adair calmly replied as he took a seat before the Prime Minister.
Turning to Adair, the Prime Minister seemed mildly surprised to find the Permanent Secretary to the Cabinet office well informed of the on goings at Number 10. "Who informed you of my meeting with Blunt?" he inquired as he finally took his seat, facing Adair.
"David mentioned to me in the passing that you requested for his presence. It would be a fool not to assume that you weren't going to remove him of his job anyways. After all, we are aware of your…hatred for the secret intelligence service. You did advocate for cutting government expenditure in external intelligence, preferring to merge both MI6 and MI5 into one agency."
Rapping his knuckles on the table, the Prime Minister decided that he had enough of reprimanding from the senior civil servant. After all, he always acted upon the best interests of the nation albeit maintaining his policy of cutting government spending and increasing efficiency. He had also decided to make a mental note to remind his Foreign Secretary to keep his tongue in check if he wished to continue as a member of the Executive.
"It is true that Blunt and I have never really saw eye to eye. However, this meeting is purely intellectual. I understand of your concern with Blunt's livelihood but there is a time and place for everything and this isn't simply the time to dismiss Alan Blunt, especially not when I received a phone call from some hooligan warning me of an imminent threat!"
Shaking his head, Adair merely slumped into his seat; relieved with the knowledge that Alan Blunt lived to see another day as Head of Special Operations at MI6. The Prime Minister himself glanced wearily at the senior civil servant; aware of the fact that he would defend Alan Blunt's position with his life. Soon after, a knock came on the door with a secretary peering her head into the Prime Minister's office.
"He's here."
The British Airways flight from Frankfurt that had connected a prior flight from Beijing was late in arrival, having had the pilot reporting of an emergency on board. Several of the passengers had quickly felt ill upon devouring the lunch served onboard. As the plane made its descent from the skyline towards Heathrow's runway, several ambulances stood by with paramedics ready to transport any of the ill-fated passengers to the nearby hospitals. In an instance, the plane landed safely on the runway as the paramedics rushed onboard to escort the ailing passengers into the ambulances.
Soon enough, five passengers were quickly escorted out from the plane and whisked into the waiting ambulances. The delay took twenty five minutes with a section of the airport being closed down for the emergency. However, as the ambulances made their quick exit from the airport compound; it veered off-course from its intended destination towards one of the numerous warehouse districts that accommodated England's streets. As they pulled up into an isolated garage, the three ambulances revealed three characters worthy of recognition within every intelligence agency's database.
The youngest of the three members was a Chinese woman, slender and petite in her own right. Some would describe of her as a delicate angel as she looked almost brittle. However, the age old adage about looks and killing would definitely be associated with her. With dark intelligent eyes and perfect lips, few could resist being lost in staring at this beauty. Turning to look at her companions, it would've startled many to find out that she was more menacing than them. A check from MI6' files would reveal that she is only known as the Black Lotus; a double agent in the ranks of the Ministry of State Security in the People's Republic. Adept at several forms of martial arts along with being an expert in poison; there were whispers that she once mentored Scorpia's botany expert, Eijit Binnag during her stint with the MSS.
Proceeding on, the second member on their taskforce was a fairly aged Russian male. With dark close-cropped hair and a smooth face, a distinct feature would be the clear, hard grey eyes that seemed to have witnessed too much during their life. A renowned marksman, hailing from Yeleninskoye, Russia he is a veteran war hero with the rank of Captain in the Russian military. The CIA database reveals the fact that he is known as Yuri Zaytsev. Having recently retired from active duty, the Captain's sniping skills are almost second to none with only a handful of people boasting a better military record. Currently acting as a freelance agent, he is offering his services to the highest bidder. Coincidentally, the organization was recruiting and they found the marksman's services sufficient.
The last member on the taskforce was surprisingly young, in comparison to his other companions. Only being nineteen years of age, this was his second assignment in the field where they aim to test the mettle of the organization's latest recruit. Having seen the success of MI6 in deploying a teenage agent, they decided to experiment with an adolescent recruit of their own. Fortunately, Don Angelo had suggested that they recruit his own son Tommy for this very mission. With youthful exuberance along with a craving for action, it seemed like a logical choice to mix experience with youth. Having successfully eluded British intelligence and infiltrated the country, phase one of their operation was complete. Now, all they require is patience as they await the second phase.
The typical anonymous black Range Rover Sport pulled in front of 10 Downing Street several minutes after nine o' clock. The passenger seat soon opened as an MI6 operative exited the vehicle before opening the rear passenger door for the Head of Special Operations. Having been summoned by the British Prime Minister, Alan Blunt prepared for the worse having left the intelligence service in the capable hands of his deputy. Blinking twice at the door with the insignia 10, Blunt sighed before proceeding to walk towards the inside of the Prime Minister's residence. An unsmiling butler held the door open for him, prior to guiding him through the various hallways that had housed numerous Prime Ministers.
Arriving at the Prime Minister's office, the butler left Alan Blunt in the capable hands of his secretary. Straightening his striped tie, Blunt nodded as she curtly knocked on the door, announcing his arrival to the Prime Minister. Nodding his head in gratitude, Alan proceeded to meet Adair who was in the midst of leaving the office. Quick warm greetings were exchanged between both men before the door was closed behind him, leaving Alan Blunt with the fourth Prime Minister whom he served under his tenure as Head of Special Operations. "Ah, Blunt. How nice of you to meet me on such short notice…Go on, take a seat. Would you care for a drink? Tea perhaps?"
Looking at the empty seat which Adair had just vacated moments before, Blunt moved forward and seated himself in front of the Chief Executive of the United Kingdom. "Thank you for the pleasantries, Mr. Prime Minister. However, I do believe you summoned me with the intention of requesting for my resignation as Head of Special Operations. It was only a matter of time before you did; given the amount of times I've already visited you here at Number 10…" Blunt stated dryly. For a man who seemed about to be sacked, Blunt was certainly unconcerned with any additional comments from the Prime Minister. It would seem that he actually wanted to get the sack from his tenure as Head of Special Operations.
Blinking twice at Alan Blunt, the Prime Minister coughed politely in an effort to hide the chuckle that was about to escape his lips. Clearing his throat, he placed his glasses on the table and locked eyes with Blunt. "Is that what you were expecting? A demand for your resignation? On the contrary, Blunt…I will do no such thing. Especially not when I was threatened last night by some hooligan through a phone call!" he stated, emphasizing his point by banging his fists on the table. The dead seriousness in his tone could've startled anyone, given that he seemed to spark into the outburst all of a sudden.
The news; however came as a surprise to Alan Blunt as he had expected for the Prime Minister to demand for his resignation. As luck would have had it, Alan Blunt had lived to die another day as he nodded in comprehension to the Prime Minister's words. Meekly, he offered a sheepish smile as he hadn't thought of walking out of this office with his job intact. "Well, right then…Mr. Prime Minister. So, this is about a threat you received from a phone call?" he queried.
Sighing, the Prime Minister had already expected Alan Blunt to be skeptical about the cause of this meeting. After all, why would the Prime Minister specifically summon the Head of Special Operatives when he could've just as easily passed this information onto MI6? "It wasn't just any phone call. I received one last night at a quarter to eleven. It could've been easily nothing but this guy was certainly a professional. He managed to bypass the system that we have and directly contact me on my private number in my study. Whoever he is, he contacted me to warn me about a formation of some terrorist organization. Now, I need not remind you of the G8 Summit which we are hosting this year…"
The Prime Minister's concern for a telephone call was certainly bordering the threat to national security. It was true that Great Britain was hosting the G8 Summit this year where several world leaders from around the globe were certainly to make their presence known for their bi-annual meeting. With visiting dignitaries and high-profile world leaders arriving at Heathrow the day after tomorrow, one couldn't blame the Chief Executive to be worried with petty dealings with terrorists. Regaining his thoughts, Blunt made a mental note to remind his staff to run through recent arrivals at all entry points to the country. "Very well, Prime Minister. Did he say anything else asides from the usual threats?"
Draining the last remnants of his tea from his cup before replacing it onto the saucer, the Prime Minister wiped several beads of sweat that have formed on his forehead. "Good heavens, no. In fact, it just seems to reinforce my belief that they're dead serious about this threat of theirs. After all, I do believe Margaret Thatcher received a similar phone call from the IRA?" he queried, with a quizzical glance at Blunt. Rubbing his chin, Blunt could only ponder in silence as he awaited the next step of this terrorist group. With both his super-agents out of the country, one couldn't help but wonder if the enemy was within striking distance of their target.
The afternoon rays shone brightly onto the pavements in front of the hotel when Alex Rider emerged from the lobby. Having devoted much of his time doing almost nothing except being treated like a little urchin by 007, he decided that he had enough and would like to stick to whatever he knew best. Walking amongst the numerous Italians that seemed adamant about having as much outdoor-time as possible, he noted that he was being followed by two grey men in suits. Patting the insides of his windbreaker, he was grateful for Smithers to have finally provided him with a handgun this time.
Deciding to test his theory, he hastened his pace as he made a turn left into a street market. The bazaar-like atmosphere would certain aid him in losing both his stalkers as he dodged amongst the packed crowd of Italians who were haggling for necessities. Both men began jogging to keep up with the teenage agent as they realized he was trying to lose them. Once more, Alex's size worked into his advantage as he managed to navigate his way through the crowd and into a deserted alley. Having just caught sight of him before he disappeared around the bend, the two men managed to trail him there.
Unfortunately for both of them, they had failed to realize that Alex had planned for his escape. A single kick was lashed out from the corner, just as both men tried to reach out for their weapons. It was a single, lethal kick that was aimed at the groin area for maximum effect. The man buckled as he collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain. The immediate attack stunned the second man as Alex quickly disposed of the weapon which he carried in his hand before landing a single punch to knock him out as well. It wasn't the first time Alex had felt grateful to his late uncle for insisting on karate lessons.
Looking at both men, he was surprised when he saw the looming figure of Jack Ryan, clapping his hands in amazement. "I had my doubts about you…but that certainly wipes any question out of my mind. Only Alan Blunt would come up with something as ingenious as a teenage superspy," he stated with a chuckle. Glaring at the CIA agent, he turned to look at the other two men who were beginning to stumble onto their feet. It seems they were trailing him from the moment he made his way out from the hotel.
"So, the CIA's following me around Rome now? No offence, Mr. Ryan but I think I can take care of myself fine."
The look of amusement was evident on Jack's face, as he looked at both of his agents. "That much is clear. No, I just simply had to see with my eyes what Joe Byrne described as 'the most phenomenal thing you'd see in your lifetime'. Seriously, kid…With what you've pulled off, I'd be offering you a job if Alan Blunt hadn't had his fingers wrapped tight around you," he stated, somewhat cheekily.
"Thanks for the compliments, but I wasn't looking for a job. In fact, I'm pretty much regretting my decision for letting MI6 trick me into coming here with Bond. So far, it's more like I'm being confined rather than doing my job."
Looking thoughtfully at Alex, Jack Ryan sensed the growing restlessness within the young spy. After all, teenagers were known to be pro-active within the field. It was a noted risk for Alan Blunt to have trusted foreign intelligence in the hands of a young child. However, Alex was quite unlike many other teenagers that Jack Ryan has seen in his 22 years with the CIA. He remembered being part of the selection panel several weeks ago in selecting the first American teenage agent. He was attached with the FBI drug-related branch, prior to his first mission assignment. Just last week, he had received a call from the FBI director of the boy's death.
Certainly Ian Rider had gone through great lengths to prepare Alex, prior to his first mission for MI6. However, it seemed mind-boggling to even think about the brushes with death that Alex had encountered during the past year. Snapping out of his thoughts, Jack's eyes met the glare of Alex Rider.
"Well then, I guess you should know something then…We have reason to believe that Scorpia was working on something related to the G8 summit in London. Now, whenever Scorpia's involved…it's never good. With the latest deaths of their directors, we have reason to believe that their clients have proceeded on with their request. Someone else probably has the details, waiting for the attack…"
The fiction was still on hiatus before I decided to revamp it. New chapter for the readers!